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heartbreakgrill · 2 years ago

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kol mikaelson; best friend’s brother, pt 1.

“cause he’s such a dream. and you know what i mean. if you weren’t related...”

a/n: dividing this into multiple parts because it will be well over 20k words when i am done lol

"y/n! come in, come in!" rebekah's bright smile appeared as she pulled open the front door. her grin was infectious, and i felt my cheeks dimple in response. she stepped aside, ushering me in with her hand.

i'd been to her house before, though it was a short visit to pick damon up one time when he had been vamp-napped. but that didn't stop me from admiring the architecture of the beautiful building. it was a wondrous mansion, full of gorgeous marble carvings, scooping staircases with rounded edges, and windows, none smaller than i was tall.

"hurry, before my brothers come to terrorize us," rebekah snapped me out of my longing gazes, bursting a giggle from my throat.

she pointed to the stairs with another wisp of her hand, and i followed her up it. "my room's the first door up here."

when we reached the landing, i took in a new part of the house i'd never seen. the continued modern elegance theme of the house took up the second floor, as well. rebekah's door was cream, matching the color pallet, but it was hanging wide open. she had probably raced down the stairs the second she heard you press the doorbell.

she shut it tightly behind the two of us, and clicked the lock for extra security. "so, did you bring it?"

rebekah watched as i dumped my purse and book bag on the bed. i had promised her a few weeks ago that she could borrow the copy of my favorite book. having missed out on the last century of the universe, rebekah was somewhat behind on her reading. and she was a sucker for romance novels, which was part of the reason we got along.

i revealed the bent and torn copy, a sly smile growing on my face. "one copy of the duke and i for miss rebekah mikaelson."

everyone thought rebekah was a bitch. she could be- i had seen my fair share of it over the past month that we'd been friends. when i'd disagree that leo dicaprio was the hottest 90s actor, and instead argued that johnny depp was, rebekah didn't speak to me for three days. and, sure, in the past she had tried to kill your friends. but, everytime was a testament to her ability to survive. she was fervently loyal to her family, to me as her friend.

everyone was beyond shocked when they discovered i was hanging out with her. caroline threw bitch-fit- as always- and bonnie tried to talk me out of it in a sensible, respectful manner. but i ignored them.

rebekah just needed love. she needed someone to spend time with, someone to talk to. she needed humanity.

i could relate. sometimes- most times- the supernatural mess i was involved in left me constantly feeling lonely. being one of the only humans in my friend group felt like being a black sheep in the herd. plans were constantly cancelled, elena was always prioritized because of stefan and damon's tunnel vision; friday night football games turned into picking up extra shifts at the grille because of your messy schedule, or running across virginia looking for some ancient spell.

i had lost my identity as a teenage girl throughout the mess.

and rebekah was helping me feel normal again. except for when she'd substitute soda for blood bags. that was always a laugh.

we'd become friends after the most recent supernatural conflict, wherein elena had dug a metaphorical knife too deep into rebekah's back. she had brought up rebekah's constant failed connections, the fucked up dynamic of her family, while trying to make rebekah help them with some campaign against klaus.

it had been in the middle of a restaurant downtown, where we were having dinner with caroline and bonnie. just trying to have dinner with Caroline, bonnie, and elena at a restaurant downtown. i thought if we went to a different place than mystic grill, we'd avoid any entities. but, low and behold, elena always managed to draw out the crazies.

after she smeared rebekah, i watched the blonde turn on a sharp heel and retreat to the bathroom with tears falling down her face. i excused myself, and snuck off to the stalls, feeling a tug on my heart. i was always the peace keep in my friend group, the one to comfort people when they cried, whether it be after a breakup or after they turned into a vampire.

she was at the sink, attempting to clean up her mascara with a paper towel. she didn't hear me come in- but saw my frame appear in the mirror. rebekah tensed up, a dirty look on her face.

"come to twist the knife?" she sneered, balling up the paper towel tightly in her fist.

"no, i-" i hesitated, unsure of what to say. maybe she wouldn't believe me, but i wanted to help.

i stepped up to the counter beside her, set my purse on top of it, and began rummaging. i brandished a small plastic container of on-the-go makeup wipes and held them out to her.

"i always care these with me," i offered, attempting to smile.

rebekah eyed me skeptically, but took them from my hand. she tugged one out of the lid, and began to clean up her eye makeup. "you know, i'm on a date."

my heart shrunk a little at the sad revelation. "is it going well?"

"it was," rebekah laughed darkly. "elena ruins everything."

i gave a sad nod of understanding, "i know it's not her fault, but sometimes she can put a damper on things."

it was wrong- but we bonded over the fact that elena managed to always rain on either of our parades. i spent ten minutes talking to her, helping make her feel better after the awful interaction. unfortunately, most of the conversation was cracking jokes about situations we maybe shouldn't have laughed at, but it helped. it felt normal, more normal than the dinner i wet back to. i managed to hype her up, too, and sent her back out on her date with a bright smile on her face.

a day later, she'd texted me asking if i wanted to go shopping. i realized how lonely she must be- every man she'd ever loved completely betrayed her, tried to kill her, or died. she'd spent thousands of years running from her villainous father, with brothers who constantly caused problems and picked on her.

she didn't have a single friend in the entire history of time.

so i went shopping. and to lunch a few days later, to a movie, then i spent the night for the first time. she always came to my house- considering her brothers were always home, wreaking havoc. and it ended being so much fun, that she spent two nights- the entire weekend- at my house.

that was two months ago. this was the first time she was letting me stay at her house. she'd told me last week about the various rooms in her house- a pool, an in-home movie theatre, a game room. i practically jumped on her in the school hallway, threatening to stab her with a dagger to stay the night. she laughed ecstatically at my joke, but said yes.

and here we were- sitting on her bed, holding out my copy of the duke and i. she quickly took it from my clutch, squealing at the sight of the half-naked boy on the cover. i laughed, giddily, commenting, "isn't he hot?! i mean, wait till you read it-! he's so posh, and-and, ugh, he's so mean to her, but-"

"you're going to spoil it!" rebekah shoved my shoulder lightly.

we shared another laugh at the exchange. rebekah kicked off her heels and sat on her knees beside me on the bed. "i want to send you home so i can read it now," she admitted.

i scoffed at her remark, taking the book from her hands and tossing it on the back of the bed, "bitch, i want to swim! and watch a movie and play pool. so, if you do that, i'm never hanging out with you again."

rebekah giggled, "okay, okay. fine. do you wanna swim now, or later, when the sun goes down?"

"oooo," i pursed my lips in thought, "later! night swimming is so much more fun."

"i have some wine," rebekah pointed to the bar cart in the corner of her ginormous room, "and we have speakers outside."

i was finally able to take in her room, and began gushing about the decorations, there wasn't much, considering her and the rest of the mikaelson's had only move in two months ago. but, what was in the room was expensive, luxury furniture. "i'm so poor!"

we spent the next hour in there. rebekah had managed to collect things through her life- small knick knacks, favorite sweaters, hats, a few journals here and there. klaus was a back stabber- but every time he killed his siblings, he'd store their things for later. rebekah said so with a distant smile, a faraway look in her eyes. she loved her brothers.

it was a silly detail, but it made my heart so happy.

after she showed me the whole room, i felt my stomach growl. "i'm starving," i huffed, patting my stomach.

rebekah shook her head with a smile, "wanna order a pizza?"

i quickly brandished my phone, and i found the local pizza shop's contact. i okayed the order details with rebekah before clicking the dial button. i ordered a large pizza with extra cheese, and a side of break sticks. they gave me an eta, and i hung up.

i went over to my purse and dug around for my purse. "i got it this time."

rebekah grabbed my hand, "no way. this ones on me."

i knew that meant she'd compel the pizza boy, which sometimes made me uncomfortable. it wasn't fair, or practical, and bit the pizza shop in the ass. but, sometimes being with rebekah let me feel dangerous in an empowering way. like we were sneaking beers from her fridge. with bonnie ,caroline, and elena, all of my other friends, i always felt coddled. looked down upon for being human. in dangerous situations, even in ones where i could help, i was always laughed out for offering my hands.

while we waited for the pizza, rebekah said she'd show me around.i'd never gotten to see the whole layout. it was three stories tall, the mansion, but rebekah said the top floor was basically klaus' weird torture dungeon, and i laughed that maybe it was a sex dungeon. she shoved my shoulder with a high-pitched, "ew!"

rebekah shivered at the gross thought, and continued with a small grimace. "that end of the hallway is finn's room," she pointed her manicured finger to my left. "and that one is kol's."

i glanced towards the former, and then to the right. my eyes lingered on the latter, at the cream-colored door, shut tight. i had met finn, but never kol. i heard plenty of stories about his psychotic vampirism, but i had seen a picture of him on rebekah's phone. apparently, he'd stolen it from her a few weeks ago when he discovered what a selfie was;

rebekah had shown with annoyance lining her tone, but she giggled when she pulled it up to show it to me. i laughed, too, but my eyes lingered on his own for a moment. he was kinda cute. i

i shook the memory from my mind. there was a thin line of light streaming from underneath the door. but, there wasn't much movement. what did original vampires do in their off time, anyways?

i asked, "what does everybody do all day?"

rebekah shrugged, "i think finn wants to get a job in town. history reservation or something. elijah writes, as you know. kol plays video games. he's just discovered call of duty, whatever that is. he might go back to college. i go to school, obviously. and klaus just tortures."

i tittered slightly, "sounds fun."

she shrugged with a small laugh. "okay, first floor."

i followed her down the steps. she'd long since switched her signature pumps to house slippers, red, glittery ones that scraped against the floor as she walked. i was just in your socks- ones with little puppies all over them. the floor was cool against my toes, but it felt good.

as we reached the landing of the first floor, rebekah began talking again, "this is technically the foyer, though i don't know why it's so big. that's the kitchen over there, attached is a dining room, sitting room, and the library. this way is the living room, and elijah's room. there's a bathroom off the kitchen and one next to his bedroom."

i perked up at the mention of the library, and rebekah looked at you sweetly, "would you like to go see it? klaus is an expansive collector."

thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. i was on top of the ladder in the library, running my fingers over the spines of the collection before me. the entire shelf i was wondrously gazing upon were first editions klaus had collected. anything from pride and prejudice, to a tale of a two cities. i wasn't the biggest fan of classics, but the history seeping from these novels, with a rustic cloud of smell, was engaging. my head tilted towards the sound of the doorbell, and i glanced down at rebekah.

"i got it," she nodded, waving me off. "keep looking. you seem happy."

i grinned at her retreating back. then i turned my attention back to the books. i stopped on the spine of an old classic, gently tugging it from its spot in the shelf. . i looped my arm through the ladder to balance myself as i began to open its pages. a voice sounded from the doorway.

"hello, darling."

i jumped slightly, and i gripped the ladder tighter. my heart thumped on my chest at the possibility of falling. with a hitched breath, i looked to the voice and saw a familiar boy standing there, hands in the front pockets of his sweatpants. i offered a gentle smile, "hello," i spoke quietly, shyness lacing my features and stomach. my heart rate steadied, but it still ran quick.

rebekah has always made sure kol was never around. she said he was flirtatious and obnoxious, and that she didn't want me to get caught up in his advances.

kol held my eyes in his own, a burning stare glinting in his brown eyes. he nodded towards the book in my hands, "which ones that?"

i glanced back down at the cover, then looked to him, "alice's adventures in wonderland."

"ah," kol stepped down into the room, slowly making his way closer. he continued, his eyes burning into mine, "'tis love...tis love that makes the world go round.'"

i furrowed my brows, a flurry feeling enlightening my stomach, and the corner of my lips lifted in a short smile. "you've read it?"

"when you live forever, you manage to read quite a lot of books," kol laughed lightly.

i turned from him, hoping if it broke eye contact, it would steady my heart. i slipped the novel back between the books on the highest shelf. "i'm not a fan of it, to be honest."

kol scoffed, "what! how?"

i began to ramble, turning back to face him, "i just don't like it. it's chaos. i know it's supposed to be- but there's no moral for me to connect to. i-"

amidst my rambling, i lost your footing on the ladder. i yelped as my felt your body tugged down by gravity, and my arms reached out, trying to grab the ladder. i was falling.

i heard a whoosh beneath me and, suddenly, i landed gently in someone's arms. i threw my arms out, holding tightly to their neck, and shoved my head up against their shoulder. my eyes were squeezed shut, an attempt to look away from the ground as i fell, but i slowly peeked one open. my heart was beating out of my chest.

i turned my head to the side and caught kol's eyes. his breath was warm across my face and a worried look creasing his brows. "you okay, darling?"

i immediately blushed, and shoved myself out of his arms. i found your footing on the ground, and put some distance between myself and him. i shoved my back agains the book case. "i'm fine," i breathed outwards, with a hand against my thumping chest, "thanks. i'm- fine."

kol went to respond when rebekah's voice sounded from the hallway, her slippers making that scuffing sound across the flooring. "that delivery boy was cute, y/n. i'm going to get his number for you next time-"

as she turned the corner into the room, her voice cut off. "kol! leave y/n alone!"

i blushed a deeper shade of red, feeling embarrassed that i was interacting with her brother. it wasn't like it was a crime, like she had banned me from doing so. but the situation felt secret, scandalous. i pressed my lips together in a thin line, staring at the floor beside rebekah's slippers.

the air was tense.

kol crossed his arms over his chest, "oh, sister, im just trying to introduce myself to your friend. you never let me meet her."

rebekah set her hands on her hips, "because you're creepy."

i wanted to laugh at the sibling rivalry, the funny quips and remarks they shot at each other. but, knowing their short tempers, i minded my business.

"ah, that's not true," kol replied. "don't make me look badly in front of your friend. y/n, is it?"

he met my eyes again, and a heat ran through me. i nodded, but rebekah interrupted the moment.

