#when i say that i screamed this whole chapter on my first read

[mxtxfanatic]

Jin Guangyao and Qin Su: A Lesson in Gaslighting

So this is one of my favorite scenes in the book on account of how absolutely unhinged it is. Jin Guangyao is someone who will go above and beyond in his commitment to the bit, using any and all means to maintain his web of lies. But his greatest weapon, by far, is his ability to gaslight via his expression and words. Upon his introduction as a character and not just conversation topic in the book, we are quickly given a confrontation between Jin Guangyao and his previously blissfully content wife, Qin Su in Chapt. 47 (exr). However, as the confrontation escalates, Jin Guangyao puts his gaslighting skills in action. When Qin Su confronts him about marrying her while knowing they are siblings, this is said:

Qin Su bursted out crying, “You’re lying! Things are already like this and you’re still lying to me—well I don’t believe it!”

Jin GuangYao sighed, “A-Su, you were the one who told me to say so. Now that I’ve said so, you refuse to believe me. This is indeed quite troubling.”

She’s made the villain by saying she doesn’t believe him. He is making her the villain by saying that he’s only telling her what “she wants” to hear, making her not believing him not because he is a career liar but because of some fault of hers. When she continues to disbelieve his lies, he pivots to telling her that her being upset is only a mind game, and that since they’ve lived so long “as husband and wife” there’s obviously no issue with the incest except what her mind makes of it, like incest isn’t a big fucking deal breaker????

Watching the ashes fall to the ground bit by bit, he spoke in a somewhat dejected tone, “A-Su, we’ve been husband and wife for so many years. We’ve always respected each other in peaceful harmony. As a husband, I’d like to think that I treat you well. The fact that you’re acting like this really hurts my feelings.”...

...Jin GuangYao, “A-Su, before you knew of it, didn’t we live perfectly fine? You only felt uncomfortable and began to vomit today, now that you know. We can see that this isn’t anything at all. It won’t be able to do any physical harm to you. Your mind is the only thing doing all this.”

And when that doesn’t work, he tries to appeal to her reputation:

Jin GuangYao, “If the person could tell you, then they can also tell other people. If they could write one letter, then they can also write a second, a third, a countless number of letters. What do you intend on doing? Allow such a thing to be leaked? A-Su, I’m begging you. Please, no matter for which feelings that have existed between us, tell me where the people mentioned in the letter are. Who was the one that told you to come back and read the letter?”

Notice that he is still attempting to appeal to her using their affection as spouses. He is refusing to acknowledge the truth of them being biological siblings so that he still has plausible deniability in case he can still convince Qin Su to believe his words over her secret informant. But this all hinges on whether or not he can weed out the informant to kill before the information becomes public, hence him subtly reminding her that if his reputation is damned for the information, hers will be too. But denying it doesn’t work, convincing her to overlook it doesn’t work, appealing to her former affections of him doesn’t work, so what’s next? Making himself the victim, of course!

A mourning warmth filled the eyes that Jin GuangYao looked at her with, “A-Su, back then, I really didn’t have another path to walk. I wanted to keep you in the dark for your whole life. I didn’t want you to know about this. Now, though, it’s been entirely ruined by the one who told you. You think that I’m dirty. You think that I’m disgusting. All of these are fine, but you’re my wife. How would others see you? How would they talk of you?”

And then we end back at a more direct appeal to reputation: “well if I’m disgusting, what will others think about you?” In an almost non-sequitur, Jin Guangyao returns to the topic of Jin Rusong, saying that the child “had to die” and subtly admitting that he likely–but always with plausible deniability–had something to do with his son-nephew’s death, causing Qin Su to slap him. Jin Guangyao immediately shuts down the conversation.

Jin GuangYao, “What are you talking about? You must be feeling quite unwell. Your father has already gone to journey and cultivate. I’ll send you off sometime soon as well, and you can enjoy being in your father’s company. Let’s finish this quickly. There’s still quite a number of guests outside. There’s still the Discussion Conference tomorrow.”

