#the series would be posted on ao3 anyway

[honeygrahambitch]

Ok so this has been on my mind lately. If you are new here you should know that one of my favorite headcanons is the fact that Hannibal and Bedelia had gone to the same med school in Paris(she has a french last name) where they had been frienemies suffering from ust and always striving to be #1.

And you know how I posted snippets about them now and then so I was thinking ...

[its-just-hyper]

In anticipation for the ending of my hero academia, I gotta say: man, is anyone remembering that one time that one beloved book series about a wizarding school ended with the flawed government staying exactly the same, everyone having kids and naming them after killed off characters, and the protagonist becoming a cop?

[queenlucythevaliant]

harder than you think

i. When the Narnians stole Edmund away from beneath the Witch's blade, they told him he was safe. This wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

ii. They brought him to the Stone Table. It was night. Edmund doubted very much that he would find safety there, for he still recoiled at the name of Aslan. He slept fitfully and woke the next morning before the sun was up.

iii. A sliver of gold just beyond the tent flap captured his attention, there in the dark. Unaccountably, Edmund felt the urge to rise and go towards it.

iv. And there was Aslan, who was supposed to be fearsome, supposed to be dangerous, supposed to be powerful, and he was he was he was. Dimly, Edmund felt himself hitting the ground.

v. But then Aslan said, “Come, Son of Adam. Let us walk a while, and reason together.”

vi. And as they walked together, in the cool dewy grass of early morning, the Lion told Edmund everything that he had ever done.

vii. They were standing in front of the Table when the conversation turned. Aslan spoke a riddle of a house blasted into rubble which he would piece back together overnight. He spoke of flesh being pierced, blood being shed, and of rejected stones being used for new foundations. He spoke about water welling up forever, washing you clean of everything you ever did wrong, all the blood that you ever thought of shedding, everything you ever tried to steal, and a river that carries you home when you can't walk anymore and spits you out brand new when it reaches the sea.

viii. Edmund's head swam. Silently, he yearned for the wisdom to understand what he was being told; or, failing that, at least to remember it for as long as it took him to puzzle it out.

ix. And then, the Witch. Then, the battle. The thrones. A year passed, and winter came. In its time, it melted back to glorious spring.

x. “Edmund,” said Lucy one day. “There's something we need to tell you.” She and Susan were cloaked in springtime gossamer, like fairy queens in poems he only half remembered. They sat on the window seat in his study, holding hands white-knuckled: his two beloved sisters.

xi. “It's about Aslan,” Susan said. “And the White Witch, and how he made her renounce her claim on your blood. The night before Beruna, he went back to the Stone Table.”

xii. “He let her kill him,” Lucy cut in. “Instead of you. And then, because he hadn't done anything wrong, the Emperor's Deeper Magic brought him back to life.”

xiii. “We've been arguing all year about how much to tell you,” said Susan wryly. Then, a little gentler, “We don't want to hurt you, but we feel you ought to be told what he did for you.”

xiv. And Edmund, who had never forgotten what Aslan told him on that cool, dewy morning before the sun came up, shut his eyes and whispered, “I know.”

xv. I know, he said. I know that he died. I know that he did it for me. I know he lived again because I saw him the next day, and the next, and the next. I think I know what it means - or at least, I know the shape of it.

xvi. “Oh,” said Lucy. “We should have realized that he would have told you himself.”

xvii. “Yes. But please, tell me the story all the same.”

[evil-mcytblrconfessions]

tumblr kww fandom was formed seperately from most other social media corners of the fandom. and that leads to silly things like the commonly used name "kww collab" and kenfies vs kenifies. and probably more. cedar if theres any more im forgetting that u know of say them pls

(in response to this confession)

[thatonebirdwrites]

The Alternate Book 3.5 -- Korrasami

(This piece is not the route Book 3 and Book 3.5 went in Shared Moments. This was the alternate ending. I ended up not using it because Korra didn't lash out after all. Instead, the path the pair took was middle angst rather than this full angst. For the full series, read here).

The Blue Spirit sprinted after the Terra Triad, who ran furiously down the alley. He slid and vaulted himself with a burst of earthbending over a fence. The pursuer jumped and bounced off one wall than the other and vaulted over. Desperately, the triad punched up a wall, but the Blue Spirit only flipped over it and landed in front of him.

One kick slammed into his head, and he hit the ground with a whimper. A jolt of electricity shot through his body, and then a sweet smelling handkerchief pushed against his nose.

The body went slack. The Blue Spirit knelt to check the man’s pulse. Faint but beating.

Sirens echoed in the air and rapidly approached.

Quickly, the Blue Spirit tightly wrapped the man in a vest lined with platinum, his arms tight at his sides, and his hands covered. Rope was tied around his ankles, and the Blue Spirit tossed the rope over the lamppost. Hoisting him into the air, the rope was tied to the base of the post. Then a red and blue pin was attached to his tunic along with a note of the man’s crimes.

The sirens came closer. One turned onto the street.

The Blue Spirit quickly stepped into the shadows, pulled on climbing pads, and scaled the side of the building. Rolling onto the rooftop, the Blue Spirit waited and watched as the police circled the latest triad catch.

Once certain the man would be taken care of, the Blue Spirit slid away from the edge and crawled to the other side. Standing, the Blue Spirit leaped over a gap onto another roof and headed toward the next victim. <<...>>

The phone rang in Asami Sato’s office. She’d been engrossed in a technical drawing of the underground train system Future Industries was building under the vines. It was pinned next to the larger map of the city itself and all of the underground paths her company had mapped.

A third map provided all information on all the buildings and streets complete with measurements of the width of the alleys between rooftops. All three were mounted on her right wall.

She marked with a blue-red pin an intersection of an alley and street near the vine-ridden and abandoned library, close to the Water District.

When it rang a second time, she picked it up in irritation. “Asami Sato of Future Industries,” she said automatically, her voice as neutral as possible.

“Hey Asami, it’s Mako. You got a minute? I need to ask you about something.” Mako’s voice sounded tense.

“And this can’t wait until this evening?” Asami said, evenly. “I’m terribly busy.”

“No, it really can’t. I’m doing this on my lunch shift. Meet you in your office?”

“Fine.” Asami didn’t give Mako a chance to respond. She hung up and clenched her fist to stop herself from throwing the phone in anger.

She’d carefully avoided all of Team Avatar since Korra’s poisoning and rejection. Cautiously kept the air bender family at arm’s length, and anything that could remotely remind her of Korra.

Yet here was Mako. Shoving himself exactly where he didn’t belong, and with him, came the memories of her time as Korra’s girlfriend. Their adventures in the airship, the love-making, the promise to stick together no matter what — NO. She would not think of it.

Fury and pain curdled through her. She pulled open a drawer and flicked a switch. The wall to the right flipped around to show a plain bookcase. It had taken her a week to remake that wall and craft the room behind it, but it had been helped her frame of mind more than anything else.

A knock at the door cut through her thoughts. She shut the drawer, locked it, and walked over to open it.

Mako stood on the other side in his detective uniform. She stepped aside and gestured to the sofa. He walked in stiffly and stood at the desk instead. “Is this room secure?” He gestured to the door and walls.

Frowning, Asami shut the door and locked it. “Yes.”

Mako sighed and leaned against the desk. “Okay then. Two things. First one, we have a vigilante who so far is evading all arrests. Seems to be cleaning up the triads. Terra Triad has almost been wiped out and a good portion of Triple Threats also. They’ve been literally hung up by their feet from posts.” He pulled out a packet of drawings. “Asami, you’ve got technical expertise I don’t. We keep seeing those marks along the walls of buildings near the incidents. They seem to go all the way to the roof.”

She took the drawings and looked over each. It detailed a wall - sometimes brick, sometimes fresco, and a few metal tiled ones - and all had the same puncture marks. “Climbing gear.” She handed it back to him.

“Yes, but what gear can puncture metal?” Mako looked at her with that expression he’d often used when her and Korra had done something he considered ridiculous.

Asami crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Mako, why are you here. It’s not because of that stupid drawing. You know the answer to that question.”

He folded the drawing and tucked it back into his pocket. “All right. I’ll get to the point. Where were you last night, Asami?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I asked, where were you last night?” Mako’s voice held a hard edge. “No one saw you on Air Temple Island nor at the mansion. I know because I checked.”

Fury built up in Asami. “Are you stalking me now?” She stepped closer and drew up to her full height, which was close to his own height. “Monitoring my movements for what reason, Mako? Explain.”

“Every time the Blue Spirit appears, you are absent from the Island and the mansion. No one knows where you are.” Mako looked her in the eye, but his expression was one of concern, even with the harder edge to his voice. “It’s been this way for months. No one can reach you. You barely talk to us. And now the Blue Spirit is sweeping through town at night and taking out triads right and left. I’m not stupid, Asami. But I can’t keep covering for you. Beifong knows something is up. The detective on the case is picking up more clues. They are closing in, and I can’t and won’t be there to stop them, okay? So you got to end this now.”

Asami stared at him, stunned. Mako had put his career on the line for this? The fury had risen to the point that she had to grip her arms across her chest tighter to stop herself from doing something very stupid. “Are you out of your mind? Why do you think I’m the Blue Spirit?”

“Here is someone with no bending taking out triads with moves similar to yours, with high-tech gear no one on the force has ever seen, and stringing them up by their toes.” Mako pulled out a bag and held it up. It was the red-blue pin. "I remember what you and Korra joked about. You’d tie them up by their toes and she’d punch. And this pin? Both your colors."

The anger turned her ice cold. Before she was conscious of it, she slid forward and flipped him. He hit the ground hard. The bag flew out of his hands. When he tried to stand, she slammed him down and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Asami…” Mako groaned. “Let up. I’m not your enemy!”

Asami pressed him harder into the ground. “Do. Not. Say. Her. Name. Around. Me.”

“All right! I won’t! Spirits, Asami!”