"well, you've introduced yourself. now, get out. don't you have some slaughtering to do?" rebekah's voice got a little higher, annoyance thick in her tone. she was losing patience.

i smiled politely, "it was nice meeting you," i turned to rebekah and began making my way to the door. "let's go watch a movie. i'm starving still."

rebekah sent another glare in kol's direction before giving in, following me out of the library. "just try to ignore him, please," she spoke.

i shrugged, "it's okay. he didn't bother me too much."

rebekah, a quick walker due to her impatience, quickly got ahead of me. i trailed behind, and almost stopped dead in my tracks to glance back over my left shoulder. kol was in the doorway, watching our retreating figures with a simple gaze, one of curiosity.

i sent him another smile, and waved my hand. kol's smirk grew.

he winked at me.

—

i was barely watching the movie. i kept staring the door with anticipation, wondering if he'd crash through them with that same smirk on his face. i knew it wasn't realistic- why would he? but i was craving his gaze.

i could feel the heat of his hands lingering on my thighs, on the curve of my back. i wanted to touch him again, just his arm or his cheek, to see if he was really that warm, or if i had imagined it. it was like he had burned me, and it was lingering on my skin.

i peeled my eyes from the door, and refocused onto the pizza box on the coffee table. rebekah flicked her eyes at your movement, but her wide-dough eyes were mainly yearning to consume the entertainment on the television. i took a big bite of the pizza slice, swallowed, and reached for my soda can. i almost rested it's opening to my lips, but the weight of it felt extremely light in my hold. i shook it, and heard the remnants of the soda rattle at the very bottom of the can.

here was my excuse.

i sat up, body stiff with anticipation. i cleared my throat, ran my tongue over my teeth to clean off the pizza. "iiiiiiiiii...m- im gonna get more soda..." i dragged out my words, trying to be careful. "you want some?"

rebekah flicked her hand in my direction, murmured something denying the offer.

i slyly set my pizza slice into the box and, with the empty can in tow, slipped out of the room. i practically tip-toed through the halls, towards the kitchen. every time i passed a doorway, i extended my neck to look through it. to look for him.

i felt foolish and silly- but giddy with excitement. what would i say if i ran into him? what would i do? he was probably in his room, playing call of duty. but what if he was waiting for me, too? there was that look in his eyes-

oh, my god. i'm pathetic. i want to be a typical teenager, but this is extreme. i shook my head of the cheesy thoughts, finally reaching the kitchen.

i dumped the trash into the garbage can. i didn't know where the cups were, but i really wanted a glass of water. i placed my hands on my hips, glancing around the cupboards before. i didn't know where the glasses were, so i began rummaging through every cabinet in search of them.

all of a sudden, within the moment of a small gust of air being interrupted, and the ruffle of the hair on my shoulders, i felt a presence engulf my back. my breath hitched, for the second time this evening, and i watched from the corner of my gaze as an arm reached around my head, pulling open the cupboard above me.

he closed his fingers around a glass, and brought it down to in front of my face. the moment lasted much longer than 10 seconds- but in actuality, it felt like the single blink of an eye. i let out the breath that filled your stomach, shaky with a curios ruin. my heart rate spiked.

"looking for this, darling?" his voice was hot as it breathed past my ear. it spiraled goosebumps down my body, tickling every sense along my spine.

i tried to steady my hand, but it was shaking as i took it from his grasp. "t-thank you."

i turned to face him, sure he would step back, but he stayed at his sultry distance. i backed up against the counter as much as i could, hugging the glass to my chest.

the corner of his pink lips curled into that signature smirk. he leaned in further, pressing both of his palms into the counter beside my hips. i finally got a good look at his eyes- and they were brown.

a golden hued, chocolatey brown that oozed warmth, radiated comfort. and bled desire.

my eyes flickered away from his. i remembered what rebekah said. he was a flirt. this is what he did. and i felt silly for thinking it was because of me.

i made my eyes refocus on the collar of his shirt. attempting to ground myself. "i-i've gotta get...back. to rebekah."

"bekah won't miss you too much if you stay here a moment longer," kol shrugged. he tilted his head to catch my gaze again.

i went red-hot all over my body- the blood rushed to the surface of my skin, as if to embarrass me in this moment. man, he was great at this.

i averted my eyes again, and pulled my body back further. i hugged the cup to my chest in an attempt to shy away from him. maybe he would back off if he saw i was uncomfortable.

though that was a lie.

kol did. his smirk faltered for a single second once he noticed i was shrinking away. he took the glass from my hands, fingers barely grazing my skin, and filled it up at the fridge.

i caught my wrist with my other hand and nervously wrung it for a moment. watching as he filled the glass, my heart rate began to steady and the heat dissipated. distance was good.

"here you are, love," he presented the cup like a golden apple, "one glass of water."

i cracked a small smile, managing to elicit a cheeky response now that distance was between you. "are you a waiter now?"

"might take up that profession," kol leaned back against the island, making a questioning face with a pursed, deep frown. it was silly.

i giggled, "have fun with that. and thanks for the water."

kol sent me another wink as i headed for the exit, "anything for the beautiful damsel in distress."

i laughed again, but quickly sped out of there.

he was really good.

—

rebekah was in love with julia roberts.

as i picked up your trash from the movie room and hauled it to the kitchen garbage, she ranted on and on about the actresses portrayal of the woman in notting hill.

i tossed the pizza box, a few paper plates, and two more soda cans into the trash. distantly listening, my mind began to wander. again. what was wrong with me?

it was like his very presence in this house was putting me on edge. it felt like i was playing cat and mouse- only i was a not-so cautious mouse with a death wish. every time i heard a door close, every time footsteps shook the ceiling, my heart jumped out of my throat.

rebekah poured a blood bag into a glass, decorating it with a pink straw that had an umbrella on it. she began to go on about julia roberts purse, but i interrupted. i knew it was a bad idea, to plant this conversation, but i needed to know something.

"so, what's with kol, anyways?" i asked, distant.

her mouth hung open slightly, "what?" rebekah furrowed her brows.

i shrugged, sliding up onto the bar stool. "what's his deal? like, i know about you, elijah, and klaus. but what about kol?"

"he's a psycho, y/n," she took a sip through the straw, manicured fingers holding onto the end. "he throws temper tantrums and runs off to kill dozens of people constantly. he's the most problematic of all of us. he was wreckless before he turned and it's only enhanced by his immortality."

i nodded along to her words, my fingers playing with one another atop the counter. i couldn't say you were happy to hear that the one original vampire you thought was cute was a murdered. but the information helped ground me more. there it was; another reason to snap the hell out of it. "oh, joy...do you guys not get along well?"

rebekah continued drinking, and as she swallowed, she thought. "depends on the day. i can't say that we always do. sometimes. he's just very- closed off, i guess. sometimes i try to bridge the gap, but he doesn't let anybody in."

the hurt was evident in her eyes, and she tried to play off his discomfort by staring into her drink. i quickly changed the subject, settled on dropping him from my mind for good. he could flirt as much as he wanted, but i wasn't going to let him toy with me. i was better than that. "let's stop talking about your brother and go swimming. it's finally dark out."

rebekah glanced over my shoulder, to the sliding patio doors. the back yard was completely pitch black. she thought for another moment before a smile lit up her face. rebekah walked over to the doors. she slipped a switch, and the porch flooded with light.

"now that sounds like fun."

i perked up at the sight of the ginormous pool. the deck extended out over the yard, providing a direct drop off into the pool. there were lounge chairs, couches circled around a fire pit.

"hey, can we have a fire later?" i offered. "we can make s'mores."

rebekah looked at you with a bewildered face, "what the hell is a s'more?"

"just say yes," i tittered with a tease, jumping off the stool.

we quickly went upstairs and changed into our bathing suits. rebekah offered a beach towel, still with the tags on it. i laughed at its newness and ripped the tags off. i wrapped it around my shoulders, chilly from the stale air of the house. vampires didn't need heat, or air, so the cold virginia night seeped through the cracks in the molding between windows and doors, sending shivers down my spine.

"the pools heated," rebekah noticed the goosebumps trailing my bare skin. "let me go ask somebody about the house, though. don't see why we can't cater to you considering we can't feel much."

i nodded with a smile, and followed her down the stairs, again. though it was magnificent, the house was like a built-in gym. to get from any point a to any point b, we had had to cross numerous football fields worth of space. i took a deep breath as we hit the first floor landing, feeling silly and human at the fact that i was out of breath.

rebekah took a sniff, which was strange, but after she turned her head to the kitchen and made a determined march towards it, you remembered that's how she operated. she located people by smell. klaus, finn, and elijah were all sitting around the island, just...hanging out? all the warnings my friends had given me remained more and more untrue every single day. this was a family- a normal, old, ordinary family.

sometimes they hung out in the kitchen, drinking beers and playing a game of rummy. finn must have still been learning, because he looked distraught and confused.

"oh, little sister, perfect," klaus waved her over with a finger.

rebekah rolled her eyes, but stepped closer to his shoulder. "yes, nik?"

"tell me; does this look like a worthy risk to take?" klaus smirked, though it was not as menacing as his others have been in the past. it was simple mischief. brotherly cheating in a card game.

i smiled slightly as elijah slapped his cards into the table with a groan. "you cannot cheat, niklaus! we've been over this!"

klaus looked offended, "it is not cheating if i ask someone not in the game!"

"that's literally the definition of cheating," the words slipped from your tongue with a giggle. i expected them to be angry that i bugged into their conversation, but elijah simply looked to me with comradery.

"thank you! it's the definition, klaus," elijah took a swig of his beer.

"if anyone gets to cheat, it should be me," finn groaned. he looked up at me with these puppy dog eyes, tilting his cards slightly towards my gaze.

i stepped closer with an encouraging grin. "let's see..."

elijah groaned even louder, slapping his cards to his face this time. "oh, i give up!"

i helped finn pick out a set of hearts, 9-J to play off of elijah's 6-8. finn was so happy, he stood from his chair and hugged me tightly.

rebekah finally got annoyed by her brothers and cleared her throat over the rowdiness. "can someone please turn the heat on in this house for y/n? the poor things freezing."

everyone looked to me, concern lacing their features. elijah set his cards down on the table and stood up, "let's see. i think there's something called a thermostat."

klaus looked to his brother curiously, but finn was focused on his hand. "what's that?"

rebekah pulled out of her phone, "i'll look it up."

a laugh burst out of my chest, and i went red as everyone looked to me again. i padded over to elijah, saying, "i know how to do that."

there was a vent beside your feet, and a warm shiver trailed your body as it burst open and air trickled out. "ah, there we go," i sighed in content. "thank you," i nodded up at elijah.

he smiled kindly. "are you two going swimming, then?" he pointed between us, glancing at the lit-up pool.

"figured we might as well get some use out of those dreadful house," rebekah commented as she leaned against the counter.

klaus set down the cards in his hands, and fumbled with his beer. he looked thoughtful, "swimming sounds intriguing."

finn looked up, "swimming is an activity these days?"

rebekah shrugged, "it's strangely fun."

"well, enjoy yourselves," elijah spoke, sliding back onto his seat.

rebekah pushed off the counter and grabbed two wine glasses from a cupboard. the bottle of wine she brought from her room sat in her other arm. she looked at me with raised brows, "oh, we will, brother. let's go."

bubbling with excitement, i moved to the sliding glass doors and opened one for rebekah. she stepped out into the night, and waited for me to close it. "okay, you probably know how to use this better than i," rebekah said as she neared a set of speakers. "it's bluetooth? whatever that means."

i laughed for the millionth time, "don't worry. i've got it."

i slumped onto a lounge chair near the speaker, fiddling with the buttons and volume in order to connect my phone. rebekah set the wine glasses and the bottle onto the outdoor dining table. she opened the bottle without even using a wine opener, and poured it into the two glasses.

she brought one over just as the speakers beeped, indicating my phone had connected. i put my playlist on shuffle, and rebekah cheered as a one direction song came on.

"oh, i just love harry styles," she gushed, taking a large gulp of her wine.

"me, too," i swirled the wine around in my glass. "you know what i love even more? swimming. so, peace out."

i stood from the chair and padded over to the pool. i crouched down, setting my wine glass on the concrete siding, and plopped onto my butt. i dipped my feet into the water, and with my palms pressed against the ground, pushed myself into the pool. it came up to my stomach, and i yelped at the cold.

rebekah laughed at my response, tip-toeing to the water with a giant pink pool floaty in her hands. she went around the to the steps and carefully balanced onto the float. as she passed me, i grabbed my glass of wine and downed a large sip.

"this is amazing," rebekah commented, her head lolling back as her eyes fell shut.

i took another sip of my drink before setting it down. "i know, right? this is peak luxury."

rebekah snorted at my comment. "you really are poor."

i scoffed and splashed her with water. her face scrunched up as she flinched, and she kicked her floaty away from me. using the hair tie on my wrist, i pulled my hair up into a very messy bun.

"not all of us have spent eternity, dining with kings and queens," i mocked the last part in a faux-accent.

"i've never dined with a king. a few queens, yes. an emperor? yes. the president? sure. but never a king."

i rolled my eyes, "whatever."

rebekah's floaty spun away from me slowly. she was humming to the one direction song, looking fully content with the relaxing moment.

turning from her, i took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and dove into the water. i swam down to the deep end, and when my hand met the wall, i came up for air. i wiped the water from my eyes, holding onto the edge of the pool so i didn't have to tire my kicking feet. i spun to face the doors to the house, planting my elbows onto the side of the pool.

then, i spotted kol. he was walking through the kitchen, a beer in his hands. he was obviously teasing his brothers, based on the smirk he wore and the annoyance seeping from his family members' expressions. my eyes followed him while he peered over klaus' shoulder, and a chuckle fell from my throat as klaus shoved him away. kol put his hands up defensively, but his ear perked up at the sound of my laugh. his eyes met mine through the glass, his lips lifting further into a grin.

i quickly turned away, taking another breath to dive back under the water. but, i heard the sliding glass door peel open within the span of seconds. i watched rebekah lift her head off of the back of the floaty and glare at the new presence on the patio.