Deny, deflect, pretend that it is the other person who has lost their grip on reality, never directly admit to any accusation so that you have an out, and always, always maintain that genial smile. Poor Qin Su never stood a chance.

[kyouka-supremacy]

(╥﹏╥)

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

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 22.5k

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 FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, lovely hot nerdy jk ): (i think i speak for all women when i say that nerdy jungkook is the best jungkook say I IF U AGREE),[explicit sexual content: masturbation (f)], has the budding romance finally hit the second towers? read more to find out

NOTES hey everyone thank you so much for the overwhelming support on this silly little fic. i hope you guys enjoy this update and let me know your thoughts in the replies/reblog section and in my inbox, wherever you prefer hehe <3

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You usually finish prepping for the office at around 7:40 am, just enough time left to walk to the station and catch your bus at exactly 8 am.

As of now, it's 7 but the clock's longer hand has moved past the 40-minute mark, and you are still in your living room, supposedly all done and ready to go – except that you're stuck on the floor looking at your laptop perched on your coffee table, staring at it blankly, the HR email looking right back at you; almost daunting.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this event is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this meeting is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You've been reading it over and over again you're sure you can recite it with ease if prompted. It's in the hopes that the name Jeon Jungkook will suddenly disappear somewhere in the email – that maybe you missed some detail, and it doesn't actually mention his name at all. You read the email repeatedly wishing that it is just a glitch in the system and what you found out about yesterday are all just a part of your extreme delusion. Maybe it's one of those nights with Jimin at his apartment where you would indulge in a little bit of guilty pressure – pots, to be exact – and just let it take you to a whole new world.

But you and Jimin didn't go home together last night, and you definitely did not smoke pot. He went straight to the airport and you straight home with nothing but mixed feelings inside, and you were more than thankful that Jimin was in a bout of panic himself about not getting there on time that he didn't notice you squirming in his passenger seat.

There is a vague memory in your head with him telling you he was going to come with Namjoon, but you can't be for sure. Everything that transpired that night is all reduced down to the very moment in the comfort room when you realized the glaring information about Jungkook being three eggs in your basket: first, he's Jimin's cousin. Second, he's an executive in your company – a CTO, to be exact – and while you aren't exactly working under his department and they are all the way up ten floors above you, he's still technically your boss according to the hierarchy. The son of the CEO of the very company you are working at. Not only is he the CTO, but third he's also your neighbor. Someone you've met weeks ago whom you may have developed a growing relationship with that will now possibly be bleak in a matter of hours or days depending on if you are going to tell him or if he finds out.

That is the thing that you're currently debating with yourself about as you let your eyes glide over the unsuspecting email from HR for the nth time.

7:50 am – the clock on your screen reads.

You think about the dock pay that you're gonna get if you come to work late. At this point, you can run to the station and still catch your bus, but you have to decide in a minute for that to be possible.

Groaning, you feel defeated as you shut your laptop close and stand up from the floorboards, your eyes going over to the door across from you which earns yourself a wince.

I'm gonna get a dock pay and it will all be Jungkook's fault. That jerk.

Okay – obviously, he's far from a jerk and he has nothing to do with any of this. You just like blaming anybody.

You sigh, grabbing your bag, finally making up your mind to just go and see for yourself what today has to offer you. A little optimism, if you will. But if you manage to bump into Jungkook at that company you aren't sure if you're not going to do something embarrassing because one thing about you, you do not know how to face certain challenges in life like a matured individual – you always have to be a little overboard and overdramatic with it.

You were heading towards the door when you suddenly remember your ID.

Your ID. Funny.

As you pick it up off the coffee table, you think about how you don't really wear it on the way to work and on your way home. You don't like the feeling of the lanyard wrapping around the skin of your nape, so you've always just worn it when you're in the office where it is mandatory. Otherwise, you make sure to take it off.

