#i especially love the elephant rattle

[little-pup-pip]

hihi!! can i request a dark gray moodboard (masc leaning) for a newborn regressor, and a paci w/o deco?

Definitely!!

[starsofang]

still thinking about johnny x extremely reserved!reader. ):

johnny was always the one to joke with you under normal circumstances. it had taken him a long time to even crack a smile out of you from some of his horrible one-liners, and even then, most of your smiles appeared similar to a grimace. over time, he came to learn that it was just how you preferred to smile until you could let out a true one, but he was as patient as ever.

however, the more time passed, the more the tables turned. you were starting to pull the jokes on him.

it threw him in for a complete loop the first time it happened. he was the one who started it, yet you finished it before he could make an attempt.

there was nothing special going on. you and johnny were seated in the common room, you propped much more politely than he was, while he rattled on about nonsense.

he never minded that you didn’t say much. you were always as quiet as could be. even now, you remained engrossed in your book but gave him an occasional hum to show you were listening, and that was enough for him.

johnny liked you. he wasn’t sure why, especially considering the thick, unbreakable wall you had built around yourself like a cocoon.

getting you to open up was like chipping away at a block of ice with an ice pick, only allowed one good swing each and every day. it was slow and tedious, requiring lots of patience. johnny had gotten you to smile before, sure, but he desired more. he wanted you to let loose, to reveal that silly side to you that was cowering away in the corner of your soul.

the first time it happened, johnny could’ve been mistaken for the damn sun with how much it lit him up.

“elephant would beat a lion in a fight,” johnny claimed to gaz, who had swiftly joined the two of you in the common room for the sole purpose of getting an answer to an unhinged question.

“you think an elephant would beat a lion?” gaz gawked. johnny grinned at him.

“aye, c’mon, lad, elephants are huge. and heavy.”

“and lions are the strongest predators in the wild,” gaz explained. “elephant stands no chance.”

the bicker between johnny and gaz continued while you sat silently reading your book, eyes darted downwards in attempts to avoid eye contact. you looked like your were deep in thought, perhaps even in a fit of mischief in johnny’s eyes when he’d sneak glances to you.

“why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?” you asked when gaz had stepped out of the room, leaving you two alone.

johnny’s head whipped in your direction, mouth parting as he stared at you. “what?”

you peeked up from your book, expression unreadable but johnny could decipher the faintest hint of amusement.

“why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?” you repeated. johnny huffed out a laugh, a cheeky grin curling on his face.

“why?” he mused.

“because they’re really good at it.”

the silence that filled the room was deafening. it had your mind reeling, wanting to crawl back into your shell and remain tucked away. but when johnny suddenly burst into bashful laughter, it put your mind at ease.

“did ye just make a joke, bonnie?” johnny exclaimed in excitement, unable to contain the unadulterated joy that poured out of him like a broken faucet.

“no,” you muttered in slight embarrassment, sinking into your seat.

johnny could tell it had taken a lot of courage for you to share such a silly thing with him, and it warmed his heart. he gained a reminder of why he had fallen for you all over again, and why he was working so damn hard to get you to see that you could trust him.

he couldn’t recall how long it had truly been of him picking apart the slow crumbling of your walls, but seeing you take initiative and try to get him to smile and laugh at a ridiculously cute joke, it was absolutely worth it. his patience would never thin if it meant seeing you crack open the jar of quips (that were definitely better than his own).

for my reserved queens, kings, and other lovely royalties because i am not bold or talkative nor do i show smile/expressions a lot, so this is your reminder that if you’re like meeee, then you’re still just as deserving for someone patient and understanding like johnny <3

[jungle-angel]

The Snow Song (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's a shitty, frigid night and your son is restless due to the noise, but in the dark of winter, Bob always shines a light for you and your family

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe

The wind continued to howl outside, rattling the gutters and spraying snow against the windows of your home, yet you and Bob remained snug in your bed, the whole house warmer than ever.

"Alright so correct me if I'm wrong," Bob said, wiggling his feet underneath Pumpkin so that she would move to your end of the bed. "But when we get back from vacation in January, we're dissecting The Silmarillion right?"

"Yep," you chuckled.

"Oh fuck me," he sighed.

"Gladly," you answered cheekily.

"You do realize that book is almost five inches thick right?"

"I do Bob but that's beside the point," you answered. "The main lesson block on Tolkien is gonna last more than four weeks anyways."

Bob had been about to say something when the wind began to howl even louder, the whimpering cries on the baby monitor growing a little bit louder. You had been about to get up, pushing aside the books, notebooks and papers splayed across the bed, but Bob's gentle hand guided you back to your spot.

"I've got him (y/n) don't worry about it," Bob assured you.

You watched your husband, in only his tight grey boxers, leave the room for a minute or two, only to come back with the baby who slept in the nursery room next door. Auggie's tiny little form was snuggled against Bob's well muscled chest, covered by his soft blue baby blanket and his Dumbo elephant lovey clutched in his tiny hand.

"Shhhh, my sweet boy it's ok," Bob whispered to the frightened little baby who curled into him. "It's just the wind."

You couldn't explain it, but you felt a warmth beginning to fill you, seeing Bob gently bouncing your son in his arms and softly singing to him as the wind continued to pelt your windows. His cries quieted once Bob began to sing, his lips ghosting against Auggie's tiny, sensitive little ears.

"May it be an evening star Shines down upon you May it be when darkness falls Your heart will be true You walk a lonely road Oh, how far you are from home

Mornie utulie Believe and you will find your way Mornie alantie A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call will fly away May it be your journey on to light the day When the night is overcome You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utulie Believe and you will find your way Mornie alantie A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now"

You felt your eyes getting a little misty. Bob had such a beautiful voice when he sang that even the music teachers at the school had commended him, especially Mr. Sheppard, the choir teacher. To hear him singing to Auggie, your precious little angel, filled you with nothing but pure love for your husband and son.

"Alright buddy," Bob said, drawing the little nesting cradle to the foot of the bed. "Time to go back to sleep."

Bob very carefully lowered Auggie into the nesting cradle, his tiny form all snug and cozy in the warm, cushioned flannel bedding that fit his little form. Bob placed his blue blankie over him and tucked him in, the baby sucking away happily on his pacifier and clutching his Dumbo elephant lovey in his little arms.

"Bob that was beautiful," you croaked, wiping away a tear.

"Oh sweetheart," he chuckled, drawing you into his arms. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

You broke into a laugh as you and Bob cleared away your teacher materials and set them aside on the nightstand. Bob turned out the lights and wriggled his foot again, a signal for Pumpkin to go wherever she needed. With a meow, she slipped into Auggie's bed and curled up beside him, the whole house falling asleep amidst the storm that raged outside.

"Love you Mrs. Floyd," Bob mumbled, kissing your cheek.

"I love you too Mr. Floyd," you whispered back.

Your fingers laced together as his head came to rest against yours, the both of you warm under the thick quilts, flannel sheets and the duvet that kept you both warm.

[littlespacereader]

A Little’s Trip to the Jellycat Diner in NYC!!😆💞🎀

I’m a huge fan of Jellycat stuffed animals! I think they are so cute and especially so soft!! So when I heard they opened a cute experience in FAO Schwarz in NYC I knew I had to go see it for myself!

Before going I have three Jellycats of my own! I have a Manatee, a Sheep and a Kola!

Every time I go to FAO Schwarz I always end up getting a Jellycat since they have a MASSIVE selection. This time they really did not disappoint!

For starters there’s the Jellycat Diner on the first floor of the story! This is where they sell their food stuffed animals! If you ordered a special pack (which included stickers, a pin and a wrapped food such as a hotdog, burger, taco or pizza) they would wrap it like the actual food and give it to you at the diner counter, complete with them hitting a bell and saying you “order number”. It’s such a cute idea!! Below are photos of the food stuffies on the sides of the diner:

Next to the diner was a smaller display of some of their Christmas collection stuffies:

Upstairs they have more of their stuffed animals which are my favorite and go to Jellycats when I come to here! I sadly forgot to take photos of this section but I can describe it to you! This is where all the animal Jellycats hang out! They had a ton of see animals such as whales, shrimps, sea lions, and octopuses. They also had some fall Jellycats such as a pine cone, a fox, and a porcupine. On the back wall they had a mixture of different ones such as dragons, chickens, lions, horses, dogs, cats and more!

I’m the type of Little that has to see EVERYTHING before making a proper decision. So I search that section about 5 times for the perfect Jellycat… and I think I found the best one! I found this elephant section and instantly fell in love with how soft and cuddly the elephant design was! I’m always the type of person who grabs one from the back who isn’t appreciated like the ones in the front, and that’s when I met Wally!

Wally was on the back of the shelf with his head buried. I immediately worried that maybe he had anxiety about how loud store was. So naturally he won my heart over. I immediately grabbed him and brought him close. Maybe we could help each other through our anxieties. So Wally came home with me. He is very happy and has been properly introduced to all my stuffed animals! Here’s Wally back home in my dorm:

Right before I went to check out I noticed this tiny little rattle Jellycat dog. Immediately my little side was screaming at me to get it. It’s such a small size that I reasoned with myself I could take along with me when I travel.

It’s always scary buying something so obviously for a baby. But I do have some advice! For one I took this trip alone to avoid any questions from friend. But when I got to the register with Wally and the rattle I was asked who I was getting it for. The cashier was super nice and was probably just striking up a conversation. So I simply said it a gift for my cousin. Is it? No. This is a gift to myself. But they don’t need to know that! Just make up that you have a younger cousin you’re buying something little or younger for. Trust me it works every time!

But back to the topic of my rattle, I LOVE IT!! The bell is not overwhelmingly and the rattle is super soft! It’s definitely coming with me every time I travel! I named him Spot the Rattle!

I had a great time today!! I’d like to thank everyone again in this post. Your advice really helped me with dealing with the subways today! Thank you again! I hope everyone liked this review of the Jellycat Diner in FAO Schwarz. Comment any questions you have about the store! I’d be happy to answer them!

-Clara🥰💞🎀

[delopsia]

I just finished reading Flowers in November, it was amazing!! These were some of my fav parts

Part 1: "Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

Rhett thanking the reader for helping him with his wound and saying no one’s ever done that for him before even though he gets hurt often was heartbreaking.

It was really sweet that Rhett stepped to the side when him and Royal start yelling so that it was led away from the reader.

Rhett reorganizing the house when he’s drunk is so cute!

I love the details that emphasize it’s a different world!(Cows with gold horns, circle pizzas, “mash two potatoes with one fork”).

“That’s it, he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, “pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours.”

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

The dirty talk had me sweating 😅

I love that they were both nervous that the hole was gonna open up and it’d be the last time they see each other.

“Someone’s been in here.”

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?" I love that rhett is so protective even though he just met the reader

Part 2

I love how grateful rhett is and that he always compliments the readers cooking even in the beginning when it doesn’t taste too good lol.

rhett comforting reader when they’re crying after they have a dream about their mom was too sweet! 🥹

Also rhett trying to put a bow on nyx was so adorable.

"I don't...nobody's ever...done anything like this for me before." That part was really sad and made me want to kiss him all over his face 😭

It made me happy that the Reader started bringing breakfast to him once or twice a week. And the one time she fed it to him made my heart melt!

So did them splitting the pieces of bacon, something about sharing food is so intimate!

It broke my heart when rhett got jumped by the tillersons (especially since it was Perry’s fault) but I’m glad reader helped take care of him and he’s healing now. It brought tears to my eyes when it mentioned how he spooks easier now.

(1/2)

Oh my goodness, thank you SO much for this 😭💐haha, I didn't think folks even read the old Flowers In November series any more! It was so cool to see all of your thoughts and favorite lines, Rhett's little protective streak, the cooking, the mundane comforts of being around him, the stuffed animal, Nyx the kelpie. I can't believe I forgot about all of this 🥹

It took me forever to figure out how to format this 😔✌ but I've tucked the other half of your ask underneath the 'Keep reading' button!

Part 3

‘A sharp, earsplitting crack rings out, a heavy, elephant-sized fist hitting the ground.’

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't realize you've jumped until Rhett's pulling you down from it, bringing you impossibly closer, "I've got you, baby."

Rhett comforting the reader and holding them close before they were even officially together was just *chef’s kiss* 😚

Rhett punching perry for disrespecting the reader was so sexy

Hearing the backstory of perry and Rebecca damn perry is fr a villain

"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," and when he says your name at the end of the sentence, it sounds like a melody. "Y'know that?"

‘Through the conflict of your heart, split between worlds, you find yourself in silent agreement.’

‘Cupping his cheeks, you squish them together, wrenching an amused chuckle from him, "sometimes, I don't believe you're real."

This part is so soft and sweet it has me so 🥰

"This what you wanted?" His deep voice rumbles against your scalp, rattling around your skull. Why does something so simple turn me on so much?’

Feeling him speaking against my head would fix me

"Fuck," leaning down, he presses a kiss to your upper chest, just above your cleavage, "fuck, you're beautiful."

"Has anyone told you how perfect you are?"

"Could fuckin' die happy between these pretty legs of yours," speaking directly into your wetness, vibrating deliciously up your core, "y'know how long I've thought 'bout this?"

"You like my finger, darlin'?" Adding another finger to join the first, working you, "God, you're takin' them so well for me."

The dirty talk along with Rhett’s arms trembling when he first slides into the reader had me foaming at the mouth 🤤

"Like a fuckin' daydream on top of me," he says against your lips, "y'know that?" The way he looks up at you tells you that he means every word. Smitten.’ Please rhett saying all these sweet things is a NEED not a want

"Stretchin' for me so well, darlin'," the squelch of your wetness is filthy, "god��damn, your hot little cunt is so wet."

"Sweetie, please," pleading around a shaky breath, "want—wanna cum."

"Baby, baby," those eyes barely open, breath hitching, "feels good. Fuck, it feels good."

"You're so sensitive," cooing as you feel his thighs tremble beneath you, "you gonna cum in me, sweet boy?"

Rhett’s eyes crossing when he came cause it felt so good has forever changed me, I will be thinking about it several times a day for the rest of my life 🥵

Part 4

"Is this your stuffed animal?" You ask when he steps into the room.’

Rhett grins at the sight of the old thing, "yeah, that's Toast."

The name fits the little guy perfectly. A light brown body with dark brown feet and a spot on his left eye. Visibly loved, its fur matted and missing in places.’

"I almost feel bad for defiling his home like we did," every time you look at this little twin bed, you remember that night, especially what happened the morning after.’

‘There's no need for you to look to know that Rhett's cheeks are heating up; you can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Arms wind around your waist, burying his hot face into the back of your neck.’

I always love a fic where rhett blushes, he’s just a cute, bashful cowboy ☺️

And it’s so precious to think about little rhett sleeping with a stuffie when he was younger and getting so attached to it that he keeps it 🥹🥰

Him turning toast around when he gets a blowjob, he is too cute for words to describe!

‘Here he is. Your big cowboy whimpering into his own palm as you suck him off in his childhood bedroom. Helpless to do nothing but take it.’

Him going from just previously being shy about the night you had sex in his twin-size bed to covering his mouth with his palm to prevent moaning like a little slut had me dizzy and panting 😮‍💨😵‍💫

I loved how rhett made the reader breakfast even though he’s not the best cook. It melted my heart!

"I can't imagine a day in my life without you," his voice breaks, gradually becoming watery, "and I promise you that as long as my heart's still beatin', I'm gonna be there." With every word, he shakes a little harder, trembling just like your quivering heart is.’

Pushing your noses together, those final words tumble off his tongue, "I love you," breath hitching, "and ain't nothin' in this world can get between that."

That was one of my fave parts and it just made what happened next all the more heartbreaking

"Please don't let go of me," quivering like a leaf, you squeeze as close to Rhett as possible.

"'m not gonna let you go," he promises, stepping further down the fence line, away from the hole, "I promise, baby, you're not goin' anywhere."

Please that part was so sweet and heartbreaking. It had me tearing up. It was also so intense and I love that not only rhett tried to save the reader but how Nyx tried to save the reader too and I’m glad that Nyx got to go with the reader and that the reader didn’t have to go into her old world all alone

"You found your necklace," you mutter, turning it around to sit correctly on his neck.’

"I'm glad you weren't there to see me ballin' my damn eyes out over it," but that watery grin tells you that you may witness it anyhow.’

A tear escapes; is quickly wiped away by your ring finger. He catches the glint of the stones in the light, grins, and presses a kiss to it when he finds the chance.’

"I hope you didn't find that stack of letters," you never did finish them, did you?’

"I read every single one," and then Rhett curls his hands around your cheeks, guiding you down to press your foreheads and noses together, "I love you too."

Thinking about rhett finding the necklace and letters and crying just broke my heart but I loved it at the same time!! It was one of the parts that tugged most at my heartstrings!

I love that rhett took toast with him! He’s so adorable!

Them going to go get a bag of concrete mix to cover up the purple flower at the end was so smart!

The epilogue was so funny and cute! I’m so glad they got a happy ending! And were able to play pizza box frisbee together lol 😂

It was such a fantastic series!! 🩷🩷🩷

[corvuscorona]

officially reached the part of zestiria where things have begun to minute-to-minute Make No Sense. there remains an overarching feeling of intrigue; I continually wonder what Big Facts will later be revealed + how much sense they will force all these Smaller Nonsense Moments to make.

Interesting (!):

the latest No-Sense Event (after the wind trial. have any of you guys played this game? you should play it; i'm not spoiling shit.) put forth a Very Specific Themes Concept that the game hasn't really gotten into at all until now! DOES it immediately strike me as something that's gonna boil down to the perennial Tales favorite "if you exist you have the right to live your life"? ya. WILL it execute this with anywhere near the clarity of purpose of abyss, or with as much nuance as berseria? ABSOLUTELY NOT, I DON'T THINK.

there's a recurring Thing with this game, where. especially having played berseria already! it's STUNNINGLY clear that the Stage of the Writing Process they made it to for zestiria's story is, like. "alpha edits," pretty much. they gathered up all the Themes Characters and Facts they wanted to use and they dumped them on a big table and kinda organized them loosely into like, "here's what the story is pretty much like." + then after that they SUPER ran out of time.

the moment-to-moment character writing (which can be done at like a fully A+ level on-the-fly as long as the characters are coherent + the writer is practiced at it!) is above average in a major way and there are a million beautiful glimmering pieces of what COULD serve as useful and interesting Elements of a larger plot. but so far it looks like they stopped there without using most of those / iterating on what they already had!

(apparently this game was made with the 20th anniversary of Tales in mind as a release deadline? btwn that and how hard they went with overhauling the combat system, it makes a Lot Of Sense that 1. it is kind of a beautiful mess and 2. berseria, which iterated on stuff it introduced, is Way more polished.)

overall this game feels like a. toybox made with some questionable design choices but a lot of elements that make it catch your eye&brain? that's FULL of toys i extremely want to and will play with, but they ARE very much just kind of dumped in there w/ not a whole lot of regard for. organization. kind of a nicely-contained pile of a game. still probably The funniest video game i have ever played. localization & voice direction are excellent; rose is in a league of her own re: characterization-by-manner-of-speaking (THEY LET HER BE SO CASUAL.... SHE TALKS LIKE PEOPLE; I LOVE HER) & they put allllll their Cringe Points into 1 character for containment purposes (tidy!).

the stuff it tried to do w/ the arenas for fights being 1-to-1 with the environment you walk around in actually fucks severely (+ has led to many cherished Comedy Moments, such as "3 elephants stuck in a doorway getting hit by my sword at once") and i wish theyd tried to solve it by making the CAMERA work with it, instead of by hollowing out the overworld environments so there wouldn't be chokepoints to get stuck on anymore (berseria), bc the environment design is ALSO probably the best i've seen in a tales game?

just. not even "rough around the edges" as in "there's good in here but sometimes it Hurts me" but something more like "box of unpolished rocks i love to rattle around and open and pick up and enjoy but if you're expecting 'presentable collection on a shelf' or whatever you will not find it here"..... i like this game!!!

[i-cant-sing]

YOOOO! What would the Greek heroes reaction be to the toddler like persus and his wife Medusa. Would some of them be babysitters-🐼

OKAY BUT IMAGINE THIS:

Medusa being pregnant and her yandere lover boy- Perseus is lying besides her, his hands resting on her baby bump. And then Medusa, who's become yandere for you before you're even born, brings up the elephant in the room.

What if you turn into stone when you see Medusa?

Perseus may have turned immune to the snakes because of his demi god powers or because he'd been granted the immunity by Poseidon because of his service, but that doesn't mean that you'll be safe from your mother. Maybe you will, maybe you won't, but Medusa is not willing to take the chance and she's definitely not trusting you with Poseidon to give you immunity either. She doesn't rely on gods and goddesses anymore, not since they'd abandoned her. Perseus is an exception, and exceptions like him come once in a life time. He was far too in love with you, perhaps something even deeper than love and he charmed you wore you down with time as well until feelings were mutual.

Perseus suggestions to the problem are:

Ask Poseidon for help- Medusa slapped him and didn't talk to him for two days since he brought him up.

Have Hades and Persephone raise you- Medusa choked him (it felt like she was tickling to Perseus) for even thinking that you'd give your baby away, especially to gods, no matter if Hades and Persephone have been the only ones kind to her.

Perseus eventually got tired of Medusa getting mad at him, so he smooched her and asks if she has any ideas in mind.

Medusa's suggestions:

She'll cut off her snakes- Perseus rejected the idea because he'd never let her hurt herself, and he doesn't know for sure if Medusa will survive after she cuts off the snakes.

Perseus takes you and lives in the town away from her, and raise you for alone for a few years until you're able to close your eyes- Perseus shut that down by pushing Medusa back on the bed and getting on top of her and kissing her possessively, telling her that there is no way that he is ever leaving her.