"kol, leave."

i faced him, anticipating a cheeky response. "oh, but beks, this looks like fun. let me join!"

elijah stood from the island and stepped outside, "kol," he spoke, firmly, "leave them alone."

kol raised his hands defensively, again, "i'm not trying to cause anything, 'lijah. i honestly want to swim, as well. look, they've got music, drinks. it seems like a great time."

elijah looked to rebekah, who was glaring at the exchange. he gave her a knowing look and she drew back, beginning to yell out a no, but elijah said, "if we can't swim in a pool together, what kind of family are we?"

elijah, kol, and i looked to rebekah expectantly, awaiting her permission. she glanced at me and i shrugged, "i don't mind. maybe we could play chicken."

"kay," rebekah furrowed her brows, "i don't know what the hell that is. but..." she paused, stared deeply into her wine glass, took the biggest gulp, and said, "what the hell!"

elijah, klaus, and kol changed into bathing suits. finn went out. klaus tried out the diving board and showed off an insane front flip into the water. elijah took the steps, carefully and skillfully entering the water. i held onto rebekah's floaty, laughing with her at klaus' flip.

i reached for my glass of wine on the side of the pool when, all of a sudden, we heard kol yell from inside the house. he came running out, yelling all the while, in a pair of pineapple swim trunks. he jumped into the middle of the pool, cannon-balling. i let go of my wine glass and, instead, braced myself on the concrete. the water shook us all around, mini-waves swirling from his jump.

rebekah groaned, while elijah and klaus shared a laugh. i smiled, and watched as kol popped out of the water. he flipped back his head, his wet hair sending a splash towards klaus. the former brother pounced in response, tackling kol into the water. they wrestled for a moment, laughter ringing in my ears, before kol pushed klaus away.

"so, what is this chicken game, y/n?" kol said, through heavy breaths from the exertion. "does it involve chickens?"

i looked to him, the grin never leaving my face. upon meeting my gaze, his lips lifted up a bit. i faltered, but pushed on, "i don't know why it's called that. there are no chickens involved. basically, two people sit on two other people's shoulders and each tries to push the other off. its really fun."

"i'm game," klaus raised a finger.

i glanced at him, then to rebekah, "how about you?"

she shrugged, "i wanna relax. that sounds stressful."

elijah, of all people, swam over to her. she looked at him warningly as he got too close, "don't be boring, sister." suddenly, he lifted the bottom of her floaty and flipped her off of it. rebekah screamed as she went, her wine glass falling in beside her.

i gripped the side of the pool, laughing my ass off at the exchange. i glanced around and saw kol was staring at me with the brightest smile. my face flushed red and i stopped. he scrunched his nose at me, as if to acknowledge my resistance, and looked away.

rebekah came out of the water with an angry expression on her face. "oh, you're dead!"

rebekah claimed klaus as her fighting partner instantly. she got onto his shoulders with determination as elijah climbed onto kol. they moved towards a shallower, yet still deep enough, end of the pool. the water dipped beneath kol's chest as it rippled. i let my eyes wander there for the first time, and i blushed red. i was hot- though it was chilly outside- to the very core. kol caught my expression for what felt like the millionth guilty time and he winked.

he had to stop doing that.

i pulled myself onto the edge of the pool letting just my feet sink in the water as i watched them fight. "okay," i caught everyone's attention, "no super strength! it's not fair. and, on 3- 1...2...3!"

rebekah reached forward with all her might and began shoving elijah at his shoulders. kol held on tightly, though, white knuckling elijah's thighs. it took a while for one of them to fall, but, eventually, elijah fell back into the water. kol managed to evade the crash and swam out from under his brother.

rebekah looked to me with excitement. she shook her triumphant fists in the air, before grabbing klaus' head and tugging it around. he laughed at his little sister's antics.

shortly after everyone calmed down, rebekah demanded she go again. "but, i want y/n to play! this was her idea, after all."

klaus nodded, still holding his sister on his shoulders. "yeah, cmon, y/n!"

i lifted myself into the pool, smiling at their encouragement. scanning kol and elijah, i hoped to myself that the former would be the one to hold me on his shoulders. elijah went to offer, but kol cut him off, "i've got you, darling."

kol held out his hand, the one with his daylight ring on the finger. i swam over, trying not to stare at the veins running from his knuckles and up his arms. i delicately placed my hand in his and let him pull me closer. i could feel eyes on us and i knew it was rebekah. she was more than likely pissed at kol, and glaring daggers into his skin. but i tried to ignore that. even if his flirtasious advances were just how he was, i could relish on his skin touching mine.

even if that was wrong, too.

kol placed my hand on his shoulder as he pulled me around, to his back. "ready?" he peered over his shoulder, and when i nodded, he pushed down into the water. i braced my hands on his shoulders, swinging one leg at a time over them. i felt his large hands stable my legs on him and, when he felt they were, he came up.

i squeaked at the easy force, as if i weighed nothing, and gripped onto his hands. his skin really was that warm. kol looked up at me, "you okay, love?"

i nodded, "y-yes. let's get 'em."

i, unfortunately, did not get anybody. rebekah either couldn't not use her supernatural strength, or she was just abnormally strong. she pushed me under twice, and i was not willing to try a third time. each time i fell off kol's shoulders, he'd quickly whip around and fish me out by the hips. it was too much for my little heart, which was beating completely out of my chest.

in the last round, kol spun as soon as he felt me slip, and caught me so my legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping the underneath of my thighs. i gasped as the space between our faces was non-existent. his breath was minty like before, hot and sharp as his chest pushed in and out heavily. kol contemplated my face, eyes flickering between my lips and my eyes.

the world around us felt like it froze in time. as if kol and i were encased in a snowglobe, the laughter from his brothers and sister were muffled onlookers. as if we were sitting on a shelf, in some faraway shop, price tagged for a moment that was forever occurring. just him and i, floating through time.

my fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, and i felt him shiver at my touch. but, as the moment came to a jarring snap back into time, i twisted my lips into a frowning smile. i slid my hands to either of his shoulders, squeezed gently once, and pushed myself back from him. i slipped into the water and kicked lightly to put distance between us.

whatever that was- whatever was happening here, needed to stop.

rebekah was fervently loyal- so much so that she was territorial. she had lost so much in her life- friends, lovers, parents, and siblings. she made sure that what she had was hers- even if it meant people would die.

if she knew her best friend and her brother had shared as many moments as they had today, that they had both felt a spark, felt a shimmer of something, she would surely dagger kol.

she wouldn't lose to me, especially not to him.

as i swam back from him, kol's eyes downturned with restless confusion. i knew, from the way his hands gripped at my skin, the way his vision desired me, that he meant more than to ruffle my feathers. that he held felt an attraction towards me.

and i had felt it for him, too.

i bit my lip harshly, hoping to bleed out the feelings, and shook my head.

no.

we couldn't.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x y/n #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals x y/n #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #nathaniel buzolic sucks but kol is hot so fuck me

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martieshub · 6 months ago

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@4fter-hours sent 💙 [ walabizzie]

who curses more?

He curses slightly more than she does.

who is more patient?

Wally for sure. When it comes to his lila, he's got an overflow of patience to give her.

who does the driving?

Also him but it's also because the littles demand her attention everytime they ride in the car.

who is louder? who is quieter?

I'm gonna have to put this on him being louder only because he's got a huge family and loads of voices he needs to compete with. So, also she's a bit more quieter when surrounded by people or at a function full of strangers.

who is more physically affectionate?

Wally. Especially after she gets more comfortable with the affection he gives her.

who is more likely to tease the other?

Both lol. But she does it more often than he does it to her.

who is better with time management?

I'm gonna lean him though because sometimes when she's super busy or really focused on a case or something, time does run away from her.

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

Lol her. Technically he let's her win. *wink*

who controls the music in the car ride?

She does. Sometimes he doesn't say anything about her choices.

who covers dinner when they order in?

They take turns but usually he beats her to it.

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

He's more outgoing in certain situations. They can be both be a mix of both. But given their line of work, shy is pushed aside.

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

He does 😭. Don't judge him.

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

He starts them and she ends them. turns out he's not a lover of the tickle fights.

who has the darker/more "edgy" sense of humor?

I feel like they both do. It's 50/50.

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

A MISS ELIZABETH.

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

He eats like a baby bird so I'm gonna hand it to her. Sweet tooth he would if he wasn't allergic to fucking sugar. Jk. No but it's a hassle for him to find a legit candy that won't kill him.

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

They both are. If we talking about protecting each other, yes then both.

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

He hosts the parties mostly the ones put on by his mother's charities BUT his mom did hand over the reins for the library charities to Liz so she organizes those.

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

Liz Liz Liz Liz is the baker. But he does cook sometimes for her. Random recipes he finds that he thinks she'd like. Not to mention foods from her home country when he wants to make her smile.

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

UMMMM both. Tried and true.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

Wally. Bless her soul though but he is. He can figure something is wrong by how her face looks. She has certain ticks he's learned is her way of signaling something is wrong without her voicing it.

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

I mean ngl she does.

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

Wally for emotional support. Though she doesn't like to show it she does extend a helping hand to those who need it.

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

Biggest prankster hello @ wally. She does get him back good though.

#v: sweet symphony.#These were so funny especially the ones that are canon I'm 😭

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touresmonologue · 4 months ago

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i went to san francisco in my dream

and we were there

hand in hand

you told me that you’d take me there someday

the golden gate was always your dream

i went last summer

and i searched for your face all over that city

for three days

all i saw were headless bodies

ones that never resembled you

cold arms

and too careful steps

i want to give it up

i want to forget about you

but i see no end to this longing

to this feeling of hopelessness

to prayers for the mornings

of you lying in my bed again

your nose resting on my jaw

while humming something about

flowers in my hair

the paralyzing press of your lips

before you get up to go

how i close my eyes in denial

maybe you will come back

but i hear my front door close

i pretend you there

in the shower

when i finally

confess my love for you

i pretend you there

saying it back

i pretend you there

and there are tears in my eyes as i brush my teeth

red faced and puffy as i fix my hair

i pretend you there

when i dial your number

and you don’t pick up the phone

send a text that says you are busy

i pretend you there

when i get home

and you don’t answer my callings

of “are you here?”

when i eat the breakfast

you always say is your favorite

and there is enough for two people

when i crawl in bed

and the blanket you drag out everytime

is neatly folded in the corner

i miss you when you’re gone

i miss the smell of your skin

and every other nothing i can’t remember

i miss the squeeze of a hand in the car

and the basket i make

of your arms at the grocery store

i miss you at dinner with my friends

i imagine us at that quaint restaurant

me blushing crimson across the table

i miss you even when you’re here

when you are in my arms

and still miles away

if i pretend well enough

i can see past the promises you refuse to make

the fleeting glances

and the casual brush of hands

if i pretend well enough

i can see through

the keys to my front door

in your pocket

your chin on my shoulder

and the kiss you give me when no one is looking

i could beg you to stay

but i ask where you see yourself in ten years

and you don’t say with me

you say nothing of our life

our family

our friends

you don’t even mention that stupid fucking bridge

and i cannot breathe

i am sick with grief

and this depraved obsession is a disease

this starvation is terminal

so i will just pretend

until i have to accept

you being buried on a different plot

our names listed on different stones

but for now

i see no end to this torture

and i wonder if every life will be this hard

my T.

#female writers #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #out of my collection #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #obsessive love #love letters #unrequited love #i love you #love letter: my true feelings

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insomniac-jay · 2 years ago

Text

Dinner Talk: ShinHisa

Subjects: Trickster (Shingen Itazura) & Phantomage (Hisaya Itazura)

Restaurant: Umizawa's Crab Shack, Osaka

Orders:

Wasabi crab cakes with ginger ale - Trickster

Crab egg foo yung with strawberry lemonade - Phantomage

Trickster: Looking sexy as always, babe.

Phantomage: You say that everytime I wear anything. Saying things like that starts to lose meaning after a while.

Trickster: Because it's true. If there's one thing I love besides an aged woman, it's one who dresses nice.

Phantomage: Now, I can't argue with that when it comes to myself.

Trickster: So, about our little family vacation-

Phantomage: Not when I have exams coming up in a few weeks. I take my job very seriously, Shin.

Trickster: Please? Just this once? For me and little Asuka?

Phantomage: Fine. Just this once for you and Asuka.

Trickster: Fucking awesome. As I was saying, for our little family vacation I was thinking we should go to this really nice resort in the South.

Phantomage: In the South, huh?

Trickster: Yeah. It's got a water park, mini golf course, and a luxury spa.

Phantomage: Luxury spa?

Trickster: Now that's what gets your attention. I already booked us a suite that has a kids' bedroom so you and I can have mommy and daddy time when our little fox is sleeping.

Phantomage: Perhaps these vacations should be more frequent.

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @s0ursop @opalofoctober @elflynns-horde-of-stuff @pizzolisnacks @peachyblkdemonslayer @redhoodzuko

#ship: shinhisa😘#jay's bnha ocs #series: dinner talk

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multimilfs · 2 years ago

Text

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader: What if I say I'm not like the others?

Summary: There's a lot you know about Melissa Schemmenti, but not so much that you understand. And when insecurities bubble over into your relationship, it just might equal disaster.

AO3

A/N: I've been writing this all week and editing over the past few days. When I watched the most recent episode... I knew I had to get this posted, since it fits a little with the familial theme. But anyway Lisa Ann Walter owns my heart, please enjoy!!!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): None

There’s a lot you know about Melissa Schemmenti.

You know she takes her coffee with enough sugar to be illegal and her liquor neat and how she melts when she hears the kids call her ‘Miss Schemmenti’ even after years of teaching. You know her favorite meal is Veal Siciliana from Scanicchios, but how she’ll never set foot in the restaurant after Joe used it to propose their divorce.

You know she’s not a hard woman to learn, but she can be impossible to understand.

So when the door to her cousin Annette’s house opens and Melissa’s face loses a shade of warmth, you know she’s putting on an act, but you don’t know why; Besides her blackmailer of a sister, Annette has always been the one she’s fondest of.