She released him and backed up. The red haze of anger abated, and she knew she ought to feel something, but all she felt was emptiness. She'd given Korra everything. Only to lose it all.

She watched as he stood and massaged his shoulder.

He sighed and sat down in the chair with a wince. “Look, you’re one of my best friends, and I’m worried, okay? I didn’t come here to arrest or accuse you, but to warn you that you can’t keep going down this path.” He rubbed his shoulder again.

“Whatever path you think I’m on is not your business, Mako.” Asami’s voice was flat.

“Please, will you go talk with Jinora or Pema or anyone?” Exhaustion and worry marked his face. “Remember after the world war? Isolating yourself then didn’t help. Doing it now is killing you.”

Asami turned to face the windows that overlooked the vine-ridden downtown. The designs she’d carefully crafted now filled the skyline, the city remade in her vision. “I’m already dead, Mako. There’s no one left to help.” She waved her hand at the city. “This is all I have left.”

Mako shook his head. “It may feel that way, but your heart is still beating, Asami. And you aren’t alone in this. There’s a lot of people who care-”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Right. People who care. Care is an illusion. Love isn’t real. The only thing people care about is themselves.”

“And you? Do you care only for yourself?” Mako challenged.

Asami shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what or who I care about. I’m just a tool. That’s all I ever was. A tool used by the taskforce and Team Avatar. A tool used by the spirits. A tool used by…” she trailed off, unable to even say her name. “Now a tool for the city. My needs? Wants? Hopes? Doesn’t matter. It never did.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Oh?” Asami glared at him. “What evidence do you have to disprove it?”

“Talk to Jinora.”

That name stung. Asami turned away and faced the window again. “I can’t do that.”

Mako ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, Asami, this is getting ridiculous. I come in here to warn you, so you don’t end up in prison like your father, okay? And for that, you literally attack me because I said a name. So I try to put that aside, and all you do is rebuff everything I say. Now you’re telling me you won’t even see Jinora? She sees you as her big sister. She calls you family. Don’t you care about that? About her?”

Asami couldn't reply.

Mako stood. “Talk to her.”

Asami pressed her hand against her forehead. “I can't."

"Talk to her," Mako repeated, his voice harsher.

"The Asami she knew is gone, Mako," Asami's shoulders slumped and she leaned her forehead against the window. The cold seared into her skin. "What's left would only hurt Jinora. I can't do that to her."

“Don't you see?” Mako’s voice softened. "You're hurting her by not talking. She loves you, Asami. We all do. Don't push us away."

His words reminded her of a moment on the airship during the Air Bender search. The memory of Korra and her on the top deck with Naga, when Korra had turned to her and grabbed Asami's hands. She swung them back and forth. "Don't be silly, Asami. I love you. We all do. And you show us all the time."

For a brief moment, a spark almost lit in her heart, but then it faded into the emptiness that engulfed her every waking moment.

"Stay away from me, Asami!"

Each night, she took care of this city. Each day she rebuilt it. She was nothing but a tool of the city. A tool of the spirits, of the Avatar.

Except, no matter how hard she worked, she could never escape the memories.

Korra's warm arms around her.

Her kisses down Asami's chest.

Her grin as she spun Mako in the air with Air Bending.

Her laughter as the two of them rode Naga down the valley.

Korra's gentle but strong hands against her skin.

Pain rippled through her, and she blinked away the urge to cry.

Her life was leached of all color. Yet here was Mako, trying to inject color in a heart that had turned to stone. She slumped into her office chair. “Mako, why are you doing this?”

“Because I care.” He leaned forward in his chair, his arms on his knees. “All of us do.”

Asami snorted. “Right. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your heart wrenched out of your chest, stabbed, and shredded into nothing?”

For a long moment, Mako just looked at her. He sighed. “No, not really. Asami, you know as well as I do she wasn’t in her right state of mind.”

“I offered to go with her, Mako. To honor the promise we made at the end of the war. To stick together no matter what. I was willing to relocate and do everything I could to support her, to help her heal, just like she’d helped me.” Asami looked out the window, but she saw only that room at Air Temple Island. The pain of that moment, and the way her heart died that day. “And for that, I endured yelling, lies, shattered promises, and running away in the dead of night without telling me she was going. She was the one to demand the promise, and she’s the one that shattered it. So don’t you dare speak about her as if you understand anything.”

She briefly closed her eyes at the memory of Korra's fury. "I don't want you anymore! Just stay away."

Asami clenched her hands into fists. Her anger had bled into a wellspring of despair. “I will honor the promise I made to Pema, Korra, Bo, and Jinora. I’ll keep on existing. Because I honor my promises unlike others.”

She thought she’d belonged. She thought she had a family again.

But the Red Lotus had destroyed that, and Korra had shredded every last bit of what remained. Korra knew how to hurt her in a way that no one else could, and she’d lashed out in a fit of anger and said words that killed Asami’s heart.

Mako ran his hands over his face. “Does it help you to lash out at me?”

“I’m stating facts, Mako.” Asami gestured vaguely toward him. “You came here with some weird savior complex as if you know what is best. No. None of you do. I gave my heart and mind and spirit to Korra, and for that?” Asami closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Korra’s words haunted her every day. Every second. They hovered over her like a dark cloud, and with each day of no word, no apology, no explanation, Asami’s heart withered.

“Asami, what did she say?”

“Don’t. Ever. Ask. Again.” Asami snapped her eyes open, her voice cold and fury rising yet again.

Mako stood and frowned. “I’m trying to help you. Holding that inside hurts you. Wasn’t that the lesson we all learned after the world war? To support one another?”

Asami shrugged. “Then consider me already dead. There’s nothing to help, Mako.”

“Right. That's bullshit, Asami.” Mako gestured to the office. “Your company is rebuilding the city. How is that not you? Those are your designs for the rebuilds. What about all those times you were there for my brother and me? For Jinora and her family? Even for she-who-will-not-be-named? It was you that taught us that we have worth and value. Even now with…” He sighed. “Whatever you’re doing at night, it’s targeting those that harm others. Justice. How is that not Asami-always-do-what’s-right-Sato?”

Damn the spirits. He was right. She leaned forward, her head bowed in defeat. “You’ve said your piece, Mako. Now please go.”

“Not until you promise me one thing,” Mako stood and walked to her desk.

She refused to look at him but instead focused her gaze on the fake bookcase. “And what is that?”

“That you’ll talk to Jinora.”

“And if I refuse to promise?”

“Then I’m bringing her here.” Mako moved to stand in her line of vision. “And I will make sure you talk to her.”

“I have security, Mako. What makes you think the two of you would find me before I know of your presence?” Her tone was quiet and flat, devoid of emotion.

“You leave this office at times, Asami. I will track you down. Now, either make the promise, or I’m doing this the hard way.” He stepped toward her, his expression fierce. “Don’t do to her what you did to my brother. Talk. To. Her.”

“If I promise, will you leave me the spirits alone?” Asami snapped. She didn’t want to think about Bolin, or his attempts to talk to her, and how he too eventually left.

“Yes.” Mako met her gaze, his mouth in a grim line.

“Fine. I promise I’ll talk to Jinora. Happy now?”

“No, but it’s a start.” Mako pushed away from the desk. “And Asami? Please, for Jinora’s sake, don’t go out tonight. You can’t fulfill your promise from prison.” Turning, he unlocked the office door and left.

Asami slumped in her chair and pressed a hand against her temple. To not go out tonight? That wasn’t a promise she could keep. But she accepted the warning for what it was. She’d simply change her plans and targets.

<<.....>>

Hours later, Asami locked the door to her office. It was late, nearing six in the evening.

After Mako’s visit, she’d gone immediately to the construction sites for a quick tour, then the factories, then back for meetings. Keeping busy to avoid thought and feeling, and now back at her office, the promise suffocated.

“Ms. Sato?” Kyung’s voice came from her right. The designer was still here?

Frowning, Asami turned to her. The other designers hired for her department had long left, most of their supplies in bins near the back of the room. A half constructed model for a new type of aircraft lay in the middle of the room, the tables having been pushed aside. This was more Asami’s project, though she’d allowed the designers to assist.

“What is it?”

Kyung looked her over with concern. The same way for months now. “Test flights with the prototype will be in three days. Are you certain you wish to be the pilot?”

“Yes.” Asami had designed this new aircraft. She had no intention of letting anyone take from her the chance to fly it for the first time. “My decision is final.”

“I understand.” Kyung sighed. “The concern is for your life.”

“That concern is unwarranted. The test flight will go as planned. I will be fine. Is that all?” Asami was irritated. She did not want to deal with this nor with the memories Kyung’s presence brought her. It reminded her too much of Korra.

“You’ve been… not yourself of late. Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” Asami gestured to the model and her office. “Projects proceeding well. There’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Kyung. I have this all under control.”

The woman sighed. “I don’t doubt that. I worry because you’ve cut yourself off from those that care about you. All you do is work.”

Asami narrowed her eyes. “At the moment, work takes priority. Good night, Kyung.”

Turning, she left the room before she lost her temper entirely. The past several months she’d worked long hours, some weeks a total of one hundred hours in the office, construction sites, and factories. The company was at its best its ever been due to her hard work. Business boomed, their sales were at a new record, and all employees had a living wage and benefits to keep them happy.

If she didn’t work, if she didn’t go out at night, she’d be dead, far more than dead inside. Work was all she had left.

<<...........>>

The ride to Air Temple Island was quiet. Asami took her personal motorboat but kept the radio off. She circled the island once before finally deciding to just get it over with and dock. While she tied the boat to the pier, she heard a voice call her name.

“Asami!” Turning, she looked up the hill at Jinora. It had been months since she'd seen her, and her hair had started to grow back. “You’re here!”

“Yes.” Asami said, flatly. “I’m honoring a promise.”