Suddenly, you think about a scenario where you're the kind of employee to wear their ID all the time, and those nights where you'd go to Midday straight from work to have dinner with Jungkook would've turned out differently because then if you were to have worn your ID during one of those meetings, he would've figured out that you're working at the same company. And maybe... the conversation about his relation to Jimin would've came up.

And maybe, you won't feel so... complicated about the whole thing.

How – in the two weeks that you've spent with him – do you know too much yet so little about him? How did you ever not ask each other where you work and how did this all come to you like a landslide and now you have no way out?

God's sake, you know about his dog, and you've exchanged numbers... and yet...

Although, granted, maybe you should've asked for each other's socials? Does he have Instagram? Twitter? Maybe if you had exchanged those sooner, you would've gotten to know him more and made the connections you only recently found out.

You want so badly to reach out to Jimin to talk to him about all of this. But he hasn't really contacted you since he sent off Namjoon to the airport. Maybe he really did leave with him, and it isn't just your imagination when he said something about going there last night when you sneaked out of the party.

But deep inside... you do not really want to talk to him about any of this, at all.

It is, to simply put, awkward.

You feel ashamed for gushing about your neighbor that is apparently the same person as his cousin. Feel embarrassed about how you ogled over him to Jimin when in fact, they're related. You don't know about other people, but you know the unspoken rule about not dating your friends' relatives? Not like you're dating Jungkook, but you have a crush on him for fuck's sake. The strings do not even stop at their blood relation because it extends to your workplace as well.

You know Jimin well enough to feel confident about not getting judged by him if you were to tell him about it, and if he actually does, he will directly say it to your face as far as you're concerned. But...

It's just all too awkward to tell anyone about. You're in too deep in the sea of embarrassment and shame you cannot think of ways to get out of it.

Your head is starting to hurt, and you know it's the sign to stop thinking. So, you shut up all the voices in your head and walk towards the door ready to go out, telling yourself that whatever happened, you're going to handle everything cooly like the grown woman you are.

Stepping outside the threshold of your apartment, you're just about to turn around to lock the door on your way out when suddenly, the door across yours opens and there welcomes you the man starring in your list of problems for the day: Jeon Jungkook, your neighbor Unit 446.

"Oh, hi. Good morning—"

You turn on your heel so quickly and open the door to your apartment so fast it's almost at the speed of light, entering your apartment once again and slamming the door closed, pressing your back on it as your eyes widen; heart beating at a staccato of thug, thug, thug as you take a moment to hold your breath.

What the fuck.

How in the hell is this the first time you see each other getting ready to work? It couldn't have happened in the first week you knew him or hell, the first day?! Why must you have bumped into him like that the moment you finally knew about who he is? Everything is getting way too ridiculous. It's like the universe is telling you once again that you'll always be her middle child: unfavorable by all ends.

"Shit." You hiss, biting your lip quite harshly as you think about how you must've looked like a goddamn fool turning on him like that for no reason. Jungkook must've been weirded the hell out – and rightfully so.

You face-palm. Damn, you were just telling yourself you're gonna handle everything like a grown, matured woman.

You unconsciously walk on your tippy toes on the way to the small window on the side of the door that lets you oversee outside your door, peeking from there like a creep as you watch Jungkook, still on his porch – with his grey coat over his arm – looking down on his phone and doing something with it.

That something is apparently sending you a text.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: why did u seem like u just saw a ghost?

The message read when you open your phone at the bell of notification. You haven't even read all of it yet when another one comes in.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: am I that appalling in the mornings? Haha 🥴

On any occasion, you would've laughed and go along with the joke, but you do not know what to say to him.

You stand there doing nothing, just staring at his two consecutive messages, poorly left on read. You purse your lips as you peek from the small window again, getting a glimpse of Jungkook standing still on his porch, eyes glued to his phone. He waits for awhile, and then you see him shaking his head with a hint of... smile on his face?

And then your phone dings once again.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:53am]: good morning by the way. Get safely to work

You stare at it so hard that the next second you look at the window, he isn't there anymore.