Both of them avoid the topic after that, even though they'd both realised what needed to be done. But it was far too heinous to even bring up.

As Medusa's pregnancy came nearer to an end, she brought up the topic again.

She had tears in her eyes as she pecked Perseus. "Please, Perseus- you must- you must do it. Please, I don't wanna lose our baby." She broke into tears, and Perseus sighed, collecting her in his arms and shushing her, rubbing her belly soothingly.

"Alright, now. Alright, I'll do it." He'd do anything for her.



Medusa finally gave birth to you, a healthy baby girl. Perseus was quick to pull you out from her and shield you away from her, finding it surprising how you didn't come out crying. No, instead you were giggling and cooing adorably at him.

Perseus took you out of the cave, his eyes fixated on you. You were the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen, a perfect combination of Medusa and him. But your eyes- your eyes were out of this world. They held galaxies in them, he could actually see stars and milky ways in your eyes.

Which is why it made what he did next all the more painful.

Perseus sat on the boulder over the edge and settled you in his arms. He tickled your chin, earning a coo from you and Perseus had tears in his eyes as he kissed your forehead.

"I'm so sorry for this, little one." And with that, Perseus plucked your eyes out of their sockets and you screamed so loudly, it rattled Medusa, who was recovering inside the cave. She began sobbing as well, knowing what Perseus did to you but also knew that it was necessary.

Perseus gathered you in his arms and did everything he could to calm you down, bringing you back inside the cave where Medusa was already crying. She reached out for you and Perseus settled you against her chest, cleaning the blood of your face with her clothes. He walked away to put your eyes in a jar, while Medusa forced you to drink her milk, but you couldn't. You kept on wailing, screaming and crying, to the point you began turning blue. Finally, Medusa allowed him to ask Hypnos to put you to sleep, and in the process, Perseus also got some medicine for you from Apollo secretly.

After a week of sleep deprivation, you'd finally began healing. In 2 months, you were back to being a healthy happy baby- a blind one, but still.

Your parents became platonic yanderes for you as you grew up. There were some specific rules for you- no leaving the cave without them and no talking to strangers either. If you're ever in trouble, you call them for help.

Now you were blind, but you didn't adapt to life like blind people usually do. Perhaps your eyes had more function than just being pretty or sight. In reality, they had all your godly powers in them- super fast reflexes, water manipulation, the controlled ability to turn people on stone with just a look. Now? You didn't have either of them, and your balance was very off so you were always bumping into walls and things. You couldn't hear well either, so you didn't know if there are people around you or not, or what direction a particular sound was coming off.

You do know your parents love you. Your father is the more laidback and chill parent, while your mother is the more strict one. But thats not to say they love you any less. No, they're practically the only people you talk to, the only people you really know. Sure, your father lets you accompany him to the town every now and then, but you rarely ever get to talk to other people. Its not like you haven't tried to, you're an extrovert like your dad through and through. But Perseus just drags you away when someone talks to you for longer than a minute, saying he's getting late and he has lot of errands to run.

Your mother enjoys listening to you talk about your day, even if its just the meaningless routine you do every day. You're her bestfriend, she tells you. And for some reason, your mother never leaves the cave, so you and your father are the only she's in contact with. Of course, Perseus and Medusa dont tell you about your mother's ability to turn people into stone or that your father is a demigod. No, they want you far from those things.

You definitely do feel guilty for being blind. You're not able to help around with many tasks, nor can you get by without their help, so you feel useless and like a burden on your parents. Sometime's they'd find you crying in your room, and Perseus and Medusa's heart ache at your pitiful sobs, begging for a miracle to be blessed with sight.

Perhaps someone was listening that night, or perhaps you prayed a little to hard. Because you woke up feeling different the next day. When you opened your eyes, you could see. When your parents came to wake you up, they were shocked to see you had eyes again.

"I- I can see." You claimed, looking around your room before looking at Medusa and Perseus. "Mom? Dad?" They nodded and you ran to them, hugging them. "I can see! I can see! I can see!" You squealed as Perseus spinned you around in his arms and Medusa laughed with tears of joy in her eyes.

And with sight, came your powers you'd inherited from your parents. Not only that, but you'd discovered that you could use your eyes to contact the gods as well. Now, your parents forbade you from doing that- they didn't need the Olympians destroying the life they'd worked so hard for.

Your time out with your dad was now much more colourful, and you had way more stuff to talk to your mother about, not to mention the snakes on her head that absolutely adored you. However, they couldn't but feel jealous now that you talked a lot more to other people, or how many times Perseus caught you trying to sneak out of the cave to meet a "friend". The friend in question being a boy you'd developed a crush on and now your parents feel threatened that you'd try to leave them.

So after months of you trying to sneak out of the house fighting with them about meeting other people, they'd decided enough was enough. Perseus tied a heavy cloth around your eyes with a knot that only he could open and then locked you in your room. Now your only company would be them, and soon things would return back to the way they were. Or so they thought.

After months of you giving them the silent treatment, Medusa decided to open the knot and let you see again, just so that she could hear you talk. She and Perseus had missed your voice, missed their jolly baby. But that night, when she came to your room, she felt horrified.

Because there you were, your eyes heavily bandaged, talking happily to no one in the room.

And then she heard it. His name.

"Okay, Poseidon. I'll call you grandpa-"

"Y/N!" You shut up at your mother's shrill voice, which had Perseus rushing into the room as well.

Medusa grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you violently. "Who were you talking to? WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO?!"

"P-Poseidon-" You gasped as your mother slapped you across the face.

"Don't you ever fucking say his name!" Medusa began crying, and Perseus flicked your forehead, effectively knocking you out before grabbing Medusa.

"Shhh, its okay. Its okay-"

"Its not okay, Perseus! You heard her! You heard her say his name!" She began sobbing into his shoulder, which pained him greatly.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down. I'll go talk to him. I'll tell him to never talk to you again." Medusa nodded, seemingly better now that Perseus had decided to take control.

He left to meet his father, while Medusa decided to lay on your bed next to you, her hand now gently caressing her handprint on your cheek. She felt guilty, her anger had gotten the better of her. With a sigh, she pecked the red mark before falling asleep, hoping Perseus would return soon with good news.



Medusa woke up some time later when she reached for you and didn't feel you in bed. Her eyes opened to see you quietly packing your things. And you hadn't realise your mother had woke up.

"Y/n? What are you doing?" You stiffened at her voice, which hurt Medusa. "I'm leaving the house for a bit. I need some space from you."

Medusa got off the bed and shook her head, grabbing your arms. "No, please- no! I- look I'm sorry! I shouldn't have slapped you, but you- you said his name! You cant- you cant leave!" She cried hysterically. You shoved her hands off you. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I cannot be around you right now. You're- you're being weird and I cant- I'm leaving okay? I'll be fine, I'll be staying with him."

Medusa paused her crying. "With who?"

"I- no one."

"With who, Y/n? I deserve to know, please."

You contemplated telling her. "With... grandpa. He said he'll allow me to stay in his home-" But Medusa zoned out after that. Poseidon- Poseidon- he was going to take you to his home- his palace- his place where he did unspeakable-

You yelped in shock as Medusa ripped the bandage of your eyes, allowing you to see again. As light filled your eyes again, you didn't have time to react as you were suddenly thrown on the bed, your mother climbing on top of you. She trapped your limbs under her and pushed her weight on you to stop your wriggling.

"Mom! Stop- what are you doing?!" You couldnt push her off you.

"This is for your own good." Medusa said, brushing the hair out of your head. "Stay still. It'll hurt less."

She plunged her fingers into the sockets and pulled your eyes out. You screamed and screamed in pain until you passed out under her.

Perseus returned 30 minutes later with good news, only to see Medusa holding your limp body in her arms, blood flowing out of your eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

"What did you do?" Perseus asked, pulling your body into his arms, trying to shake you awake, his heart sinking as he noticed how shallow your breathing was. "Medusa, what did you do?!" Medusa only teared up as she opened her palm that held your eyes.

"Perseus... save her." She begged him.

Perseus teleported to Apollo with you in his arms. The sun god took you from him, taking you to his infirmary to heal you.

Finally, Apollo saw the little demigod that had been talking to the gods and causing fights over jealousy in Olympus. And now that he looked at you, he could see why they were going crazy over you.

I was supposed to be working on part 5 of royal gay au, but I couldn't resist

[mischiefmanaged71]

Bad Romance - Joaquin Torres X Reader

Song: Bad Romance - (961) lady gaga - bad romance ( s l o w e d ) - YouTube

Summary: The reader is an enhanced individual with the ability to replicate other people’s abilities. A member of the Avengers, she has been working alongside Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes to investigate the Flag Smashers but the man calling himself the next Captain America poses an obstacle when he takes interest in her abilities. 

Author’s Note: Hello! So this is my first time posting a fic I've written. I’ve been writing since 2018 but never had the courage to post anything so I hope you all enjoy my story. Torres has only been in ‘The Falcon and The Winter Soldier’ for like five minutes but I’m in love with him. There obviously isn’t enough fiction out there about him so I took it upon myself to write one. This is an idea I came up with in my head, aside from the plot of the show. Listen to the song for added effect. I’ve inserted timings as well :)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres X Fem!Reader

Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS, Canon-level Violence, blood, romance

Word count: 2.5K

Darkness is all you’ve known these past hours.

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since you’ve last had contact with anyone. Sam would usually check in with you about now, but that didn’t seem a likely possibility. 

Your right eye is almost swollen shut and you’re pretty confident that you have a few broken ribs from how difficult breathing is. The sound of metal creaking echoes in the empty room as you rattle your restraints. 

You’ve been quite literally chained to the wall. 

They weren’t taking any precautions.

Especially after witnessing the dozen agents you could take down all by yourself. 

Leaning against the wall, you try to reach some semblance of comfort, laying some of your weight against the hard-rock. Your neck burns from the collar they attached when you caught you off-guard. 

It was during a recon mission, you were chasing a lead about the Flag Smashers’ next meet up when they showed. Half a dozen armed men in tactical gear. 

They snagged a collar on you, disabling your powers.

You didn’t anticipate this.

All you heard was a piercing noise and then you blacked out.

You couldn’t access your powers as soon as that light buzzed. Trying to summon fire warranted a little electric shock to your system. Little, meaning severe enough to take down an elephant. 

Yeah, so getting out of here would be tricky.

Isn’t it always?

Five guards have remained in the room for the past two days, monitoring, watching. 

For what? 

You have only the slightest idea why.

The double doors which have remained close for the past two days creak open. The blue uniform is familiar to you but the face donning the outfit is not. He’s an imposter wearing a costume, a mock of the real thing. John Walker, along with his so-called ‘American squadron’, had grabbed you as a statement. Sam and Bucky certainly weren’t going to stay out of it because someone told them to. You all followed a code, to protect those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

“Hello, Y/N, it's been a while since we met last...I’m sorry for the way you were handled on the way here but it was the only way I could get to talk to you.”, he said, looking at the bruises beginning to form.

He talked nonchalantly as if this were a normal conversation. Your wrists were raw from pulling away from the cuffs, clothes covered in dirt and dried blood. He strode up to you, pulling his helmet off and placing it carefully on a metal crate.

“Now, I know Bucky and Sam had a lot to say about me, but you, you were always silent. I thought we had an understanding.”

‘An understanding?’

You refuse to look at him.

“You talk big words for someone who couldn’t begin to understand the legacy of that uniform.”

“I earned this! I put in the work. All they want is someone to look up to. To show them that justice still exists.”, he paces in front of you.

“Justice. Is it?”, your eyes narrow.

He pauses in thought, seething with internalised spite. Pacing the floor, he turns his back to you.

“Have you had time to think about my question?”

You remain silent, glaring at his mockery of Steve’s uniform.

“No? Okay. That’s fine,”, he whispered.

Walker signalled for a guard to open the doors once more and two more men entered, dragging someone along. You squint your eyes to identify the person as they dump them in front of you. 

“No”, you whispered desperately, your breath caught in your throat.

You spot Joaquin’s dark hair and tan complexion, more so, the blood staining his clothes. The men dragged Joaquin next to Walker, letting him slump to the floor. From what you could see, he had been beaten pretty badly, the bruises already beginning to form on his face. His hands are cuffed behind him and he’s unable to hold his own weight. 

Panic fills Torres as he notices the chains securing you to the wall. The last he heard over the coms was a struggle. He and Sam had been surveilling to get anything they could on your kidnappers.

You could only hear the rapid beating of your heart in your throat as blood rushed to your face. Your breathing quickens as you don’t quite know what will happen next. 

John broke the silence,

“I’m going to ask you again.”

“Then, I'm going to count from three.”, he said, pulling a silencer out from his waistband and cocking it at Joaquin who rested on his knees.

“What are you?”

You stare at him incredulously, unresponsive. 

You look down at Joaquin as he gazes up at you, helpless to move with guns trained on you. He’s telling you to stop, to lie, to do anything but give yourself up.

“What answer do you want?”, you asked, using all your strength to lift your head up.

“You want me to say I’m a freak? A mutant? An experiment? What good does that do you? Everyone knows it.”, you huff, sharpening your glare.

He stares down at Joaquin and kicks his foot out against the ground, clicking his tongue. Walker threw his foot into Joaquin’s back, pushing him into the floor.

“Not that.”

You watch as he points the gun harder.

“Tell me. What. You. Are.”, he grits out.

You clench your jaw hard, shutting your eyes tightly. A burning sensation fights in your chest, spreading to your arms. You suck in a breath desperately, a whimper tearing from your throat as your head drops.

The click of the safety echoes loudly.

(1:26s of the song)

Your eyes shoot open, blazing red and as the chains snap free from the wall. The metal clangs loudly against the floor, triggering the five weapons now pointed at your chest. A surge of fire ignites as you swipe your leg, knocking the agents back. The two standing closest raise their guns as you tilt your head and launch a blast of fire from your hand. The next agent replaces him, firing his gun consecutively, but you strut towards him, swiping them away with blasts omitting from your hands. You send a roundhouse kick with a wall of fire, propelling him through the exit. The remaining three encircle you with their weapons, clicking the safety off.

Your hands burn, glowing red with the heightening energy,

“Okay, you got me.”

You raise your hands in surrender as one of them steps towards. Faltering a step, you inhale deeply as he grabs your arm. Once he sets a hand on you, you exhale, breathing out a stream of fire. You twirl in a circle, the fire pushing them back and blocking their sight of you as they flinch from the heat. Dropping to the floor, you strike the cement and crack the surface. The building’s structure shakes as a cloud of energy dissipates from the contact, incapacitating the last of the soldiers.

Walker fixes his gun on Joaquin but you focus your glare on him. You wait as he stares at you, knowing he has the advantage.

"I'd stop right now, if I were you."

You silently stare at him with blazing fire burning in your orbs. The clicking of the safety reverberates in your mind as all movement stops. The muzzle of the gun is inches away from Joaquin's head.

“Alright, you’ve had your show now.”

You've got mere seconds to make a decision here.

He remains still, as Joaquin’s eyes meet yours and you nod your head slightly. 

It’ll be okay because you’d never let anything happen to each other.

"Walker, you've made your point. Look, it's me you really want, not Torres.", You snipped, grabbing his attention. 

Joaquin’s heart raced faster, 

What were you doing?

You could see the gears turning in Walker’s head, his eyebrows perk up.

"C'mon, this whole thing was to get to me, right? To weaponize me. It's my power. So take it. Just let him go." 

Walker pauses in thought,

"I don't think I will." 

You knew that'd be his answer but he was too busy looking at you to notice anything else. Joaquin threw his leg out, kicking Walker’s shin to knock him off his centre.

Moving quickly, you roundhouse, knocking the gun from his hand and driving your foot into his knee. He lets out a pained yell, ducking your elbow jab and rolling behind you. You roll forwards, swooping your flames across the floor to knock Walker on his back. He rolls to the side, standing again to flick open a compact switch from his pocket. He struggles for a moment as you strut over, but he presses the button down with conviction. 

You falter in your steps as a loud piercing sound breaches your cranium and hearing. It’s overwhelming, threatening to shatter your skull. A whimper falls from your mouth as both hands grasp your head. You can faintly hear Joaquin yelling your name from behind. The pain is unbearable. Joaquin bangs the cuffs on a metal crate behind him, forcing them to break. 

Your vision blurs as you clumsily move towards Walker. Once you’re close enough to him, you throw an uncoordinated right hook but he catches it and returns with a kick to your chest, knocking you to the floor. The pain continues, eliciting a moan from you as it grows worse with each second. Joaquin watches as you scream in agony, sprinting towards Walker and tackling him to the floor. Walker loses the switch from his hand, punching Joaquin in the jaw to get him off. Joaquin hisses as his head hits the floor, but he’s quickly grappling for the switch before Walker can get his hands on it. Scanning the floor, he sights it inches away from where you’re curled up in a ball. He’s crawling over to make it but a grip on his shoulder halts him, flipping him over and punching him repeatedly. 

Over the intense clanging, you see black dots form in your sight as you want to pass out. You hear grunts nearby and the sound of a fist making contact with skin. You flicker your eyes upward to see Walker’s figure looming over someone. 

‘Joaquin...where’s Joaquin?’

You close your eyes and force yourself up, struggling to gain your bearings. Upon opening your eyes, you notice something within your reach. Crawling forward, your fingers barely touch it. You try again and again before you feel the metal beneath your fingertips. Finally, you have it in your hands and crush it. The metal crunches and the ringing ceases. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you push yourself off the floor.

More coherent now, you angrily send a blast of energy to knock Walker off of Joaquin. Scrambling off the floor, he brings his fists in front of him, but you've already there, standing in front of him.

"I’m going to count from three.”, you said.

Striking a wave in his direction, you blast fire into his chest, your eyes imbuing fluttering embers.

‘Three’

You continue your onslaught, attacking him with multiple blows of rage. 

Your figure looms over Walker, blocking Joaquin from his sight.  

‘Two’

Your hands emit a fiery glow as you project flames, igniting a huge blast which sends Walker crashing through the window and down below.

‘One’

Gazing down the terrace, you saw Walker’s unconscious body laying on the crushed roof of a car. The authorities would show up eventually. 

Looking back inside, you finally start to feel the adrenaline rush declining. You move away from the window to find Torres leaning against a crate. Joaquin's face is bruised and cut-up as he holds his side with a grimace. 

"Joaquin, are you okay?!", 

You rush over to hold his other arm, scanning him for serious injuries. 

He stops your moving hands to grip them,

"(Y/N), I'm okay, I'm okay. It's you I'm worried about. You almost died. How did you do that?", Joaquin asked, concern lingering in his eyes at the magnitude of your powers.

"I-I don't know. I guess my powers have always been linked to my emotions and then you were in danger. It was kind of instinctive, you know?"

"I could never let anything happen to you. Never.", She whispered silently, not noticing if he had caught it.

Joaquin moved to grasp her chin in his hand, pulling her head up so he could look into her eyes.

"You saved me."

You glanced over his face and the clear pain he was hiding from his injuries. 

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're okay. I-I was afraid...It shouldn't have been you.", You said to Joaquin, tears glinting in your sight.

"I'm not going anywhere. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.", he said, moving closer as your eyes meet his deep and endearing gaze.

"We should call Sam.", You suggested.

"I'll call him later."

Yours eyes met as he leaned his forehead on yours. You inhaled deeply as he gripped your hands tightly as if you would fall out of his grasp. Joaquin's arms encircle your waist and pull you in his embrace. Your arms rest around his neck, nestling your head against his shoulder.

You hold each other tightly in a moment of calm, seeking comfort from that person. The one person you would always seek out. 

You pull away, but his arms remain around your waist.

"You're so beautiful.", He whispers.

Your breathing shudders for a second before you decide to go for it,

"I-I love you, Joaquin."

You gauge his reaction as his eyes widen slightly. He leans in and guides his lips to yours. He kissed you slowly and passionately, his hands still gripping your waist. You sigh and stand on your tip-toes, tugging the hairs on the back of Joaquin's neck to bring him closer. You both pause, gasping for air for a moment. Kisses linger in between breaths as you both wind down from the intense 24 hours you've had, emotionally and physically.

"For the record, I love you too.", He grins, laughing at your eye roll.

"I didn't quite catch that, why don't you show me again?", You winked, biting your lip as his arms swooped around you again and tugged you closer. 

Barely brushing your lips, he looks between your eyes and then your lips.

"I think we can arrange that."

Your breath catches as your lips brush his. You smiled, closing your eyes, as does Joaquin. You swayed in his arms as his lips encased yours once more. 

Suddenly, red and blue flashing lights breach your vision from below. Sirens surrounded you both. You separated, glancing outside the broken window. 

Police cars surrounded the building. Reinforcements had arrived. His hand still grips yours and you motion to help him take some of his weight, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

"We should get of here.", You pushed open the door to exit down a flight of stairs. 

"Yeah.", Joaquin replied, grinning down at you as you walked out together.

Reblog, like, comment if you liked it and any thoughts xx

[hansolmates]

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake—”

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

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

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

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

“Done and done.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been seeing red for days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?” 

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

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

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

“Exactly, that’s why we milk it out as long as we can.” Jungkook throws the first draft in a large, intimidating pile, mixing in with all the others like a needle in a haystack. “Which is why it’s important we snag dinner with her this weekend, we can really—”

“What, this weekend?” your sense of equilibrium cracks, and you walk forward to put his hands on his desk. “I took this coming week off for Christmas. I’ve planned this for months.” 

“I know.”

“I can’t just cancel my flight! I saved up for that!”

“And?” Jungkook brushes off your fury like a piece of lint, “I’m Korean. Christmas is a fake holiday for me.” 

“You can’t just tell me I can’t go home to my family, it’s the fucking holidays!” 