“There she is!” Annette exclaims, grabbing you in a bone-crushing hug like she didn’t threaten you over the dinner table at last week's family dinner, “Mel didn’t know if you’d be able to make it.”

“Good to see you too, Annette.” Melissa deadpans.

You shoot Melissa a look, “I wouldn’t miss dinner for anything.”

“Good, good. Come inside before the food gets cold.”

You’re ushered into the house and surrounded in the typical chaos of the Schemmenti family. Annette takes the branzino from your hands and whisks it away to the kitchen. Uncle Anthony and his wife Lorraine are at the dining table, halfway through a bottle of wine, laughing at something one of the surrounding cousins said.

Against the wall behind them Uncle Tomas watches the room with a keen eye. He’s arguably the most intense of her family members. The first time you’d met the man, Melissa had introduced him as Stickman; the man was a lawyer, you learned, and a damn good one. He was well connected and could get anything to stick if it’d help his case. That evening, when Melissa was distracted, he assured you he’d do the same to you if you hurt his niece. You had steered clear of him for a while after that.

Annette’s husband Nico comes around the corner, doing his Greek roots proud as he enthusiastically kisses both of your cheeks. Annette scowls, but she’s long since given up on trying to break him of the habit—after 10 years there isn’t much she can do.

Bundled up in his arms is their daughter Sophia. Everytime you remember how tiny she used to be compared to now, tears spring to your eyes.

“There’s my favorite girl,” You coo, taking her out of Nico’s arms, “I missed you so much. Have you been behaving for your parents?”

She stares up in adoration while Annette and Nico smile. Melissa hangs back, hands stuffed in her pockets as she takes in the room. You try to catch her eyes, but she’s determined to look anywhere else.

“She’s been a nightmare this week. First she was sick and then when she was better, she’d refuse to sleep,” Annette throws her hands up, “I can’t figure it out.”

“You think she’d want a break from you two.” Melissa says.

Her cousin glares, delivering a harsh punch to her arm. The barely-there grin that was on Melissa’s mouth falls and she stiffens, puffing up, pulling her arm back to deliver an undoubtedly worse blow. You place your hand on her arm and step between them.

It clearly ruffles her feathers that you’re stepping in, but she says nothing. Her arm drops and she levels a glare at Annette instead. You bounce Sophia, sharing a look with Nico.

“Sweetheart, how close are we to eating? Would you like help setting the table?” Nico asks.

“You sit down, I’ll help her out,” Melissa interrupts, pressing a kiss to your cheek and brushing past you.

You blink and she’s moving towards the kitchen, shoving Annette ahead. A pointed stare burns into your face as you focus on the baby in your arms. Her original eager face has turned sleepy the longer you bounce her. Moving her to your other arm, you make the mistake of locking eyes with Nico.

“It isn’t my business…”

“We’re fine, Nico. She’s just had a long week.”

It’s a simple enough answer and it’s a true one. Melissa has been overwhelmed. You choose not to mention that the only time her behavior changes is inside this house. She may love her family and value them to no end, but lately she hasn’t been acting like herself around them, and you feel yourself being pushed away for a few hours every week.

You don’t talk about it—why would you? The second you’re back in the car, everything is normal. It doesn’t affect your relationship. All you want is to understand why it’s happening.

“Seems she’s having many of those.”

Glaring at Nico is second nature. He doesn’t apologize, only shrugging as if to say I’m only speaking the truth. Luckily, he drops the conversation, and you stand in mostly-comfortable silence watching Melissa and Annette move around from afar.

—

“So, have you found a ring yet?”

“Knock it off already,” Melissa growls, staring into the simmering sauce on the stove, “I’ve said all I needed to about that.”

“You didn’t say much, actually.”

“She doesn't want to marry me, Annette.”

“How would you know if you haven’t asked her?”

The murmur of voices from the dining and living rooms filter in. Melissa looks up and watches you, Sophia bouncing in your arms while her Aunts, Uncles, and cousins pull you snugly into their conversations. Her eyes are pained.

She wants to commit the scene to memory, discreetly pull out her phone and snap a picture of the room so it won’t fade away. It had never been like this before. No matter how much Joe meant to her, members of her family had never warmed to him, and he’d remained firmly on the outside.

Now you stand holding the youngest Schemmenti in her cousin’s home, laughing and talking easily with family members who’d have sooner taken Joe out than let him share their table.

“I just—I know, alright? I’m not going to tie her down.”

“Look at me,” Annette demands and Melissa does, “That girl wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be tied down. Now either you make her a Schemmenti or stop stringing her along.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

“Okay, Mel.”

It’s a bad sign that Annette has stopped fighting; whatever Melissa says, she is firmly wrong on this, and her cousin has proved her point. Her stomach turns. She isn’t against marrying again, despite what everyone thinks.

It’s just complicated.

The two cousins put the finishing touches on dinner in silence; Melissa mulling over her thoughts and Annette brooding beside her. They make quite the pair with their fiery locks and matching frowns, but they make one hell of a meal.

Every now and again Melissa will glance your way. The baby never once leaves your grasp but you move around the room with her. Her cousin Lisa coos at the sleeping girl between bouts of conversation with you, making Melissa smile. She knows you’d bring Sophia home with you if you ever got the chance. And though it pains her to think about the lost sleep and headaches, she wouldn’t mind.

Their lavish spread is set on the table—and any flat surface, really—when Melissa makes her way back to you. She’s lost her appetite for the time being, craving only your closeness, which shouldn’t relieve her as much as it does. But when she grabs two chairs, Great Aunt Katherine flags you down first and insists that you sit to her right tonight.

Offering a sheepish smile, you steal a quick kiss, “I’m sorry, honey. We’ll share dessert?”

“Sure.” Melissa nods.

Uncle Tomas takes up the seat saved at Melissa’s side, raising an eyebrow at the lack of a plate. You shoot concerned glances from the other end of the table. Ignoring both, Melissa shoves her hands back in her pockets, leaning back to observe the room.

No one tries to bother her for once. She’s free to brood and take in the room on her own time, zoning in and out when her thoughts pull her in.

The sound of Sophia crying breaks her focus.

Everyone around the table looks at you as you murmur, rubbing her back and rocking. Annette is the first to move and grab a bottle. It’s rare that Sophia cries with you, almost like you’re her personal Xanax, but not even you are a balm for an empty stomach.

Flustered, you send Melissa a pleading look over the baby’s head. She’s up in an instant and taking the now-warm bottle from her cousin. Nodding her head to the hallway where the nursery is, she rubs a hand down your back as you pass, turning towards her family.

“Might help to get away from all your loud mouths.” Melissa throws behind her.

A few choice comments are thrown after her but she ignores them, making a beeline for the nursery. She can still hear you and Sophia from outside as she slips in and closes the door. Holding out the bottle, she wraps her free arm around you.

“Thank you,” It’s a bit of a hassle to get Sophia latched onto the bottle, but eventually she deems it good enough, and her whines stop. You let out a long breath,“I was a little on-edge having everyone stare at me.”

Melissa’s lips press a kiss to your temple, saying I got you. You lean into her and smile as you imagine how the scene must look. You wonder if Melissa thinks of it as fondly as you do. She’s never said much on the subject of kids, but sometimes you think she feels like she’s missing out.

Turning your neck to look at her, you stiffen at the brief pain you can see on her face, and drop the whole idea. If she wanted this, she’d tell you… right?

“What’s going on, Melissa?” You ask softly still.

“Nothin’, sweetheart.” She smiles, “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

You know by the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes that she’s lying.

Instead of calling her on it, you nod, and lean up to steal a kiss. It doesn’t feel the way it usually does and you try to brush it off; once we’re out of the house, you think, it’ll be normal again.

But when you leave that night with arms full of tupperware, it doesn’t go back to normal. Melissa is too quiet and reserved and god, she won’t even touch you. She drives home with both hands firmly on the wheel.

The music is on but you refuse to hear any of the lyrics and when you recognize the street you’re on, something in you goes cold. You stare blankly at houses that pass and try to will away the feeling of impending doom.

“Where are we going?” You ask and it doesn’t sound like you.

“I’m taking you home.”

Something snaps then. You don’t know why, or what triggers it, but you whip your head to face her. Home, she says, like you don’t have space reserved in her closet. Home, like you don’t know her kitchen better than your own anymore.

“Pull over.”

Her eyes widen, “What? Are you insane?”

“Melissa Schemmenti, pull the damn car over!”

Your voice is too loud in the car and you hate the way it cracks, but she listens. Try as you might, the dam of tears is starting to overflow as she stops a few blocks from your place. It takes everything in you to look at her.

When you see the look on her face and the tears in her own eyes, you know.

You know, but you ask anyway, “What is going on?”

Melissa opens her mouth, then closes it, swallowing hard. She closes her eyes and shakes her head before looking back at you. Her own tears are gone and you hate her for shoving her feelings down. You hate her for making this easier on herself when it’s so hard for you.

“I realized that I… I’ve been giving you the wrong idea. About this, us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, you’re the date-to-marry type, you know? But you need to know you’ve got options. I want you to know that and—and you don’t need to feel like you should tie yourself down just because we’ve been together a while.”

She’s grasping at straws. You know that, she knows that, but back to the same old story—you don’t know why.

“Is this—are you breaking up with me?” You whisper.

“Annette said—“

“Annette told you to do this?”

“No! Sweetheart, I just mean that I want you to know you have options. You’re beautiful and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for me. I am—I was happy.” Your throat is closing up, words choking you, “I’m going to go. Call me when you’re done being an idiot.”

Her usual Italian fury is buried under heartache. When you get out of the car and slam the door behind you, she just watches and follows—at a distance—to make sure you get home safe. She doesn’t get out. She doesn’t yell or run after you. As soon as she knows you’re safe, she drives home, focused more on the tears that’d poured from your eyes than the insult from your lips.

——

When Annette flings open the door a week later, her smile falters seeing Melissa by herself. She looks up and down the block to see if maybe you’re trailing behind.

“Where is she?” Annette asks. Seeing the look on Melissa’s face, she’s flooded with rage, “What did you do?”

“I stopped stringing her along, like you said.”

Melissa doesn’t sound like herself, though she’s trying hard to. She doesn’t look like herself either. Her eyes are puffy and her makeup is smeared.

“You idiot!”

And Annette is flying at her, screaming in Italian and throwing her hands around a little too close to Melissa for her liking. It’s a good sign she hasn’t taken her earrings out. Annette is speaking so fast she can hardly understand and at some point she starts yelling back. Melissa does take out her earrings. They’re shoved in her pocket and she’s winding up when the door opens and Uncle Tomas steps onto the porch, folding his arms over his chest.

“Annette. Inside.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

She huffs, but moves. Melissa makes an effort to follow and slip inside but her Uncle steps in front of the door after Annette’s gone. She meets his eyes and mirrors his position, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Stickman.” She nods.

“What are you doing, kid?”

“Trying to come over for family dinner. That a crime now?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Stickman has seen her at her boldest, even her dumbest, but she still withers when he stares at her long enough. She hates that her desire to fight back vanishes. No one should have that power over her, but she doesn’t fight, not when it comes to him. She respects him too much to spit in his face like that.

“It wasn’t going to work. She has a world of opportunity still, but me? I’m set where I am. Why keep her from the opportunities she has?” Melissa shrugs.

He shakes his head, “Kid, you know why I never liked Joe?”

“Because he wasn’t Italian.”

“No,” He laughs, “because he was a good guy, but he wasn’t good enough. Not for you. Of course, he loved you, so we let him stick around—but he wasn’t family. Family you kill for. Joe loved you, but he wouldn’t have killed for you.”

“And you think she would?” Melissa asked quietly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Melissa had never thought about you as the violent type. You were always keeping her out of trouble, stopping her from getting into fights, stepping in between her and whoever had pissed her off… but maybe it wasn’t like that. She remembers how you glare when you step in and it dawns on her; maybe you weren’t holding her back… maybe you were trying to take on the fight yourself.

She had grown used to biting her tongue and taking a step back while Joe talked his way out of scuffles, all charming smiles and charisma. In a few minutes he’d undo all of Melissa’s damage and deal it back to her. The humiliation hurt more than any punch. But this—this steals the breath from Melissa’s lungs, her chest feeling like too-small tupperware for her heart.

“What does that have to do with her future?” Melissa asks.

“She knows you, kid. And she knows herself. Yeah, she’s got opportunities, but an opportunity doesn’t equal happiness. Let her choose what makes her happy instead of trying to choose for her.”

She nods. A harsh hand is rubbed over her face.

“I’ve really messed it up, huh?”

Tomas unfolds his arms and places his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. She tries to ignore the feeling of being a little girl again after her first bad fight with her Mom, trying and failing not to cry about just how unfair it is that nobody paid attention beyond yelling at her. She never understood how he had all the answers. Even now, she still doesn’t.

“If you got yourself into it, you can get yourself out of it.” He says.

Melissa breaks more traffic laws than she can count on her way to your place, but she doesn’t get caught, so she figures it's worth it. But when she steps onto your porch, she’s filled with apprehension. Hurting someone is so much easier than making them feel better.

A soft curse leaves her lips and she forces herself to knock on the door. When you open it and stand in the doorway with arms crossed over your chest, she grimaces in place of a smile.

You’ve definitely seen better days, but you’ve at least tried to hold it together. Your eyes are red, but your makeup is impeccable. The pain in your eyes doesn’t go away and her chest aches; she put it there, she knows, and kicks herself for it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Melissa says lamely.

Glaring, you raise an eyebrow, “Done being an idiot?”

“Yeah, yeah I am,” Her smile is pained and she’s rocking back and forth on her feet, but she’s trying, “I’m sorry for how I acted.”

“What was going through your head?”

A sigh escapes Melissa’s lips and her breathing is shaky. You want to reach out and comfort her, but hold yourself back. You deserve to know why last week happened, why you were miserable when things had been going so well.

“When Joe suggested we get a divorce, he said he thought we were ‘holding each other back,’” Melissa says, trying to laugh even though her eyes are glassy, “but I… I’d been so content with him, with everything. I guess I thought that if I was happy, it meant I was holding you back too.”