Letting out a heavy breath, you knock your head on the door, thinking about how you missed your 8 am bus and you have to wait for 30 minutes for another one to come and most especially, how you're going to get a dock pay for being late.

It's almost as if Jungkook is running for higher office the way his face is plastered all over the LED screens inside the building, showing the announcement of his ceremony. It's taunting almost, the way it was the first thing you see when you swiped your ID for entry.

Although, you do find it funny that it's the same man you just saw in front of you when you stepped outside of your place earlier this morning.

"Sol," you call your co-worker and also your friend, sliding your swivel chair closer to her desk. "Do we really have to go to the ceremony?" You ask, seeing that everybody in the office is already setting aside the stuff on their desks to head out to the 12th floor where the announcement ceremony will be held.

Sol fixes the post-it note on her computer first before turning to you, "Of course we do."

You pout at that.

"Is Ms. Jung really gonna be mad if we don't attend?"

"You know how she has this obsession of making our department look good, so I'm assuming yes." She answers, and you slump in your seat knowing damn well she's right to think that. Sol sees your seemingly grumpy disposition and asks, "Why? You don't wanna go?"

If only she knew.

You shake your head to her question.

"I just think it's gonna be boring," you shrug, the lie rolling on your tongue seamlessly.

"Eh, at least it's less work for today. Those things run for two hours and there's free lunch so that's that."

Events like these are supposed to be advantageous for you because again, Sol is right and those things do run for about two hours meaning less workload. Also, free lunch. Who doesn't like free stuff? But then again, Jungkook is going to be there and with your luck, you're starting to think that you're going to see more of him from now on. That is just how the world works against you.

"You're right." You say, frowning becoming more and more apparent, you're sure.

Sol chuckles at you and stands up herself, fixing her dress as you follow her out of the office.

Before you could completely go out though, you stop her on her tracks.

"Hey, do you think you have a face mask I can borrow?" You say, looking hopefully at her. Sol raises her brows, obviously confused at your strange request. Clearing your throat, you pretend to cough a little in your fisted hand. "I'm feeling a little under the weather today, but I drank my meds this morning. Forgot the mask." You reason with her, adding more lies to the conversation.

"Oh, I see. Okay, I think I have it." Sol perks up at the realization and you both enter your office once again, with your co-worker digging through her desk's drawer for the mask you were asking her for.

She hands it to you as soon as she finds it and you're quick to wear it around your mouth, silently rejoicing in your head at the brilliant last-minute plan you came up with in your head in order to avoid anything with Jungkook later. Not that you expect him to do something if he, indeed, sees you – you doubt he even will, given that the hall is huge, and you are planning to sit all the way back – but the mask is just a precautionary measure so there are less chances of him recognizing you or anything crazy like that.

Together, Sol and you ride the elevator down to the 12th floor and unsurprisingly, a lot of the company's employees are already there, finding their seats, chitchats heard across the hall.

"Sol, __!" Joonhwi, one of your co-junior accountants and also a friend, calls out to you both, separating himself from the other accountants and heading to your direction. "You're sick?" He asks as soon as he sees your face covered with the mask.

"A little." You reply.

Joonhwi nods his head and then say, "I thought you girls were planning to ditch the ceremony."

"I'll do anything to not see your face but then again we work together so I have no choice." Sol snarkily remarks.

"Sol, can you please refrain from professing your love to me with all these people around?" Joonhwi retorts back, smarmy and teasing, ever the expert on how to get on Sol's nerves.

"__, can you get this khia away from me?"

You laugh at both of their exchange, shaking your head at their silly antics. You don't know if Sol is just... emotionally constipated, but damn, she sure is clueless as hell about Joonhwi's feelings. It seems like everybody from the accounting department knows except for her.

Shaking your head, you go straight to the seats available with Joonhwi and Sol sitting on opposite sides of you.

"Anyway, I heard they're appointing Mr. Jeon's son." Joonhwi suddenly say.

Now that makes you squirm.

"Really?" You utter, just to give them a reaction.