“Why not, I’ve done it before. Remember on Valentine’s day when I told you the only date you have is a date with Kwon Boa’s publicist? Or on Secretaries Day when I argued that you don’t feel appreciated by society anyway and therefore why bother taking one extra day off? Or during Easter when your family screamed in my office on speakerphone that you should quit—”

“Okay,” no need to be reminded of how much you’ve wasted your life for this man, “but this is different. I’ve already bought plane tickets and this holiday is special. It’s a whole family reunion in the Poconos and we’ve reserved over five houses to fit all of us! I can’t just ditch!” 

“But I need you!” he replied just as hotly, in a tone that reminded you so many times of how tethered you are by this man. Two years have gone by, and the only thing that kept those strings together is the constant ache in getting your first novel published. “With all the marriage stuff and stupid extentions we had to make on these writers there’s no way we can get everything done before winter ends!” 

“You’ve done it before, why can’t you just ask Taehyung to assist—”

“Trouble in paradise?” 

A chill travels up your spine, and you and Jungkook exchange panicked eye contact. A tiny, pretty blonde lady struts in the room like it's hers, plopping a fruit basket atop Jungkook’s manuscripts. 

“If by paradise you mean our relationship, then no.” Jungkook’s the first to recover, meeting you at your side and stretching an arm around your waist. “I’d say work-wise things are getting a little rough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’re a team, after all.” 

“I just wanted to stop by as I was in the neighborhood,” the woman says, making herself comfortable in a leather seat reserved for guests. “Congratulations again on your engagement.” 

You tack on a smile, squeezing Jungkook’s arm a little too hard, but it’s enough to make the lady in front of you smile back. “What brings you here, Taeyeon?” 

Kim Taeyeon is Jungkook’s immigration liaison, AKA the person responsible for making sure you’re not breaking the law. She’s a pretty thing, with eyes sharp but a smile that’s soft and deceiving. 

“It’s just a shame you two have to rush a civil wedding,” Taeyeon sighs, looking at the window overlooking the city. 

“Ah, it takes some of the planning stress off my back, really.” you force a laugh, tugging Jungkook to sit on the couch opposite her. “At least one thing is done. The thought of planning a whole wedding with over two-hundred people is so stressful.” 

You weren’t really going to have a white wedding with Jungkook (however you may have entertained the thought, which is reflected in your Google search history) but you had to keep up the ruse that you were. A civil wedding in two weeks, then a quickie divorce a year later. 

“I know! My wedding was a real mess let me tell you, straight out of a movie!” Taeyeon is certainly the type of person to make you feel at ease, so at ease that it’s simple for you to melt your front. “But besides the point, are you two doing anything special for the holidays?” 

“Ah, well I bought a flight to meet my family in the Poconos,” you start, trying not to succumb to your nervous habit of wringing your fingers. You grab Jungkook’s hand as a reprieve. 

“And you’re not going?” Taeyeon’s gaze snaps, yes snaps, to Jungkook. 

You try to step in, realizing your flaw. “We’ve just been so swamped with work, all the immigration stuff and with these book delays Jungkook suggested he stay behind—” 

“But we’ve decided to prioritize our personal life and enjoy Christmas with our family,” Jungkook swoops in, threading his fingers between yours. He flashes Taeyeon a smile, and from the way his face lights up and his nose crinkles, you could’ve mistaken it to be genuine. “I’ve never experienced a big family Christmas, y’know. I’ve missed snowboarding too, I used to do it a lot in highschool.” 

“Oh, that’s just so sweet!” Taeyeon cooes, clasping her hands together. “Do send some pictures when you come back!” 

“Of course,” Jungkook stands up and attempts to leave Taeyeon out. You follow in tow, She obliges easily, mentioning something about just wanting to check in and she also has work to do. 

“Also,” Taeyeon’s head flickers to the people sitting outside Jungkook’s office. “You should manage those workers out there,” she looks at you, sympathetic. “Apparently, they didn’t peg you as the type of person to sleep their way to the top. And that’s just what I heard from walking down the hall once!” she laughs, tinkling brighter than a windchime, but you just tighten the grip on Jungkook’s palm. “Such a childish assumption. Things can be much more complicated.” 

She tips a “happy holidays��� off her shoulder, and you both are smiling like the loving couple you are. As soon as the elevator doors close and Taeyeon is really gone, Jungkook moves to let go of your hand, but you hold him in your grasp. 

“She’s onto us,” you snap, tugging him closer to you so your co-workers wouldn’t read your lips. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” he bites back. He looks offendingly at the fruit basket adorning his desk. 

“What if we get caught, Jungkook?” you start to spiral, feeling your deepest fears crawl to the forefront of your brain. You’ve done extensive Google research on commiting fraud, and if you do get caught, Jungkook will never be able to come back to this country and you’ll have a fine of up to $250,000. Your boss doesn’t pay you nearly enough to get by with that kind of debt. “We’ll ruin this company, and our lives, and any hope of being published or credible.” 

“Hey, relax,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, the tone oddly comforting. He pulls you into his arms, and you barely have a chance to recover when he squeezes you extra tight around your waist. Jungkook only ever hugs you when doing PR, and even then it’s an awkward half-hug. Hell, he never hugged you on your birthday. “This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna book my flight to the Poconos, bring some manuscripts so we can work remotely, and no one will ever know.” 

You sigh into his arms, nodding tiredly. It feels nice to be hugged like this. His arms are strong and warm, and you feel small and protected. It’s been a while since you’ve felt like that. Maybe Jungkook did have a heart under all that muscle. 

“I’m putting up a good show, aren’t I?” he says, and you feel your heart drop just a little. Disappointed, but not surprised. 

From your view facing the cubicles, you see at least half the employees comically bugged with  heart eyes at you, enamored by your fake relationship. 

“Do not stretch your long-ass legs on this plane, Jeon,” you nudge your smaller leg away from your section of leg room, “Jesus, we’re flying economy!” 

It scares you how little you fought against Jungkook joining you for the winter holiday. It is the logical decision after all, Taeyeon is on your trail about your sudden engagement and you both needed to keep up the ruse. That includes going on family vacations. Also, the fact that Jungkook works through Christmas because he doesn’t celebrate it does make you feel a little bad. You can’t remember the last time the man took a vacation. 

The man in question barely moves at your weak attempt, and stretches his leg even further across your seat. “Sorry, babe,” he says, fishing around his seat for the included blanket. 

“It’s fine, Kookie.” You reply sweetly, and decide to kick off your shoes to drape a leg over Jungkook’s thighs, “you’re like a portable footrest!” 

He looks absolutely insulted at your objectification, but smartly decides to choose his battles and lets you keep your position. Tucking himself in with a scratchy blanket he waves you off, “Whatever, just wake me up when we arrive.” 

“What, no.” you pull up your iPad, shoving the note entry in his face. “I know everything about you, and yet you know nothing about me. I made this easy on you and just wrote everything down. You just have to read it.” 

“Seriously? I’ve known you for over two years, I’m sure I know enough about you.” 

“Really, then how do I like my coffee?” 

“Uh… hot?” 

You give him a look and he knows. With a sigh he grabs the iPad from your hands. Within seconds he’s giving you another dirty look, as if he’s skimming a conspiracy novel. 

“You know all this random shit about me?” Jungkook asks, scrolling down as to what feels like your life story. 

“Yes, because unlike you, I listen when you talk.” 

“Fine. What’s my favorite type of weather?” 

“A warm and sunny day, which correlates to your favorite kind of date which is walking along the beach at sunset. Cliché much?” 

“Okay, rude. Who’s my favorite artist?” 

“You like a little bit of everything, but since seventh grade you’ve been pining for IU. In the office, you like to sing along to Lauv and Hozier.” 

“Favorite movie?” 

“The Marvel Series. But you really like 5 Centimeters Per Second, you like the romance.” 

“And how do you know my favorite anime movie is 5 Centimeters Per Second? I’m pretty sure I’ve never told you that.” 

“Jeon, when we were promoting Momo Hirai’s self-help book at Anime Expo you were gone for two and a half hours at 1:50 sharp.” your boss’ Adam’s apple bobs and he swallows thickly at your admonition. “And low and behold, you gave yourself thirty minutes’ time to line up early because when I checked the schedule Makoto Shinkai had a panel on ‘The Otaku’s Perspective on Romantic—”

“Alright alright, I get it.” Jungkook slumps in his seat, as comfy as it can get with your legs draped around him and a seat at the far end of the plane. You know he’s trying to hide a blush, and you feel proud for making him a little flustered. “You’re lucky I’m a fast reader.” 

The plane ride goes relatively fast, with Jungkook asking quick questions about your family and other random things. It’s like playing a game of 20 Questions, instead it’s the final boss battle with 200 questions and if he doesn’t get them all right, the penalty is deportation. 

When you land, you’re both stiff and glazed over. Once you exit the terminal, Jungkook ditches you for the bathroom and says he’ll meet you at the luggage pickup. You give yourself a few moments, gearing yourself up for the long week ahead of you. At the luggage pickup, you see a tall man watch the revolving conveyor belt with interest. Either that, or he’s zoning out. 

“Joonie!” you cry, nearly dropping your phone upon seeing your big brother. He’s dressed comfortably in a grey sweat ensemble, as if he rolled out of bed and came straight to the airport. 

A bright grin takes over his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to smush your body against his. Under his tall frame you sway, your toes barely swiping the ground. “You’re alive!” he cheers, pulling back and holding your shoulders to get a real look at you. “I can see you’ve gained a little weight, eyes are a little dark, but I’m glad the Devil let you go. I still can’t forgive him for making you skip out on Jin’s wedding.” 

You don’t appreciate the way that Namjoon picks and prods at your exhaustion, but you know he means well. While he does not know your boss by face and name, he had enough artilerary from the billions of phone calls to learn about the Devil and the havoc he’s wreaked upon your life.

When you don’t respond he gets the cue that you do not want to talk about work this week, and he smacks his lips together. “But nothing a little R&R can’t fix! The ski resort nearby has a really nice outdoor jacuzzi and we could set an appointment for facials if you’d like. Or we could do absolutely nothing and turn into baked potatoes and watch movies until our eyes burn up.” 

“Both would be great,” you smile softly, catching two familiar suitcases make their rounds on your flight’s conveyor belt. You grab your pink luggage with one hand, and Jungkook’s black chrome one with your other. 

“So, where’s the new beau?” Namjoon rocks back and forth on his heels, hoping to get a glimpse of the mystery boy you mentioned you’d be bringing as of two days ago. 

“He really had to go to the bathroom,” you squint your eyes to make out the newcomers exiting the dropoff area. “Oh, there he is. Kook!” 

Like a goddamn model, he struts in your field of vision like nobody’s business. Unlike you who stayed in your apartment all day before leaving, Jungkook decided to spend a few hours at Big Hit in the morning to tie up most of the loose ends before your trip. He’s talking to what you assume to be is a client, noting the way his brow furrows as he clutches his phone with a tight hold. He’s changed out of his tie and leather oxfords, but he’s dressed crisply in a dark button up and blazer ensemble, still wholly overdressed for a family reunion. 

Namjoon starts behind you, “He looks...” 

“Handsome?” you goad, elbowing him, “Charismatic? Undeniable presence?” 

“Hard.” 

You don’t know what to make of that adjective, and you subtly shrink further in your jacket as you mull over the implications of his word choice. 

Jungkook steps up to the two of you, ending his call. His eyes float between you and your brother, and he manages to put two and two together. “Hey man,” Jungkook gives a practiced smile, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, I’ve heard lots of things about you.” 

“Good things, I hope.” Namjoon chuckles, returning the handshake. “I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, though. Can’t wait to get to know you this week.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Jungkook takes his luggage and Namjoon grabs yours, leading you two out to his minivan. While Namjoon is preoccupied with getting the car started, Jungkook looks at you as if he’s already regretting making the trip down. “This girl has two braincells to her name. I just got off the phone with Sorn’s publicist.” 

“What trouble can an influencer do?” you reply in disbelief. 

“Exactly, influencing is the trouble,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “she did some mukbang and now she’s in the hospital for food poisoning.” 

“Ah, don’t get too worked up,” you help him lug your suitcases in the trunk. You spot Namjoon subtly eyeing you two from the rear mirror. Pressing a thumb between his brows, you make work to melt away the 11-shaped stress lines on his forehead. “Let’s just send her a Lush gift basket and she’ll be fine.” 

You ignore the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you longer than needed, running over to your seat at shotgun. 

The inside of his car smells like bergamot and lemon, and the sweet, vulnerable side of you wants to cry over how much you’ve missed your brother’s scent. It’s been way too long. 

Once you’re all safely in the car and driving Namjoon says, “So, are you going to hide the engagement ring or give the family a collective heart attack?” 

You tense, hands automatically floating to the teardrop diamond weighing heavily on your ring finger. The story that you two contrived about your relationship isn’t too complicated, but complex enough that it seems convincing. Instead of being your boss, Jungkook is your Literary Agent who gives you referrals to new and upcoming authors. You working closely together and bonding over the stresses of the publishing world, have kept a secret relationship under wraps for over a year to avoid any unprofessionalism or favoritism. 

“I was thinking about that the whole ride, actually,” you twirl the metal back and forth, watching it gleam in the light. “Mom and dad know, but I don’t wanna lie to the rest of my family. They’ll freak out because it’s the first time they’re meeting Kook and we’re already engaged. It’s just a location thing, y’know. You guys don’t live in the city so we’ve never had a chance to really talk it out.” 

Namjoon snorts, “Or, because your boss never gives you a break.” 

If Jungkook finds any offense, he doesn’t show it. Putting what should be a comforting hand on your shoulder, he says from the back seat, “I already told you babe, do what makes you comfortable. But I don’t want to lie to your parents early on, you don’t wanna make the situation any more complicated.” 

In other words, you better tell them about our engagement because Taeyeon could be hiding in the bushes waiting to catch us. 

“Smart man,” Namjoon says shortly, but you can’t tell whether it’s a compliment or not. 

“Yeah,” you exhale, turning to smile stiffly at Jungkook, “no use hiding the inevitable, right?” 

The next couple hours are overwhelming. There’s a party right when you walk in your winter villa, your parents throwing you a reunion party (not for your family, but for you specifically because you’ve been MIA since Big Hit) with the house filled to the brim with family members. Within seconds your favorite cousin checks out the rock on your finger and screams that you’re engaged. 

Everyone must be so high off the fact that you’ve made it to a family event that they’re elated you have a life outside of work. Jungkook is treated like a prince, charming the hell out of all your aunties and baby cousins. 

“Oh, pumpkin!” your auntie squeals, linking arms with you while you’re trying to eat your dinner, “I just hugged your fiancé, and he has abs! Lucky you!” 

“Auntie,” you hiss playfully, “you hugged him that tight?” 

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?” 

“Right,” you force a smile, downing your glass of champagne. The bubbles burn your throat pleasantly. 

“Babe, can you come here for a second?” Jungkook manages to swim his way through the throng in the living room, holding out a hand for you, “your mom said that our room is ready, care to lead the way?” 

His smile, as pretty as you can care to admit, renders your aunt speechless, and she lets him whisk you away to a long hallway that leads to a set of bedrooms. Jungkook lets go of your hand as soon as you're alone, letting his palm run along the pictures that decorate your hallway. 

He stops at a picture of you and Namjoon as kids, faces tanned and lips cherry red from your twin popsicles melting on your hands. “Wow,” Jungkook pretends to be alarmed, “I didn’t know you used to be cute, what happened?” 

“Shut up,” you smack his hand away, walking ahead of him. 

“I thought you guys reserved a bunch of houses, why does the furniture look worn and there’s pictures of you everywhere?” 

“Our extended family has reserved houses, but this is actually my family’s vacation home. I used to go here every winter and summer break,” you reach a bedroom in the corner of the hall, smiling at your wooden name tag hanging on the front, “this is my old room.” 

It certainly doesn’t have that youthful charm it once had, but there are still bits of your childhood scattering the room. There’s ticket stubs and photobooth strips tacked to a corkboard near your desk. Books that you would reread cover to cover are organized proudly on your shelf, worn for wear. 

Jungkook groans in relief, plopping his body down on your freshly made bed. “Your family’s really clingy.” he sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

You turn to give him a snappy answer, but it dies in your throat when you see what he’s laying on. The familiar family quilt sinks under Jungkook’s weight, mocking you. You shriek, throwing your arms over to lug his body to the other side of the bed. Bundling up the quilt in your arms, you glare at a very appalled Jungkook. 

“The hell is wrong with you, woman!” he cries, not loud enough to escape the room, but enough to have your body vibrate in annoyance. 

“Jeon, they put the fucking baby blanket in my room,” you mutter more to yourself than him, folding it under your arms. 

The blanket is comfy in your grasp and you’re sure it’s clean, but the fact that you weren’t actually married and in love made its appearance a whole lot worse. 

“So?” his eyes are wide in confusion, “my mom still has my baby blanket too, I’m not gonna shoot anyone because of it.” 

“It’s not my baby blanket,” you admonish, “it’s the baby maker blanket. A weird family tradition when someone gets engaged.”

“Which means?” 

“They’re expecting us to fuck and have children.” 

The thought of procreating and starting a family with you must’ve caused all the champagne to return to his throat, and he looks a little pale. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” he lies back down on your mattress, and you leave him be so you can chuck the blanket back in your parents’ room. 

You’re barely out the door when a young man is waiting out in the hallway for you, poised to knock. “Hey, baby girl.” they throw you an easy lopsided grin, opening their arms to you. 

In your haste, you slam your bedroom door a little too loudly. “Yoongi!” You let yourself sink into his waiting arms, reveling in the familiar embrace you missed so much. Yoongi is Namjoon’s best friend and work buddy, not to mention the man you’ve had a crush on since you were able to walk. While you can safely say at this moment there is nothing serious going on, a small part of you always wishes there could be. 

His voice husks in your ear, “Why are we hugging in between the baby blanket?” 

“Oh!” you brush past him, opening the door to your parents’ room and flinging the offending item as far into their room as possible. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were a little freaked out when we saw it. We’re definitely not thinking about children right now.” 

“Jungkook,” he hums, and your smile falters just a tad when you see the way Yoongi tips his head down in thought, “It was quite the news. Congrats though.” 

You want to say what you’re supposed to say, that yes, you should be happy. But the selfish part of you does not want this exchange between you and Yoongi to be happening. When you get your quickie divorce in a year, the small, hopeful part of you hopes you and Yoongi could be something. 

Before you have a chance to fabricate a response, strong hands encircle your waist, and you feel Jungkook’s chin digging into your shoulder. 

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook’s voice rumbles, “we really appreciate it.” 

Yoongi gives a nod, muttering something about catching up later before he walks back to the party. 

It’s then that Jungkook’s weight feels impossibly heavy on your shoulders. “You know, you’ve been doing a really shitty job of being my wife-to-be ever since we landed,” Jungkook whispers, feather soft lips dusting across the shell of your ear. It’s an act so intimate you can imagine your family passing down the hallway could be mistaking you two for speaking unthinkable acts. A toddler cousin spots you two and giggles, babbling something to your uncle about how you’re hugging. “You did so well when we were with Taeyeon and Big Hit.” 

“It’s not the same when I’m lying to my family,” you turn to face him, equally simmering. “These are people that actually love and care for me, unlike you.” 

“At least I care about what’s most important,” he grits back, “our jobs, our futures. Is that not enough for you to keep it in your pants?” 

“Excuse me? You don’t even know him!” 

“I don’t have to know him because I’m holding you right now and you’re practically sweating through your cardigan.” he grimaces, digging his chin further into your collarbone, literally trying to get under your skin. “Your face looks like a cherry tomato.” 

You turn your head to bite back, your noses touching. The staring contest seems to last for days. Unlike Jungkook who doesn't know how to register basic human emotion, you still have hopes for a life after this. Before you have a chance to answer, your favorite cousin enters the hallway, oblivious to your concerns. Jimin’s red all over, passing you two flutes of blush champagne. “Hurry up, we’re making speeches!” 

Champagne is overflowing like Niagara, and you and Jungkook are the reason for it as you’re thrusted into the living room. Your weird uncle is in the middle of a long-winded speech about his fishing business and how dreams are made from ‘bait and a dream’. You make eye contact with him, and he gestures wildly to you and Jungkook. 

The crowd proceeds to go wild, echoes of speech! Speech! Reverberating throughout your living room. You and Jungkook share uneasy smiles, unsure of where to go with this show. 

Deciding it’s your family by blood, you start first. “Honestly, when I moved to New York I wasn’t expecting to feel so lonely,” you clutch your flute with both hands, swirling your drink absentmindedly. You then turn to Jungkook, giving him a tender smile which he returns back just as fondly. “Until I met Jungkook. I’m really happy that I get to share this week with the people I love the most, so let's drink to family!” 

Jungkook lifts his glass, “Thank you for the warm welcome, I can’t wait to spend time with all of you. This is my first Christmas with a large, loving family. Cheers to that!” 

The room erupts in cheers, allowing themselves to clink glasses and chase down their respective drinks. Even the little ones crowding the kiddie table in the back are enjoying their apple juice while making silly faces at the new couple. 

Jungkook weaves his arm between yours, and you get the signal to do a couples’ drink. He eyes you with mischief, as if to say we did it. After you two take your drink, Jimin’s the first to drunkenly yell, “Ohmygod just kiss already!” 

“Kiss kiss kiss!” 

“This is going on my story so make it good!” 

“Kiss him before I do!” 

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing your forehead on Jungkook’s chest. Your family really is something else. 

As if the chants can’t get any louder, it’s hard to focus on anything but Jungkook’s presence. Jungkook lifts your chin up, murmuring, “Let’s give the people what they want.” and he presses his lips to yours. 