Did this count as talking to Jinora? Could she now leave? To Asami’s growing dismay, Jinora walked down the path toward her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. Mako seemed to think he could convince you. But you’ve been…” Jinora voice calm broke, and she stopped a few meters away. Tears dripped down her cheeks. “Please, will… you eat dinner with us?”

Jinora tears stung. Asami recalled how badly she’d rejected Bolin’s attempts at friendship and support. How’d she’d held him at arm’s length until he left. How his last letter had been a plea for her to please respond.

“We’ve missed you. This is your home too.” Jinora wiped her eyes and took a few hesitant steps toward her.

“I’m not the person you knew, Jinora,” Asami said, quietly. “That person died when Korra left.”

She looked down at her feet. She felt rooted to the pier’s wood. This had been a mistake. She shouldn’t have come, and yet she couldn’t get her pesky legs to listen and step back into the motorboat.

“No. You’re lost in the fog, that’s all.” Jinora took a few more steps and held out her hand. “Please, will you let us part it for you?”

Asami looked at her outstretched hand. Those words brought back the memory of when Korra and Jinora taught her how to navigate the divider maze. Korra had looked like she danced to a song only she could hear as she navigated the spinning dividers. Jinora had said those same words to her that day.

Her entire body began to tremble. No, she couldn't face those memories. Not here. Not like this.

“Jinora, you have to let me go, please. All of you.” She took a step backward. “There’s no one to find.”

Jinora shook her head. “We won’t. We can’t. We love you, Asami. You’re part of our family.” She took another cautious step closer and again held out her hand. “I know you’re hurting."

Asami shrunk away from her hand. Yelling she could have handled. Obstinate assholery like Mako did was doable.

But this kindness?

No. Asami eyed her boat, desperate to be anywhere but here.

"I never told anyone, but I heard what Korra did to you, Asami.” Jinora kept her hand extended. "She was running from herself not you. She still loves you."

“You can’t know that.” Asami shook her head.

Jinora put a hand on her hip. “I have a lot of spirit friends, Asami. They overheard and told me. I tried to talk her out of it. I begged her to just talk to you. But you’re both stubborn.”

Asami shook her head again. “No. She doesn’t love me. She never did.”

Jinora stepped in front of Asami and frowned. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“I gave her everything I had.” Asami snapped. “But I was just a tool for Team Avatar, for the spirits, for the war, for the city. That's all I'll ever be.”

“And that’s not true either. You’re not a tool.” Jinora’s eyes shone with tears again, and the calmness in her voice threatened to unravel Asami.

So she clung to anger. “Show me the proof then. Because I have mountains of proof that say the opposite of your claim.”

Jinora reached into her pocket and held up a letter. “This is my proof. We’ve been trying to get it to you for weeks now, Asami.”

She took a step backward. That was Korra’s handwriting on the front of the envelope, the stamp the mark of the Southern Water Tribe. Her name was printed clearly on the envelope. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“No.” Jinora held out the letter. “Will you read it?”

“I will not.” Bitterness filtered through her voice. “So that’s all this was. A ploy to lure me here for that.”

Jinora shook her head. “I missed you.”

Asami gave a harsh laugh. “Right. And yet here you are proving my point. Convincing Mako to force a promise out of me just to lure me here so you can give me poison?”

Jinora frowned deeper. She slid her finger along the top of the letter and ripped it open. “It’s not poison.” She tipped the letter to one side and out rolled a ring carved with the symbol that had been etched on the handle of Asami's boomerang. A single piece of paper fluttered atop it.

“Don’t.” Asami wanted to back away, but if she did, she’d fall into the water. And maybe she should.

Maybe she should dive into the bay and swim away. Escape this.

“I’m going to read it.” Jinora unfolded the letter. “’Dear Asami, I know nothing I say can fix what I did and said. It haunts me every day…’”

“Stop…” Asami’s voice was weak. Her entire resolve began to crack.

Jinora stubbornly continued to read. “’I couldn’t stop myself. I was in a red haze of pain, of anger, of hatred toward Zaheer, and it came out in poison at you. Master Katara told me I can’t move forward with my healing until I mend this. But I don’t know how. I can’t ever forget the look of betrayal, the pain on your face. You deserve better than me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I can’t expect forgiveness. I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t even know if you’re still out there. I’m afraid to write anyone else for fear they’ll tell me you’re gone. I love you. I always will. Korra.’”

The fury and icy resolve that had kept her going this past year, that had pushed her to put her life at risk each night for the thrill of feeling anything at all — it all fled and overwhelming grief hit her like a tidal wave.

Asami fell to her knees. She wrapped her arms around herself, closed her eyes, and drowned in the grief. “I miss her,” she whispered. “I miss her so much.”

“I know.” Jinora dropped to her knees next to her. “I do too. It’s okay to feel that way, okay?”

Asami shook her head. “I- it’s too much, it hurts.” She could feel the scream building in her — the intense pain, grief, but far more than anything else, that glimmer of the fire she’d once felt for Korra.

“You don’t have to feel it alone,” Jinora said, softly. “Please, will you let us part the fog for you?”

She held out her hand again. This time Asami gingerly reached out and grasped it.

<<............................>>

Two weeks later

The test flight went perfectly, so when Asami announced that she planned to push the plane to its limits, her board was at first agreeable. Until she said her destination was the Southern Water Tribe.

Despite their protests that she should aim for something not as far, Asami systematically shut them all down with reasoned arguments.

Besides, nothing they said would stop her.

The letter and Jinora's words had haunted her and shaken her core.

She had to go south to either fix her and Korra or finally end it for good.

She’d told no one of her plan, though she felt pretty certain Jinora guessed it. The girl was far too intuitive for her own good. It didn’t help that Sani, Jinora’s spirit friend who’d taken a liking to Asami, had started to show up again.

Letting people in after nearly a year hurt.

That first evening after Jinora's talk, Asami had collapsed on the sofa in their den. Pema gently tucked a blanket around her.

"You know, we kept your room for you, in case you need it again."

The gentleness had shattered Asami all over again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I -- I couldn't. Korra broke me."

Pema's fingers carded through Asami's hair. "We know."

"Do you?" Asami closed her eyes and burrowed deeper into the cushions. "I've been doing dangerous things in order to feel anything for months now. I'm don't know how to let go."

Pema’s words had given her the idea and solidified the plan: “Asami, what’s stopping you from seeing her?”

That evening, Asami had no answer.

But during the test flight, she realized it was the fear that those harsh words were true and her relationship with Korra a lie.

The letter and ring rested in Asami’s pocket. She could not ever wear the ring, not until she either fixed this or gave it back as a signal this… whatever it was… was over.

Two weeks of planning. Two weeks of agony. Two weeks of Jinora and the other air benders incessantly checking on her. She ate only because of them.

Today, she settled into the seat of her experimental aircraft. She adjusted the headset and the air mask over her mouth. Kyung and Hue stood on either wing, the long tapered wings that had been painted red and black. Unlike the biplanes, this beast ran on more efficient fuels and engine with larger tanks. She would only need one refueling far to the south, by Zaofu.

Opal had arranged that for her.

Kyung’s expression of concern that had marked her face for most of the past year was strangely not present. “The radio should keep you in contact for majority of the trip.”

“Surprised you’re not talking me out of this,” Asami said. “You were really concerned about my life during the test flight.”

“You proved me wrong.” Kyung gave her a small smile. “And… I think this is maybe your smartest plan yet.”

Asami raised her eyebrows. Smartest? No, this was probably her stupidest plan, but she wasn’t in the mood for an argument. She did a second check of the dashboard, its switches and buttons, the altimeter and other gauges, and the steering column itself.

“This will get you there just fine.” Hue patted the fuselage. “Looked it over myself this morning.”

“Thanks Hue and Kyung.”

“And Asami,” Hue leaned against the edge of the cockpit. “I gotta say, you’re looking better. Been worried a bit.”

Asami couldn’t look either of them in the face. “I - I was in a very dark place. I’m fixing that now.”

“Good. Just get back in one piece, you hear?” He pushed off and grabbed the dome of the cockpit. “Ready then?”

Kyung grabbed the other side. That was one of the parts of the plane that Asami still needed to work on the kinks. How to close the protective dome while inside the cockpit.

“Safe flying,” Kyung said with a wave.

“Ready.” Asami gave them both a thumbs up.

The dome slid forward and clicked into place. Both hopped off and backed off to a safe distance.

Asami went through her preflight check a third time, then flicked several switches. The engines came to life, the propeller in front whirled, and the plane rumbled with energy. She’d carefully calculated the trajectory, and she’d have just enough fuel to make it to Wolf’s Cove as long as everything in Zaofu happened as Opal promised.

She pushed forward on the throttle with her foot, and the aircraft pushed forward on the pavement. It increased in speed, and she pulled the steering column forward.

The moment the plane left the pavement, Asami felt a wave of excitement. The power in the plane far exceeded any biplane, and knowing she flew the only one of its kind in the entire world gave her a sense of smugness.

She adjusted several settings on the controls until she reached cruising height, far above even that of an airship. Flipping on the radio, she confirmed her ascent and trajectory, then settled in for a several hour long flight.

<<..............................................>>

Asami flicked on the radio to contact Wolf’s Cove. She adjusted the frequency to the Southern Division of Future Industries. “Asami Sato of the Satobird calling Southern Division of Future Industries. Please come in.” She didn’t really expect a reply right away. This was very much an unscheduled and sudden appearance, and she hadn’t had time to contact the division to warn them. Once she’d made her decision, she’d implemented the plan before she could lose her nerve.

Part of her wondered why she was torturing herself like this. Yet, she’d started the journey, promised Jinora she’d try, so she had to follow through.

Unlike some people. Asami Sato honored her promises.

“Asami?” Kanna’s voice came on the radio. “Kanna of Southern Division receives you loud and clear. Where are you? How did you fly so quickly south?”