A tear falls from her eye and you step forward, wiping the tear away. You put your hands on either side of her face and smile a watery smile.

“How could you hold me back? Loving you is the greatest opportunity I’ve ever had.” You whisper.

For the first time since knowing her, Melissa looks small. She looks at you with teary eyes like she can’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. Under all the bravado she’s just as sensitive as anyone and for a minute you forgot that.

You know so much about her that sometimes it makes your head hurt; how she loves the smell of cigarettes because everyone around her smoked as a child, how the first woman she dated was the same one that repoed her car, and how under everything she was a just that scared little girl who wanted to be loved. The rough and tumble kid turned into a resourceful woman, but her wounds never left, and now they were staring you in the face.

“I’m not Joe, okay?” You say, after stealing a quick kiss, “You’re not a pit stop for me, you’re the destination.”

“God, you sound like Janine.”

Melissa shakes her head, but she’s smiling all the same, looking at you like she does after those sappy romance movies she pretends not to like. And she pushes forward and kisses you, holding onto you with a tight grip and kissing you like she’s worried it’ll never happen again, as if it’s the last time, and she’s making excuses to keep you with her for a few more minutes.

It makes your head spin how your anger just… dissolves. A week of hearing nothing from Melissa had been devastating, only to slowly morph into an ugly anger that you let fuel you, and now it’s gone. You’re wrapped up in Melissa Schemmenti and all too happy to forget the way you wanted to slash her tires two hours ago.

“Honey?” Melissa says.

You blink and look at her, her head tilted to the side, eyes looking you over. She must have said your name a few times.

You’re dying to kiss her again just as much as you’re itching to scream at her. When did you let yourself become so head over heels for this woman? It grips at you and you want to grab her, telling her that she’s the most infuriating person you know and that you never want anyone else.

“If you ever do that to me again I’ll take a crowbar to your car windows.” Comes out instead and your own eyes widen as she laughs.

“Noted,” Melissa grins, “Now, will you come to dinner? Annette nearly killed me when she didn’t see you.”

“Would have served you right.” You huff, but throw your shoes on and grab your keys, joining her on the porch.

Her hands settle on your hips as you’re locking the door and you pause—interesting way to get me to family dinner, you think. When her lips press kisses to your neck, you let it happen. What is one missed dinner? You love Annette and the family, but none of them are Melissa and her skilled mouth.

All of it stops the second you lean back against her.

“Still got it.” Melissa murmurs.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Schemmenti.”

“I’m from South Philly, gorgeous, danger is second nature.” She pats your hip and steps back, “But I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Maybe I’ll get revenge on you first.”

Her eyebrow lifts in time with the corner of her mouth. She nods once, saying nothing as you finish locking the door and walks you to the car, opening the passenger door to steal a kiss before shutting it.

And this time when Annette opens the front door, she smiles, and Melissa’s earrings stay in. You’re pulled into a hug so tight you question how much Annette’s been holding back; her threats hold a little more weight now.

Nico greets you with the customary kiss on your cheek and passes Sophia to you without prompting. She’s half asleep, but still finds the energy to curl a little hand in your shirt.

Stepping inside with a nervous smile, you’re greeted with nods and an overjoyed Cousin Rocco, “Finally! Annette said you two ran into some trouble, you get it taken care of?”

The last part is aimed at Melissa, who nods. Rocco crosses himself and mutters a quick prayer in Italian. Tomas is the only one who looks at you like he knows and you wonder how much he got his niece to spill. But he looks behind you, where Melissa’s standing, and nods his head towards the back porch.

A hand slides over your hip and warm breath moves over your ear as she passes, muttering, “Be right back.”

You’re pulled into the kitchen in her place, Annette dancing around and putting what little mobility you have to help set the food up. Both of you freeze for an instant when she jostles you and Sophia whimpers, your eyes locking with Annette’s in horror. She settles in the same beat. From then on, Annette takes care when moving around you.

Melissa catches the interaction through the back door and grins when you meet her eyes, a sheepish smile on your face.

It feels like only a moment and the table is being set, but Melissa and Uncle Tomas are still out on the back porch. Both are facing away from you with Tomas surrounded by smoke and motioning with his hands in a way that reminds you of the redhead. She’s nodding along with whatever he’s saying, throwing her head back in a full-body laugh.

Tomas stubs out his cigar when you knock on the window and motion them inside. He says something you can’t read on his lips, but it makes Melissa shake her head. Her eyes meet yours and you’re overwhelmed by the emotion in them.

“Good talk?” You ask.

“I’d say so,” Tomas nods, closing the door as soon as Melissa steps inside, “Hardly a dull moment with that one.”

“Back at ya, Stickman.”

The man weaves his way through the throng of Schemmenti’s to pack a plate. You and Melissa stay by the door, watching the chaos unfold. When you lean into her, you sneak a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her lips twitch.

“You look good with a kid in your arms.”

Blinking, you say slowly, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, honey.”

When she smiles, there’s a twinkle in her eye. And once again you find yourself trying to understand why she’s looking at you the way she is. You find yourself not minding so much though—Maybe there’s nothing wrong with being a little oblivious.

There’s a lot you know about Melissa Schemmenti. How she smiles and softens her voice in the presence of kids, how she can only listen to jazz when she cooks, and how she loves getting her hands dirty. You look forward to understanding her one day, too.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #multimilfswritings #oct2022

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fkinavocado · 3 years ago

Note

what would you do in this situation, Dreea? i really wanna know

😌 what would i do if Harry cheated?

imagine:

you make plans with your group of common friends to meet up at a restaurant for dinner, but instead of meeting up beforehand, you tell Harry to just meet you there to save some traffic time.

you haven't seen eachother in 2 weeks and he's busy so he doesn't really question it but you deliberately kept your distance for as long as your did

when he gets there, he's late but he doesn't know it, since you've deliberately told him to come an hour later than the rest of the gang.

when he scans the table you all are sitting at he doesn't spot an empty seat next to you and he frowns a bit, but someone points to a vacant chair and he reluctantly takes it. you're at the opposite side of the table and you are deep in conversation and he doesn't want to be rude to the friend who invited him to sit next to her

you don't acknowledge his presence, everytime you feel his eyes on you, you just make sure to smile extra brightly at that handsome guy sitting next to you that he's never seen before

Harry is getting antsy not having greeted you properly, especially after 2 weeks apart, he's missed you and couldn't wait to see you but now it's like you didn't even notice he got there

"Who is that bloke? And why's he in my seat?" Harry scoffs to the person to his right

"What do you mean? Shit. Did she not tell you she'd be bringing him?"

Harry furrows his brows "No, she brought him?" his eyes shoot daggers to this mysterious guy you've brought to the dinner, since he knows all your friends and family and knows you wouldn't bring just anyone into your group of friends

your common friend just sips on her wine and raises her eyebrows, looking away and busying herself talking to the person on her right

he can suddenly feel everyone whispering and he catches some averting their eyes as soon as they meet his and suddenly he feels like the room is getting insufferably stuffy. his eyes scan the table and notices everyone is almost clearing their plates– what gives?! he was on time for once, how did everyone order so fast and why does it feel like the night out is coming to an end already when he's barely even got there?

"Didn't think you'd show up" another common friend on his left nudges him with a slight apologetic grimace

"What the fuck is going on?" Harry asks him point blank

"I know... it feels pretty soon for her to be on a date already, right? Not to mention introduce him to the group. I don't know what went on between you two, but when she called to have us all hang out to introduce us to the new guy she's going on a first date with, we were all kinda... shocked, to be honest"

Harry just blinks at him and then his eyes go to his lap. he can't bring himself to look over to you. not when all this registers and it finally hits him. hard.

you're here with your date. your "new guy".

you'd never do that to him, ever.

unless... you found out, somehow.

when he reluctantly lifts his gaze up he's met with your icy cold glare. you just look at each other for what seems like minutes on end, and although you could see all the pain and anguish and repentance you can also still picture him fucking her, touching her like he'd touch you, being at his most vulnerable like only you should've seen him.

you peel your eyes away and put on a fake smile for your even faker date, who was in reality just a really good looking guy (petty, maybe, but effective) that was hooking up casually with one of your besties. she'd "lent" him to you for this noble cause. you grab his hand as sweetly as you could muster, even though you were dying on the inside, and stood up, announcing your departure since you two had "a movie to catch". after all, this was your "first date".

when you approach Harry's side of the table and your friends all seem caught up in their own chatter, you can't help but lean over his shoulder, feeling him tense up immediately "all that acting is really paying off, baby. you were so good. hey, fooled me! oh, and congrats for tonight as well, you really reigned it in, our friends are none the wiser! hope you enjoyed my little stunt act as well, hm?" you leaned in closer, almost brushing your lips against the shell of his ear "a lil taste of your own medicine"

you then grab your "date"'s hand once more and with a final enthusiastic wave you leave and never look back.

you know he regrets it and that it was probably just a spur of the moment, meaningless thing, but you also know that acting as though he was dead to you was killing him. you knew his collosal ego was his Achilles' heel, and that replacing him like that in front of his friends, acting like you couldn't care less about his presence and then actually ghosting him and not giving him a chance to plead his case was going to crush him.

all your friends tell you how devastated he's been after that dinner, and you want to feel good about it... but you still love him and it hurts like a motherfucker. not that he'd ever know the truth of it.

it was high time though that Harry learned to control his wandering hands 💔

#ask #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles prompt #harry styles concept #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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raineydays411 · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks T

Summary: A dad is supposed to be your rock. Someone you can go to when times are hard. Someone whos supposed to protect you. WHat happens when your dad doesn’t fit the bill, and Tony does?

A/n: Hello yall! So this story hit really close to home for me lmao. It was mentioned that there aren’t any good dad/step dad Tony fics so I hope you like it. Everyone thank @alphaandromedae97 and an anon for this fic.

Hope yall enjoy!

Your life was complicated.

How can it not be when Tony “billionaire playboy” Stark is your step dad.

Yes you read that right, step dad. It’s funny really, turns out he has a thing for waitresses that aren’t interested in him at first. That waitress being your mom.

They met when she was working a shift at the restaurant she works at, and he came in with Avengers. He expected her to fall at their feet like everyone else did, but she just scoffed and asked for their order. Pretty epic.

Then one long montage later, and they ended up getting married. You were happy for your mom, of course. Deep down, Tony is a good man and you knew he’d do anything for your mom. And he’s always been nice to you, making sure you were okay with him proposing and then you moving upstate with him and your mom. He always made sure you felt included, maybe a little too much. He actually took interest in your life, which you’ll always appreciate.

But you were a total daddy's girl by heart. You always felt like you had a close relationship with your biological father. He was a good dad, he took you out to movies, went to recitals, and always made sure to take you to the father-daughter dance your school district put on every year. It was your tradition. But after your parents divorced a few years ago, it seemed like he was getting more and more distant from you. He stopped calling as much, would skip out on your days to visit him and when you did visit, he’d lock himself in his office, claiming he had to finish some paperwork. It broke your heart, knowing that a man you were so close with, seems to be detaching himself from your life. But, in his defence he always managed to take you to the father-daughter dance. He always did. No matter how long the both of you went without seeing each other, no matter how long you haven’t spoken, he always made sure to take you.

That act alone, reassured you that he did still love you. He was just busy. In fact, you were getting ready to go to the final father-daughter dance, as you were going to graduate this year and therefore you would be too old to attend the next year. This year was especially important to you. You wanted this night to be perfect.

And you were positive your father would pull through as he has the past years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were filled with excitement as you tried on multiple different dresses. You always liked this part of getting ready, the dress shopping.

The confidence you feel when you finally found the right dress. The happy feeling you and your mother had, browsing through the dress shop downtown. Tony offered to buy you a custom designer dress, but you couldn’t accept. This was the shop you’ve been going to since you were a little girl, since you went to your very first dance with your dad. Call it nostalgia or tradition, but you couldn’t shop anywhere else.

“ Hey ma! I think I found the one.” You shout from the dressing room, finally finding your dress after hours of searching.

“Come out here and let’s see bug” She replies from where shes seated. You take a deep breath, soothing the wrinkles on the dress and walking outside. Your mother gasps as she see the gown. It was beautiful really. It was a glittery, lilac purple floor length dress with spaghetti straps. And it even had pockets! You were absolutely obsessed. Plus, you could probably use it as a prom dress if you really wanted to.

“Oh baby...you look so beautiful...” You mom says, tearing for the millionth time.

“Ma, are you crying again?!” You laugh, “ Come on, that's the fifth time you’ve cried since we’ve been in the store!”

She laughs with you, sniffling as she wipes her tears,” I’m sorry, but you’re getting so big, it feels like it was only yesterday we were walking in this shop to get your first dress...and now...” She starts to cry again.

You smile softly, understanding what your mom was saying. You were in kindergarten when you first started attending these meetings, now you’re a senior in highschool.

“Alright, no more crying. It’s a happy day for you. Has your father called texted you when he was going to come pick you up?” Your mom asked wiping her tears.

You frown, “ No, I haven;’t hear from him since two weeks ago when he said he wanted to get lunch.”

You can see your mom roll her eyes in the mirror, “ Mom he’s just busy. I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”

“Oh sure, I just hate that he doesn’t answer you fast enough.”

“I know ma, but he has work” You argue, “ He calls when he can, and that's okay.”

Your mom sighs, knowing that you were stubborn when it comes to your father.

“ Well, let’s get this wrapped, Tony wants to get lunch and we need to convince him to get something other than shawarma.”

You roll your eyes, “ God, what’s with that man and shawarma. It’s like his life line or something”

“I know!”

After the two of you buy the dress, you pick up Tony from the HQ. You loved the drive up there,mainly because of the scenery, but also cause you can see Cap running laps outside.

“Hell my love, hey kiddo” Tony greets switching seats with your mom.

‘Hey T” You greet, smiling at the man.

“Did you find the dress?” He asks, driving away from his place of work and to a restaurant.

“Yeah! It’s like the one I told you I wanted. I was surprised it was there to be honest.” You reply, “ Mom practically dehydrated herself shopping though.”