It’s awkward at first. Why wouldn’t it be, you’re making out with your boss, in front of your family, pretending to be engaged. But Jungkook doesn’t let up, parting your lips slightly to deepen the kiss. As much as you want to make up how terrible and disgusting kissing Jungkook is, it really isn’t. His lips are soft and he tastes like the peach champagne, and his grip on your waist is strong and warm. 

He leaves you breathless when you pull away, a smirk on his lips for a brief moment before he turns shyly to your family who are probably foaming at the mouth now. 

Maybe it’s the champagne coursing through your veins, but why does it suddenly feel so hot in the middle of winter? 

The first day back starts off wholly uneventful, with Jungkook working on some manuscripts and you preparing dinner with Jimin. Most of your family is on the resort hitting the slopes, so you’re quite thankful for the reprieve since the party was so overwhelming. The blonde is all smiles as he bumps the oven closed with his leg, letting your lasagna bake to perfection. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jimin rests his head on your shoulder, “it’s definitely not the same when we’re adults. Frankly, it sucks balls.” 

“Big balls,” you agree, gnawing on a leftover baguette from last night. 

“Speaking of big balls,” Jimin wiggles his brows as you attempt to move farther from him.

“Please don’t say it.” 

“C’mon! Just tell me if the sex is good!” 

“No!” you cry, flicking your crumbs at him. 

“I will open this oven,” his hands are already on the handle, “and your dish will undercook.” 

“Don’t you dare!” he opens the oven a tad, and you slam your hand down. “Fine! The sex is fantastic, happy?” 

“Ewh, no!” The storm door swings open, revealing Namjoon, Yoongi, and Lisa, Namjoon’s lady friend. “I didn’t need to hear that, thanks.” 

Your face looks absolutely pained as you watch the two older men walk in. They were the last people you’d ever want to share about your sex life too, even if it is fake. You can only bear to look properly at Lisa as they kick off their boots and shake the snow off their heads. Lisa pokes her tongue in her cheek, looking at you with a wild look in her eyes. “I’ve heard so much about your current drama. Can’t wait to hear the 411 from you, though.” 

Yoongi looks unfazed, then again you never really know what’s going on in his head. “You guys wanna go to a movie tonight?” Yoongi asks, grabbing a slice of the baguette and dipping it in a dish of olive oil. “I think the one that’s showing is based on a book your company published.”

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?” 

“That’s the one.” 

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod eagerly. “I’ll go tell Jungkook to get ready. We can eat dinner real quick and then go right after,” you grab a bottle of water from the fridge, “Joonie, set up the table please.” 

Jungkook doesn’t notice you walk in, and you can hear the faint sound of Muse blasting from his Airpods. He’s on your floor, doing pushups while reading a transcript under him. This time he’s using your iPad, every few seconds taking a thumb to scroll down. Sweating through his shirt, you can see the beads running along his silver reading glasses. It’s completely contradictory, your muscle bunny of a boss getting in his reps while psychoanalyzing a potential novel, but somehow it works with him. 

“Maniac,” you mutter, bending down to place the cool water bottle on his cheek. He stops abruptly, like you’ve pressed the pause button on his seemingly robotic arms. Seriously, you can’t fathom how he manages to do both. You swipe the iPad under his body in place of a white towel, which he accepts gratefully. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to snap him out of it, sometimes you’d catch him at the company gym nearing 10PM, reading on the treadmill. 

“What time is it?” he asks, fluting the water bottle down his throat. 

Ignoring the way his neck glistens in sweat, you say, “It’s almost seven. C’mon, we’re gonna eat dinner and watch a movie. You’ve cooped yourself up in this room all day, time to interact with the world.” 

“What movie?” 

“The book we published in 2018, ‘Rotten Love’? They made it into a movie,” and you can’t help the wry grin that takes over your face when you say your next words, “guess who directed it.” 

He sighs, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. The normally styled strands fall limply at his forehead. “I don’t remember, I shifted over that project to PR. Any director’s fine, but please please please don’t let it be—”

“Jung Hoseok!”

“Son of a bitch, we gotta go.” And it’s the first time in a while you see a genuine smile graze his features, one not laced with you and your marriage. It’s an old pastime for you both to get picky over Jung’s work. “I swear, he better not put his scenes all over the place like last time, I got whiplash.” 

After a quick dinner you all pile into Namjoon’s minivan, making your way to the theatre. The drive is fast, and before you know it you’re waiting in line to get inside. It seems that the PR between the film studio and Big Hit did a good job assisting, because there’s a sizable line despite being half an hour early. 

“So honey,” Lisa leans into you, squishing you further into Jungkook’s shoulder. “Did you like, help out with the publishing of this novel? To be honest I don’t even know what your job is,” Lisa admits with a shrug, “you’re not a glorified coffee girl, are you?” 

“No,” her mixed enthusiasm never fails to stump you, “Ah, but I really didn’t do much in the production of ‘Rotten Love’,” you reply easily, relaxing into Jungkook as he moves to drape an arm around your shoulder. “I just told my boss to sign some documents n’stuff. It’s really nothing—”

“Babe, are you kidding? You ran the whole freakin’ project!” and you’re in shock, because for the first time in the history of ever, Jeon Jungkook is paying you a real compliment. “It was her first assignment when she got hired as the big boss’ assistant. A lot of people in the office doubted her,” he squeezes your shoulder, “but not for one second did I doubt her, you could see how hard she worked to make it perfect. I heard the boss was really impressed, too.” 

You remember that period of time. Jungkook made you dive headfirst into the publishing for ‘Rotten Love’, letting you sink or swim in his decision for keeping you employed. After a full month of meetings, negotiations, and debating whether you should have caffeine IV’ed in your body to save time on eating, you got Jungkook’s evaluation. You remember the stoicism in Jungkook’s frame as he surmised your work, throwing you a flippant “it’s decent” before sending you off to do more work. 

Relief flooded your system after those two simple words, because that meant you had a chance and you could keep your job. But this? If what he’s saying is true, you’re on Cloud 9. 

“Awh, thanks Kook.” you squeeze his arm, letting your fingers trail down to lace your fingers with his. 

Lisa’s face is all scrunched, and she doesn’t hesitate to stretch over you to smush Jungkook’s cheek between her two fingers. Her blue nails dig into his soft skin. “I like him, honey. Keep him, he’s so cute.” 

She leaves you alone after that, skipping over to bother Namjoon about buying an extra bucket of popcorn. 

“At first I was nervous having you near my family for a week,” you say brightly, rubbing a thumb over his hand, “but I kinda like seeing you try so hard to not rip other people’s heads off.” 

He puffs out his cheeks in an attempt to soothe the stinging. “Could be worse, I could be engaged to Karen.” 

With that you laugh, loud enough to turn heads and have Jimin and Lisa send you adoring looks. Jungkook sends you a nervous smile, the one that he’d always send you during team meetings when he was unsure of how to respond to something. Instead of giving him a smart answer, you get on your tiptoes to pat his reddened cheek. “But she’s right, you are kinda cute when you wanna be.” 

Instead of replying, he squeezes your hand tighter to lead you inside. 

Everything is smooth sailing after that. You, Jimin and Yoongi are saving the seats while Jungkook, Lisa and Namjoon are getting the refreshments. Jimin is prattling on about a new job interview and you’re listening attentively, while Yoongi shoots off advice every time Jimin says he’s nervous. 

Yoongi looks past Jimin to give you that gummy smile that always made your chest ache. “Chim, remember when she applied to work at Jamba Juice?” 

“Oh my god,” Jimin giggles, clutching your arm. “When you had to do a trial run in front of the manager? You forgot to put the lid on the blender and you sprayed the staff with green juice?” 

“The stains took forever to get out,” you pouted. “And I didn’t appreciate the snaps you saved of me. I got nervous because you were recording me!” 

“Am I hearing some juicy details about your childhood?” Jungkook appears, passing a huge tub of buttery popcorn to Yoongi. 

“Emphasis on juice,” Yoongi says tartly, popping a handful of kernels in his mouth. 

“Yes, do you wanna see a picture of your fiancé covered in green juice? She wore a low-cut shirt that day so it got deep, man.” Jimin says, using his hands to gesture obscenely to his own chest. 

You’re mortified, and you push down Jimin’s phone and cover whatever receipts he has on you. “Jimin, I’d like to stay engaged, if you don’t mind?” 

Your not-so-favorite cousin cackles in response, telling Jungkook that they’ll talk later. 

“Here,” Jungkook cooly hands you a King-Sized KitKat. 

“Awh,” you marvel, immediately opening the wrapper, “you actually read my notes and found out what my favorite candy was?” 

He scoffs, dark bangs blowing up. “Who doesn’t like KitKats?” but you’re giving him the look, and he sighs, “C’mon babe, just gimmie a break.” 

“Ha-ha,” but you break off a piece anyway, lifting it to Jungkook’s lips. It’s then that the theatre starts to dim, and the telltale signs of the movie begin. “Ready to rip Jung Hoseok to shreds?” 

“Always.” 

Barely fifteen minutes pass and Jungkook is spreading his legs. You’re about to kick him before he leans in to whisper, “They made Renee too dull,” he sighs in disappointment, as if he sincerely had high hopes they’d bring the novel to justice. “I mean, I get it, in the novel she’s supposed to be a plain Jane. But she isn’t grey.” 

“Right?” you lean into Jungkook, throwing your legs over his thighs like you’re back at the airport. This isn’t out of intimacy, you think to yourself, you just need to be close enough to Jungkook so you don’t disturb the other patrons with your talking. “She’s either a bad actress or they messed up her character. I really got upset when I read this part, but it’s kinda bland on the screen.” 

As much as you love Jimin, you know he’s not going to get your over-criticality over the media. Yoongi and Namjoon are on the other end of the row, but they wouldn’t be too pleased having you gab over the movie because you’re too much of an aficionado. Jungkook is the only one who can tête-à-tête, or in this case, Kit-a-Kat with you. 

You sigh into his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent. “Let’s pray Jung didn’t completely butcher the chapter where Kenzo reflects on his penniless journey.” 

“I’ll leave the theatre right then and there if that happens, care to join me?” 

“Already out the door, bossman.” 

Jungkook looks away from the screen briefly, reaching forward to take an obnoxiously big bite of the KitKat in your hand. You stifle a giggle, and before you can soak up his cheeky grin he’s already looking back at the movie. 

You wonder what Jungkook is like outside of work, if he has that side to him. A little part of you wishes that this playfulness he’s exuding is real. Not to your fake marriage, but a playfulness he can execute to a person that he really likes. Two days out of the office and you’re starting to see that Jungkook has the capabilities to enjoy life, however simple it may be. 

The movie is finished in a blur, and you and Jungkook are still bickering over the intricacies of the film compared to the novel. The night air is cold and burns your cheeks, reminding you exactly how late you’ve been out.

“Well, I thought the romance was so boring!” Lisa blurted, wanting an in. Her lime green ski jacket glares in your vision, and you move away from her immediately. “No one cheated on each other, there was no drama, or evil best friend!” 

“Whoa there,” and you see the little fire in Jungkook’s eyes, one you’ve learned early on to stay away from when you spent hours in his office debating over manuscripts and plotlines. He stares down at Lisa, really stares down. “You think every romance needs some sort of internalized conflict for it to be good? Why can’t they just grow and learn from the external conflict together? It’s literally useless for them to break up over and over just—”

And that’s your cue to walk ahead of them, because while you did agree with Jungkook, you’ve heard this debate one too many times. Ever the closet-romantic at heart. You hope Lisa doesn’t lose her patience and punch him out. 

“Hey,” you feel a hand pat your hair, and you look up at Yoongi. He looks absolutely fluffy in his long puffy jacket, and he matches your steps with his. “Do I look ugly tonight, or something? I feel like we barely exchanged two sentences with each other.” 

“What, never!” you chastise, “you always look good, Yoongi. And we have the whole week to catch up, remember?”

“Really, then why don’t we go out in two days to pick out a tree for your house? Joon and I are planning on going.” 

“I would love to go pick a tree!” you exclaim, “the last time we got a tree together was when your brother had to lift.” 

“Great,” and he pats your head again, but this time his hand lingers to finger the ringlets of your hair. “It’ll be just like old times, baby girl. I’ll pick you up at 9.” 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Jungkook’s argument ended minutes ago and he’s mulling over a new type of internal conflict. 

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!” 

“Well if you just hold still,” Jungkook grimaces, taking his turns with both hands to simultaneously wipe the injury with a cloth and then pressing the affected area with an ice bag. 

“Buh ih hurths!” your voice is muffled by the cloth, stained red with freshly bloomed blood. 

The ski lodge started off great. You enjoyed a fabulous beligan waffle breakfast courtesy of Jimin’s parents, and then made the trek to the slopes. You’ve been here dozens of times, so you didn’t feel an inclination to gravitate to any of the fancy schmancy sports. You were fine playing shuffleboard inside, but your inner youth complained that it’s the holidays and you should be getting out more.

Jimin and Jungkook (who claimed he hasn't snowboarded since he was 16 yet he’s doing tricks like a goddamn Olympian) were shredding on the slopes while Namjoon and Lisa were skiing on a smaller hill. You and Yoongi watched safely from the lift, riding it like a kiddie attraction. You must’ve taken the lift at least ten times, complaining about how you’re both too lazy to function and you could really use a hot chocolate and a fireplace. 

After the fifteenth time on the lift, legs numb, you stumble over with heavy boots to where Lisa and Namjoon were waiting for Jimin and Jungkook. They wanted to walk around more and see if they could try a more difficult slope. 

While you were waiting, you had to admit that Jungkook did kind of cool all decked out in his gear. A competitive, playful smile was easily reflected in his gaze despite his helmet and goggles. 

That slight admiration is knocked right off your feet when Jungkook speeds by way too close for comfort and you’re in his path. Jimin had already slowed next to your friends and family, looking at you in anticipated horror.

It’s far too late, and despite the fact that Jungkook manages to pull your body to his while you wipe out, your face crashes into his helmet and you taste metal. 

Mildly disoriented from the impact, Jungkook’s muffled string of curses nurse you back to a decent consciousness as he tries to carry you to the lodge.

“Holy shit, I got that on camera!” Jimin cries, gesturing to the Go-Pro nestled in his helmet. 

So now you’re in pain and it’s all Jungkook’s fault. Your bottom lip is split, and the burn on your face won’t go away. 

You watch as Jungkook dotes on you, his bangs pushed up everywhere due to his grey goggles haphazardly being propped upon his forehead. His pink tongue sticks out as he concentrates on not getting blood on your sweater. It’s just you and him that are stuck around in the lodge after you got pummeled, standing by the fire while everyone else continues on with the fun. 

“Why were you over there anyway, in the middle of the slope?” he scolds. 

“It was the slow down zone, Jeon. You were the only one not slowing down, you speed demon.” 

“Sorry,” he says gruffly, pressing a little too hard with the ice and you wince. He lets up and presses the cloth to your lips to soak up the moisture.

“Did you say something?” 

“I said, I’m sorry.” 

You sigh dramatically, “I wish I had a camera to save that shitty excuse of an apology.” 

“Speaking of cameras,” he shucks his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Jimin uploaded the video.” 

That man, you don’t know where he has the means to quickly upload and edit things, but if it’s for the ‘Gram, it’s worth it to Jimin. You open Instagram and immediately click on @chimmyboi’s story, immediately wincing as the first few seconds reveal the brunt of the impact. He should really put a disclaimer before uploading content. 

The tumble between you and Jungkook doesn’t look so bad, but it’s when you get up does it look gnarly. Your chin is dribbling in red liquid, and Jungkook’s throwing off his helmet and goggles in a panic. 

He makes a half-assed snowball where you’re lying on the ground, pressing it against your mouth. With his other hand he pulls you into a sitting position, not caring that you’re staining his clothes as he hauls you on his body. 

“Ohmygod,” you splutter, trying not to move your lips, “I look like I got decked with a hockey puck.” 

“It wasn’t that bad, don’t be a baby.” Jungkook sees the piecing glare you give him, and he sighs. “Okay, it looked pretty bad. I was a little worried back there, but now the bleeding pretty much stopped and holy shit—stop smiling! You’re making it open up further!” 

“You were worried?” 

“Shut up.” 

The ice bag is watery and not doing much anymore, but Jungkook still insists to cool your face down. You lift a hand to his cold ones, attempting to take the bag and cloth from his grasp. 

“You should go board with Jimin and the rest of them. I can take care of this.” 

“It’s fine,” he reasons, reaching for the ice bag but you hold on tighter. 

“C’mon, I know the only thing you were looking forward to this entire trip was going snowboarding. I’m a big girl, I can be alone for an hour or two.” 

Jungkook locks his jaw, gnawing at his cheek as he mulls on his decision. “Wouldn’t I look like a bad partner if I leave you?”

“Nah, this has happened before. Almost always someone gets injured on the trip. Last time something like this happened I was eight and I got five stitches on my leg. This is nothing. You’re fine.” 

“But still.” 

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?” 

You scan the room for any ideas, and it settles on a trio of girls huddled by the register of the built-in café. They’re pretty snow bunnies, decked out in sweater dresses and fur lined boots. They remind you a little of The Powerpuff Girls, all in pastels and attached to the hip. Their gaze has taken hostage in Jungkook’s frame, blatantly ignoring the fact that majority of his attention is directed towards you. You wonder why you haven’t noticed them sooner, because now the staring is getting borderline discomforting. 

Slipping off his goggles with your free hand, you gesture subtly to the girls. “They think you’re hot. Go flirt with them a little and get me a free drink, I’m sure they’ll pay for you.” 

He doesn’t understand the correlation, “Why would I do that?” 

You shrug, separating the strands of hair that stick to his forehead. “Lisa and Namjoon do it all the time when they go clubbing. They compete and pretend they’re single for like two hours, and then they keep a tally of how many people offer to buy them a drink.” 

“That is completely different, but I’m open to trying it when we get back to the city.” he acknowledged briefly, getting up from his crouching position. “I got a better idea.” 

Puzzled, you watch him saunter over to the register. Like bees to the honey, the girls follow Jungkook with their eyes, watching him exaggeratedly mull over the menu. 

He spares the slightest of head inclinations to the drooling trio, “Hello ladies.” The smile is not flirtatious, but kind. 

You suppress a giggle, burying your chin in your scarf as you watch the whole interaction. You don’t even know why you asked Jungkook if he would flirt with those girls, as he kept most of his dates private over the years. You picture a college-aged Jungkook getting his daily breakfast on his way to class, ignoring the way his presence attracts heads. 

The barista hands Jungkook a tray filled with a plastic cup of ice, and a cup filled with something hot, and a chocolate croissant. He grabs a straw from a tray, stabbing it in the hot drink’s lid. 

“Excuse me,” one of the girls coquettishly puts her hands behind her back, puffing her chest out as she leans over Jungkook’s order. “The regular croissants actually taste better in my opinion.” 

“Well my wife’s had a hard day, so I think she deserves something sweet.” 

He doesn’t even turn around as he makes a beeline to where you’re seated on a loveseat, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. 

“Your better idea was making them jealous?” you ask, unsure of his intentions. 

He shrugs, “College-Jungkook always wanted to show off his girlfriend like that, so indulge me for a second, alright?”

Rolling your eyes you reply, “My life is about indulging you. Don’t forget the trips I’ve made to the grocery store when your personal fridge was out of banana—”

“I thought I said we don’t speak of those hard times,” he cuts you off, “ever.”  

You stop him from filling up your ice bag with the ice he brought. “C’mon Jeon, you’re burning daylight out there. I got this. You’ve stalled enough, go have fun in the snow with Jimin, you adrenaline junkie.” 

He scrunches his nose, but relents when you throw him his jacket and goggles. Before he pulls on his gloves, he cups your face with both hands to pull you in a kiss. His hands are cold from the ice, gluing you in place in fear of him kissing you too hard. But it’s barely that, a brushing of lips so tender as he takes extra care with your open lip. 

“Is this also a self-indulgent request?” you pucker, “who knew there was a hormonal teenager under that editor-in-chief’s body.” 

His eyes flicker to the audience in the back, and you don’t need to look behind you to note that they’re glaring daggers in your head. It’s like you’re straight out of a rom-com. 

“You’re leaving me to the bunnies,” you say teasingly. 

“Then hurry up and get better so you can join us,” he taunts, “or else you can’t help me bury Jimin in the snow.” 

It’s a tempting offer that makes you down your drink so you can enjoy the rest of your day. 

Light seeps through your windows, rays kissing your eyelashes and willing them to open. You groan, hand splaying out to wake up Jungkook. When you find his space empty and cool, you sit up and search for your fake-fiancé. 

He’s on the floor, smack in the middle of his morning workout. Your iPad is under his body, and somehow he’s managed to find a setting where the document scrolls for him automatically. He’s not wearing his Airpods, so you rasp, “Jeon, you’re crazy. I get the morning workout, but you don’t have to look over any more transcripts. I think you’ve read enough for this week.” 

“It helps me ignore the burn,” he says shortly, and you see the ripples of his back flex with every push-up. “And I wouldn’t have to do so much reading if my assistant would just do her job.” 

“I already told you, I’m not working during my vacation.” you throw off the sheets, padding to your closet. “I’m going to pick the tree today. You should go to the mall with my mom and Jimin to pick out some new ornaments.” 

“What?” he gets up, and you ignore the perfect view of tight muscles decorating his abs. Exactly how long was he awake for to have sweat clinging to his shirt? You’re going to short-circuit and it’s barely 8:30. “But I wanna go help pick out the tree.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Joon and Yoongi got it.” 

“Yoongi, really? You think he can carry a tree?” 

“This isn’t a pissing contest, Jeon.” you settle on a burgundy Patagonia jacket and grey leggings. “Besides, Yoongi and I are just friends.”

“You sure about that, baby girl?” 