She sounded very confused, likely because she’d radioed in to the board meeting that morning when Asami had still been in Republic City.

“I’m currently flying toward Wolf’s Cove at an altitude of thirteen thousand meters. Estimated arrival in…” Asami glanced at her map she’d taped next to the controls. From this height, she’d had a pretty good view of the Southern Ocean, and she’d passed the Southern Air temple a few minutes ago. “Twenty minutes.”

“Thirteen thousand meters?” Kanna sounded incredulous. “Whatever you’re flying, I intend to inspect after your arrival.”

Asami had forgotten to alert Kanna to the prototype or even share the designs. Not even the board had seen schematics.

“What’s the length of the runway you need?”

“Several hundred meters give or take.” Asami gave a higher estimate considering the speed at which she flew. For the long trip, the plane had handled it reasonably well. Her fuel was running low though even with the stop in Zaofu. “I’ll need fuel upon landing.”

“All right. I’m going to have to contact the authorities here. We’ve got nothing that length unless you use the tundra. Do I have your authorization?”

Asami sighed. There was no avoiding it then. “It would be best to notify Chief Tonraq directly and ask for his… discretion. We’re keeping this prototype under wraps for the time being.”

“Are you sure?” Kanna had kept in contact with her regarding the rebuilding efforts, and she’d somehow worked out the rift between her and Korra. Typical. She’d been an aunt to Asami growing up. “Your approach vector will need to come from the north east to avoid being sighted by the city.”

“Yes. I will adjust my vector then. Kanna…” Asami took a deep breath. “I recognize the situation. I came to fix what was broken if such a thing is possible. If not, I will need to leave quickly. Fuel needs to be at the landing site in case of such a possibility.” She had no intention of staying if she had to break off things with Korra for good.

“Understood. We’ll be ready. I’ll report in with landing coordinates in ten minutes.” Kanna’s connection fizzled and static returned to the cockpit.

Ten minutes. Asami could get through ten minutes. She gritted her teeth and focused only on flying. No other thoughts. No reviewing memories. No thinking of the damn letter in her pocket.

Exactly ten minutes later the radio flickered to life. “Kanna of Southern Division calling Asami Sato of Satobird.”

“Asami reads you loud and clear, Kanna.” She was rapidly approaching the city, so she had turned her plane in an arc to circle it as she lowered her altitude slowly. “A bit ahead of schedule.”

“I have Chief Tonraq wishing for a direct line. Authorization to share?” A hint of concern marked Kanna’s voice.

Of course. She had shown up out of the blue. “Authorization granted.”

“All right. Safe landing. Transferring you over to Chief Tonraq.” Kanna’s voice fizzled out again.

Static, and then Tonraq’s voice boomed into her headset. “Asami? Are you actually circling the city right now?” There was a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“Yes, sir. Currently at…” she tapped her altitude gauge. She’d have to fix the issue with ice crystals that kept forming at the 13,000 meter height. “Twelve thousand meters. Do I have permission to land? Need about 900 meters or so.”

“I have a location in mind. Asami, I have to ask. Are you here because of Korra’s letter?”

Of course he’d get right to the point. Asami sighed. “Sir, I don’t feel comfortable discussing over radio. May this wait until I’ve landed safely? I’m low on fuel.”

“I understand. I ask to verify who is allowed to meet you. I will be there, but will you allow… others?”

“I ask for your discretion. Only immediate family and Kanna’s crew. No one outside of a small few know of this prototype…” Which wasn’t entirely true. Korra knew. She’d seen the drawings before… Zaheer.

“Understood. Here are the coordinates and radio frequency. Time of arrival?” He’d lapsed into his chief voice instead of concerned father. He rattled off a set of coordinates and numbers, and Asami marked it on her map with the pen she’d taped next to the map. Not too far from the palace, near the mountains. Interesting.

“Circling the outer perimeters of city currently. Five minutes?” Asami really didn’t want to push her luck with her low fuel much more than that.

“We’ll be there.” Tonraq’s connection ended in static.

So that was that.

Asami took a deep breath and flicked several switches to prepare for landing. She thought she’d be feeling something at this point, now that she was minutes away from meeting Korra’s parents again. But instead, she felt only numb.

It took only a few minutes to line up her approach vector with the coordinates. She’d dropped her altitude considerably and throttled down her speed.

“Don’t crash it,” Asami muttered, frustrated. She’d rather not continue her tradition of crashing flying machines for Korra’s family, especially considering the expense and time she’d put into this prototype.

She throttled down further and angled for the strip of tundra. It looked quite a bit longer than what she’d asked for, and considering the situation, that was probably best.

The engine sputtered as the fuel gauge dropped still lower. Flicking a switch, she dropped the landing gear.

Still coming in faster than she liked. Not at all how she’d planned her arrival. She flicked on the radio for the frequency Tonraq given her. “Asami Sato of the Satobird. I’m coming in hot. Very low on fuel.”

“We see you.” Tonraq’s voice thankfully. “Be safe. Would like you in one piece.”

“Don’t plan on making this part of our tradition,” Asami retorted. Anxiety threaded through her, the first emotion she’d felt since starting this ridiculous flight. “I’d like to keep this gal in one piece.”

She took the risk, and pulled the throttle back to a bare minimum. She was nearing the coordinates, and despite her worries at overshooting, her trajectory would put her landing about middway, which might not be long enough runaway for this speed.

Oh well.

Asami angled down further and braced herself. The landing wheels hit the tundra and the plane bounced up only to settle into a skid. She held onto the steering column and realized she failed to account for how slippery this damn place was. Ice and snow shot up around her, blinding her entirely, which was highly irritating. Several bumps shook the plane, until the entire plane skidded to a stop into a mound of snow, which promptly fell across her dome.

She leaned back relieved. Not quite a crash, but still the worst landing she’d ever had. “Asami calling Tonraq,” she said, resigned. “I require assistance with the cockpit dome. Looks like I’m buried.”

“We’re on our way. Hold tight.”

Asami unbuckled herself and ran through the post-flight procedures. The engine sputtered silent, and her fuel was pretty much gone. Good thing she landed when she did. Falling out of the sky would have been quite embarrassing.

But then embarrassment would at least be a feeling other than… numbness. Now that she’d landed, her anxiety had faded back to that. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

The snow melted off the dome relatively quickly thanks to Tonraq’s water bending. He appeared on one of the wings with Kanna on the other.

Asami tapped the side of the dome and gestured for them to pull it back. She’d already undid the locks from the cockpit side. Both pulled it along its track, and cold whipped into the cockpit.

Oh. Right. It was freezing. Asami’s padded pilot coat did nothing against that wind. She shivered and pushed out of her seat.

Tonraq grasped her arm and nearly lifted her entirely out of the cockpit. Wind blew snow over the plane, and Asami gestured to the dome once her feet were stable on the wing. Less snow inside the cockpit, the better. Tonraq nodded and pushed it shut with Kanna’s help.

“Let’s get you to some warmth.” Chief Tonraq looked at her, and concern filtered into his expression.

Asami unclipped the strap on her helmet. “Understood.” She nodded at Kanna. “She’s all yours, Kanna. Take good care of her.”

“Right.” Kanna’s expression also held one of concern. “I’ll get her fueled up and prepped just in case.” A brief moment of hesitation then she added, “Let me know how it goes.”

“Sure.” Asami shrugged. “Thanks for the help.” She considered hopping down, but the wing was already slippery from the snow and ice. She frowned and looked down at the ground a meter and a half from where she stood.

He seemed to understand her reluctance to talk, so he slid down and positioned himself to catch her. Fine. If he insisted. She slid down the wing, and he easily caught her. Once her feet touched the ground, she stepped away from him and dusted herself off futilely.

So. She’d made it.

Again she ought to feel something. But that numbness hadn’t left. She felt as cold inside as the freezing wind outside.

“Follow me.” Tonraq led her around the plane through through the snowdrift to a…

...tent?

Why was there a tent here?

It looked like it had been hastily put up, the edges weighed down by rocks, which from the shape of them looked like they’d been earthbended. Maybe she was thinking too much into the large stones.

Still she hesitated at the edge of the tent. Tonraq had pulled back the leather and warmth did indeed radiate from its interior. “Not much, but we weren’t sure if you were willing to head into the city.”

Asami nodded. Still her feet refused to cooperate. “Who… all … is here?” The words came out funny to her. Like she spoke underwater.

“Only immediate family as promised.” Tonraq dropped the leather and stepped in front of Asami. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Asami flinched. She’d not been touched by anyone until Jinora and Pema had broken through to her and even then, she’d barely tolerated their hugs. It had been too painful. Tonraq didn’t move his hand though, despite the raise of his eyebrows.

“Asami,” he said, quietly. “I understand this is hard for you. I’m sure all of us would understand if you can’t go through with this and need to leave.”

That would defeat the entire purpose of this flight. Asami straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye, her mouth in a slight grimace. “No. I will follow through on my promise.”

Tonraq studied her a long moment, then gave her a nod and released her shoulder. He pulled aside the leather and held it open for her.

Asami steeled herself and stepped inside. A dim light from a lantern hung from the bone frame, and the tent itself was fairly large. Most of it had been hidden under the snow drifts.

Two other people were in the tent. Senna and someone heavily bundled in a blue parka, who sat on the far end of the tent against a cot and a set of crutches.

“Asami.” Senna said, warmly. She stepped forward and grasped Asami’s hands. It took every ounce of willpower to not jerk her hands away at the touch. It helped that she still wore her gloves and pilot gear. “It is so good to see you.”

“Yes.” Asami didn’t know what else to say. Behind her, Tonraq stepped inside and secured the flap. Warmth suffused the tent from a set of coals in the center of the tent. The smoke from them curled upward through the small opening at the peak.

“You’re probably hungry?” Senna released her hands thankfully. “I’m told you flew direct from Republic City?”

Asami nodded. “Started late morning. Brief stop for fuel in Zaofu.”