Sol looks at you weird. "I thought everybody knew that?"

"Well, there are lots of Jeons in Korea..." you tell her, earning a laugh from Joonhwi which makes Sol frown.

"A man is not allowed to laugh in my vicinity, Joonhwi, shut up," she says rolling her eyes. Her tone shifts when she speaks to you though, suddenly sounding more gossip-y as she shows you a picture on her phone. "Look at the material, though,"

You look at the photo of a man who very much has the same and exact coloring of the one and only Jeon Jungkook you know and you have to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I mean, I've always thought Mr. Jeon was a DILF but his son is – damn." She adds, zooming in on Jungkook's professional head shot.

You and Joonhwi both give her the stinky eye.

"Have some class." you tell her, earning a laugh from both of them.

"For the record, you agreed to that before." Sol points out, referring to that dinner you three had at a barbecue house awhile ago. For the record, though, you were both drunk and Joonhwi had to haul Sol's ass back to her place and call Jimin to get you to yours.

"I refuse to acknowledge anything I've ever said when I was drunk."

"Okay but is anybody getting the urge to get transferred to the IT department expeditiously?" Sol jokes, obviously swooning over Jungkook.

Joonhwi snorts. "The CTO doesn't even go there."

"Killjoy much?" Sol frowns at him. "He'd visit, though. Imagine the eye candy."

You eye her in a teasing manner, "You have enough candy on your plate, Sol." And then you subtly look over Joonhwi.

Joonhwi himself doesn't seem to expect the insinuation, but nonetheless you know that he got the message of you implying he's good-looking and if Sol is looking for that, he's just there. That is why he suddenly loses his smirk and rests his back on the seat, crossing his arms as he retires himself from the conversation, obviously dodging your teasing.

Psh. Emotionally constipated co-worker number two.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sol asks, but she can't get an answer as the ceremony begins.

"Good morning, everyone. Today marks a significant moment as we gather to appoint our interim Chief Technology Officer," The host starts the introduction, "We are here to acknowledge the pivotal role of the CTO in our company's journey to ensure continuity in our innovation efforts. It is with great pleasure that I introduce Mr. Jeon Jungkook, our interim CTO, who has been selected to step into the position."

And there is him, in his grey suit that you've seen him in earlier. He's wearing his glasses as well, the one that has the thinner frame. You notice he switches between two kinds; he wears the thick-framed one off work and the thin-framed one during work, like right now. 

Jungkook smiles at the applause that reverberates all over the hall. There are LED screens that hang on both sides of the room and you can see his face clearly there. Sol gushes over how good he looks.

"Jesus, wow..." Sol whispers to herself, and you're sure she did not mean for you to hear that, so you try not to acknowledge it because deep inside, you agree with her. That's exactly your reaction when you saw him for the first time in the stairs of your apartment complex – and he didn't even clean up in his suit that time.

Jungkook stands on the podium with an easy-going smile on his face, his aura screaming confidence. He looks so sure of himself, like he's born to actually do this.

"Thank you, Mr. Park. Good day to all. I am deeply honored and humbled to accept the role of Chief Technology Officer at Blue Nexus Incorporation. As we navigate this interim period, my commitment is to uphold..."

You watch as he starts his speech, noting how well he speaks. You aren't a stranger to how people have different personalities when they are in and off work, but it's almost disorienting to see Jungkook going all professional, his voice soft but edgy at the same time, just enough for you and everyone to recognize a bit of authority in there.

He looks over the crowd, and for a brief second, you feel as if his eyes glossed over you far longer than he had other parts in the room.

But that thought dies down as quickly when he immediately goes back to speaking, and you're sure you just imagined it.

You're in the middle of your night routine when your phone suddenly dings.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:44pm]: just remembered we never really got around to that boxing machine, did we

Right. Today is Friday and you are supposed to go that boxing machine to determine if he's gonna supply your daily boba or if you're coming over to his place so he can cook you both a meal.