You whip around to poke at his chest, and you ignore how smug he looks. “Do not test me, Jeon. Like you said, I’m with you every step of the way in this marriage. I’m not going to jeopardize that over some childhood crush.” 

“Wow, your life is really turning into a Wattpad entry,” he admonishes, “fake-fiancé still pining over his older brother’s best friend, really high-qual stuff.” 

“I’m serious.” you grit, “I took a week off so I can get away from you and that was ruined, so I would like a little bit of space today.” 

And that gets Jungkook to back away. His face deflates a little, and you feel a little guilty for making him upset, but you stab that thought down and convince yourself that he deserves it. It’s not like he cares about you, he just wants to show off to the boys.

“Fine,” he turns around to put on a fresh shirt, and you almost notice the pout marrying his face. “You could’ve just told me you wanted space. I’m getting kind of tired of you too, you know.” 

He flops on the bed and you huff in reply, quickly throwing on your attire inside your closet while he watches a YouTube video. You check your phone, and at 8:59 a knock is at your door. Jungkook doesn’t bother to get up to answer, and you open the door to see a sleepy Yoongi with a paper cup in his hand. 

“An English breakfast with two sugars and a dash of milk, baby girl.” 

You mask your wince at the pet name. It hadn’t bothered you when you were young, but its starting to feel coddling now that Jungkook is making you hyper-aware of the attention. “Perfect,” you faux-beam, the hot beverage warm your fingers. 

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

“Babeeeeee,”  the deepest, sexiest voice echoes from your bed and out in the hallway. He sounds absolutely tempting, and needy. You freeze at the way your boss can so easily pretend he’s exhausted and wanting you, “come back to bedddddd. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Yoongi’s ears are red, “Aaand, I’ll let you finish whatever business you have.” 

The older man bolts out of there, and you snap your head back to look at an innocent Jungkook. He tilts his head at your bout of anger. 

“You know, I have half a mind to fling this tea down your shirt.” 

“What?” he looks at you like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “He can’t be the only one who can call you baby.” 

Honestly, you didn’t mean to lash out on Jungkook like that. You did need to put up a face as you were each other's significant others, but it doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time. To top it all off you’ve been feeling weird as of late, and you can only attribute these terrible feelings to a certain brunet who’s been sleeping in your bed. 

But you pin these feelings for another time, because you need to enjoy what little quality time you have with your brother. 

“Hey, whaddya think of this one?” It's just you and Namjoon picking the tree, and Yoongi’s sitting in the cabin keeping warm. He said to call him once you’ve decided, since it is your house. 

“Hm, it’s fine.” you shrug, inhaling the pine. “Maybe a little too tall.” 

Namjoon nods, and you follow him to the next row of greenery. He’s been pensive this whole time, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something. Surrounded by pine and the fresh winter air he says, “Hey, I just wanna say sorry.” 

“Why, did you like that tree over there? I don’t mind it, we can go back!” 

“What, no? I’m sorry for being weird around Jungkook.” 

“Huh?” sure, you noticed the weird language and terseness he gave Jungkook initially, but you chalked it out as big brother issues. 

You two continue to walk around the forest aimlessly, not really tree hunting. 

“I was just upset that the engagement was so sudden,” Namjoon starts, and you feel the guilt start to set camp in your stomach. “And I don’t know, at first he just didn’t seem like your type? I always thought you wanted to date someone gentle, someone you could hold and depend on. He looked so serious, and maybe a little immature.”

“He is a little immature,” you agree softly, digging your boots in the snow, “but I don’t love him any less because of it. We’re growing together.” Shit, why was that so easy for you to say? 

“Figured,” and Namjoon stops to place a hand on your shoulder, “I see the way he looks at you, and you can’t fake love like that.” 

Namjoon’s admonition is so convincing that you almost convince yourself that it is something. 

Something is bothering Jungkook, and he doesn’t know why. 

It’s not the billions of charges he made on his credit card for new ornaments, because it simultaneously inflated his ego and impressed your mom. 

It’s not the way Jimin hangs onto his every word and doesn’t let up, because it is refreshing to have your cousin find a genuine interest in him. 

Jungkook, Jimin and your mom have been taking laps around the mall for the past hour. They’ve floated around here and there, picking out whatever catches their eye for the tree. 

Jimin’s in the middle of explaining the Jamba Juice story when a glimmering window display catches his eye. 

“Hun, have you not bought her a present yet?” your mom says over his shoulder. 

“No,” he exhales, embarrassed that he just admitted he didn’t think of getting you anything in front of your mom. “She doesn’t ask for anything, really.” Besides her book published, a raise, and a potential promotion as editor, but they didn’t need to know that much. 

“Good thing you’re with the right people!” Jimin cheers, ushering him into the jewelry store. 

Funny enough, he knows exactly what to get you. Once he points it out, Jimin and your mom “ooh” and “aah” respectively, agreeing that what he chose was perfect. If you had asked Jungkook a week ago what kind of jewlery you like, he’d give you a dumb look and say “something shiny.” But that’s what’s bothering him. He just walked right into the store, saw what was right, and everything just clicked. 

Jungkook pins that thought for later, because once their shopping is done they’re back at your villa, arranging the ornaments and detangling the lights that have been holed up in the closet for eleven months. 

Jimin and he are sitting on the living room floor, stabbing thread through popcorn. He really only saw this craft in the movies, and the small part of him is amazed that you and your family go through the hard work to make your holidays so warm. 

Your mom appears from her bedroom, clutching something in her hand. She sits in front of Jungkook, a huge smile on her face. 

“Before you say anything,” and it strikes him how similar you are to your mother. There’s that tone he always receives before he gets new news, or the way you’re eager to share something that will make him happy. “I don’t want you to think this is a luxurious gift or anything. But I realized that you don’t have a wedding band so I went through my old cases and found this.” 

She opens her palm slowly, revealing a simple black band. 

Jungkook’s lips part to form words, but his vocal cords betray him. At first glance, this ring could’ve been mistaken for one of Jimin’s plentiful rings adorning his fingers. Upon closer inspection however, Jungkook notes that this band is thinner and more worn. The metal looks strong and old, the slight scratches and faded color revealing that it was a well-loved piece of jewelry. 

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band. 

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay!” your mom says quickly, nerves radiating because of Jungkook’s silence. “It was my grandfather’s. Don’t feel as if you have to accept it. It’s not a wedding band persay, but I think it matches and it looks about your size and we didn’t get you a Christmas gift so—”

“It’s perfect.” Jungkook tells her firmly, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I guess we kind of rushed the engagement so I didn’t think of getting a band of my own.” 

Your mother is grateful, dropping the ring in Jungkook’s awaiting palm. “I think my daughter should be the one who puts it on you, don’t you think?” 

“Right,” he echoes, and he just stares at the ring in his hand, feeling weird in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone put this much thought in getting him something this significant. He can’t accept this ring, but he can’t refuse it either. “I could never find something with this much value from a little shop in New York, so thank you.” 

“Oh, and while we’re on the topic of New York,” Jimin puts down his completed popcorn wreath, “y/n said she already put in her off days for Easter, so you should too. It’ll be at my place this year, and I live by an indoor skydiving zone. She mentioned you’re an adrenaline junkie.” 

“She also mentioned that your birthday’s in September.” your mom pops in, “We were thinking we could take Friday off and stop by for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton!” 

Jungkook knows they’re trying to cheer him up. They’re trying to make him feel part of the family, feel wanted. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt wanted unless it’s for a book deal or a business exchange. It’s been so long since he’s felt this warm, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for it until he proposed to you.

“Hey man,” Jimin puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, “are you alright?” 

“Fine,” he’s crying, and doing a shit job at hiding the tears. “It’s alright, I just,” he can’t even find the strength to get up and walk away from this. Is it pathetic that he’s breaking down in the comfort of your cousin and mom, starved for affection? “I just, I miss my family. It’s just the four of us, but they’re all the way in Korea and it’s been awhile since I’ve really celebrated anything with them. They visit sometimes but it’s not the same, y’know? And work is so stressful but I’m not in a position to say that. And your family is just so, so nice and it makes me miss them even more. You’re all so lucky to support each other like this.” 

Jimin and your mom sandwich him like an Oreo. It’s almost funny, how two smaller humans are comforting this big human and not the other way around. “Poor baby, it’s your family too.” 

Pathetic. It’s pathetic how much he wishes to have a family like yours, but he can’t have that. 

“Can we please not tell y/n about this?” Jungkook wishes, leaning his head on your mom’s. “She’s going through a lot right now with work and stuff, I’d rather just talk to her about this after the holidays, if that’s okay.” 

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” your mom runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes automatically flutter closed, “just remember, your feelings matter too, okay?” 

You and Jungkook slip into bed at the same time, murmuring half-hearted “how was your days” and brief descriptions of your outings. It’s a little awkward considering the morning’s events, but not unbearable. 

“The tree smells really nice,” Jungkook tries, looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, makes the whole room smell like Christmas.” 

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time shopping, find anything good?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” 

[11:29] Jimin: hey, you know my room’s right next to yours right? 

[11:29] Jimin: we share a goddamn wall and im NOT hearing shit

[11:29] Jimin: are you putting that baby blanket to good use ;)

[11:30] You: YOU”REE DISGUSTING are we even family!!!!  Can i disown a first cousin?? 

[11:30] Jimin: i’m just sayin.. U said it was fantastic

You throw your phone away, letting it slide off to the mattress and onto the baby blanket. Yes, the baby blanket is unfortunately here to stay. Over the course of three days, the quilt is like a ball in a tennis match between you and your mother. You’ve given up and just kept it on the floor. 

“I have a question,” you say aloud, motioning to your bed partner. 

“Shoot.” 

“Was it true when you said I was the only girl you knew well enough to be your wife?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” 

“I’m just wondering, because I really thought you could pick any girl in the office to be yours.” you stuff your hands under the covers, playing with your ring. “I mean, you’re kinda-sorta handsome. You could’ve picked someone just as pretty and they would have studied your whole life story for you.” 

Jungkook's phone falls in his lap, and he looks at you like you’ve lost a couple brain cells. “Normally, I would eat up the fact that you admitted I was attractive. But do you realize you’re just as beautiful, if not more?” 

What? 

“I know it’s unprofessional, but how professional can we get when we’re married, but you’re the whole package, y/n.” and he says it with such fervor, you can’t formulate a response. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. No one else can take my shit and throw it right back in my face, or debate with me for hours on end about a novel’s direction. Only you can do that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “thanks, you’re right. I’m just clouded, and stressed. And Jimin’s being an ass and it’s really bothering me.” 

His chocolate eyes flicker in the darkness of your bedroom, making note of your phone on the floor. “What’d he say?” 

“It’s stupid, he said that he thinks it’s weird he hasn’t heard us bang all week,” you force a laugh, “it’s my fault though, he wouldn’t get off my back so I gave up and told him the sex was fantastic.” 

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?” 

“A little, maybe? I don’t know.” you’re wrinkling your bedsheets now, turning the cotton into putty as your sweaty palms wring at the edge. 

“I don’t mind giving him a show.” Jungkook blurts, and you instinctively pull the covers closer to your chest, even though you’re fully clothed. 

“What, like fake moan into the wall?” 

“There are things you can do over the clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, pulling the sheet of his bedside down slightly. “And you just said you’re stressed. I’d be a bad fiancé to not let you relieve some of that tension.” 

Jungkook opens his arms and gestures for you to get on his lap. Your body is hot all over, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re horrified or aroused. Maybe a little of both. 

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!” 

“And we’re consenting adults!” he narrows his eyes at you, “don’t say you’ve never thought about it before.”

And the sick, twisted part of you has, a lot. There’s something about a man in a tailored suit and owning up to its power that’s really attractive. Not to mention all those times they’d be traveling for work, stumbling for a quick McDonald's bite at 12AM and he’d be dressed casually in tight black jeans and combat boots. The energy really kept you on your toes. 

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?” 

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.” 

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.” 

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables. 

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time. 

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.” 

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!” 

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.” 

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion. 

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard. 

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.” 

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs. 

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.” 

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed. 

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts. 

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw. 

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make  yourself feel good.” 

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.” 

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body. 

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,” 

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal. 

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand. 

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why. 

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.” 

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you. 

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies. 

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch. 

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club. 

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?” 

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles. 

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.” 

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?” 

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs. 

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.” 

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom. 

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.” 

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway. 

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”. 

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.” 

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!” 

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.” 

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently. 

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.” 

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks. 

“You say that like it’s not possible!” 

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.” 

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast. 

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake. 

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room. 

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out. 

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.” 

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.” 

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca. 

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?”  

“What’s up?” 

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.” 

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.” 

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.” 

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.” 

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?” 

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners. 

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.” 

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!” 

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail. 

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.” 

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.” 

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face. 

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute? 

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses. 

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin. 

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes. 

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap. 

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.” 

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.” 

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game. 

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.” 

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!” 

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back. 

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were. 

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.” 

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?” 

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?” 

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. . 

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering. 

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh. 

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his. 

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.” 

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket. 

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed. 

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings. 

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was. 

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you. 

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually. 

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much? 

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful. 

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you? 

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday.  Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel. 

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?” 

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.” 

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.” 

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked. 

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use. 

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat. 

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!” 

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold. 

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him. 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right. 

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.” 

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it. 

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.” 

“I don’t deserve your trust.” 

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.  

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug. 

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this. 

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest. 

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.” 

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced. 

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side. 

“Long version or short version?” 

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.” 

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.  

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!” 

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.” 

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant. 

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.” 

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!” 

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.” 

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him. 

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up. 

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?” 

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.” 

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.” 

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air. 

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.” 

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!” 

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away. 

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.” 

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.” 

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.” 

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.” 

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?” 

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?” 

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.” 

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.” 

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you. 

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right. 

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee. 

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”  

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss. 

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?” 

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.” 

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal. 

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.” 

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.” 

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.” 

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.” 

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.” 

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.” 

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.” 

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.” 

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?” 

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.” 

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye. 

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?” 

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.” 

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.” 

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?” 

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.” 

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.” 

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.” 

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!” 

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream. 

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?” 

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings. 

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook pops. 

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?” 

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag. 

“Hit us with your best shot.” 

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full. 

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

[quarantinevibes2020]

LoveDrug

Summary:  That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

-

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

[howtosingit]

"lovingly slap him around" I mean- the biggest mood I have about TK. I love him but I just deeply sigh at half of the things he does. I'm sure Carlos was always like IM TIRED at his antics. But also loves him bc you know- they are two halves of one heart.

And let me make it clear: sometimes I would like to lovingly slap Carlos around, too, okay?! Like, so lovingly, but just to rattle him a little, pull him out of his head!

When he completely avoided the question about his parents in 2x02, just walked away from TK - I was like, "boy, c'mere, let me whack you." When he introduced TK as a friend at the market in 2x04, I was like "boy, c'mere, let me whack you, what are you doing?"

And y'know what, even though I fully understood where he was coming from in both of those moments, especially once we got an explanation for his behavior (and when I say fully understood, I mean on a very, very personal level - that Carlos + parents plot was relatable AF okay), I still would've thumped him on the head in those two moments because he could've made better choices at those times. He could've used those as opportunities to explain, so that he didn't inadvertently hurt TK the way he did. So much of that drama could've been avoided if he hadn't been intent on avoiding the elephant in the juice bar. So, yeah, I would've thumped him, even though I totally got it.

It's fine to fully understand where a character is coming from while at the same time being like, "dude, you done fucked up right here." Life is complicated and nuanced, and we can have multiple feelings about one thing.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (10/14)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

The floors of the motel room were wooden. And wood on most days was a good insulator.

Strangely though, signs of the beginning of autumn and maybe even the staunch hints of a coming winter seeped into the floorboards. Levi bent down, pressing one hand over the wood. The surface was cold enough to almost sting. It looked like sleeping on the floor could turn out to be more of a challenge than a moment of respite.

Still, it was something to consider. Levi sat cross legged on the floor for a few seconds longer to rehearse the gentle suggestion to Hange that he be the one to take the floor. They had been hesitantly discussing that topic for a while already, without reaching much of a conclusion.

When he was still vacillating internally between deciding and letting Hange decide, he started to realize he wasn’t productive at all. He didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t know what to do. Naturally, he didn’t know what to say either.

The door slammed open just a few feet away, close enough to rattle him.

“That felt good,” Hange sighed and she fell back on the bed. “Finally, I can lie on a bed.”

“See, isn’t it better to lie on a clean bed?” Levi asked pointedly. He had spent a good few seconds convincing her not to lie on the bed until she showered. Surprisingly, Hange was compliant.

But even after showering, Hange didn’t seem at all glad at his fastidiousness. Without a second look, she digressed to a subject Levi would have preferred she didn’t pursue. “I’ll go borrow a first aid kit and get some extra blankets.” She padded towards the door efficiently.

The room was small, and Hange’s strides were long and quick. That left no time for Levi to play clean freak or lecturer again and he chose that moment to lay on the cold floor.

Just for a little more practice.

It was a cheap motel room. There were only two pillows on the bed, one blanket and when he opened the closet door there was nothing much but two bathrobes and towels.

They had discussed the size already. They had considered a mattress but the floor between the wall and the bed was not big enough to squeeze one in. He stood up, walked one corner of the room, then the other, then he made a plan. They could request an extra blanket, a pillow and if he made his own little fort in that small gap between bed and wall, he could probably create some illusion that he was lying comfortably on a bed.

The door opened again and Hange sauntered into the room, one folded blanket on one hand, a first aid kit on the other. “Okay, let’s check out the wound.”

“It’s just a scrape,” Levi said.

“It wouldn’t hurt to get it cleaned up. ” Hange said with a no nonsense tone. She settled on the bed and tapped the empty space next to him. "Or actually, it might hurt."

Levi slowly and hesitantly made his way to the bed. There was something seemingly inappropriate about sitting on someone’s bed. The few times he had ever entered someone’s room, Levi had always been particular about avoiding other people’s beds for hygiene purposes, for personal purposes. It was their personal space after all.

But Hange was staring at him expectantly and with the bed behind her, Levi was thinking of the only one other person who had the privileges of sleeping with Hange. That blond billionaire monke----.

“What are you waiting for?” Hange interrupted, her voice a mix of impatience and possibly genuine curiosity. She tapped the bed again more quickly that time.

“I don’t need it,” Levi said. Really, he didn’t mind but when he was particularly aware that he had been standing awkwardly the past few minutes, he knew he needed to preserve some dignity.

“You’re scared of a little alcohol?” Hange teased.

“No, I’m not,” Levi narrowed his eyes in indignance. Then he started to think, he could look obedient or he could look like a coward. He decided obedience was better so he sat next to her, keeping a few inches between them.

As soon as he was settled on the bed, Hange pulled his injured elbow towards her in a very gentle manner. It brought with it a sensation Levi was sure he wasn't completely familiar with. A part of him wanted to pull away. Was that her first time touching him slowly and deliberately? Their first point of contact that wasn't borne of urgency or impulse?

Either way, Levi had to admit, it was an unfamiliar feeling altogether. He watched, just to make sense of it himself, the way Hange's hands ran lightly over the broken skin, the way she gripped a little more firmly along the area close to the wound.

She bent her head down and tutted a few times. “Looks like splinters might have gotten caught in the wound.” She went for the first aid kit, pulling out tweezers and some thick gauze. “This might hurt a bit,” she warned.

Sitting still turned out to be a difficult task. He was sure he had dealt with worse pains and he had never been one to be completely intolerant of discomforts. He liked to assume it was the current situation, the awkwardness and the heavy air that made it difficult to do something so simple as to stomach pain.

Pain before he even felt it. His body was not cooperating.

“Hey, I know it might hurt but stop pulling away or we won’t get it out.” Her voice was notably stern. She put her hands on his shoulders and twisted his body to her side. “Face me.”

It was an easy order to follow but it came with its own set of unpleasantries. Levi could only stare. Her gaze was as stern as her words of a while ago. Her grip on his shoulders had been hard and firm. For all he knew, she could have been his commander, his superior. And he couldn’t help but think, maybe she would have fit that type of position in another life.

When her face would soften into something more intimate, it didn’t in any way dwindle whatever respect he felt for her.

Hange didn’t go for the splinter quickly the second time. She bent over, pulled his elbow towards her more slowly. “If you need to, squeeze my arm.” To get her point across, Hange raised the arm that was holding his elbow up, pressing it against Levi’s palms.

He couldn’t help but note, her arms were a stark contrast to the cold floor beneath him, a welcome improvement to the blankets and bed sheets to his side. Her arms, her skin was very warm and he craved warmth. In a natural turn of events, he wrapped his fingers around her arm slowly at first, then all at once. “I won’t squeeze too hard,” Levi said. Had that comment been for him or for her?

Hange ignored him. “Let’s do this quickly. In one--”

Levi saw white then red in an unexpected turn of events. She didn’t count two or three. He didn’t even know he let out a taut swear until Hange let out her own response, a mix between a laugh and a murmur. “You really are strong,” she commented. “Humanity’s strongest.”

"Shut up." He let it out as a whisper, channeling his energy instead into the process evening out his breathing.

"Does it still hurt?" Hange asked.

"What? No it doesn't." It didn’t hurt. What made her think it did? Even after a brief moment of introspection, the answer wasn’t completely clear to Levi.

To Hange though, it might have been clear. She was looking at him expectantly and Levi surveyed his surroundings, focusing his senses on whatever signs she might have noticed.

A second later, she spoke up, answering that silent question between them. "You're still holding on.”

At that mortifying revelation, Levi pulled away.

But Hange only gripped harder. “I don’t mind. If it still hurts, you can keep holding on.” She paused for a second longer, her gaze still fixed on his. “And you can keep holding on until it stops hurting.”