“That fast?” Tonraq walked to the coal pit and laid a wire frame over it. He settled a water filled pot over it and stoked the coals to get the fire glowing brighter. It flickered across the tent.

“Yes. Flew at height of thirteen thousand meters. Cuts time down considerably.” Which was only partly true, the other part was the upgrades she’d given to the engine to increase its speed.

The person in the corner still hadn’t moved or turned her way. Asami felt certain she knew who it was, but she refused to look to verify.

“Please sit and warm yourself.” Senna gestured to the pillows she’d laid by the coal fire. “We’ll make you tea. Jasmine black still your favorite?”

“Yes, thank you.” Asami had kept her tone neutral as possible. Best to just get to the point. She took a deep breath and forged forward. “I received the letter two weeks ago. I apologize for lack of reply. I…” she clenched her fists tightly at her side, still unwilling to sit down and relax. “I was unavailable for several months.”

“Unavailable?” Tonraq looked at her, the concern in his expression deepening. “It sounds like more than that.”

Asami looked away. The numbness that had permeated her had started to melt. “I was caught up with work. I did not realize I had mail until…” Spirits, she was going to cry, wasn’t she? She sat down hard on the pillow and drew her legs up against her chest. “I’m sorry. This -- this is very hard.” She shuddered violently. “I’m here because I made a promise…”

Senna smiled kindly at her. “Take your time, Asami. We’ll be here.”

“I would not have gotten the letter if not for Jinora,” Asami admitted, quietly, “and Mako. He was quite adamant I talk to Jinora. I — I had shut everyone out for a long time. She read it to me out loud.”

Asami stared at the coals. Clearing her throat, she tried to explain further. “I understand that…” she still couldn’t bring herself to say Korra’s name. That hurt too much. “… a specific person needed my response for her to continue her healing.”

“’Sami…” Korra whispered her nickname in anguish.

Don’t look at her, Asami told herself desperately. She might break if she did. She held her legs tighter and pressed her face against her knees. “I’m sorry for the suddenness of this visit. I did it before I lost my nerve. I should have warned you of my plan.”

“Asami,” Senna said gently. Her hand lightly touched Asami’s arm. “The important thing is that you are here. You are welcome here. That hasn’t changed.”

“Considering all you’ve done?” Tonraq smiled at her. “You’ll always be welcome. Our home is your home.”

Asami looked at him and Senna incredulously. “I’m not sure that’s wise. I’m no longer the person you knew.”

Senna smiled gently. “If it helps you to think that. Perhaps you are too harsh on yourself? As soon as you knew and were able, you came.”

Her words sliced through her just like Jinora's had. “Right.” Her tone turned bitter. “You sound like Jinora and Mako. All of you are mistaken.”

“Then why come?” Korra blurted.

Asami closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I made a promise, and I honor my promise unlike some people.” The bitterness threatened to send her into a fit of anger. Korra’s parents didn’t deserve this. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes to meet Senna and Tonraq's gaze. “I’m sorry for my rudeness. Both of you are being kind. I appreciate your hospitality.”

“It’s okay. You’re under great stress.” Senna finished preparing the tea. She offered the cup to Asami. Reluctantly, Asami grasped it, its warm sinking through her gloves. Steam rose and warmed her cold cheeks.

She took a sip to try to gather her thoughts. “What do you all want from this?” Maybe establishing expectations could help.

Tonraq sighed. “We only wish to see you both healing from this.”

“Will it help if Tonraq and I give you a moment alone?” She nodded toward Korra.

Being alone with Korra? Asami froze, her eyes widened, and for a moment, all she could hear was the anger and the painful words Korra had hurled at her.

She hadn’t realized she’d started to violently tremble until tea splashed onto her glove. Heat seared into her hand. She put down the cup and tore off her glove, her skin reddened from the hot water.

How was she supposed to do this?

“I’m trying to honor…” her voice broke and the tears threatened. Grief and pain roared through her, and those damn words echoed through her mind. “I can’t stop thinking of it… of what…. I can’t get it out of my mind.” The bitterness had changed to raw pain.

“I’m sorry,” Korra said, a stricken look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

Both of Korra’s parents looked at each other. “We’ll let you two talk.” Tonraq stood and led Senna out of the tent.

No! Asami looked after them, suddenly terrified.

She wanted to jump to her feet and sprint out of the tent. To run until she couldn’t, until she collapsed. Then she could let the snow cover her, to let the numbness take her again. Anything was better than this pain. She pressed her palms against her eyes.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll talk to you.” She rubbed away the threat of tears and glared at Korra. “I got your damn letter. Read in detail to me. I don’t want to be here. But I made a promise, and I do want you to heal. To move forward. If that means, I have to come here and talk, then fine. I’m here. So what do you want?”

Korra looked at her, pain and grief lined her face. “’Sami, I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. And instead of working with you through it, I ran away. I thought your life would be better without me ruining it. I’m too broken and too volatile right now.”

“Volatile?” Asami gave a harsh laugh. “No. You’re not volatile. Nor broken. You were poisoned. And you need to heal.” Korra looked at her, her brow wrinkled. “No, the only one broken here is me.” Her bitterness had threaded into her voice.

“’Sami. I — please, what can I do to make this right?” Korra’s tone held desperation. “I still lo-”

Asami cut her off before those words could drift between them. “This past year I spent up to one hundred hours working each week.” She took a steadying breath. “The Blue Spirit roams Republic City now. Taking down triads and any potential Red Lotus insurgents. Very thorough work. Enough to piss off the Chief of Police.” This was a safer topic as long as she did not look at Korra. “Not even benders escape the Blue Spirit. All hung up by their feet with a note as a gift to the police. Only four targets were killed in subsequent fights with the Blue Spirit. Mostly out of self-defense.”

“Blue spirit?” Korra repeated, confused. “I don’t understand…”

“It’s me, all right?” Asami moved into a lotus position and looked at Korra. “I’m the Blue Spirit. And I thought I did a damn good job of hiding that.” She clenched her fists. “It was the only way to survive.” She slammed her fist against her leg. “I tried to exorcise you from me. Cut off all contact with anyone and any place that reminded me of you. Worked myself to exhaustion every night.”

Korra looked at her, her shoulders drooped, and she looked worried, sad, and pained.

“Mako forced me to see Jinora. And she wouldn’t let me leave the island until she read your letter. So here I am. You got what you wanted!” Asami threw her hands in the air. “So go, move forward now.”

“But what about you?” Korra asked, softly. “What about your healing?”

“Why do you care?” Asami snapped. “I’m just a tool. A tool for Team Avatar, for the spirits, for the city, for you.”

“That’s not true!” Korra pulled herself up onto her knees and crawled closer to the coal fire. “You’re not a tool! Dammit, Asami, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I hurt you! I had no right to take out my anger and hatred toward Zaheer on you."

"Oh, so now you'll admit it was wrong." Asami crossed her arms over her chest. "How do I know this isn't some ploy?"

"They’ve haunted me too, okay?” Tears shone in her eyes. “And I didn’t write the letter to force you to do anything! I did it because I miss you.”

“Then why tell me Master Katara believed your healing can’t continue unless you deal with— with this?” Asami gestured to the air between them. “That sounds a lot like a demand to me.”

“It wasn’t! But she’s right. Neither of us can heal until we deal with this. I know I broke your trust. I know, okay? But I want to heal that. Please, will you give me another chance?” Korra crawled closer. One of her legs still limp, but the other moved.

Asami stared at Korra’s leg. “You— you can move it…”

“Sort of.” Korra’s arms trembled as she struggled to hold herself up, and her face creased in pain. “Might have needed the wheelchair… you made… thought I’d… could do this without…” Her breaths came fast as if winded.

A feeling she hadn’t felt in over a year threaded through her. “Korra…” She bit her lip. She’d remembered the anguish Korra had over the lack of feeling in her legs. How she struggled and how Asami had built a wheelchair specifically for her, complete with sled attachments for the South. Even the crutches that lay still in the corner was her design. “You kept it all…”

“Well yeah. Asami, I kept everything you made or sent. All those drawings and your letters? I have them all by my bed.”

“Drawings?” Asami stared at her. “Wait, argh. Kyung sent them?!” Asami put her face in her hands. “They weren’t meant to be sent. I had to get it out of my head somehow.” Her voice choked.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shattered your trust. And I know it’s not easy to give it.” Korra pulled one leg forward and moved the other on her own, but her arms trembled even more. “This is harder than I thought…” She grunted but then her arms gave out.

Asami didn’t think. She moved and caught Korra before she tumbled too close to the coal fire.

“Be careful.” Her voice shook.

No, she shouldn’t be holding Korra, that was dangerous for her heart, and yet she couldn’t let go.

To feel Korra in her arms again. To feel her warmth, to smell her earthy scent. It flooded her with emotions she thought had wilted away from the pain and hurt. She curled her arms tighter around Korra and pulled her upright, her back against Asami’s chest. “Please be careful.” She buried her face in Korra’s hair.

“Eh, I’m never careful,” Korra scoffed. “But I’ll try for you.” She patted Asami’s arm.

That pushed her over the edge. Asami began to cry, hard painful sobs, and Korra turned to wrap her arms around Asami in turn. To hold her tight and gently stroke her hair.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Asami whispered between sobs. “I would have gone with you. I would have followed you anywhere. I — I still would.” She breathed in Korra’s scent and wept even harder. The feelings she’d thought were dead, and yet here she was, still in love with Korra despite everything.

Gently, Korra brushed Asami’s hair from her face. “I missed you too. So much. Every second of the day I wished I'd said yes, wished I’d been brave enough to …” Her voice broke, and Korra wept. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Asami didn’t think. She leaned forward, held Korra’s face in her hands, and kissed her fiercely. To taste her again, to feel her tongue against Asami’s own, her whole body lit with a fire, a passion she’d thought she’d lost forever. It took all her willpower to not rip off their clothes and feel Korra in her and her in Korra.