But that deal was made days ago when you still were clueless about his identity, and admittedly, you'd say that right now, you're doing anything to avoid him.

Scrolling through your message thread and seeing Jungkook's texts since that morning being left on read makes you feel bad. You know it isn't fair. It isn't nice to just suddenly go leave people dry like that, especially Jungkook who has been so strangely non-confronting about your sudden weird behavior.

It takes you a few minutes to give him a reply due to you erasing and retyping your message repeatedly.

You [10:47pm]: sorry ive been busy the whole day with work ):

Was what you lamely came up with. You couldn't have done better than that, to be honest with yourself.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:47pm]: I see Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:48pm]: so raincheck tonight?

You [10:48]: sorryyyy for cancellig im just feeling a little under the weather

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:49pm]: ohhhh ok ok sorry for texting late

You [10:50pm]: asbdbsfjshf its fine!!!!!!!!

Maybe you didn't think it through, but you find yourself typing the next message and hitting send way too quickly.

You [10:51pm]: maybe tomorrow?

You're thinking about taking it back, but Jungkook has already replied.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:51pm]: ok. I'll see you tomorrow 😊

Pursing your lips, you wonder what he's doing tonight.

Is he working? Maybe some take-home paperworks? What do CTOs even do? He must be really busy... though you think it has to be otherwise since he had the time to text you.

You stand up from the chair of your vanity table, patting your hair one last time and jumping to your bed, ready to overthink some more then sleep when an idea suddenly pops up into your head the moment your eyes lay on your phone.

Making yourself comfortable on your mattress, you pick up the phone from your night stand and unlock it, your fingers making quick work of opening the Instagram app and typing jeonjungkook on the search bar.

The results show you a few accounts that resemble the username you looked up, but as you check each one, none of them seems to belong to the man you're looking for. So, you try a few varieties: jungkook, jungkookjeon, jeon... JK?... but then you're sure you've milked out the last of your brain juice trying to come up with a possible username for him but to no avail.

Jimin must be following him, you think to yourself. Since Jimin is a snob on his verified and public account and isn't following anybody there, you go straight to his private account to try and find a Jungkook in his following but again – you guessed it, failed search.

"Does he not have an IG?" you ask yourself, feeling quite exhilarated.

You think about Twitter, but remembering Jungkook's face makes you share your head in disagreement with yourself. There is no way he has Twitter. That guy looks terminally offline and doesn't have the face of someone who likes tweeting in his leisure time.

You'd say it was curiosity rather than desperation when you decided to install Facebook and hoped to see some of him there. You did have little hopes though, as you started typing his name, thinking there was no way you'd see him on the app because, who even uses Facebook nowadays except moms and dads and grandparents?

But then as you jokingly type his name and enter it on the search bar, a few tagged pictures of him show up.

The first one is posted by a Jeon Junghyun, his brother, and the picture is from 2017. Said picture is of Jungkook at the airport sitting on his luggage, and the caption reads as: good luck in college brother.

You stare at the picture, noting how young he looked in it and suddenly feel disoriented when you see his arms with no ink around them. They're so bare, and he definitely looked more lean, not like the muscly guy you know him as now. He was starting college here, so he must've been only 19 in the photo... meaning he got his tattoos in the States while he was in college or maybe even later than that?

You click on Jungkook's page, the one that his brother tagged in the photo, but all you see is the default Facebook profile picture and a locked account.

Feeling disappointed at that, you go back to his brother's page and check it out, throwing all your shame away as you look through his photos.

He must've limited his audience since the public posts are all outdated, but there are a few pictures in which Jungkook is in them, as well as other recurring people who seem to be their parents.

There's a recent family picture of them in the Eiffel Tower – uploaded in 2022 – all four of them.

As you see Mr. Jeon, the CEO of your company, with his family, it's hard not to feel... whiplashed, for the lack of better term. From the looks of it, they seem to be... close? For the record, Jimin does not have any casual pictures of him with his parents, and as far as you know, they never went out on trips together – just galas and all that socialite events. You know they are only mere pictures, not solid enough to assume what Jungkook's relationship is with his family, but you're starting to think maybe it's a good one.