Levi was a simple man and he knew nobody was supposed to enjoy pain. In a bout of what could have been uncharacteristic, he found himself searching for it. The stinging pain of the scrape eventually faded but that only made Levi settle for any remnants. An excuse to grip for a while longer maybe?

He found another type of pain, something similar to what a donkey would feel with a carrot dangling in front of it. The pain of having something within proximity yet completely unreachable. The pain of vacillating between trying to find a way to reach it and trying to find a way to get over it.

If he was in any more pain, he could have continued to hold on, for seconds even minutes longer. Soon, he let whatever primal instincts that were convincing him of that, take over.

He gripped hard.

Hange wasn’t helping abate his instincts. She gripped harder in return. Her nails were short but they were digging hard into him, her thumbs pressing all the way until he felt it down to the bone. “You know, holding on to someone can make you feel better, especially when you’re in a lot of pain,” she said.

“What makes you think anything hurts?” Levi challenged. As if to answer his question, his shaking hands, his firm grip gave way to a new set of discomforts.

Hange gave him a knowing look enough for Levi to acknowledge that maybe, he lost a little bit of control. “You seem tense,” she said. “Does anything else hurt? That was a bad fall a while ago… I think you cushioned it for me.”

“The grass was soft,” Levi reassured.

Hange nodded. “Okay…” She trailed off as if there was more to say.

But really, was there anything else to say? The room was just composed of dead air, a few pieces of lifeless furniture and an elephant, a large elephant. Fine. Levi had to admit, there was an elephant in the room. It was demanding to be comprehended, eventually resolved.

The way Hange’s eyes narrowed on him was a sign in itself, she might have been aware of it too. “Still...Does anything else hurt?”

In a burst of painful awareness, Levi twisted his arms from her grasp, another futile attempt to pull away. “You can let go now,” he said. It was a weak plea. In reality, he wished she wouldn’t let go.

A part of him was suggesting that maybe, just maybe, they were both a little crazy and someone had to play the part of the sane person.

Eventually, Hange seemed to have come to her senses. Or he could have been coming to his senses too. When everything was coming in blurs, he couldn’t be too sure who was actually in need of a smack on the head.

“Let me bandage up your elbow.” Hange rifled through the first aid kit.

There was a brief silence and Levi was clamoring for something to fill the empty air. “You seem to know a lot about first aid,” he commented. That was a ridiculous comment, anyone with half a brain could have pulled out a splinter and bandaged it.

“I took psychology in college... We took biology classes and there were first aid seminars,” Hange answered as if it wasn’t a stupid question.

The conversation had shifted to college classes and Levi was wondering how to comment about something so obvious and expected. Maybe talk about himself? “I took coding classes,” Levi said. Really, what else was there to say.

“I figured,” Hange said. That last comment didn’t look like it had disturbed the rhythm at all of taping the gauze to his elbow. It was a seamless sequence of movements and Hange’s hands didn’t stop moving, they flew over to the palms of his hands. “It looks like you have some scrapes here.”

There was a subtle stinging pain and Levi noticed, his body shook at the tingling sensation of her hands on his. He definitely wasn’t used to that much touch. And from her of all people? “You don’t need to bandage them.” They weren’t bad scrapes at all, just raw red.

Hange continued to run her hands over them, gripping a little firmer in areas where the skin seemed more intact. Instinct had Levi gripping back. And the few times when he pressed hard enough, he felt a twinge of guilt, as if he was the one invading personal space.

Hange let out a light chuckle. “Are you okay?”

“Why?”

“Your grip, it’s on and off,” Hange pointed out.

“Yeah, it feels weird.”

Hange didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers travelled all the way towards his wrist. “Don’t software engineers get carpal tunnel?”

“Yeah, maybe it's carpal tunnel,” Levi said. He had coded for long enough to at least be familiar with the bane of every software engineer’s existence. He had been an engineer long enough though to know that the tingling was most likely not carpal tunnel.

“You should take care of yourself more. It would be sad if someone like you had to retire early over a wrist injury.”

“Senior engineers don’t code as much anymore. We handle pull requests.” Was that the right thing to say to fill the air between them?

Hange wasn’t looking at him though. Her brows were furrowed, her jaws were stiff. She seemed too focused on his hands though to trifle herself with the responsibilities of senior engineers. “I heard there’s a way to check it out… if we flex your wrist here.” She gripped hard, her hands digging once again into his lower palms. The tingle, the thunder at his lower hand shook him all the way until his shoulders. In a bout of panic, Levi attempted to pull away again.

Hange’s grip could have been weak or Levi’s own pull could have been strong. That moment ended with a surprised Hange, looking right at him. She soon turned red. “You’re right, it wasn’t even bleeding. What was I thinking?” She looked away, seeming flustered.

“You should give back the first aid kit now,” Levi said.

“They said I can give it back tomorrow morning.” Hange looked away and shut the first aid kit with a click.

There was silence once again. A complete waste of time when there were too many issues, too many questions that needed to be resolved. When they were racing through his mind at breakneck speed, Levi had to admit, when overwhelmed, sometimes silence was the most natural response.

One at a time. “I can sleep on the floor,” Levi suggested.

Hange’s soft expression of a while ago immediately changed to something incredulous. “No you--”

“Or the car,” Levi added.

Hange opened her mouth, ready to say something else.

But Levi was quicker. “The back of the car isn’t as mud--”

Hange interrupted with a loud exhale which somehow had managed to convey a no nonsense massage. “Is there anything wrong with the bed?”

“Don’t you wanna sleep on the bed?”

Hange shook her head. “You’re the injured one.”

“It’s barely even a flesh wound. Besides you were the one driving,” Levi argued.

“You were the one who took the brunt of rolling down the hill.”

Could looks be effective in persuading? He stared for a while longer, fixing his eyes on hers. Hange returned his gaze with her own indignant one.

How long could they sit there just staring?

And as time passed, he started to wonder, how long did they sit there just staring. The weight of sleepiness eventually served as a reminder, they weren’t getting anything done. With the rain still pouring outside, the option of sleeping in the car was also out of the question.

Maybe giving in didn’t have to be such a climactic decision. “I’m going to bed,” Levi got off the bed and wedged himself between the wall and the bedside, pulling one pillow from bed and slipping it underneath. As long as he was careful not to hit his head on anything, he could make it work. “Good night.”

“Okay,” Hange said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll turn off the lights now.”

“Well, it’s better to fall asleep with the lights off right?”

Hange didn’t reply. Footsteps echoed across the room, there was a click and the room got darker, enough of a cue for Levi to close his eyes and relax as best as he could. He squeezed further into the gap, the wooden bed frame pressed to one side, the cold cement of the wall pressed on his other and just a pillow underneath, a blanket over him.

The sound of footsteps didn’t end there. There was a squeak, then a thump. The whoosh of blankets and the soft plop of a pillow. On the wooden floor.

Levi couldn’t relax just yet. “Hange, is there something wrong with the bed?”

“You tell me. Is there something wrong with the bed?” Hange asked from across the room.

“The floor is more comfortable for me,” Levi answered.

“For me too.”

“Okay,” Levi said. He had answered that way enough times to know, it carried some magic with it, enough magic to piss most people off.

Silence though was surprisingly a more annoying response. A very very long silence. No snores, no even breaths. Ironically, that silence was keeping him awake. Levi stood up, folded the blanket and slipped a pillow to his side.

“Where are you going?” Hange’s response was almost immediate.

“I’m sleeping in the car. I can’t sleep here.”

“The bed is comfier.” Hange stood up, waving a hand on the bedside.

“Who are you to tell me what’s comfy for me?” Levi turned towards the door and gripped the doorknob. He didn’t even have the time to turn it.

“If that's the logic you go by, then you can't tell me what's comfy either,” Hange said. “I think the rain is comfy. If you sleep in the car then I’ll sleep in the rain,”

“If you don’t take the bed, I’ll sleep in the rain,” Levi argued.

Hange was merely a shadow in the dark. He couldn’t do much to make out her face then but by god, she was annoying. “Take the bed,” she said.

“No.”

“It’s just a bed,” Hange pressed.

“I should be telling you that.”

“I’ve had more than enough comfortable beds to last a lifetime.”

“I’ve slept in enough shitty beds to be completely okay with sleeping on the floor.”

“Are you saying I’m not okay with sleeping on the floor?” Hange’s voice was more indignant than a second ago.

“Well, you’re the one who implied that maybe I’ve never slept on a comfortable bed.” That last sentence had been a chore to say. Levi’s eyes were dropping already then. He was in no mood to argue When he was just a little irritable, everything was sounding like an insult. “Take the bed,” he whispered. He still tasted venom.

“You look tired.” Hange’s voice softened, maybe mirroring his own. “You need it more than I do. Why don’t you wanna take it?”

“It’s your bed, you paid for the room.”

“I got us into this accident.”

There was silence again and Levi used that time to lean back against the wall then slowly onto the floor.

Hange took a deep breath. “I’ll ask again. Is there something wrong with the bed?”

“I want you to have it," Levi answered.

“I want you to have it too.”

From Levi’s vantage point, he couldn't completely see Hange. He heard her sigh though. Then he saw the way the shadow had made its way closer to the bed then the creak of springs sounded in the room then a light bounce. “You know, we can make this work. The bed is big enough for two people.”

“Two people who are married,” Levi clarified.

There was a soft rustle of pillows, then blankets. She moved to his side of the room, then Levi felt the pull of the blanket from on top of him, then the pillow from his hands.

No response from Hange had him particularly paranoid. His exhausted brain had him barely thinking. “People who are married to each other,” Levi clarified a second later.

“Levi, take the side nearer to the wall,” Hange ordered. Her voice was firm, intimidating, almost threatening.

Maybe it was a little scary. He was almost certain, if he didn’t force himself up, Hange could have probably come in and carried him herself. Better to spare himself the embarrassment and the unnecessary drama. He pulled himself up slowly, one hand then the other, made the painstaking trek to the edge of the bed and fell back onto the bed.

“Better?” Hange asked.

It was definitely an improvement from the floor, but he wasn’t going to tell Hange that. She had created a fort of pillows between them. He lay his head on part of it and took one deep breath and closed his eyes in hope that that could have been enough to have him fall asleep.

Before he could have even contemplated sleep, the bed bounced lightly. Then the scent of cheap shampoo and a hint of sweat wafted just in front of him. Levi opened his eyes, taking stock of the view in front of him. Hange had taken the space on the other side. Her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore and it spilled out, only a few inches away from his face.

She was staring right at him and they were close enough that Levi could make out her features even in the dark.

Her wide eyes. Her bright eyes. How could eyes be bright in the dark? Curiosity maybe? Amazement. Inquisitiveness.

In the dark, she could have been studying him and Levi could have probed for more hints by letting his own eyes travel over to her lips, then back to her nose, her forehead, for any other sign of emotion. He searched for a wrinkle on the nose or a crinkle on her forehead.

Hange seemed deep in thought. Her eyes were endless in the dark room and Levi eventually found comfort in just studying them, letting himself indulge in speculations that weren't reaching any particular conclusion.

And Hange wasn’t in any hurry to look away. Maybe she could have fixated at him for longer.

It wasn’t completely clear to Levi what exactly led to that point where their eyes and their noses were only a hair's breadth from each other.

That one tense moment was what pulled him back to his senses.

With no pillows left after creating the fort, they were both forced to rely on it to be some sort of headrest. Of all things, they ended up sharing it.

But Levi was perfectly comfortable without it. He turned onto his other side, pressing his back on the pillow fort, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall. He closed his eyes again.

With time and with some discipline, he must have dozed off. He had always been a light sleeper though. With just one bounce of the bed, then with the loud ring of the familiar emotion alarm that quickly faded into nothing, Levi was forced awake.

Hange was murmuring something to herself. It didn’t seem at all like she was asleep. The faint light that illuminated the room was a sign. Hange was most likely on her phone but Levi didn’t think it right to take a peek.

He fell on his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of the flash of a second ago. In the dark, the light had come up as some sort of white. When Levi focused, when he squinted, he made sense of some color that tended to stand out among the others.

Red.

Curiosity was a powerful thing. Levi was sure if he didn’t ask then, he probably wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. “Hange, you okay?”

“Sorry, I forgot to put my alarm on silent,” Hange’s voice was toneless. The bright flashes betrayed whatever Hange could have been attempting though. The more Levi echoed it to himself, the weaker her own ‘nonchalance’ had started to seem.

“You okay?” He asked again.

“Levi, go back to sleep.”

It took him an hour or so to doze off again and maybe it had been Hange’s disturbed breaths that made it so.

Then he pondered for a while longer. If he had never asked in the first place, would he have fallen asleep much more easily?

***

"I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me."

There was a certain point when Levi completely gave up on sleeping. A point when Levi had looked out the window and decided there was enough natural light to constitute as early morning more than night.

He walked out of the backdoor, reader in hand, flicking the lights of the veranda on.

The smell after the rain, the early morning chill only accentuated the already peaceful atmosphere. It was the perfect time and place to let his mind wander, so Levi didn't hesitate to turn on his reader and will himself once again to fall back into the world of Regent England, Rosing Parks and Pemberley.

It was slow going but eventually, time started to pass strangely.

Days passed then months then years. Of course it would, Elizabeth was counting months as the story continued. Levi, the reader on the other hand was counting time in events, in plot twists, in beats.

With the final chapter finished, time stopped. The book ended with a satisfying epilogue but even after turning off the reader, Levi was silent, unmoving, his eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him.

But his mind was moving in all directions at once. He had spent a huge chunk of the last hour before sunrise leaning back on the sun chair and reflecting. How long had the sky been a comfortable blue? How long had the veranda lamp been spouting useless light before he turned it off?

Levi only thought it necessary to move when the backdoor of the motel room opened. By then, he had already completed the book and early morning sleepiness sat heavy on him.

“How long have you been out here?” Hange settled on the chair in front of him, placing her laptop on the table.

“Good morning to you too.” Levi followed her with his eyes.

Hange met his eyes and gave him a sleepy half smile. “Good morning.”

“I finished the book,” Levi said.

“How was it?”

“The ending was nice. There were some memorable quotes. It made me think…” About you? He couldn't be too sure what it made him think of. So he opted not to say his first thought aloud.

“I think a lot about the book too.” Hange booted up her laptop and started to aimlessly click at her mouse. “And I was thinking about it again last night.”

“What about?”

“Pemberley… Rosings, I was wondering how to explain everything to you but every time I try to figure out the right way, I end up just clamming up.” Hange looked like she was deliberately hiding herself behind her laptop screen. “I’m sorry for just avoiding the topic. I don’t think I’ve been in the best state to even discuss this in a while.”

“You think you’ll be able to talk about it soon?”

Hange shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What if I told you I wanted to talk about it?

“Then I’ll listen,” Hange said.

“What if we go back to your Pemberley? WIll you talk to me about it again?”

Hange paused for a second, her eyes wistful, then almost blank. She looked pointedly at his elbow. “It might still be wet.”

“It stopped raining. We’ll be careful,” Levi answered, keeping his tone as no nonsense as possible.

Hange didn’t respond immediately. She was looking at something on her laptop.

Levi used that few moments of silence to study Hange. Sleepiness seemed to be weighing on her as well. Her eyes were half closed, her shoulders dropped more than usual and he had half the mind to tell her to go back to bed. That is, if he didn’t see the strong intent in her eyes.

He tried to make a guess by the glare of the screen on her glasses and came up with nothing productive. “What are you doing?”

“You have app testing tomorrow right? We’re gonna have to be on our way home by mid afternoon at the latest. Unless you wanna do another overnight train…” Hange suggested, that last part seemed more like a warning than a suggestion.

Showing up for the app testing the next morning, more exhausted than he already was, seemed like a harrowing experience.

“What do you suggest?”

“There’s an airport near here, they have a few flights back to the city. I’ll book us two last minute tickets for later this afternoon,” Hange said.

“And the car?”

“We’ll drop it off there, I’ll pay extra for the cleaning.”

“How much do I pay?” Levi asked. Instinctively, his hands flew to his pocket. Of course there would be nothing there, his phone and his wallet were still in the overnight bag.

Hange shook her head. “Nothing, I dragged you out here. I messed up the car. I’ll pay.”

“I still owe you seven hundred dollars from last time,” Levi said.

“No you don’t. You won it fair and square,” Hange said with some finality.

It should have been annoying, frustrating, maybe insulting but Levi couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised. Funnily, it had been months since the country club fiasco but Hange knew exactly what he was talking about. He stared at her for a second longer, as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand, muttering something about prices, schedules.

She looked up at him a minute or so later. “I booked tickets for a three o clock flight. If we leave the hotel at noon, we should make it in time.”

Levi checked the clock on his reader. “That will give us four hours to hike.

Hange nodded. “Believe me, that’s more than enough time.”

“She had never seen a place where nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in her admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!"

The view was definitely better with clear skies above him.

Hiking unfamiliar grounds, especially as a total beginner, usually consisted of looking up and down in unpredictable intervals. Sometimes he was watching the view in front of him, making sure Hange was a comfortable distance away. Sometimes, he was looking below, making sure he wasn’t en route to tripping on anything dangerous or embarrassing. One thing was for sure. When Levi looked up, he always made sure to get a good view of the horizon, to have that good balance between sky and landscape with every step up the hill.

Hange was muttering to herself and Levi realized that even when he had attempted to walk right beside her, he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

They eventually reached the peak and Levi saw an opportunity to survey his surroundings. Looking left, right then behind him, he was certain, they were on the highest point for miles around.

The question loomed heavily again. The scrapes, bruises and aches from yesterday were soft reminders. The visceral aftereffects of an all too unpleasant night were prodding more incessantly. Levi decided for himself, he deserved answers. He looked back at Hange.

Hange didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze. It was a little alarming that of all things he noticed in her expression, an abject surrender.

Would that give him the answers he needed? Most likely it would.

Still, it left a lump in his throat, a force that twisted his gut. He could get answers but would they be answers he liked?

Hange took a deep breath and fell back onto the grass. “There’s that line… when Elizabeth first steps into Pemberley after rejecting Darcy’s proposal in Rosings for the first time.”

She whispered it once and Levi considered sitting down next to her for a better listen. She repeated the line a little louder that time.

“It’s a small line, it’s not necessarily quotable but at least to me, it’s a really important one… Ever since I married Zeke… Ever since I read the book. When I had time to myself while climbing some mountain alone, wandering through hills and grassy lands along highways like some idiot, I’d repeat it again and again.”

Levi had to note, Hange’s Pemberley was in the middle of nowhere, situated along a highway, only accessible by climbing over a fence that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed over or fitting through gaps between wires. Not a beauty for most people when actual reserves and hiking trails existed.

...a place where nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste…

Hange put one finger up to her chin. "That scene in Pemberley, I think that was the exact moment Elizabeth falls in love with Darcy and was that what falling in love was supposed to feel like?” Hange looked at Levi, her eyes were wide and it looked like she wanted something out of him.

Levi couldn't come up with anything on the fly so he didn’t respond and Hange only continued. “That wonder Elizabeth felt when she first arrived at Pemberley…” She paused there. Her expression from a while ago unchanged but Levi couldn’t help but notice a glimmer that hadn’t been there before, a depth. “Maybe that's that same wonder Elizabeth felt for Mr. Darcy.” She looked at him expectantly.

“And you see the wonder here… of all places?”

“Untouched nature, free nature is a very beautiful thing. I imagine that's what Elizabeth saw in Pemberley.”

“What does that have to do with love?”

“Love feels like freedom… And when people fall in love, maybe they start to appreciate it. Does the world suddenly get more colorful? Does it just suddenly become prettier? Or do we just get perceptive to it?” Hange asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. “So I thought to myself after reading the first time, was my perspective of the world supposed to change when I married Zeke? It didn’t at first. But I couldn't help but think, if I keep choosing to love, if I keep getting to know him and if I keep trying to be a good partner, maybe when I climb up the peak, study the horizon, I’ll eventually feel it. That freedom. That's why I climbed every single time.”

“Did you eventually feel it?” Levi had to tame his tone.

Hange shook her head. “I’m in a very comfortable marriage.”

“Comfortable is good,” Levi said, a hesitant attempt at validation.

“It is good. That is until I started to feel it, stronger emotions than I was used to. Colors were coming up a little brighter. I was noticing minute details in everything, then the minute details in certain people." Hange pulled her legs closer to herself. "I think that’s love. You meet someone and you think, ‘wow colors are so pretty, wow emotions can actually be very fickle yet powerful things,’ then ‘wow this world is such a beautiful place,’ ”

“Where does ‘love is a choice’ fall into this then?” Levi challenged. “You’ve been saying that for months.”

“It still is a choice, because choice is a part of freedom. And for me, ultimately ‘love is freedom.’ And slowly, I'm more and more convinced that I might just be right. When we’re suddenly feeling everything at once, when colors and emotions just suddenly get brighter and clearer, Isn’t that what freedom is supposed to be? Clarity and understanding?” Hange spoke fast and she spoke in messy ideas that Levi had to put in extra effort to comprehend.

He didn’t respond immediately and the pause she had allowed him had been too short.

She continued. “And I have a theory about your app…”

“You always have theories.”

“But I think this one makes a lot more sense,” Hange looked at him expectantly

Do you want me to ask what it is? Levi returned her stare with a silent question. Eventually, he caved in. “What’s your theory Hange?”

Hange took a deep breath, let out an exhale through her nose and spoke up. “You’re a great developer Levi. There’s no bug. Whatever algorithm you wrote up, it’s doing its job and it’s doing it extremely well. We broke down the application to emotions and just like the emotions alarm proved, when we’re with certain people, the emotions get clearer, they have more free rein to do what they need to …. To put it more simply… Do you notice, we see a lot more and we feel a lot more when we’re with specific people. And maybe that love alarm is only telling us who those people are?”