“Oh? How many times did she cry this time? Cause she was crying earlier when she was getting read-- OW! Hey I’m driving” He exclaims as your mom swats his arm.

You giggle at their antics, chest warming with the sight of your mom happy again.

“She cried five times while we were shopping. Five!”

“Five? I didn’t know the human body had that much water.”

The two of you chuckled as your mom made an offended noise.

“I hate that the two of you get on so well.” She pouts, “ And excuse me if I’m a little sad my baby is growing up so fast.”

You tune out the rest of their conversation as your phone buzzes.

Dad

Hey kid, I’m gonna have to meet you at the school tomorrow. I have a meeting that’s gonna run late.

You

Okay daddy, I’ll see you there <3

You frown, your dad always managed to pick you up from the house. He used to take you to eat before the dance. And he always used to take the day off, devoting his time to you.

“ Uh oh, someone's frowning back there.” Tony remarks, “ What’s wrong kiddo, did a character off that show you like die/”

“Uh no, ma do you think you can drop me off at the dance tomorrow? Dad said he has a late meeting and won’t be able to pick me up.”

Your mother makes eye contact with Tony. They both know how your father has been flaking on you and how it breaks your heart that he does. It makes Tony especially mad because it remind him of his childhood. How his father really didn’t pay attention to him unless he was criticizing his life choices.

“ Hey y/n, I can drop you off if you want.” Tony offers, “ I really don’t mind.”

You smile, “Thanks T.”

“No problem kid.”

And with that he pulls into the restaurant parking lot.

As your family is seated, you take a quick look around the restaurant, wanting to see the reactions of the patrons when they realize Tony Stark is in the building. But as you do, you see a man who looks very familiar. But before you can take a closer look your mom interrupts you.

“Y/n, you know it's rude to stare.”

“Oh sorry mom.”

So you take a seat and continue with your meal. You tune out your mother and Tony’s conversation as you can’t take your mind off of that man. You take a quick glance back while your parents discuss the dessert menu.

That’s when you realize that the man was your father!

You stand up from the table and make your way towards the man. Surprised to see him there because as far as you know, he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

“Daddy?” You ask cautiously. The man tenses up before turning to you.

“Y/n? Honey what are you doing here?” You notice he doesn’t make an attempt to get up and hug you.

And you also notice the second plate of food across from him and a napkin stained with what looked like lipstick.

“Um, T and Ma wanted to grab dinner.. I thought you were at a meeting?”

“This is a five star restaurant, and you just stopped in?” He asks ignoring your question, “ Of course Stark did..”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Everytime your mother was even close to being happy, your dad always found something wrong with the person she was with. But he seemed to have a strong disliking towards Tony for some reason.

“Um right...So you told me you were in a meeting? That’s why I couldn’t come over after dress shopping?”

“Right! A meeting...I’m currently in right now.” He says quickly looking towards the women's bathroom, “ You should go back to your table hon, my boss is really strict”

“Oh right, sorry” You say dejected, “ I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” your dad says with a soft smile, “ I love you Bug.”

You smile at the nickname your parents gave you, “ I love you too pop.”

And with that you walk off, back to your mother and Tony. You can see they’re trying to hide the fact that they were watching by covering their face with the dessert menus.

“Oh here you are, we got you a tiramisu” Tony says nonchalantly, pushing the dessert towards you.

“Uh huh” You hummed teasingly, “ Dad says hi by the way.”

“ Oh does he now?” You mom said not convinced, “ That’s nice of him.”

You hummed, mouthful of cake signaling that you were done with the conversation. Your family finished up their meals and signaled for the check. As you were walking out the restaurant, you turned to say goodbye to your dad, only to see his “boss” was back from the restroom.

Only this boss was a 5′3, brunette bombshell in a tight red dress and having her neck kissed by the man you call your father.

Your stomach felt sick.

“Oh gross, I really didn’t need to see that.” You mutter catching the attention of Tony who was behind you.

“See what kid?” He asks following your gaze, “Oh. Yikes is that even allowed? I didn’t know your dad was a vampire.”

You snort, “ Oh god T, that's disgusting.”

He just laughs and pats your head, “ Come on, lets go before your mom yells at us.”

You smile, but you wondered why your dad didn’t tell you that he was on a date. Or that he was even seeing someone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thoughts of your fathers secrets where wiped from your brain as you scrambled to get ready for the dance the next day.

Tony surprised you and your mom with a mani-pedi day at 10am and a hair appointment for you at 1pm. After you had to get shoes for your dress at the mall and then be home by 5pm to get your dress and makeup on, take pictures, and then be out the door by 7pm to take pictures with your dad, then finally be at the dance by 8pm when doors open.

The whole day you were messaging your dad about how excited you are, getting similar replays back. He pays for you shoes and complements your hair.

Your heart swells as you think about how hard it was in the beginning of the divorce. But your father always tried his best to spend time with you and made sure you knew he loved you.

It was hard on you at first, but you appreciate that he tried for you. The fact that he’s been taking you to this dance since you were a little girl is proof enough. You were a little sentimental, this was your last dance after all.

You smiled looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful in your dress. Your makeup was done to perfection and you had gotten a silk press in your hair. You felt like a princess. You heard your mom sniffle.

“Mom, again?” You laugh,turning to face her.

“I’m sorry! You just look so beautiful!” she says with a sad smile, “ God, you grew up so fast bug”

You roll your eyes, but feel the tears spring to your eyes as well, “ Ma! Stop I can’t ruin my make up”

You both laugh as you fan your eyes

“You ready?” She asks, “ Tony’s waiting for you in the living room.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking out the door. You let your mom walk down the stairs first. You can hear Tony and you assume Happy in the living room. You finally make it down the stairs. It turns out it was Tony, Happy, and Peter Parker. Your mom was chatting with them and they all had their back turned to you.

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, catching their attention.

You see Peter stiffen as he gazes at you and mutters a soft “Wow”

You blush, what can you say he’s a cutie.

Happy gives you a comforting smile.

And Tony?

He has a soft look on his face, “ Jeez kid, you clean up well.”

You laugh, “ Better than you old man, what's up with the pants?”

He had on Iron Man pj pants.

“Oh hush.” He laughs, “ You look beautiful kiddo.”

You look down with a grin.

“Oh pose for some pictures!” You mom says excitedly, “ Go Y/n, by your self first and then with me. Then with Tony.”

You sigh, knowing how long it was gonna take.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally after three million pictures, your mom and Tony drove you to the school.

“Okay bug, is your dad here?” Your mom asks looking around at the group.

“Yeah! He should be inside.” You say kissing your mom goodbye and waving to Tony. You show the ticket and waltz in the gym.

You smile and wave at classmates and parents. These people you’ve known since you were a child and who knew you. You finally got to the table you always sat at woth your dad.

It was empty.

You frown and look at your phone.

On my way pop!

It said the message was read.

“He must be on driving” You think to yourself as you sat at the table.

But then twenty minutes passed. Then an hour. then two

You were still there, waiting for your dad to come. You sent five messages and they all remained unopened.

You looked around the gym, seeing a few parents looking at you with pity in their eyes. You can barely stand it.

You got up and went to the restroom, trying not to cry. and in the restroom you tried calling you father, but you were sent to voicemail. The you finally got a message.

Dad

“I’m so sorry bug, I can’t make it to the dance. I have a meeting today. :(”

You felt dejected. Humiliated.

Your father has rearranged visitation days, skipped out on little crimonied and rectitals you’ve had, but this by far was the most disappointing thing he has done.

He promised multiple times that he’d be here. Never has he ever skipped out on the dance before. ANd he knew how important this was to you. Thi was your last dance, and he ruined it.

You let yourself cry. You sobbed as you realized that your father has been distancing himself from you. That your relationship hasn’t been okay for a while. And you just didn’t want to let go.

You sigh as you realize you’ve been in the restroom for a while. You stand up and look at your face. Despite the red eyes and slightly red nose, your make up was pretty much intact.

“Huh at least my setting spray hasn’t let me down.” You say to your self. After a few mintues of calming down, you walk out of the restroom and bump into a figure.

“Sorry” you mutter about to pass the person.

“Gee you took a while in there, I told you not to get that coffee kid.”

You quickly look up and se Tony.

Dressed in a suit, flowers in hand.

“Hey kid.” He says softly

“what..what are you doing here?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes again.

“Well apparently you need an rent a dad, and I happened to be in the neighborhood.” He jokes, then says, “ I’m sorry your dad didn’t come kiddo, and I know I’m not him, and quite frankly I’m glad I’m not. But I do love you like you’re my own, and well...yeah here I am.”

You stay quiet, looking at Tony in wonder. Touched that he did this for you.

“Of course if you just want to leave then we can just get out of here” He rambles nervously, “ But you gotta tell me kid cause I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Can we get ice cream after?” You ask him

“What?”

“After the dance, we should go get ice cream.”

“Uh sure?” Tony says, “So what do you usually do at these things?”

You laugh and steer him to the tables where they have all the activities at. You actually have more fun with him than you had recently wit your dad. Tony is definitely more competitive than your father and treats every game as a challenge. Not like something he’s humoring just for his kid. He celebrates with you instead of telling you to calm down. He chats with the adults, is nice to the kids, and does the goofy dances with you. Seeing Iron Man do the chicken dance is something you didn’t know you needed till now. He managed to turn this horrible night to one of the best ones you’ve had in quite a while.

Finally the father daughter dance started to signal the end of the dance. Tony bowed dramatically and said in a horrible british accent, “ Lady Y/n?”

You laugh and make your way to the dance floor. You’re both quiet for a bit, snorting at how serious the other dads and their daughters look.

“Hey T?” You say softly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah kid?”

“Thank you. It’s nice to know that one of my dad's isn’t a total asshole.” You say. knowing that this is the first time you referred to Tony as your dad.

His eyes get misty as he clears his throat,

“Anytime, bug”

#tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #tony is a step dad #step parents #fluff #tony is a good dad #reader insert #x reader #marvel x reader

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lovinghiddleston · 3 years ago

Text

Not drunk; Chris Evans

the reader is keeping a secret away from Chris, so after dinner with her friends, things just come out.

Gif is not mine. Credits to unearthlydust.

Pairings: Chris Evans x pregnant!reader.

Warnings: None, this is pure love and fluff stuff. If you feel uncomfortable with pregnancy just don't read.

A/N: I'm not a native English speaker and I'm also new on Tumblr so pls don't be rude. I hope you enjoy this!

MY WORKS BELONGS TO ME. DON'T TRANSLATE, DON'T COPY AND DON'T PUBLISH THIS ON WATTPAD OR ANY SITE.

Chris was completely sure that you'll be coming back home in a clumsily drunk state. No matter how many times you denied his declaration, he ignored you like a kid. You used to go out with your friends every Tuesday night, you'd probably have dinner in some fancy restaurant and sometimes it was hard for your group to skip the champagne and the wine. You promised him that tonight it was going to be different, little did he know it was because you have a secret you are still keeping for yourself. Not for long, you imagine.

"No alcohol for me." You repeated, again. He smiled.

"I don't believe you, ya know?"

"You look so beautiful." Chris was behind you in your bedroom. "You promise me you'll be going safe tonight?"

"You should, I'm your fiance." The man was all smiles and nodded to you in front of the mirror.

He hugged you and his hands went to your belly in almost a second, you died in that moment. How can he know about your secret? You just realized you were pregnant yesterday and nobody knows it, you tried to keep the secret away from your family and friends. That was the reason you didn't want to drink alcohol, you have a beautiful life in your own body. Something made by love. The hands of the man you loved in your belly could be a coincidence? Chris didn't say anything, he was looking at you in the mirror with a dreaming look.

"Are you okay?" You asked your lover, interrogating him with your eyes.

"I love you, babe."

"I love you too."

Chris left you in the restaurant with a kiss and a hardly goodbye. You easily started a conversation with your girlfriends and you ate more than ever. Your appetite was quite different tonight and when your best friend met your eyes, you could know that she must know something. Lisa was already drunk, she flirted with the waiter three times and everytime he walked next to her, she made a comment about his ass. You thought she was too loose in her own mind to care about you or the way you didn't touch the champagne and preferred to drink water. So, when you walked to the bath in the middle of the dinner, she followed you like a shadow.

"Why didn't you drink the champagne? Something is happenin'? You never leave the glass full " She asked you, coming next to you. "Oh, no. You're pregnant, It's the only reason I can think right know."

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, your friend was the first person you told about your uncoming baby.

"No, that's great! I don't like kids for sure, I think they're ugly but it's good for you. You like kids."

You couldn't not smile at her in that moment, she was drunk and she was really honest with all her confessions. Lisa will probably forget all you said tonight. It was good too, you felt so overwhelmed and worried about your baby and your future, so you were kind of more relaxed with your friend not acting like a mother.

"I think I'll call Chris, I feel like I couldn't wait any longer. He is the father, I mean, he must know this."

"Chris is the father?" You raised an eyebrow. It was obvious that Chris was the father. You were together for two years now and he was the first real boyfriend you had. He met your family and you met his. His dog was pretty close to you from the first moment. You loved him and the relationship you both had made. Being his wife was the next step in your relationship and it was coming in only two weeks.

You called Chris in the bathroom, Lisa was still there and you made a short call, or at least, that's what you expected. You just wanted him to take you home and eventually, you'll be going to tell him the truth. You were ending the call when Lisa screamed too loud. "AN APPLAUSE FOR THE DAD! DADDY CHRIS!"

"Chris…" you whispered, hearing your own heartbeat.

"I'm coming, just wait there."

He didn't sound angry or happy, or with any emotion at all. Your nails were suffering from your own nerves and when you saw his car on the street, you knew that the secret must have to be revealed. Chris opened the door for you and he didn't say anything. You took a seat and waited for a couple of minutes, your department wasn't really away from the restaurant and you both came to the house faster. The front door was being closed when he finally spoke.

"Is that true?" you saw his puppy eyes. "Me being a dad?"