That'll honestly be surprising, given that every wealthy family you know has dysfunctional relationships. Nevertheless, it will be quite... adorable if what you think is true.

"Oh my god," you say, disbelieving, as you recognize Jimin in one of Junghyun's public photos while scrolling through more.

It's an event of some sort, and how can you not spot Jimin when he looks conspicuous in his orange hair? You remember this being in your sophomore year in college, and how much Jimin actually hates that hair and wants to burn down every picture that reminds him of it.

You snort as you zoom in on Jimin, taking a screenshot of the photo, mindlessly going to your messaging app; ready to send him the photo to poke lighthearted fun, but then you realize—

"Oh, I can't do that."

Jimin will ask you where you got the photo from, and you'll have to tell him that you were cyber stalking his cousin. Then, he'll ask why you were stalking his cousin, and he will find out the very thing you don't want him to find out.

That makes you frown, quick to delete the message you were just about to send and put your phone back to your nightstand.

Well, that ruins fun.

You wish you can tell Jimin or anyone for the matter, but you currently don't feel comfortable about doing that.

Sighing, you look up at your ceiling, then forcefully close your eyes to avoid more thoughts coming into your head.

You start counting sheep until you fall asleep.

There had been a lot of times where you felt like shit about yourself. They happen way too many times that at this point, you'd lost count. It wired you to think that there must be something wrong when a day goes all too well.

But there is no beating the feeling of self-antagonism when you ditch somebody – even if it's for a valid reason.

Sure, you've ditched Jimin a couple of times, and he always makes sure to rub it on your face as much as he can until you pout at him and explain to him that there are just some days you do not feel like going out. Jimin, as your best friend, understands that about you, of course.

A lot of times, though, it's the dates you tend to ditch the most. Three dates – you recall – is the number of times you'd skipped out of, just because you had a panic attack thirty minutes before the meeting that one time and two times for the plain, simple fact that you had a realization that you did not really like the guy you were planning to see.

Shin Taemu, the guy from the IT department asked you out last month for a second date and you texted him a last-minute, half-assed lame excuse about having gotten period cramps. Up to this day, you're still wary about using the IT department's copy room because his texts, since then, have been left unanswered. You saw him awhile ago at the cafeteria, though, and he seemed to be treating you non-differently even after you ghosted him suddenly. 

Recently, you're doing the same thing again to Jungkook.

It isn't dating, of course – just the whole ditching thing.

You feel terrible for canceling on him again on Saturday when you just told him Friday night that you would go to that boxing machine. He had texted you a simple "we still on?" with a smiley emoji that gave you the creeps (because that smiley emoji does not ever mean the person is smiling behind it – knowing Jungkook though, it's probably not the case, and you're just overthinking it). You've left that text to rot until Sunday morning, and only picked it up later during the night, telling him you were "sorry I just saw this now! I was swamped with work stuff" even though you've never brought paperworks at home in your whole career and you were just binging The X-Files, bashing those two idiotic emotionally constipated FBI agents when you are quite one, yourself.

Sometimes, you fear you're no better than a man. Jimin will willingly knock your head on a door to get you to your senses and tell you all the things about why you should never compare yourself to them – but there are times like these when your shortcomings – specifically your lack of proficiency in communication – mirror that of a man's, and you hate every single second of it.

Until then, you dreaded for Monday to come.

But it's ultimately inevitable 

And when you wake up from your sleep, it's Monday, and you have to go to work whether you like it or not.

And oh, to add, Jungkook hasn't replied to your message. Which – okay – ouch. But you're not supposed to be hurt by it; if anything, you kind of deserve it after ditching him so many times. He isn't an idiot, and you're sure he knows you lied... you're just thankful that he's not saying anything if he does know, indeed.

You have thought things over in the shower this morning, though.