“Do you feel it with Zeke?” Levi asked. That had been a burning question for a while. In that staunch silence, he saw opportunity. So he grasped it, he said it once. Seeing the fire in Hange’s eyes, feeling the tension of a while ago loosen for just a brief second, he saw opportunity. So he said it again. “Have you felt it with Zeke?”

Hange looked up at the sky, squinting. “Sometimes, I guess. I can’t be too sure.”

“Why did you even marry Zeke then?”

“He was my first experience with love and relationships.” Hange shrugged. “I didn’t have a point of comparison. Back when I was younger, I didn’t think too far into love or whether it was supposed to feel magical or like freedom. Love and relationships were supposed to be comfortable, happy. " Hange looked like she could have said more. She turned to him, looking at him as if expecting some sort of feedback.

Levi didn’t respond and Hange eventually continued. “I thought about it, when we were working on the app. Then I read Pride and Prejudice again just a few months ago after I saw you reading it. Then I asked myself...When I didn't know what love was actually supposed to feel like, could I say I really had a choice?” She shrugged. "I guess since i know now,  I have more of a choice."

Levi continued to reflect and he found himself stuck on two words: ‘clarity’ and ‘understanding.’ Maybe clarity, comprehension, understanding, the whole sea of experiences did happen at once.

The logical part of him liked to blame the placebo effect though for that annoying habit that plagued him. He was tracing the smaller hills over the green landscape, he was counting how many feet above the horizon the sun was at that point in the morning. He was picking out the different shades the greens, the yellows, the blues showed up in. He started counting colors and when looking at the sky became too uncomfortable of a sensation, he looked at Hange. Then he noticed, colors do reflect on people in small minute details.

Yet for some reason, the prospect of vindicating Hange was an unsettling one.

“What now?” Levi asked, in no mood to agree. Just yet. Maybe with time he could.

“Since there’s nothing to fix… we don’t fix the app,” Hange responded in the most anticlimactic of answers.

Levi wasn’t satisfied. “What about after that?”

“We focus on developing the emotions alarm, I do a dissertation on it then I work towards a PhD,” Hange continued.

“And then after that?” Levi pressed.

“The contract ends there. Is there anything else you want to do?” Hange asked.

There must have been something else. No, Levi was sure there should have been more to it. It was in Hange’s eyes, the intent underneath, the burning intent from a while ago. There was a characteristic way her eyes narrowed, a way they drooped as she spoke.

That morning, he had chalked it up as exhaustion. Looking more closely at that moment, it started to seem like resignation, abject surrender.

Talking about one’s own hopes and dreams wasn’t supposed to look like that.

There was one quote that hovered completely over that incomplete conversation between them. Somehow, in that moment of silence, Levi remembered it clearly. He spoke up. “I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.” The moment it left his mouth, he questioned the appropriateness. Who was he to assume that that was what Hange needed.

Hange answered with a question. “What else are we supposed to do after completing the app?” Her eyes were darting from left to right yet they were still very much focused on him. It was as if she was searching for an answer.

An answer Levi couldn’t didn’t even know himself. He brought up his developer persona, the mini dictionary in his head that came with it. “Customer support, QA testing, bugs will constantly show up.”

“Then I guess we’ll be working together for a while huh?” Hange grinned, yet there was something off putting about it.

Or maybe Levi was searching for something that wasn’t there.

Hange probably noticed it too. “We’re gonna have to leave for the airport soon. Let’s go back down,” Her voice was unbearably professional. Professionalism was the go-to, it worked for most situations but for once, Levi was wondering whether that had been the best thing to do.

Who was he to judge her though? Hange had always been the more eloquent one.

Then he wondered how long he had been staring at nothing. The landscape in front of him continued to gleam with different colors but Levi was focusing on the sky just above. There was a temptation to let whatever stone cold expression he was wearing then, falter.

“Hange.” In desperation, he spoke up as if that could do anything to stop his mouth from falling.

Hange spun around, her mouth half open, her eyes wide. There were things which still needed to be read into. “Are you okay?” she asked, her face shifted to something of worry as she gave him a once over, down to his bandaged elbow.

Suddenly self conscious, Levi clutched at his elbow, pressing the gauze deeper into him. The pressure gave way to a stinging pain. The pain served as some excuse to let out a wince, let his own expression fall into the mercy of whatever pain had edged deeper inside him. “After we finish the app, do you think you’ll be happy?”

Hange’s expression softened. “It’s my dream. I’ll be happy.”

“Not about the application,” Levi said. There were topics he wanted to bring up. When both their expressions had naturally shifted to something monotone, their voices into something reminiscent of a client and a business, Levi realized he was treading precarious grounds. He soon found a more appropriate word. “After the application… When everything after that is over… You think you’ll be happy?”

Hange stopped, a flash of comprehension in her eyes. Then sadness?

She spoke up. “We don’t ever know if we’ll be happy right? We just keep choosing and choosing and when the choices are already made, all we can do is find whatever inkling of happiness we can in them.”

***

The passenger seat was a mess and Levi saw that as enough of an excuse to sit on the backseat of the car.

Hange didn’t seem to care too much about her ass being caked with dirt. She had no choice but to not care anyway. After all, someone had to drive.

Levi liked it that way anyway. The whole trek down, they had been silent. He had found it difficult to look at her and maybe she had felt the same. The dirty passenger’s seat made it easier for Levi to suggest sitting in the back and when he was sitting on the backseat, he could pretend Hange wasn’t there. That the car was moving on its own or maybe somebody else was driving.

The ride seemed long, Levi didn’t bother to check his phone. Instead, he leaned forward on the driver’s seat and he let the car whirr. Sometimes it would rattle when the tires would hit some road bump.

Hange eventually broke the silence. “You were talking about adding more colors and about other plans. You feel like walking me through it?”

“Can we talk about it when we’re back in the office?” It wasn’t the best way to address his client. At that moment, Levi was in no mood to play a PR role. And he had never been good at it. There was a reason he stuck to back office work.

“There’s nothing much else to talk about right?”

There was a lot. The fact that Hange was even suggesting that there was nothing to talk about was almost infuriating. He was tempted to pick a fight. “Elizabeth said she would act only in a way that makes her happy. That’s an important theme in the novel.”

Begrudgingly. Hange acknowledged it. “It is. You wanna talk about it?”

“I just wanna know, what’s your take on love?” It was a miracle he even got that question out calmly.

“Love is freedom,” Hange answered with a tone of painful certainty. “Love is a choice and it will always be a choice.”

“What if you don’t feel it?”

“I’ll still choose to love.”

“What if you feel the love somewhere else? Shouldn’t you follow your emotions?”

“If I did that, I’d only be at the mercy of my emotions.”

“Then why do you like Pride and Prejudice so much. They end up together. You know they love each other?”

Hange sighed. “It’s a social commentary. It focuses on circumstances. In the novel, people married for money, for status, out of obligation. Elizabeth and Darcy were just lucky circumstances were on their side. Besides, fiction is merely wish fulfillment. Living reality isn’t as easy as writing. Too much of the circumstances can be out of control and people can’t really disconnect themselves from circumstances can they?” She paused and looked at Levi questioningly.

“And what? You don’t think reality can ever be wish fulfillment?” Levi asked.

“If circumstances were in our favor, maybe?”

“Our?” Levi asked. He was suddenly self aware, he was grasping at straws at that point.

“Hypothetical ‘our’, ‘our’ as in referring to anyone faced with that situation.”

“You didn’t have to specify it. I got it,” Levi said.

“Then why did you ask?”

“Sorry, it just took me a little longer to understand.” Levi only noticed it after the words had left his lips. His voice had deadened to a whisper.

***

I would rather we just lived here together, right Levi?

“This is gonna be our last scenery of green in a long time,” Hange said as she leaned back on the metal chair at the departure gate. How she still found value in small talk, Levi could never really understand.

“Cool,” Levi said, not looking up from scrolling through his timeline. There was temporal happiness at least in watching mindless videos.

“I would have wanted this to last longer. Maybe we could have hiked for an hour more if you didn’t have testing tomorrow.”

“That’s nice.”

“Imagine getting to live here,” Hange said.

“People live here. That’s why there’s an airport,” Levi said coldly. He looked back up at Hange. At that point, he was a little more confident with his deadpan expression. With time, the incomprehensible emotions of a while ago had whittled into something manageable.

“Sometimes I imagine being part of those people, just setting aside everything I’ve worked for, I’ve committed to… Just throwing it all away and living in a peaceful place like this..”

“You’re not the type to stay out of the action.” At that point, maybe Levi was just looking for a fight. “We’d get bored.”

“We?”

“We, as in, hypothetical ‘we.’” ‘We’ as in referring to anyone who probably considered living in a place like this.”

Hange pouted then looked away. “Let me imagine stuff.”

“Imagine something more realistic.” Why did that last word send a twinge of pain through him?

“Why do you care about what I imagine?”

Levi turned off his phone and dropped it beside him. “I’m just giving some friendly advice.”

“Doesn’t seem friendly.” Hange opened her mouth wider, ready to say something else.

Levi never found out what she had intended to say. The speaker sounded from just above them.

“This is an announcement for passengers of flight 232 bound for... ..I’m afraid the flight is overbooked. We’re looking for passengers who are willing to take a later flight in exchange….Any passenger who is interested should see an agent at the counter.”

Out of instinct, Levi looked up then searched his surroundings for any sign of volunteers. It wouldn’t matter to him. With an early morning awaiting him, he was one of the last people to volunteer. As he continued to observe the other passengers more closely, he realized a lot of them could have just been like him.

They were all eight-to-five employees or very busy people out on a weekend long vacation.

After a few more announcements, two people who sat up and made their way to the counter. Levi looked to Hange to see she was also very much invested in the current turn of events.

“Any more passengers willing to take a later flight?”

There was a moment of silence and somehow, Levi was starting to make eye contact as he scanned all the faces again. Any eye contact he made, ended with a pointed look, a silent push for him volunteer maybe?

And soon, Levi realized, the seat next to him was empty. Hange had stood up and made her way to the counter.

A minute or so later, Hange returned to the seat and gave him a light shrug. “I’ll be going on a later flight then.”

“You didn’t have to give up your seat,” Levi said irritably. Suddenly, he was self conscious. Why was he angry about her taking a later flight?

The speaker sounded. “Flight… is now ready for boarding… Passengers with small children...”

“I’m not as pressed for time as the other passengers,” Hange explained. “You have to be at work first thing tomorrow morning while I can take as much time as I need.”

She made sense, a lot of sense. To the point that just looking at her had been all too difficult, especially with a grimace trying to escape his lips. He looked away.

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not.” It wasn’t anger, that much he was sure of. Any other feelings weren’t welcome either. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything when the issue was so trivial. He bent over and started scrolling through his phone again, searching for anything that could make smiling much easier.

“We will now be accepting all passengers…”

“I’ll take you to the boarding gate,” Hange suggested.

Levi saw no reason to protest.

Besides, Hange could only take him so far. Their strides were small, their pace slower. He could have been mirroring her or she could have been mirroring him. And they were slow enough for some conversation to start between them.

As usual, Hange initiated. “What’s the plan tomorrow?”

“Zeke apparently secured a school for testing, got some students to volunteer.”

“He has those connections. That’s his brother’s school actually,” Hange said.

“Really?” Levi said. He was fine not receiving any more information though. He was completely disinterested since he had the whole day tomorrow to figure it out anyway.

Hange opened her mouth to speak.

Even before she could speak though, Levi had already interrupted her. “Petra will explain it to me during our meeting tomorrow. She handled the logistics of the testing.” He was in no mood for any more information dumps.

Hange grinned. Whether or not she had been bothered by the rude interruption, it wasn’t obvious. “You have an early morning meeting huh?”

“Yes, we do,” Levi said professionally.

Hange put both hands behind her back, letting her overnight bag dangle precariously on her free shoulder. She gave him a knowing expectant look, eyebrows raised, a tight lipped smile. “Make sure to treat her well,” she said.

Levi raised one eyebrow. “Are you shipping me with Petra?”

Hange looked back out the wide window then at the departure gate. “Maybe I am.”

Hange’s words were only goading something out of him. They served as a glaring reminder. Once again, Levi was hyper aware that there was something heavy between them and it had been there for a while.

The elephant? Some emotion, he couldn’t point out, was desperate to break free. It had him calculating quickly. The counter was only a few feet away and Levi could get there in two or three quick strides.

Then just like that, it pushed one sentence out of his mouth, a line he might just regret saying. "Hange, if I were to choose to fall in love with someone, I’d want someone like you."

He could regret it later. At the least, he appreciated the quick release that came with that one line.

A much awaited release that had him questioning: How long had he felt that stiff, that tense?

With a new found rush of energy, he went ahead. The stewardess ripped his boarding pass with one swift movement and Levi hurried through the entrance and made his way to the passenger boarding bridge, only sparing one last look.

Maybe he was terrified to see her reaction. A part of him stiffened up just imagining Hange’s face, indignance, fury? Then when he looked back and focused on her, he wondered why he had been nervous at all.

Hange’s eyes were wide, her jaw had dropped and at that point when their eyes met, she closed her mouth, and it grew into a smile. Then her eyes crinkled. Then she nodded.

You’re married. You’re supposed to be creeped out. He wondered if his eyes were sending that message.

A few strides later, he was sorry to have to board so quickly. He didn’t want to stop though, or risk only hinting that there might have been more meaning to those words.

But there was meaning in those words, enough for him to be terribly curious of Hange’s reaction.

He didn’t immediately board the plane and he stayed on the passenger bridge. The bridge had glass windows, and just outside was an airfield, and a good view of the passenger terminal through the wide window.

Hange was still standing there and she was easy for Levi to spot. Maybe because Levi had eventually gotten used to the fact that her hair, under sunlight seemed to glow with a hint of red. Maybe because under the right light, her brown hair seemed bright.

The more he looked, the more he realized though, to hell with all the excuses, she was Hange. That was all there was to it. He would probably be able to recognize her even from miles away.

Maybe she had been looking for him too. From a good many feet away, with glass windows, and an airfield between them, she still approached the wide window. She waved her hand, slowly the first few times. Then quickly.

He felt his lip tremble and he touched one finger to it. Was he sad? In an attempt to pacify whatever nagging feeling had settled inside him, he turned back to the entrance of the plane. Then he reminded himself, he was gonna see her again in the morning.

It didn’t seem to work. His legs were heavy and Levi fell back onto the window seat with a thump, a ragged breath followed. He let the pre emergency procedures lull himself to some state of half sleepiness. He opened the in flight menu for some distraction, nothing seemed appetizing.

They eventually took off and when they mentioned something about turning on phones again, Levi opened his, and stared for a little longer at the emotions alarm.

He was in no position to feel heavy. There were no circumstances that should have left him feeling desolate.

But the application would know. So Levi turned it on, making sure to keep his phone on silent. He clicked the ‘activate’ button. A blue dot flashed on the screen.

Sadness. Levi looked back out the window. The blue sky was clear, endless, dotted with only a few clouds here and there. The more he stared, the more he managed to immerse himself. Deep endless blue was a depressing yet immersive view. Out of curiosity, Levi put his phone side by side with the view, noticing he had picked a very similar blue.

A small victory. One thing, he entertained for just a split second. When he leaned back on the chair, his suspicions only confirmed, he ended up asking that question again.

Why was he sad? A part of him was consoling. Another part of him was reflecting. Eventually he figured out at least some inkling of it.

Why did he feel like he lost someone? But he didn’t lose anyone. Levi only had to open his inbox to see the words, ‘Safe flight’ and a few airplane emojis to know Hange was still very much there.

The blue feeling settled inside him and it made itself at home for just a little longer. Levi surmised, it may have been the fact that he had spent another good few minutes, searching for pictures of them on his phone only to notice, they never did take pictures together.

Of course, they shouldn’t. Why would they need to take pictures together?

I’ll find someone like you. The one that got away.

When Levi came to his senses again, he noticed he was going through songs of lost love, a road to recovery. Then after some further introspection, he had to admit, he was sad, a raw kind of sad.

And it fucking hurt.

The raw pain of the loss of a first love? A first love that didn’t exist.

He clarified further. A first love that never existed in the first place.

Can you feel heartbreak without having ever experienced a first love?

Halfway through the flight, after some long quiet reflection, Levi concluded, he had been completely and utterly duped by this shitty thing called life.

***

An alarm rang. Any other day Levi would have called it routine.

That morning though, it was annoying, terribly annoying.

The aftereffects of a long trip were still going strong. He could barely keep his eyes open, he could barely stand up. He was exhausted, at the same time plagued with unfamiliar aches and Levi was suspecting not all were physical.

He reached for the side table to turn off the alarm. Like all days, he had an hour and a half to get ready for work and brave the commute.

Staring at the screen of his phone for a while longer, at the application that was conveniently wedged on the dock, he contemplated sparing just a few minutes for a quick reading. Most days, he wouldn’t have. That particular day, he was exhausted, confused and something inside him was grasping for some sense of the world.

With one hard poke, he activated the emotions alarm. It flashed with a bright purple.

Sadness and Anger? He was almost appreciating how ‘the emotion alarm could revolutionize psychology and psychiatry.’ Somehow, having his emotions on display had helped him wake up a little faster, making sense of the fatigue. At the same time, it was just a little unsettling to see something so personal on his screen.

Blue. Sadness. Raw sadness that sapped at his energy reserves. Loss?

Red. Anger. At the unfairness of life maybe?

He entertained the possibility of creating some other piece of technology to explain it for him. He eventually brushed off that idea, silently laughing at the stupidity of it.

Stupidity had been a good distraction and that had been enough for him to pretend he wasn't completely exhausted and his emotions weren’t a total buzzkill.

Like always, he went through his routine of making the bed, showering, cleaning up whatever he could in the room before he left. He was bound for the same train station, on a different route.

Testing. A very stern reminder to himself. He had almost gotten on the wrong train.

It turned out to be a non-problem. Levi arrived at the school way earlier than he had expected. And he barely even had time to have breakfast. He made his way to the convenience store just outside the station, pulled a quick sandwich from the shelves and brought it up to the counter.

It was routine. Levi had done it too many times before yet something seemed odd.

It's a new environment. He thought to himself. He had been to that part of town before but not enough times to consider it routine.

His muddled mind thought up another excuse. I’m just tired.

Exhaustion, small changes shouldn’t have manifested as hyperawareness on his end.

But there was something unsettling about the cashier having stared at him for longer than he was comfortable. Strangers would never do that.

Do I have something in my face? It never came out as anything more than a passing thought. He wondered if his surprised expression had managed to ask the question.

Eventually, the cashier looked away. Coming to his senses, Levi realized it was a brief exchange and he could clock it off as nothing.

He never could completely shake off the feeling that he was being watched. Or maybe I’m just tired. And maybe fatigue just really happened to manifest as hyperawareness.

Conveniently, Petra was waiting at the school gates, laptop bag slung over her shoulder.

“You’re early,” Levi commented. Then he realized he had been a total idiot. They had a paper trail to prove it, he had agreed to meet Petra there first thing Monday morning.

“Have to make sure everything is ready,” Petra said.

Levi was grateful for that arrangement He didn’t know his way through the campus and it was a surprisingly wide one. Of course it would be large, they would be testing the application among hundreds of volunteers.

It was a mammoth event and he was too fucking exhausted to happily deal with it. For a while, he even forgot that maybe he was the mind behind the application. Logistics just wasn’t something he liked to trifle himself with.

As soon as they arrived in the empty gym, he settled on one of the chairs towards the corner of the room and booted up his laptop. His first instinct had been to check the workflow tracker. There was nothing there. Why the hell did he even think anything would be there? A desperation to keep busy with something familiar maybe?

“Do you have the file for testing?” Levi asked.

Petra nodded. “All loaded into the cloud. We have a download link prepared.”

Levi stared at the tracker for a while longer before deciding maybe doing nothing but watching people enter the gym was the most productive task he could come up with.

Watching people enter just brought back the feeling of hyperawareness. Some people were familiar, Eld, Oluo then Gunther eventually joined in. Then Erwin. There were others though, people who Levi barely recognized he tended to give him a look much longer than what people would usually give a stranger.

Since when did anger and sadness turn into paranoia?

“It looks like the file isn’t downloading to this phone…." Petra was rattling off details on support issues.

For Levi in his current state, conversations on the application were flying into one ear and out the other quickly.

"Are you okay?”

Levi turned to Petra. “Were you talking to me?”

She furrowed her brows at him, a worried expression on her face.

“I’m fine.” His response was automatic. “You need me to check what?”

Petra spoke up again. “Well...This phone…”

Levi reached his hand out to grab the phone from Petra. In a trick of fate, or maybe coincidence— no, Levi liked to believe it was coincidence— he noticed the flash of blonde at his peripherals, a brunette beside him.

Even before he could contemplate their identity— Hell, he probably didn’t need to—one of them spoke up. “Good morning Erwin! I hope I managed to get enough people for the app testing.”

“Mr. Jaeger,  Believe me, this is more than enough people. We usually run calibration with fifty people at a time. It's honestly a pleasant surprise to see you here...You said you wouldn’t be coming... We're sorry we couldn't prepare anything better."

"No worries Erwin, What can I say? When my schedule frees up, I like to pay surprise visits to partners.”

Levi looked back at them fast enough to catch Zeke and Erwin shaking hands.

Only one hand though. Levi followed Zeke’s other hand. It was only natural he would, after all Zeke was holding her hand, clutching it tightly.

It’s completely normal for them to hold hands. But still he continued to stare.

It was a little harder to follow her arms, all the way up to her face. Was he scared to make eye contact? But eventually they did make eye contact.  Comprehension dawned on Levi slowly as he met her gaze while starting to make sense of the conversation between Zeke and Erwin.