You nodded your head slowly. "You are going to be a father."

He made something that you weren't expecting, his arms lifted you from the ground and kissed you as he knew how. Like the time he proposed to you, Chris made an eternal promise. You move your own hands to bring him even closer.

"It's kinda sad that I have to discover the truth by your drunk friend." he said, leaving kisses in your lips. "But I've never been so happy like now. I think we should move the date of our wedding, I can't wait to marry you and make you my wife."

Your laugh broke the serious moment in Chris' face. "No way! You have to wait only for two weeks."

"That's a lot, love"

"Well, we have to wait for nine months for our baby. Two weeks are nothing compared to that."

"Our baby, how magical that sounds?" Chris left a kiss in your nose. "Okay, fine. I think we should do other things while we wait."

And after all, that's how everything started. Your baby hadn’t magically appeared there.

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serenity-songbird · 3 years ago

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hi hello! if you're taking requests rn can i ask general boyfriend hcs with kenny, craig and butters (male reader is preferable but it's fine if you don't write male readers ^^) thanks in advance!

Hello!!!! Thanks for requesting!!! Of course I write for male readers!!! Love is love.

-Hoo boy. You better be prepared because this boy can and will flirt with you all the time. He will flirt til your red in the face and stuttering.

-You better believe some of those flirts are sexual. I mean come on its Kenny.

-When the two of you first started dating Cartman made a lot of gay quips. It wasn't until you beat the shit out of him that he stopped. (Kyle and Kenny thought it was hilarious by the way).

-Just like the whole Tweek and Craig situation, the whole town was super invested in your love life. Except in this case, Kenny was all for the attention.

-You better believe Kenny will pull you in the Janitor's closet during school and leave hickeys across your neck. (Better always have a scarf handy).

-You constantly will spoil Kenny and always make him homemade lunches and, of course, have dinner dates at your house.

-Kenny wishes he could spoil with gifts and take you on nice romantic dates in restaurants, but despite being poor he will do his damndest to make you fell special.

-Okay, so we see how much Craig supports Tweek so you'd better believe he'll support you.

-Do you have anxiety or depression? Baby don't worry Craig has got you. You need comfort and cuddles? Craig is at your house in 5 minutes with your favorite blanket, movies, and snacks.

-He will hold your hand and if anybody says some shit about it, he will absolutely flick them off and say, "Fuck off, asswipe."

-Craig may always be stoic, but in the very rare moments he does lose control of his emotions, you are always there to help him through it.

-His dad secretly collects fanart of you two. You accidentally found it one day when you were looking for a snack. You really liked one of the paintings and took it. It is currently hanging in your room.

-Team Craig thinks you're cool and you have officially joined the group. You guys hang out all the time and join them on their crazy adventures.

-Craig will cage you against the wall between his arms because he likes the way you blush and stutter. He will give you that smirk that makes you weak everytime.

-He loves you and will kick the asses of anyone who dares speak I'll of you.

-Butters is such a precious cinnamon roll and you love him with all your heart.

-You hate the fact that everybody just rips on Butters all the time. You will fight everybody and anybody who dares hurt your boyfriend.

-One time when his Dad grounded him for another ridiculous reason, you literally burst down the door and caused a scene about how ridiculous it was.

-It took a lot convincing on Butter's part to convince his dad to let you allowed in the house again.

-Ever since you started dating, Butters gained more confidence in himself and you taught him how to defend himself. (Don't be fooled, he is still gullible and naive and you have to, you know, get him out of a lot of situations mainly caused by the others).

-Butters is such a sweet boyfriend. He will always give you cuddles, hugs, and kisses whenever he can. For once, he can say he truly feels loved and important.

-When you first started dating, Butters' father did not approve of the relationship. Sure the whole town is progressive and gays are great, but his son was not allowed to be gay.

-For the first time in his life, he stood up to his dad and told him off. It didn't matter if he got grounded, he was not going to lose the best thing to ever happen to him.

-It took a very long time, but eventually you were accepted into the stotch family. You and Butters could not be happier.

#south park x reader #kenny x reader #craig x reader #butters x reader

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princecharmingwinks · 3 years ago

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i did the thing <3 and i'm back with a fail date that i'll leave open ended ;) was dating a chef and we went to a restaurant he wanted to try in the next town over. we order lunch, we're chatting, we're laughing, its going great. food comes out and he took one bite, he stopped smiling and whispered 'oh no...' XD

You did a thing!!! Hello!!! Welcome to the fold, fabulous to have you in the ranks. Hope you meet some nice beans :) Opened endings? Oh, we kicking up a notch haha.

Setting the scene - Derek is definitely the chef. No one should trust Stiles with sharp objects like knives. Derek is a werewolf and knows it's time to tell Stiles. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks and he's never felt this way about anyone. He wants to officially ask Stiles to be his boyfriend (why does he get butterflies everytime he thinks of that word?).

His family and pack (Laura and Erica in particular) have been dying to meet the human who has swept Derek off his feet. Not that he can blame them, Stiles is everything he has ever wanted and more. They just, click. But it was getting to the point that the women of the pack were threatening to stalk Stiles if they weren't formally introduced asap.

So Derek decided today was the day to ask Stiles to be official and start explanations of the supernatural kind. They'd travelled a town over to avoid the Hale pack's pesky eavesdropping. And to try out a new restaurant that's been getting rave reviews. The lunch was going well, they ordered and chatted and it was perfect.

The waiter places their food on the table and leaves. Derek swallows and is about to start explaining (how do you even start to tell someone that you have a desire to howl at the full moon?) when Stiles jumps in first.

"So are you finally going to tell me your secret?" Stiles asks, all big eyes and soft smiles.

Derek's heard of gay panic but is there such thing as wolf panic?

Derek is too caught up with the question to even register the mild but unusual scent of his meal. He takes a bite to try and calm himself...and internally curses.

"Oh no..." he whispers.

Stiles frowns and watches as Derek swallows his mouthful slowly and grimaces in the direction of the kitchen. He follows the movement as sees two stunning - like model stunning - women wave from the kitchen peak hole. One with dark straight hair and the other with blonde ringlets, both with predatory smiles.

"Do you know them?" Stiles cocks his head in confusion.

Derek looks like he ate a lemon, "This cannot be happening."

"What’s going on?" Stiles reaches out for Derek's hand which the other man takes and interlocks their fingers.

The women have left the confines of the kitchen and are walking over to their table now.

Derek gives a tight smile, "If we survive this, I'll buy you all the curly fries in the world."

"Oh Der-Bear, brother of mine!" The brunette is calling out in a sing-song tone.

It all clicks in Stiles' brain. He grins and gives Derek's hand a squeeze, "If we survive this, promise to marry me one day."

Derek doesn’t get a chance to answer that particular request when the women have reached the table. When first meeting someone, the usual custom was to introduce yourself and ask to join the meal. These women did not get that memo.

The brunette, Derek’s sister slides into the booth blocking Derek’s escape routes, the blonde does the same to Stiles, snuggling in close.

Derek sighs the way only a brother could, “Stiles, meet my older sister, Laura and my friend - although at this moment I’m not too sure why - Erica.”

Derek should have known something was up when he found the latest restaurant reviews magazine left open on the dining room table. He had assumed it was left out by his mum, the two of them often discussing the latest food trends. He hadn’t thought it was left as a trap by his manipulative pack mates. But the moment the ever-so-light sprinkle of wolf’s bane had touched his lips, Derek knew he was in trouble.

How the two biggest trouble makers in his life had managed to find out the exact details of his date and get themselves access to the kitchen was beyond him but he imagined it had something to do with their feminine prowess (or their intimidation tactics) both equally as strong.

He was still trying to process how Stiles could know about his wolf and now he had to manage these two?

“What are you two doing here?” Derek reluctantly asks.

Erica grins, a dangerous twist of crimson red lips, “You’ve been keeping Stiles a secret for too long, Derek. We had to take proactive measures.”

“And ambushing my date was the best way to do that?”

“We’ve gotta make sure Stiles can handle the unexpected.” Laura ‘helpfully’ supplies.

“I don’t mind thinking on my feet.” Stiles interjects.

Derek is in awe of this man. How did he find someone so perfect?

“So are you all werewolves or just the Hales?” Stiles asks. The three wolves all stop and blink at him.

“What, is that not the right terminology? Is lycanthrope more appropriate?”

Erica is the first to break the silence, almost doubling over from the force of her laugh. Laura is joining in too.

Derek on the other hand is just in plain shock. “You knew?”

Stiles shrugs, “I’m a curious creature. I research. And things didn’t always add up with you. Like you are way too good looking to be just human. And there’s the whole tendency to growl when things get - ah - heated.”

“We are so keeping you! Come over for dinner tonight so you can meet the whole pack.” Laura announces, not waiting for an answer. She kisses Derek on the cheek and rises up from the booth. Erica follows suit and throws Stiles a wink before the two of them walk out of the restaurant with linked arms.

Derek breaths a sigh of relief.

“So did I pass the test?” Stiles asks, moving over to sit beside Derek in the booth. Derek lifts his arm and draws Stiles in.

“You were perfect.” He kisses the human’s forehead. “You are perfect.”

“You going all soft on me now, Hale?”

Derek smirks, “Do you like my last name?”

Stiles crinkles his eyebrows in confusion, “Yeah?’

“Do you wanna keep it?" Derek is full-on smiling now, little bunny teeth and all. “That was the rule, right? We survive this and I marry you?”

Stiles blushes at the memory, “Only if you buy me all the curly fries in the world. And we are hypernating, Mr Old-School. I’m always going to be a Stilinski in one way or another.”

“Done.” Derek whispers as he leans in and kisses Stiles.

Derek wasn’t sure why he was ever nervous to make things official. Somehow he had gone from worrying about the title ‘boyfriend’ to this. They still needed to have a proper conversation and he knew the human would have excel spreadsheets of questions about the supernatural. But as Stiles’ hands cupped his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss, Derek thought those discussions could wait.

Now they just had to meet the rest of the pack - oh no...

Ta da! Hope you liked it my friend. This one was fun to write. Can you tell I like big happy Hale alive families? Because I certainly do. Also, my version of Laura will forever and always be played by Meghan Ory (just as a fun fact). Thanks for popping in!

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #princecharminganswers #princecharmingwrites

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oikadori · 4 years ago

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hi! can i have some dating headcanons with nishinoya, yaku, and sugawara? thank you! ☺️

DATING HEADCANONS

⇢ Incudes : nishinoya, sugawara, yaku

⇢ Genre//Warnings : f!reader, fluff , kinda suggestive (suga being h on main), swears

⇢ WC~ 1,1K

a/n: of course !! omg i had fun making these sksksk I love my libero squad along with the pretty setter hehehe, hope you enjoy this!! alsoo i changed my banners 😅😅

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

Dating him is such an experience to be honest

Nishinoya is naturally very loud and energetic, you’ll never get bored with him...I SWEAR

His perfect dates consist in doing as much things as he can squeeze into your schedule, arcade dates following by movies and ending in concerts or festivals

imagine jumping with a big crowd, you and nishinoya screaming their hearts out as you sing PLEASEE where do i sign??

Also, expect lots and lots of improvised trips. like, no destination at all. he just casually says “hey pack some clothes, we are going out” and you end up in the beach... or in the cafeteria downtown

I strongly believe that nishinoya is one of the bests persons to find comfort in, he is NEVER too tired for you

Whenever you text him about the bad day you had, he will be in your front door within the next 15 minutes

Nishinoya compliments you 24/7 and laughs the loudest at your jokes, even when they're bad. and his laugh is just SO genuine that you congratukate yourself for it

he unconsciously ends up giving you all of his hoodies and days later he would make a mess in his house looking for them because he forgot you have them

OMFG this baby crow is one of the most clingy and affectionate among the haikyuu boys

It is impossible for him to keep his hands off you! Especially when you are in public. Plants smooches all over your face and kisses your nose because “you look SO cute when you scrunch it up!! Do it again please”

ALSO your breasts are his personal pillows, i'm sorry for you >:) he buries his head in between them whenever he has the chance, mumbling about how soft they are

Dating Nishinoya also includes helping him to dye his hair, he sits with a closed eye smile on your bed, like a puppy waiting for a treat, as you tint his hair. feeling your fingers in his messy hair makes his stomach flip

I see him as the type who will drop everything he is doing, the moment he sees you crossing the door

Whenever you bump into each other in the hallways, he literally runs towards you to plant a passionate kiss on your lips, pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss as if he hasn’t seen you in years

and the fact he doesn't do it for being a dramatic but for missing you THAT much makes it all so heartwarming :')

Nishinoya is just so proud to be your partner that he introduces himself first as your boyfriend before as karasuno’s libero i want him please >:(

Another short king that treats you like a queen 😌

He is very reliable and supporting but is the type that will also give you lectures when you do stupid shit

if you guys fight, he is not sleeping until you’ve talked it out, he hates going to sleep knowing you are mad at him, he doesn’t care if you end making facetime at 2 am

I bet it is very amusing for Nekoma to watch how his libero goes from angry yaku hitting lev to blushy yaku melting in your kiss all in the same minute

Always waits for you outside your class to lunch, shoulder resting on the door frame and hands on his pockets, a soft smile settling on his lips when you jog up to him

Honestly, he really loves PDA but he will hide it in public…or at least try it

Yaku tells kuroo YOU are the clingy one when in reality he is the one that wraps you like a burrito with his arms whenever you lay on the couch

since he gives me classy vibes, his ideal dates are taking you to a fancy restaurants…I mean have you seen timeskip yaku?? brrrrr

he LOVES to spoil you, like, at least two times per month you get cute necklaces or earrings or both!

gets super blushy when you appear during his matches and gets even worse when you start cheering him up, he start cursing under his breath “why is her voice so nice and sweet???” all while hiding his red face with a towel

really, sometimes he gets super surprised on how weak and soft you make him…which is the reason why kuroo always have a sassy smirk whenever you are around, ready to watch the red mess yaku is about to become

He deadass will get mad at you for how adorable you are and how his heart always seems to be about to burst everytime you laugh

if you sit together in class, he holds your hand under the desk as his other hand hides the silly smile on his face

even though yaku is a very dominant kind of guy he can also be insecure which makes him very possessive with you

remember those necklaces he gives you? They have his initials on them, a subtle way to tell all everyone you are taken

Yaku always makes sure you are packaging all the important stuff in your bag like he seriously would hand you pads or tampons because “I think your period is about this day of the month, right?” *sobs*

oh my god, I’M MELTING, okay give me a sec

All the things you do have the words "sweet" printed all over

don’t get me wrong, suga can be a little perv too. Open mouthed kisses in the storage room and subtle glances at your rear whenever you bend down…but still sweet tho

suga is the type of boyfriend who loves making handcrafts for you, I imagine him making for your 5 month anniversary a little box filled with polaroids of all your dates along with brownies he made himself!

yeah a real sweetheart, however, at the bottom of the box a nice, red bra is waiting for you ;)

He is super touchy-feely his hands always find their way to your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin drawing a few giggles out of you, causing suga to melt

When it comes to disagreements with you, the man is SO WEAK for you. He always ends up indulging you, not able to hold his angry face for too much at your pouty lips

Suga LOVES to see you taking initiative and definitely supports your ideas of dates and activities for both of you

But for him, the perfect dates are strolling across the city at night, watching your face under the lights as you resume him your day, hand in hand.