Asami pulled back, breathless. “I want you so bad right now. I didn’t think. Thought I’d lost this.”

Korra gently kissed her, and Asami leaned into the kiss, desperate for the connection, for the taste of Korra. It felt like a dangerous drug, one that threatened to break Asami further.

“I want you too. But not the best spot. You’d be too cold. Don’t want you to freeze on me.” Korra pulled back with a shaky smile. “My bending’s still unstable. So healing would be hard.”

“Okay, okay.” Pain still riddled her voice. She felt so uncertain, scared to trust again. “I — I don’t know how to trust again, Korra. I don’t — but I just…” She buried her face in Korra’s shoulder.

Words weren’t coming to her. She felt so full of emotions, far too many emotions. She trembled violently at the intensity, after a year of numbness and hiding from the pain and grief, the sudden influx of emotions was like a tangible rainbow drowning her in color. She felt blinded and overwhelmed.

“It’s okay. We can take it in small steps, okay?” Korra stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “If you want to though…”

Spirits take her, she shouldn't agree.

And yet, this was Korra.

She kissed Korra with an entire year worth of yearning, of pain. The world bled away until it was only them, only Korra’s lips and tongue, only her warmth, her earthy smell. She’d been her anchor, her home, and Asami realized she wanted that back desperately.

Asami wasn’t ready to leave yet after all.

<<......................>>

She joined Korra’s family in the palace with her one bag of supplies. Senna had immediately invited her into the kitchen the moment they’d entered the palace.

At first, Asami had declined.

“Asami, did you eat during your flight?” Korra asked.

Asami winced and shook her head.

“Then you’re eating.” Korra spun in her wheelchair to face her. “No starving while you’re here.”

That got a faint smile from her.

After a quiet dinner, one where Asami only spoke one word answers, Tonraq and Korra led her to the room next to Korra’s.

She dropped her bag onto the bed, but stood there for a long moment, unable to think of what to do now.

A mixture of rage and grief bubbled deep within her. One that could lead her to do something very dangerous.

Inside that bag, she had her disguise. She could do it. She could don it, and the Blue Spirit would roam Korra’s home. But who were her targets? No, if she unleashed it here, she’d likely kill someone innocent.

But she needed to release this rage. She needed to get it out.

She stormed into the hallway, but then had no idea where to go. This entire place was a maze to her, and she didn’t want to be lost.

Korra’s door was open however. Without thinking it through, she pushed it open.

Korra stood using the crutches Asami had made ages ago, before all this pain.

Korra sat down, startled. “Asami?”

Asami felt the rage bubble through her belly, the intensity to the point where she wanted to rip herself to pieces. She kicked the door shut behind her, and marched over to Korra. She grabbed Korra’s shoulders, but her hands and arms trembled with the intensity of the energy that surged in her. She searched Korra’s face, unsure exactly what she searched for.

“Asami, what?”

Words. Asami couldn’t form words yet. She leaned forward and kissed Korra fiercely. Foolish, dangerous, but Korra was right here.

And kissing her back with a ferocity that nearly matched her own.

Asami pushed her down against the sheets. That rage, the pain, the desperate need to be touched howled through her sinews. She kissed Korra again, and her hand slid down Korra’s side.

Korra’s hands slid around her, pulling her close, as she kissed her back.

Too many clothes. Asami slid her hands under Korra’s nightshirt, and the touch against her bare skin was a jolt to Asami’s brain.

She pulled back, suddenly afraid of herself, and yet, she couldn't stop. “Please,” Asami whispered. She pushed Korra’s hand toward her groin, and Korra’s eyes widened.

Korra licked her lips. “Are — are you sure?”

Asami growled and threw off her pants and underwear in reply. “Fuck me.”

Korra narrowed her eyes, and with surprising force, pushed herself up enough to wiggle free of her own pants, except it was too slow for Asami. She tugged them off and threw it on the ground.

Straddling Korra, she kissed her hard, desperately. Korra kissed her back and tugged at her shirt and jacket, and Asami tore off the rest of her clothes.

Hands everywhere, lips tracing her body, her body scorching. Korra’s fingers brushed exactly where Asami needed. She pushed her hip toward Korra’s hand, and in response, Korra slid two fingers into Asami and began to slowly thrust, but that was too slow. “Harder.”

Korra adjusted her speed and strength, all the while kissing Asami. Each thrust, each kiss, all of it jolted into her, through her, and the rage and pain bloomed like a bubble about to burst. Her entire body moved with Korra’s thrusts. She hissed, “More, just more.”

With surprising force, Korra pushed her onto the bed fully, straddled Asami’s right leg, and did exactly as Asami asked.

Asami’s entire body shuddered. Sweat poured down her back, and she shut her eyes.

Asami’s body arced, her hips thrust upward. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. The orgasm hit in a tidal wave.

It flashed through her limbs and body, and she shook and trembled in a soft cry, unable to control her body as the waves thrashed through every cell. The bubble burst, and the rage flooded everywhere else.

Shuddering, Asami went limp against the sheets, unable to hold onto Korra any further. Her entire body was on fire still.

Korra shook with a cry, only to collapse next to her, breathing heavily.

Asami laid there and struggled to catch her breath. That’s when she realized how cold the room was. She shivered violently, not from the aftershocks this time, but from the sudden cold against her sweat-soaked skin.

“Oh.” Korra rolled and tugged the blanket out from under her. “Here.” She pulled it over Asami. Her breaths had started to even out, and she bent toward the ground as if to pick up Asami’s clothes.

Except now that the rage was no longer festering, Asami didn’t want to be alone. She grabbed Korra’s arm. “Please,” she said again, and this time it wasn’t desire that undercut the word but sadness. “Stay?”

Korra looked at her. “You… sure?”

Tears blurred her vision. She tugged on Korra’s arm.

Again she tried to find words, but still none came. She couldn’t think of what to say. The intensity of their sex, the way it had burned all the rage out of Asami, but instead of warmth and love, it’d left her only with a deep sadness and loneliness.

Korra wrapped her arms tight around Asami and kissed her forehead. This was a terrible idea, Asami knew this, and yet, she was exhausted. She wrapped herself tighter around Korra, her face pressed into Korra’s shoulder.

Korra held onto her just as tight.

<<........>>

Asami woke with a start to the sensation of a body pressed up against her. She jerked upright, only to realize it was freezing, and still dark. Confusion mixed with fear pressed against her, until she felt the person shift next to her.

“Asami?” Korra’s sleepy voice cut through her bout of confusion and fear.

She looked over to see Korra blink at her and rub her eyes. They were both naked, and abruptly, the events of the prior day flashed through Asami’s mind.

Wow, she really hadn't given this any thought.

She’d been caught up in the intensity of her emotions, in a blind rage and need.

The memory of it exhausted her. Being here, in this room with Korra, was not wise, but the cold got to her. Reluctantly, she slid back under the covers. Korra radiated heat, and she pressed up against the warmth.

“I am here,” she whispered. “And so are you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are?” Confusion colored Korra’s voice.

Asami sighed. Why were words so difficult?

“How are you feeling?” Korra asked after a very long silence.

“I don’t know.” Asami pressed her face into Korra’s shoulder. She felt embarrassed at how carnal her desire had been last night. “I— I guess I needed last night, but… trust is still broken.”

“Then I’ll do my best to earn it back.”

Asami lifted her head and frowned down at Korra. “That will be difficult, do you realize?” She tugged the blanket tighter around herself. “You broke the pact. Do you understand why it all was so hurtful?”

Korra looked at her with tears in her eyes. “I lashed out and used your trauma to attack you. I didn’t think, Asami. I was full of so much rage at the gentle care you gave. It kept making me feel things…” Korra sighed. “I know nothing I say or do can really repair that…”

“Oh stop it.” Asami huffed. She struggled for a long moment to organize her thoughts. “Korra, there are things you can do to repair it. But until you believe that, I can’t trust you fully. At least not in all layers.”

Now that she’d spoken, the words rushed out of her. “That doesn’t mean, I want you gone from my life. I never wanted that. But you running away? You stabbing me in the back like that? I thought you wanted me gone.”

She settled her head next to Korra’s and trailed her fingers over the Avatar’s biceps, which were much thinner than before Zaheer. That hurt to see. “I doubted everything we shared. Wondered if you’d been lying to me the whole time. Using me as a tool. It left me in a dark place. I don’t know how to rebuild, but I do want to.”

“Is that why you came?” Hope trickled through Korra’s voice.

“Yes? Isn’t that obvious?” Asami rolled her eyes.

Korra was silent for a long moment, her eyes focused on Asami, and her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Do you want to come with me to Master Katara’s healing sessions?”

Asami rolled onto her back to consider the question. “That implies you want me to stay.”

“I do, but only if you want it too.”

“It is doable. I can work with Kanna on what my projects in Republic City need, though most of that doesn’t really need me. I believe I wrote you how bullheaded bureaucrats are and how much I hate talking with them?”

“You were pretty detailed, and honestly, they were kind of funny.”

“Funny?” Asami glanced at her, confused.

Korra rolled onto her side and reached for her end table. She struggled to balance herself, gave up in a huff, and instead pushed herself backward until her back was against the wall.

Asami made no move to help her. For one, she was far too cold to move out from under the blankets, and secondly, Korra hadn’t given her any indication she wanted help.

“Here.” Korra patted a carefully arranged stack of papers and envelopes. “Yours stays by my side so I can reread them.”

“What?” Asami stared at the very large pile. She had been rather verbose, mostly to get the thoughts out, though she couldn’t recall sending that many. “I didn’t send… oh. Dammit, Kyung.” Asami covered her head with the blanket. “She sent them for me!”

“Was that bad?”

“Some of it was! I vomited out my thoughts to you between meetings. Most weren’t meant to be sent.”