Zeke is here to test the Love Alarm?

Did you know?

As if to answer his question, Hange’s eyes widened, and she nodded her head subtly, very subtly. If Levi hadn't spent the last few months working with Hange on the application, he probably wouldn't have noticed the very slight nod, he probably wouldn't have sensed the deep panic in her demeanor.

With too many thoughts running through his head at once, Levi briefly lost touch with reality for a long few seconds.

It was Petra of all people who pulled him out of his trance. “Um… Levi… Sir… I don't mind you holding my hand but...could you loosen your grip a bit? It kinda hurts."

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 3)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.5k words)

Warnings: again poor communication!!! angst, no sex in this chapter

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Oi, you fucking bastard, you knew!”

Iwa losing his temper over the phone wasn’t exactly atypical, even if it had become a less frequent occurrence, but for once Oikawa was actually genuinely surprised to hear his friend this angry over the phone. Especially given that it was almost 2pm in San Juan, which made it the very early AM in Tokyo, so whatever had worked him up had also kept him up way past his bedtime, given that Iwa was now extremely careful about his sleep hygiene. 

Oikawa took enough time to properly swallow the bite he’d just taken of his choripan before answering.

“What did I know, Iwa-chan?” He finally inquired, setting down his sandwich in the wrapper spread across his lap before leaning back into the park bench on which he was sitting. It was a wonderful sunny day, the type of day where it was a shame you were being yelled at, he mused briefly.

“About ___ and Ushijima.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, not that Iwa could see the confusion on his face. There was a short pause which Oikawa broke eventually.

“Am I missing something or…?” His genuinely confused tone didn’t serve in any way to make Iwa less irritated.

“You didn’t say anything!” He hissed loudly enough that Oikawa winced, holding his cellphone a good distance from his ear before answering. “You used to tell me about that motherfucker’s every move, and now that it’s useful information, you have nothing to say?”

Oikawa frowned.

“Why are you blaming me for your communication issues, Iwa-chan?!” He all but whined.

When Iwa’s voice grew silent on the other line, Oikawa grew slightly nervous. But he was right. This was a particularly severe lapse in communication between Iwa and you that he was now projecting onto him, severe because clearly it had ended up being a bigger deal than it should have been in the first place.

As much as Iwa didn’t want to admit it, yesterday evening was evidence that something was very, very wrong in his relationship with you, or at the very least a residual tangled web of feelings to sort out, and it wasn’t exactly something he could easily fix or improve on his own. 

Not that he wouldn’t try. 

“What happened?” Oikawa finally asked, and Iwa retreated.

“Nothing. I’ll… talk to you later.”

The phone cut off on Iwa’s end and Oikawa sighed with mild irritation before returning to his lunch thousands of miles away.

On the other side of the globe, Iwa made his way from the balcony to the bedroom, setting his phone down on the nightstand and taking a glance at you who had appeared to be finally sleeping soundly, but betrayed by the intermittent soft hiccups of someone who had been crying just moments earlier. 

He hadn’t meant to make you cry. In fact, he hadn’t even meant to force another discussion at all, but hours after the last guests had filed out, none the wiser about the fight that had just transpired earlier (even if Hinata had made a single innocent comment about the bruise blooming on Ushijima’s cheek), the elephant in the room had grown entirely too large for him to bear. Unfortunately, the simple demand for clarification had spiraled out of control and ended up with a shouting match which had culminated in you bursting into tears.

It wasn’t a good look for him to behave like this. 

Even so, Iwa couldn’t stop thinking about how the subject of your argument had replied to his grumbled apology with the admission that he probably deserved the hit for all he’d done. Somehow, the persistent remorse in his voice made Iwa consider hitting him a second time for good measure. 

That wouldn’t be the right move either. There wasn’t really a right move, was there? All Iwaizumi could do was hope that everything would blow over. 

You loved him after all; he was sure of it.

---

you knew, didn’t you?

knew what?

You grit your teeth at the quickly returned text message, then set your phone down at your desk letting out a hushed but aggravated sigh, before picking it up again and typing furiously. 

you texted me, ‘how’s everything going?’ right before all that shit happened.

that could mean literally anything??? What???

You didn’t know how much longer your friend was going to feign innocence, but it looked like not very long because once your eyes flitted back to the unfinished project proposal you had been working on, your phone quickly buzzed again. 

By the time you had told her what happened this morning on your morning commute to work, she had grown a little too quiet, interjecting very little as you spoke and not asking any clarifying questions. You had assumed that she had just been being extra considerate, but now that it was early afternoon and there was a lull in your concentration, it occurred to you again just how clearly she must have anticipated the awkward situation.

YOU said you didn’t follow sports anymore + it’s been 3 years. HOW was I supposed to know you were going to overreact?

Overreact?

There was a small pause in which you saw her speech bubble pop up and then down, and then up again.

Not overreacting I guess, but I’m just confused… Don’t you and Iwa talk? How did it become a huge deal?

You decided you didn’t really have an answer to that. All you could do was return a noncommittal idk, letting the conversation die out and returning back to the task at hand.

---

“Mommy, why does he look like that?”

Ushijima glanced for a split second at the small child pointing openly at him, giving a small, understanding nod to the mortified mother trying to quiet her son’s whispers before continuing on his way back to his hotel.

His face didn’t exactly throb anymore, but the bruise he had been gifted with was very noticeable even if he had to be thankful he didn’t have a black eye. Iwa had hit him surprisingly hard, which was good. At the very least, he could count on him to protect you.

Getting hit in the face by your athletic trainer wasn’t ideal but he and Iwaizumi were both professionals. They could put it past them.

Even if they didn’t have a deep friendship, there was a sort of camaraderie since they’d met in California years ago. That relationship didn’t have to sour, he told himself. 

He just needed to give you two a wide berth. 

Even if he didn’t want to, he had to. It was the right, mature thing to do. 

Even if he didn’t miss on the court, he’d missed a crucial set in life. 

He had no right to demand a second chance.

---

You hadn’t traveled home alone in a while, you realized, as you set pace towards your apartment after a long shift. The subway was cramped as usual, but the closeness of the quarters felt more noticeable and uncomfortable now that Iwa’s hand wasn’t holding yours and keeping you close to him. He’d messaged you about an hour before you were about to leave work to give you a heads up that he would be returning late, and for a moment, you wondered if it were really true or if he was still mad at you.

But you knew Iwa well enough to be confident that he didn’t hold grudges, and if he were still uncomfortable he would tell you - he would never actively avoid you. 

Then again, you hadn’t had a conflict like this before.

I don’t love him, I only love you, you’d said to him almost screaming, defensive because Iwa’s voice had sounded hurt when you failed to come up with the words to explain why you were so shaken still.

You’d meant that with your whole heart. So why exactly did you react so poorly? 

Maybe it was the final death rattle of unresolved feelings, rearing their ugly head before being banished to whatever realm past hurts went once they were healed.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you stood for a moment at the entryway after flipping the light switch, taking a couple of seconds to blink away the fact that things didn’t look quite right. 

For a moment, you couldn’t remember exactly when you had replaced your TV - was that before or after Ushijima? Had that couch always been in that position? 

Fatigue even made you wonder where your houseplants had gone, until you remembered you had all but given them all away, telling yourself that those last vestiges of your relationship would have to vanish before you could truly count yourself moved on.

Now that the plants were gone, were you truly over it?

You let out a sigh and set your keys down before shooting a message to Iwa to let him know that you had made it home. That proposal wouldn’t write itself, and you could tackle it anew once you’d treated yourself with a warm bath and a modest glass of wine.

---

Seated in his soon-to-be minimally used office, Iwaizumi leafed through the short stack of papers before him, including prior athletic history and a formal written statement from the team physician. Satisfied, he gathered the documents and gently pushed them across the desk towards the silent, patiently waiting athlete sitting across from him.

“It looks like you’re cleared for practice tomorrow,” he said, offering a measured smile to Ushijima.

“Not that I expected any issues,” Iwa continued, compelled to keep speaking from the lack of response from the man before him. While he didn’t exactly sense hostile energy from Ushijima, it seemed like he was even more difficult to read than usual. 

Then again, Iwa was unsure if he was projecting; he acknowledged that prior to this very moment in time, he had been more standoffish than usual, having avoided unnecessary interaction with Ushijima during the day’s orientation activities.

He took a surreptitious glance at the wall clock above his head. There were only two more members to clear after Ushijima and then he’d be done for the day and could go back home to you, maybe picking up sushi on the way home as a peace offering.

Ushijima didn’t exactly look like he was getting ready to leave, but Iwa hadn’t explicitly dismissed him.

The two sat in an awkward silence and Iwa wondered if he should apologize again to settle the stagnant air between them, not knowing that the man before him was considering the exact same thing. 

What happens now? seemed to be the question du jour.

“How’s your father?” Iwa asked abruptly, shifting in his chair and leaning forward on elbows propped onto the desk, maybe a little too forward, in attempts to keep his mind off the fact that the volleyball player before him had also played with his love’s heart.

“He’s been well. Thank you for asking.”

Another pause ensued and Iwa was running out of ways to tell him politely to get out of his office for his next client, but for once Ushijima was the one to break the silence.

“I want us to have a good working relationship despite everything.”

The statement hung in the air for a second before settling and Iwa could feel irritation start to bubble in the pit of his stomach once again, but instead he forced a pleasant smile.

“Of course.”

---

With feet tucked beneath you, your laptop perched on the glass coffee table and a half-drunk glass of white wine (refilled once) atop the end table next to the couch, the sad truth was that you had only written about five lines in the past 45 minutes. 

Instead, against all the advice you’d ever been given in your life, you had sleuthed your way into your ex’s Instagram and Facebook accounts, gleaning as much information as you could about what had happened after you were two, after you’d blocked him cold turkey on every social media application and vowed never to look back.

As expected, the pictures and life updates he posted were few and far between, but there were still some to learn from, especially when you looked through those snapshots taken by others in his life. You were initially surprised to see old pictures of you together still up if you went back far enough, but clicked past them quickly because the fact that you looked so happy was more irritating than sad at this point of time. 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling a soft warmth in your cheeks and a light pleasant haze fill your head while you kept perusing. Some pictures you recognized from his prior team here, Schweiden Adlers, and then there were other promotional images from a new team, Orzel Warsawa... He had even traveled to Poland without your knowledge, you mused.

You took special note of women he looked all too close to for friendship as you browsed, noting a gorgeous, tall blonde in several pictures he appeared to have dated for a brief stint of a couple of months.

1 short relationship in three years. It was a shame, you thought. They could have had the prettiest kids.

And there, you finally realized your internal monologue was crazy. Why were you doing this again?

You threw back the final bit of wine and switched back to your Word document. Maybe writing while a little tipsy wasn’t the best of ideas but any words on the page were better than none.

…

It didn’t take long for you to doze off and your boyfriend to find you sprawled on your belly on the sofa, your glass empty and precariously placed at the edge of the sofa, and your laptop placed just inches above your head.

Iwa’s smile was immediate as he admired your silly position while setting down dinner, quickly walking over to gather you up for bed.

You murmured slightly as he scooped you into his arms, your face instinctively nuzzling his chest. He couldn’t help but think of how cute you were, kissing your forehead softly before tucking you under the covers. You had been so exhausted lately from work, so he’d let you get some early shuteye rather than disturb your peace.

Leaving the bedroom to eat dinner alone on the couch, he noted your laptop in suboptimal location, moving it to the table before sitting down to avoid a future accident.

It flashed on with the slight movement, revealing a lengthy document with heavy blocks of text, which he saved just in case because autosave failure would bring you to tears. He then clicked out, only to see the results of your cyberstalking session.

His heart may have skipped a beat or two but he closed your laptop instead, leaning back into his chair to finish eating dinner.

The uneasiness that filled his stomach instead had to be related to the raw fish he’d brought home. 

There was simply no other explanation, couldn’t be.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ... 

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

[hes-writer]

Don’t Make A Scene

Summary: y/n is an actress and harry is jealous

Warnings: unwanted touching, implied smut, a teensy bit of angst and fluff

Word Count: 2000 words

“You have to what?” Harry raised his voice slightly at the news. 

Y/N fiddled at the silver jewelry adorning her wrist, “It’s a quick scene,” She retorted. “It’ll only be on screen for a minute or less,” 

He shook his head as if disappointed. His lips in a firm line tucked in his mouth while his brows furrowed in complete confusion.

“Y/N, listen to me. You have a choice to do this scene or not and you’re just—,” Hary's hands gestured gesticulatively, cutting through the air in an appointed manner. 

Y/N huffed lightly, “I’m just what?”

Harry groaned, frustrated with the way this night is taking a turn to. “You’re just doing whatever they tell you to!”

“Harry, this is my decision!” Y/N explained, “No one’s forcing me to do anything,” 

“So you’re just kissing him for what?”

“For a thank you because his character literally saved my life!”

Harry looked like a fish out of the water as he tried to conjure up a response to her words.

“You can come to the set if it makes you feel better,” Y/N offered, to which Harry immediately agreed to. "You can't get angry at me for doing my job, Harry."

-----

Harry is a jealous person. There wasn’t much shame in admitting it because he believed that what’s his was solely his—especially Y/N. The idea of his love sharing intimacy with another person, albeit a co-star, was enough kindling to light a fire at the base of his spine, slithering up his back and making his head heated to the point that every thought fired by his neurons resembled an atomic bomb. He could feel his hands itching to stay put, his nerves aching to grab Y/N and never let her go.

Y/N could see Harry’s antsy body from the peripheral of her vision. The curly-haired boy glancing anxiously upon the set; a room with dark mahogany walls decored with wooden furniture and accented knick-knacks sitting atop. The atmosphere of the set was enigmatic, curtains shut with only a sliver of orange-hued light peeking through directly on the bed. Candles were lit around the room, wafting off a cinnamon vanilla aroma that reminded Y/N of the ones she would carefully light when the time arose with Harry.

The pout of his pink lips deepened as he released a breath, his cheeks puffed up while his eyes tried to catch hers indicating that Harry’s usual calm persona was close to crumbling. Time was drawing closer as the producers slowly wore their ear-in pieces and microphones, adjusting the equipment to fit comfortably. 

“How you doing, baby?” Y/N asked gently, wanting to comfort him as best as she could before she was skewed away in the world of acting. Her hands folded his curls atop Harry’s crown, palm grazing the creased lines of his forehead as he tilted his head up to look at her from his decreased height on her assigned chair. 

“Do you have to do it?” Harry quipped silently, his voice resembling a whine. During the time of their argument to now, he managed to swap his thoughts from being angry to accepting, Well, as best as he could. Y/N was glad that their argument did not explode more than it had to.

He whined low in his throat when Y/N nodded, wrapping his arms around her waist. The fuzzy material of her robe caressing his cheek and Harry briefly forgot what he was here for in the first place. 

“Alright, everyone. Places!” The director’s voice boomed through his mic, amplified by the speakers surrounding the studio. Harry pouted some more when Y/N practically untangled his hands latched tightly from around her middle. Her make-up artists powdering her face with translucent powder as she walked towards the bathroom of the set. He smiled slightly at the sight; his love was so talented and he couldn’t be any prouder than he is right now. 

“Action!”

 The lights dimmed to further accentuate the romantic atmosphere of the room, the cameras slowly moving in circles, zooming in and capturing the room. Y/N’s co-star, Allen, was sat upon the headboard with his back supported, the lower half of his body was draped with a silky red sheet covering up to his upper thigh. Harry could only roll his eyes at the cliche scene with Allen’s gaze focused on a book, fingers flicking focusing in on the bathroom door opening. 

Harry could hear the muttering of the director, cueing the crew to indicate Y/N’s arrival to the lenses’ eye. Y/N opened the door just as the large camera drifted to focus on her. Her innocent face appearing on the screen, hair tousled and make-up was just the same as Harry had seen moments ago, only this time did a seductive stare plastered her face. Her lids hooded the dark fluttering of her lashes as her pointer finger rested upon her lower lip. Harry gulped, shifting silently in his seat.

Everything happened in slow motion after that. Allen’s eyes drifting from the words on the book to Y/N carefully untying the knot of her robe, revealing stretches of smooth skin that had Harry’s mouth watering despite the circumstances. The nape of his neck bubbled with heat while he watched the scene unfold to its climax.

Y/N walked until she was at the foot of the bed, Allen meeting her with his knees digging on the mattress as their lips grazed each others’, muttering the necessary lines from their scripts. His hands wandered around the fabric before Allen pushed the robe off from Y/N’s rounded shoulders, dropping on the hardwood with a soft thud. Harry’s jaw dropped at the lingerie adorning her body, speckles of black lace covering her most intimate parts but surely left little to the imagination. The opaque material highlighting the peeks of her breasts, intricate lace swirling around the firmness of her buttcheeks. The garter snapped around her thigh attached to a fishnet stocking was enough to have Harry imagining doing dirty things to his girl.

The camera shifted its neck lower and lower, following Allen’s hands caressing her soft skin raising with goosebumps before resting on the crest of her bum. Harry’s annoyance overpowered his arousal as he watched another man’s touch affecting Y/N even if she didn’t mean to. 

Y/N craned her neck clockwise, adding to the sensuality of the scene and for Allen to nip at her neck. Her mind was zeroed in on capturing the essence of the script as perfectly as possible, the goosebumps on her body elevating with the need to push Allen’s hands away from her. Still, she continued with her acting. Y/N was a professional actress after all. 

She counted in her mind to make sure that her lines were delivered on time, willing her body to relax under the touch of another man’s hands, knowing that her tense figure would be captured by the prying eyes of the camera reeling. A gasp parted her mouth open when Allen squeezed both of her butt cheeks tightly, gripping the tender skin with enough force to prickle tears in her eyes, his fingertips leaving white indentations for a few seconds before turning a blush red. 

“Cut!” The director yelled, “That wasn’t in the script, Allen! Are you alright, Y/N?”

Harry leaned forward, forearms resting on the armrests, his ears straining to hear the conversation being shared as the director angrily stomped to the stars, his microphone tilted away from his mouth. 

She nodded slowly, gulping a ball of wool down her throat. “I’m fine,”

“We have a script and we follow it so everyone is comfortable.” 

An arrogant smirk drooped Allen's cheeks, glancing at Y/N,  her arms awkwardly hanging at the sides of her body. “I thought it felt right. Right, Y/N?” Allen eyed Harry walking towards them, a pissed off look on his face but he couldn’t care less.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s acting, pal. Don’t get so heated,” Allen’s hair flopped in front of his eyes, hiding a mischievous glint.

“You don’t treat women like that even if you’re acting,” Harry’s timbre mellowed the tense aura, noticing Y/N’s barely covered body still adorned in goosebumps from the chilly air. He removed his jacket, wrapping it around her.

The director nodded in agreement, fingers massaging his temples as he glanced at his watch. “Sort this out. I’ll be right back,” 

Allen chuckled in disbelief, “It’s acting.” As if his annunciation would magically make his actions better. “We’re professionals, right Y/N?”

Both men watched Y/N in anticipation of her response, Harry's silent stare asking her a million times to say what she means, to address the elephant in the room before stuffing herself in the corner in fear of confrontation. 

“Yeah, we are.” Y/N began, tucking Harry’s jacket tighter around her, “It doesn’t mean I deserved what you did,” She snuggled closer to Harry’s side, finding comfort by the heat of his body close to her. “I don’t want you touching me like that unless it says so.”

Harry sized Allen up, noticing the swole biceps and peaked pecs but he would knock him out this instant if Y/N told him to. 

“Fine. Whatever, we’ll have to do this scene again anyway,” Allen’s confident tone shook Y/N with fear and rattled Harry’s control to the ground. 

“Actually, you won’t have to,” The director returned with a clipboard grasped in his aged-hands, a pen tucked in his ear. “You’re fired, Allen.”

“What?”

“I expected you to treat Y/N with respect but you didn’t,”

Harry hugged Y/N closer to his side, their eyes wide in surprise at the bombshell.

“Oh, come on! You can’t do this. I’m the male lead,” Allen pointed out with such arrogance and defiance against authority. “You can’t shoot this without me.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in worry. It was only the first day of filming and without a lead; there would be no movie.

“Of course we can,” The director answered calmly, “Why do you think we film the intimate scenes first? Need to see if you can treat your co-stars with respect before we move on,"

Allen’s mouth was dropped open, frustration clearly etched on his features. If Harry didn’t know any better, he might have felt bad for the guy, but his filthy hands marked his girlfriend up without her consent and that’s just not something that he can let slide off his back.

Allen ordered his assistant to get his shirt, slipping his head in the hole before storming off to his dressing room. The director turned to the couple with an apologetic face, promising Y/N that her next co-star is someone that respected her as their partner. 

“Harry, would you like to audition?”

Y/N squealed in delight, immediately wrapped her hands around his wrist, bouncing up and down with excitement, “Will you do it, please?”

“Are you serious?” 

The director nodded, “I’ve seen you on Dunkirk. A Nolan film for your debut,” His tone carried an impressed valve. “I think Y/N here would love for you to be her co-star,”

Harry stared at Y/N’s pleading, doe eyes. He sighed, nodding with a small smile on his lips, “I’d love to,”

“Great!” The director clapped his hands in celebration, announcing through his headset that they would be filming the scene again. “This is your audition scene. I want this film to showcase intimacy and unrequited love between two people battling against the criticisms of the outside world, think you can do that?”

Harry’s mind reeled in the judgments, comments and harsh words spewed at him and Y/N for being together. The criticisms harshly raking up and yelled in their ears when they didn’t know the truth. Rumours painted to tear them apart, causing doubts and misunderstandings but they always worked through it. It pained his heart to have the world treat her like they did, especially when she was the sweetest little things that could have ever graced foot on the world.

 “Already am,”

_____