He just loves hearing you talk, when he can’t sleep he just calls you to fall asleep at the sound of your voice

Remember I said he can’t get angry at you? well that applies to you, too. you can't never get really mad at him, whenever you try to start a discussion he goes “boop” and pecks your nose not letting you talk <33

If he gets jealous, wait, when he gets jealous his perfect way to let everyone know you are taken is by leaving hickeys on strategical spots on you where they are visible enough but not totally exposed,

I feel like suga loves spending time with your family and will introduce you pretty quickly to his own too

Like, at dinners, you two would end up taking care of your little cousins or siblings, and suga can’t help to think how good you would look with your own kids, causing his heart to flutter

When he finishes practice he just rests his head in the crook of your neck, getting intoxicated by your scent before mumbling a sweet “hi, angel” as you drag him out of the gym...

and everyone is like “awwwwww” but that is because they don’t get to see how he is atacking your neck with kisses that will surely leave a mark

Thanks for reading!!

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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years ago

Text

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 2”

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry this chapter came a little bit later than I intended but here it is. I've had some family things I need to take care of so in order to rest, the writing got put on hold. But do know that this story is on my mind and I hope you enjoy this update :) Stay safe and as always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June / C2: Definitely, Maybe / C3: So We Meet Again / C4: Friday Lunch / C5: Finding Solid Ground / C6: Situations / C7: Interruptions / C8: A Month Apart, Part 1

XXXXX

The call was scheduled beginning Claire’s lunch and Jamie’s dinner. They opted for this time since Claire’s schedule was clear for the rest of the afternoon and Jamie was happy to stay up late for this. Her supposed agenda that day was to get some research and paperwork done but after what happened yesterday, she knew they needed to have a conversation.

Gathering her laptop, lunch and paperwork, she settled on her desk and waited for Jamie’s call. And right on time, his caller ID pops up in her laptop and she accepts.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie greeted from the other line. Just by the way he addressed her so formally immediately told Claire just how nervous he was.

“Hi, Jamie.” she chimed back. Hoping to light the mood, she decided to take the lead in the conversation. “What time did you get home?”

“Erm, got home around 6:30, 7:00PM. Freshened up a bit and for food - well,” he held up the take out box from the table to show to Claire. “Thanks for these” It was a box of their favorite comfort food and Jamie could not feel any much more relief. “How about you, what’s for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s sub day today here at the hospital. So got the biggest one I could order to last me the day.”

“Any food over here in Scotland ye miss?”

“Honestly, the chicken! I’ve tried some here but nothing tops Mrs. Kim’s” As Claire shared that sentiment, Jamie took one wing on his mouth, prompting Claire to roll her eyes. “Right, rub it in, will you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat ye to some once yer back.”

“I’ll record that raincheck” After a short laugh, the line went silent. They both knew it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Claire, I want to let ye know what happened yesterday.” Jamie began. Claire was silent, a hesitation etched on her face.

“Are you sure? You don’t really have to -” Claire replied, hesitation etched on her face. The past three months of Jamie and Claire dating has been kept much in the down low with none of the tabloids catching drift of one of Scotland’s most eligible with the pediatric doc. It was unusual but they accepted that gift of privacy. It allowed for them to get to know each other freely and without much pressure so far.

But now, things have slightly changed with Jamie back in the spotlight, worse, linked to another woman. With all the things they’ve discussed so far, these - their past, the media - were not one of them yet. With that, it’s not that Claire didn’t want to hear Jamie’s story - it’s that she didn’t want him to feel forced to share something he or they aren’t ready to talk about yet.

“Just...please” he pleaded.

Claire took a swig of her coffee and nodded.

Flashback

Jamie was nearing his house when his father suddenly called. Clicking the screen on his dashboard, he answered his call.

“Yes, Da?”

“Hi lad, where are ye?” Brian Fraser spoke from the other line.

“I’m near home now. Why?”

“I just got off the phone with Lord Dunsany and he’s inviting the family for dinner.”

“Where will it be?”

“At the Number One”

“Alright, I’ll be there in 20, see you and ma, I hope!”

Jamie sighed but putting his family first overweighed whatever he was thinking about.

He honestly didn't like the Dunsany's that much. There was an air to them that didn't sit well with him but he shrugs them off as 1.) They are long time family friends, and more importantly, 2.) long time business partners.

Both their families have benefited from a decades-long relationship that going to unexpected dinners like this is something he just has to do once in a while. He turns his car to the next corner and heads to the restaurant.

Arriving, he hands his car to the valet and enters the restaurant to find their table. He should not have been surprised but seated on their table was his mam and da, the elder Dunsany’s and their eldest daughter, Geneva.

Again, after knowing each other for a long time, Jamie isn’t and wasn’t blind to Geneva’s attempts to flirt and get him. He was able to avoid it for so long as he’s always been respectfully direct with declining her advances. But as they grow older, the more persistent not only Geneva, but little by little, their entire family is joining in this cause to get them together.

Jamie took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was to come. He sat down and immediately took note of the other people he wished were there. “Hi Mam, Da” he greeted his parents with a kiss on the cheek for his mother. He proceeded to his seat, acknowledging their guests. “Lord, Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he bowed to them and they returned his greeting. “Is Gideon and Isobel not joining us?

“They had other things to do” Geneva quickly replied, leaving it at that.

The night proceeded as usual, business talk over dinner. The Dunsanys are looking to expand their real estate business to the Americas and want to get the Frasers opinion on their dealings. On the topic at hand, the dinner was quite enjoyable as it was a conversation Jamie was happy to chime in.

Geneva, to his few observations, was relatively quiet for some reason. Maybe because she didn’t understand it as much since she wasn’t as involved in the family business unlike his siblings, opting to work as a brand ambassador or influencer through her big social media following.

But it didn’t feel like that to Jamie. It seemed like she was waiting for something to happen or come up. She kept looking at her father urging him to do something but he discreetly pacified her everytime she got impatient.

After a few more minutes, Jamie’s hunch would prove right.

“So, in addition to the planned expansion, Geneva here has finally accepted our offer to join the business and she’ll be heading to the U.S. to study and eventually, train and oversee the project on behalf of us.” Lord Dunsany shared. The announcement came as a shock to the Frasers though they didn’t let it show. They offered their congratulations to Geneva which she graciously received.

“Jamie, lad - “ It was Lady Dunsany’s turn to speak. “We’ve heard in the past from your parents that you’ve been planning to take further studies as well. Why not accompany Geneva and study overseas together?”

“Your family also has some business in America. You can continue to work as well from there if you wish be. Plus, it’ll give you time to maybe get to know our little girl better.”

So, there it was. Lady Dunsany winked at his direction as she and Lord Dunsany tag-teamed to put out this request. Geneva, for her part, nodded furiously and was shameless at showing her agreement to their proposal. Her eyes gleamed with hope as if it was already a done deal.

Jamie was dumbfounded on their very bold request. He looked at his parents for help but they seem to be at a loss of words as well.

“I, uhm, - “ Jamie braced himself, unsure what the consequences of this be. “Thank ye of thinking of me but I have to respectfully decline the offer.”

“Do ye not want to study anymore? You don’t have to decide right now about this, please take your time to consider. We’re not in a rush anyway.” Lord Dunsany replied, trying to control the conversation once again. However, his last statement sent death glares down his direction from his daughter.

“No, it is still in my plans.” was Jamie’s plain answer. The table was silent for a good 10 seconds when the implication of his response sunk in.

“Are you saying it’s me you don’t want to be with?” Geneva’s tone was calm and angry, her resolve was slowly dissipating, raising everyone alert on the table.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s more of me...not wanting to leave someone behind.”

Geneva had a confused look while all four parents’ interest piqued at this new information. Jamie closed his eyes to muster the courage to get through the next minutes. He turned to his parents, addressing them directly, while being mindful of their guests.

“This is not how I imagined telling ye guys this, and of course to you Lord and Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he acknowledged them one by one before focusing on his parents again. “But I’ve started seeing someone and it’s fairly new...”

“That is ridiculous! You haven’t been seen with anyone in ages! I mean I would know if you are, our social circles are not that wide…” Geneva started reasoning to herself. “Unless… she’s not?”

Jamie didn’t react or say anything that would give Geneva or the Dunsany’s any more ideas they can prod on.

Geneva quickly fetched her phone and nibbled with it. She turned to the guests and excused herself. “I’m sorry everyone but I have to leave. Jamie, walk me to the car?”

Jamie nodded and stood up. He may have dropped a ball on her but he’s still a gentleman.

On the way out of the restaurant, he can hear more interrogation from Geneva in his periphery. “Who is she? Do I know her? Is she from here? Is she even real?”

It was one fast question after the other and Jamie didn’t bat an eye but rather, lead her by the arm to get her going a little bit faster. Once they were out, he didn’t notice anyone except her car and driver. He escorted her in and bid her simple goodbye.The last thing he heard Geneva say was it wasn’t over and that they’re going to have another talk on this.

When he got back to the table, the foursome was on to dessert, the earlier conversation seemingly forgotten and passed. When dinner was over, they went their separate ways.

Jamie walked his parents to their car when Brian made a joke to break the ice. “What a night, huh?” Ellen giggled which made their son comfortable speaking with them.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to make it awkward but I couldn’t find a way to lie about it or give them false hope.” Jamie explained and Brian and Ellen were happy to give him some slack as he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I know, son. But what we are more surprised to hear is about your new friend.” Ellen pried and the smile that Jamie flashed just told them this was different. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Claire” Jamie shared.

“And?”

Jamie jokingly shrugged. “She’s a doctor and we met around 3 months ago.”

“3 months and we haven’t heard of her?”

“Well, in my defense, Angus and Rupert have met her. I assumed they would babble it straight to ye.”

Brian and Ellen was just shaking their head. “Well, we need to remedy that, lad. If yer ready or such, we’d love to meet her.”

“So that’s what happened last night. As for the picture, I’m guessing there’s a pap I did not see outside the restaurant and - my parents want to meet ye.“ Jamie said in conclusion. “I mean there’s no pressure really but I wanted to let ye know.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Claire took a bite of her sandwich and sip of water. “So, how are you in all this?”

“What?” that was the last question Jamie thought Claire would ask. “How am I?”

“Yeah, I mean what are you feeling?” she looked genuinely concerned and it baffled him.

“Is this some sort of reverse psychology thing cause I know you have questions Claire and I’m more than happy to answer them”

Claire smiled briefly and raised a hand to settle him. “I know you are and I do have them. And this is not some psychology thing too” she laughed at that. “But before anything else, I want to know how you are.”

“I - “ Jamie let out a breath and released a tension he didn’t know he was holding in. He wants to be open to Claire but he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Their growth has been slow, gradual, and intentional, and the pace was working well for the both of them. But this situation did not fit that criteria.

“It’s okay” Claire assured him, breaking his thoughts and easing his hesitation.

Jamie nodded and began. “With Geneva and the photo, I’m frustrated. I hope you know that this part of my life is not something I wanted to hide from you, Geneva especially. It’s just not something I thought about us talking about yet. With the media, maybe I was buying us some time before they got a whip of this, of us, when this needs to be public, and of course, I need to know how you feel about that, but then again, conversations for a later time. As for my parents, a little anxious but more intrigued on how you feel about it.” He was out of breath after explaining that it was his turn to take a sip of water.

“Jamie” Claire called and Jamie leaned on his screen closer. “I honestly don’t know what exactly to feel about Geneva at the moment. I get it, you have a long history and you might feel it doesn’t but it amounts to a little something. Was I surprised? Definitely. Jealous, to be honest, surprisingly not. But I would love it if you could tell me more about this and your family when I get back.”

“I’ll tell ye everything, Claire” Jamie affirmed.

“Doesn’t have to be everything at once” Claire joked and thankfully, Jamie laughed. “As for meeting your parents…”

“You don’t have to decide on that now, Claire.”

“I know. No pressure . But...” Claire smiled. “...if you feel like the time is right, let me know.”

Jamie felt relief as he flashed a breathless smile, looked up and wiped his face with his hands. Claire, on her end, put her elbow up on the table, leaned her head on her hand, and just observed him.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very” Jamie replied. “I canna wait till you’re back, Sassenach.”

“I know, me too. Just one more week. Now,” Claire shuffled some papers around. “I do need to get back to work and you need to go to sleep”

“Aaah” Jamie pouted and looked at his watch, it was almost 10PM. “I can stay a little bit more, keep ye company.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you come in late to work tomorrow.”

“Eh, can’t promise that.” Jamie jokingly shrugged. “So, how’s your day so far?”

And just like that, after an uncertain overnight, everything was back to its good place again.

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hansolmates · 5 years ago

Text

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.”

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