“Oh. Well, I got them. I liked reading them. It really helped me to know how you felt. It’s why I made progress actually.”

Asami slowly pulled the blanket down to look up at Korra. The fact Korra was still nude was highly distracting. “Wait, what? How did my nonsense help?”

Korra sifted through the pile and pulled out a letter, one that was heavily creased. “It gave me hope when I had none. A light in the dark. But your last one worried me.” She unfolded the paper and to Asami’s mortification read it out loud.

“Dear Korra,

Every day I enter this office. I look at the view of the vines. I think of our times exploring them, mapping them, and I think of how those maps are rebuilding the city. Building new infrastructure. New trains. New roads, new pedestrian walkways.

I think of how I’m my father’s daughter. The anger and rage that boils in me. The fact I came so, so close to zapping Zaheer’s head with my electroshock glove just to shut him up. It would have killed him, you know. The voltage I had set the glove for far exceeded safe levels, but with you taken, I was so angry. I wanted to rip apart every Red Lotus person I saw.

But I’m also my mother’s daughter. I rebuild. Repair. Fix.

Killing him wouldn't have fixed anything.

I don’t know how to fix my heart.

I fill it with work. With projects. With meetings. With irritating bureaucrats who don’t understand the meaning of silence — do they love their voices that much? Why must they spend every second of the meeting talking or pressuring me to talk? I want to string them up and have you punch them, but that is no longer an option.

I can’t seem to escape you. Every where I go, you saturate the space. We were inseparable, now half a planet rests between us. Between our hearts.

That future we had been building? It has fallen to ash. Burned and boiled by poisoning. So much poisoning.

Will you recognize me now? Will you still care for me? Even knowing what I’ve done to survive post-Zaheer?

There are things I did that I’m not proud of. People have died by my hands. I can claim I did it in self-defense, but truth was, the rage had boiled over and I struck too hard. The rage killed them.

I should have been faster. Should have rushed straight to you. If I had reached you in time, would it have made a difference? Or would I have gotten myself killed?

These thoughts haunt me. I feel I have failed you, and that is why you have discarded me like a useless tool.

And yet, I still love you. I can’t stop loving you. You’re my heart, and that is why I am a dark, black hole. I live and yet do not live. I want to be there with you, and yet I am here. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to keep going. The darkness is swallowing me up.”

Korra tapped the paper. “This one I shared with Katara. I needed someone to help me understand. Because it scared me.”

“That one was never meant to be sent,” Asami said, weakly. Hadn’t she thrown that away? She’d written it at the office, but she couldn’t remember what she’d done with it.

“Yeah, I did wonder about that.” Korra held up the letter, and sure enough, it was her handwriting. “You always sign it, and this one you didn’t.” She looked down at the letter and smoothed it in her fingers. “Katara said I was punishing myself. I had to choose to heal, so that you had that option too.”

Korra gently folded the letter and placed it back in the stack. “That letter is when I chose to heal. Not just for myself but for you. And I know it’s going to be hard. I know I will mess up, but I don’t ever want to run from you again. I want you to be with me.”

Asami thought through Korra’s speech. Somehow, despite the fact that letter never should have been sent, it had caused ripples of good. Her pain had healed something, and Asami didn’t know what to think of that.

“I guess you expect me to say ‘I choose to heal too,’ don’t you?” she said bitterly.

“I — I wasn’t really thinking about that?” Korra frowned. “I just wanted you to know why I wrote you. What led me to it.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Asami shivered and tugged the blankets tighter. “I will go with you then.”

Maybe in time she could promise more, but her heart was still too fragile for that.

[astranauticus]

Do mechanites cry?

[baeshijima]

and if i said i have yet another wip which is a various blue lock x reader fic series what then 🧍‍♀️

[ripcarrotchan]

taro buys jiro a weird-looking kitty plushie

(this is a scene from my fic about taro and jiro going to the park and jiro getting a plushie! ;;w;;)

[sesamestreep]

and all i want's a confidante

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: After an important fundraiser in LA, Karen pushes Foggy to make a move, with mixed results. [AKA - further adventures in The West Wing AU] A/N: part 2 of the west wing AU has arrived! full content warnings and tags are as always on AO3 via the link above, so I recommend checking that out if you want to see that before reading. otherwise, the gang is just having some fun and flirty times in LA, because why not. It's the 90s! Karen and Foggy are bantering! Matt continues to be a sexual enigma! [old timey radio announcer voice] What's going to happen next??

Foggy flops back onto the bed in his hotel room with an unflattering grunt that he’d be embarrassed by in any other context. Right now, however, they’ve just finished their fundraiser in LA, which means he’s been awake and working for the last 26 hours and he’s still in his tux and his terrible dress shoes and his back is killing him. Karen is flitting around in the background, rattling off things he should probably be paying attention to and organizing his stuff into piles. Karen’s a fantastic assistant and he’d be dead in the water without her but he does draw the line at asking her to do certain things for him, packing being one of them. Sure, she does sometimes have to pick up his dry cleaning or remind him of family members’ birthdays as they approach, but he knows, in a way both nebulous and stone cold certain, that one day she’s going to fly the coop and do something truly incredible with her life and then he’ll be the boss she talks about at parties, laughing that she had to pack his suitcases for him like a child and why did he always compulsively insist on bringing swim trunks and too many pairs of socks wherever he went? What was up with that guy? He'd really like to avoid that fate, if possible.

“Stop that,” he says, from his spot on the bed. 

Karen freezes, guiltily. “I could just—”

“No. You’re not my mother, remember?”

She fixes him with an amused look. “You still let your mom help you pack?”

“Shut up,” Foggy says, letting his head loll back on the pillows. “You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “Christ alive, that was a long day.”

“Do we have any other kind?”

“Hey, I let you leave the office before midnight at least once last week!”

“You’re right,” Karen says with an eyeroll. “What a generous boss. What a sane and normal industry we work in.”

“I’m thinking about firing you again.” 

“Good luck finding anyone else to put up with you.”

Foggy groans again, this time in acknowledgement. “You should go get some sleep.”

“I can’t!" she exclaims. "I’m too wired! I met Ted Danson at the fundraiser—”

“You told me.”

“—and he asked what moisturizer I used. He called my skin flawless. Can you believe that?!”

“Actually, no,” Foggy says. “At this point, you’ve told me this story a hundred times and it allegedly happened only three hours ago. So I’m starting to have my doubts.”

Karen throws a balled up pair of socks at his head. “You’re just mad because your celebrity crush called my skin flawless. You know, it’s not my fault you barely mingled.”

“Actually, I’m mad because you met my celebrity crush and I didn’t get to because I was too busy talking to various political operatives about a flag burning amendment to meet anyone cool.”

“Oooh,” Karen coos. “I’m going to tell Hot Matt that you don’t think he’s cool.”

Foggy sits up indignantly. “First of all, I said I didn’t get to meet anyone cool. I knew Matt already. And secondly, you have got to stop calling him ‘Hot Matt.’ One day you’re going to do that to his face and both of our careers in politics will be over.”

“You mean one day you’re going to call him that to his face and then your career will be over because you’ll go into hiding to avoid ever speaking to him again,” Karen replies, calmly, as she continues to fuss with his things.

“Leave my socks and my love life alone, Page.”

“I wasn’t aware we were talking about your love life,” she says deftly. It occurs to him again to be thankful that, of the two of them, she never went to law school because she’s already way too good at arguing.

“Shut up,” he says, flopping on his back again. “And seriously, go to your own room. I want to take my pants off and I have a policy of not doing that in front of my subordinates.”

“You know who you should take your pants off in front of?”

“A buttery smooth transition from Miss Karen Page, ladies and gentlemen…”

“Hot Matt.”

“Please stop calling him that.”

“You spent the whole night with him! Just ask him out!”

Foggy sighs. “You make it sound like we were having some kind of romantic interlude. I spent the whole night with him discussing the merits of amending the Constitution!”

The mattress dips as Karen comes to sit on the opposite side from him. “As if that’s not your version of a romantic interlude,” she says, not unkindly.

Foggy knows better than to argue with that point, but if he was going to spend the night arguing with a hot dude about Con Law, he would prefer it to involve some making out too, at the very minimum. The sad fact of his dream date night not changing very much since his law school days bums him out immediately. 

“He did great tonight, huh?” Karen asks, after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah. Everyone was very impressed. And as you know, Jeri doesn’t impress easily.”

“Is that why you won’t make a move? You’re worried about having to work with him in the future?”

“Honestly, I wish I was that smart,” Foggy says, turning to look at her but not going through the effort to actually sit up again. “It’s just some classic fear of rejection; nothing more, nothing less.”

“I think he likes you,” Karen says, quietly. 

“You always think people like me. That’s why I keep you around.”

“Foggy—”

“Karen,” he says, in the same disappointed tone of voice. “I’m serious. You have this mistaken impression that I'm some sort of catch, and I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists. “You’re funny and smart and kind and, oh, right! You’re the deputy chief of staff for the freakin’ White House, Foggy! Like, show some self-respect.”

“I notice you didn’t include ‘unbelievably handsome and debonair’ in that description,” he says, hating that he means it on some level.

“You’re my boss,” Karen says, with a disgusted nose-wrinkle. “Contractually speaking, I find you hideous.”

“So mean,” Foggy sniffs. “And right when I’m feeling so vulnerable.”

“Ask out Hot Matt, you coward!”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, you maniac!”

“Well, you know he’s staying here too, and he probably just got back to his room, just like we did. So you could easily go see him before we leave.”

“That’s not the only obstacle, and you know it,” he says.

“He is not out of your league, and if you say so or imply it one more time, I’m going to pinch you so hard, you’ll tell the story of it to your grandchildren.”

“You literally call him ‘Hot Matt!’ Of course he’s out of my league! And—ow! What the hell?”

“I warned you,” Karen sing-songs.

“As I was saying,” Foggy says, rubbing the spot on his arm where his assistant just injured him, “I’m not even worried about that. I’m not asking him out because I don’t think he’s gay.”

“You’re not gay either.”

“Fine," he says, with a frustrated sigh. "I’m not asking him out because I don’t think he’s gay, bi, pan, whatever. I don’t think he’s into guys, like I am.”

“You can’t know that until you ask, though,” Karen points out, gently.

“I know, but… you’ve never been a guy asking out another guy. Some dudes get so weird about it. Some of them get violent.”

“Matt is a bleeding heart liberal from New York City. He wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know how someone’s going to react until they do,” Foggy says, seriously. “I agree that my chances are better with him than a republican from Texas or something, but there’s still no way to know. And if I never ask him out, I can pretend he’d be cool about it either way. But once I do, I will know, for sure and forever. And sometimes you find out something you'd rather not know about a person you admire.”

“And sometimes you get a super hot boyfriend out of the ordeal,” Karen says, brightly, though slightly falsely, attempting to lift the somber mood Foggy has put them in.

“He’s Catholic, Karen," he counters, trying not to be too harsh. He knows her heart is in the right place, but he needs her to understand his hesitation, too. "I mentioned a donor from New York and he said he knew him from church. Which he goes to. Every Sunday.”

“There are queer Catholics, Foggy. Don’t be stupid.”

“There are, but mostly there’s a lot of queer former Catholics. Matt’s a grown man in his thirties who still goes to mass regularly and brings it up with near strangers at democratic fundraisers.”

“Still, I think this is another excuse.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think,” he says with a shrug.

Karen rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, you do.”

“Yes, I do. Give me the phone.”

“Really?” she asks, surging to her feet with excitement and pulling the receiver off the base.

“Yes. But let it be known that I’m not doing this because I’m brave or because I think he’ll say yes," Foggy replies. "I’m doing it because I will not put up with you hounding me about this on Air Force One in front of everyone.”

“Attaboy,” Karen says, putting the phone in his outstretched hand and patting his knee encouragingly. 

Foggy leans over to the bedside table and plugs Matt’s room number from the message he left earlier into the keypad. Karen, for all of her teasing, is sitting tensely with her fingers knit together in what looks like an excruciating configuration. As much as he wishes she’d let this go, her cheerleading does mean a lot to him. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. Well, he’d have his pants off already, that’s for sure, but other than that—

“Hello?” a voice calls over the phone. Foggy shouldn’t assume but it does sound like a woman. It’s definitely not Matt, though, whoever it is.

“Hi, uh—I’m so sorry.” Foggy laughs nervously. “I'm sorry if I woke you, I was looking for—I must have the wrong number.”

There’s mumbling in the background, before the voice returns to the line. “You’re looking for Matt?”

“Uh, yes?” 

Karen’s eyes widen in question. She’s only hearing half of this, but Foggy himself doesn’t know what’s going on, so he shrugs in a gesture that must look panicked because her face falls in response.

“Yeah, he just got out of the shower,” the voice says. “Hold on.”

“Oh, I don’t—” It’s too late, though. Foggy can hear the shuffling of the phone being handed off. He should hang up. He hasn’t said his name yet. He can still salvage this.

“Hello?” This time it is unmistakably Matt’s voice, which is warm and low and a little gravelly in a way that Foggy absolutely does not think about at all during inappropriate times. Never once has that happened.

“Matt,�� Foggy says, too loud and too bright for 2 AM.

“Foggy,” Matt replies, sounding pleased if a little alarmed. “Hi. Is it, um—Are you okay?”

As if Matt Murdock would be his first call in a crisis, Foggy thinks. They barely know each other, and he has Karen, after all. Presumptuous asshole. Though, if he's being honest, he wishes he couldn't imagine Matt coming to his rescue, but it turns out he definitely can. He's imagining it right now and it's definitely...a thought he should deal with later, when they're not actually on the phone together anymore. He just needs to focus on getting through this conversation without fully humiliating himself. That's an achievable goal, as far as he's concerned. Or so he hopes.

“Yes, fine!” he basically shouts, when he realizes Matt asked him a question there somewhere and he hasn't actually answered it yet. God, why can’t he stop yelling? Normal voice, regular volume, deep breaths. “I’m so sorry if I, um, interrupted anything—I mean, you. Or your guest. Not that I—that’s none of my business, of course.”

“You didn’t,” Matt says, patiently. “The only thing you interrupted was my shower.”

“You’re a much kinder man than me,” Foggy says, for no good reason. “If someone interrupted my shower, I’d, well…”

Matt, god bless him, seems to be waiting for the rest of the sentence. “You’d…?” he prompts.

“I’d, uh, I’d be such a bitch about it,” Foggy finishes, pathetically. “Listen, I know it’s late, and you’ve got company, so I won’t keep you. I just wanted to be sure you knew how much we all appreciated your help tonight, with the polling data and your analysis of everything. Your insight was very valuable. So, uh, thank you.”

“Oh, well, thanks, Foggy. You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry again about the timing.”

“No, there’s no need. Uh, it was sweet of you to call.”

Sweet. Foggy suppresses a gag. Even the open minded guys only call you ‘sweet’ when they think of you like a brother. This is brutal.

“That’s me,” he says. Too brightly. What a tryhard. “I’m a sweetheart.”

Karen makes a horrified face across from him at the same time as Matt’s surprised chuckle comes through the speaker in his ear. “That you are,” he says, and it doesn’t sound brotherly, but maybe Foggy is just being delusional. There’s some more mumbling in the background—the voice of the other person with him—and then Matt is back. “Listen, I have to go.”

“Yes, of course! Please apologize to your, um, date on my behalf for the interruption.”

“Oh, she doesn’t care,” he replies easily, and somehow Foggy can picture the nonverbal conversation Matt is having with what must be a beautiful woman as he tries to get off the phone with some madman. “But thank you for the call.”

“Thank you again for tonight. For your help tonight, that is!”

“Absolutely," Matt says, all charm. "Give me a call if you’re ever in New York.”

“I very frequently am,” Foggy says, as chipper as he can manage.

“Great. We’ll grab a drink or something. Talk shop.”

Foggy fights a wave of nausea. “Sounds good. You do the same if you’re ever in D.C.”

“I certainly will,” Matt says. “Tell Karen hello from me. I didn’t get to see her at the party.”

“Oh, I will tell her,” Foggy says, staring directly at her. “You can count on that.”

Matt laughs, and Foggy can guess it’s because he somehow knows. “Okay. Safe travels,” he says, just softly and sincerely enough that Foggy will be thinking about it for days.

“Yes, thanks. Uh, good night.”

“Bye.”

Foggy hands the receiver over to Karen without a word and she scurries to replace it, looking sheepish.

“Hot Matt says hello,” Foggy says, uselessly.

“You didn’t ask him out?” Karen asks.

“Someone else answered. A woman. She answered because he was getting out of the shower. You know why people take showers with company over?”

“Yes, I—”

“Because they just got through having sex with company! That’s why!”

“I know, Foggy. I know.”

“He picked up some girl at the fundraiser,” Foggy says, burying his face in his hands. “I told you he was straight!”

“Again, you also sleep with women sometimes and that doesn’t make you straight.”

“Still, it’s answer enough, isn’t it?”

Karen crosses her arms over her chest. “What did he say?”

“When?”

“When you just talked to him for five minutes! Did he spend that whole time talking about how much he loves exclusively hooking up with women?”

“No, he said…he said I was sweet,” Foggy says, fully aware of how pathetic he sounds. “And to call if I’m ever in New York.”

“Really?” Karen exclaims.

“He wants to grab drinks and ‘talk shop,’ okay? It’s nothing to get excited over.”

“Aren’t you always complaining that your dates are terrible because all you can talk about is work and they get bored of it?" she asks, unimpressed with his excuses. "Talking shop is, like, your favorite thing, Foggy!”

“I don’t think he meant it that way. Not with a woman he’d just slept with right there.”

“I don’t think so either,” Karen says, nodding sagely. “But you know, the door is open.”

“What door?”

She gestures vaguely into the middle distance, trying to articulate something. “The door to…something more!”

“Karen Page: Poet Laureate,” Foggy says, with a grin, before she leans over and punches his shoulder. 

“I’m serious,” she says, getting off the bed. “I think you’re in his thoughts now.”

The idea of it makes Foggy weirdly pleased, though he doesn’t say so. There’s just some vindictive satisfaction to it. If he’s going to be thinking of Matt, it’s only fair that Matt thinks of him, even if it’s not in the same way or with the same frequency. It’s not the same as having his feelings returned, but there’s a glow to it nonetheless and it's enough to give him the most dangerous thing of all: hope.

[kindahoping4forever]

on your WIP list, are ones that have a ship name for the guys in the title still reader x stories or are those slash 👀

I'd say it's a pretty even split between the two tbh 👀

[felixvanhuss]

My Tav

Is such a cutie

[raeofgayshine]

Staring at the ceiling, thinking about the fic I wrote for a fandom I will not name that came from a deeply personal place as a teenager who was suicidal and lived in fear it was one of many reasons I would be impossible to love. And how it never got the happy ending I planned out because I started college and got too ashamed of the fandom to finish, but I think about it all the time and wish there was a world I could give my teenage self what I desperately needed

[hylianengineer]

Oof, I didn't think I was gonna be able to do the Comfortember prompt for grief and now I've made myself sad with a Cyberwoman AU. Sad, but good sad. That episode was heartwrenching, and while I did not fix it, at least I gave the characters some fucking closure. Which was both comfort and MAJOR emotional whump. What can I say, that's just what grief is like.

[occudo]

An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 

You mirror their gesture as well. 

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, ��Fair, fair.” 

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 

You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here. 

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 

“Okay. Just text me.” 

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.���

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

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[velvetypoets]

Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

————————————————————————————————————————

It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.