If Jungkook is three eggs in your basket, why will it matter? So, what's the big deal if he is Jimin's cousin and that he works at the same company and lives in the same apartment complex?

You finally admit that those things matter to you initially because... you have a crush on him. If you didn't, you'll give fuck-all if he's related to your best friend. You won't care at all if he's your boss because you don't have to worry about fantasizing about him.

But the thing is, you do have some sort of romantic feelings for him, and that is why those things moved you in a way that makes you feel and act a little weird around him.

And now there's this feeling of guilt that has overtaken your entire system. Because if you just see Jungkook platonically, these things won't happen. And you hate it, because he's genuinely a good friend. Someone who may want a friend in you too, but you are ruining it all because you have trivial feelings for him.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But now that those realizations have become clear in your head, you've made up your mind by thinking that those eggs don't matter.

It doesn't matter that he's Jimin's cousin, doesn't matter that he's an executive. You are his friend, and it's was okay to have friends that are your other friend's relative and friends who are your boss.

Of course, it's still awkward to think about him catching you in your home clothes but on a more serious note, your crush will never see the light of the day and even if it does, there's no way Jungkook will accept it because guys like him never settle with people like you. And you don't even mean that in a self-deprecating way, not at all! You are just fully aware of the practical world you live in and know that the vast disparity of your economic status will never work, especially with the kind of family he was born into.

With that said, you are ready for things to be back the way they were. No more pussyfooting in the office in fear that you'll bump into him, no more canceling on his innocent invitations to dinner, no more pining over him secretly and putting malice over everything that he does because you're going to be a renewed person now.

You're ready to take on the big shoes and be matured enough to address his questions if ever he has one.

So, you enter the elevator of Blue Nexus Inc. with a sort of spirit that you're sure will be hard to take down, creating pictures in your head that depict a smooth-sailing conversation with Jungkook where you're ideally going to be cool in it and not at all panic-y.

It's alright. Nothing is going to change—

Your thoughts are disrupted when somebody enters the elevator and the people in it suddenly start bowing their heads, a series of greetings reverberating in the confined space.

Fuck.

"Good morning, Mr. Jeon."

"Greetings, Mr. Jeon."

"Mr. Jeon."

Your eyes widen when you see Jungkook walking in with his black suit and sleek black hair, his eyeglasses sitting on his nose.

Okay, so nevermind the illusion that you're going to be cool now – you're absolutely panicking in your position!

Thank fucking god you're at the back with two persons in front of you, hoping they are enough to at least cover your frame as Jungkook stands in front after greeting back the employees inside.

Oh my god. Fuck me.

You tilt your head to the side with a wince on your face, sneakily raising your arm over your head to take your hairclip off so your hair fans your face. It is a poor attempt at covering yourself lest Jungkook suddenly turns around and recognizes you as a result.

But in that moment, you must look stupid as hell that the guy beside you looks at you weird.

You stand upright, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He just snubs you.

That makes you roll your eyes.

You go back to staring at Jungkook's back agonizing the thought that you really aren't ready at all to confront him. You thought about it all morning, but the moment he got here, all those ideations of you being cool around him from thereon are suddenly thrown out the building.

A few seconds after, somebody drops off at the 13th floor, and it starts to make you feel nervous.

What if more people start going out and then you'll be left alone with Jungkook? You intended to go to the 16th floor where your office is... Jungkook is – wait, where is his floor? You actually have no idea. But you are certain it's floors above you. Oh god! How can you possibly move past him without him recognizing you? Shit. You didn't think about that.

Now, you're starting to lose your bottle, your head not able to form ideas to get through him. The elevator is small! And people are starting to head out...

You look at the position indicator of the elevator, telling you that you're going way up to the 15th floor. A few seconds after and it dings, the elevator door opening. The guy in front of you heads way out, and you can see Jungkook still on his spot.

You find yourself not being able to move, completely stoned in your position.

You sure as hell aren't going out unless he does first! That's your solution. If he's located at the topmost floor, you're going to wait until then. You're just going to ride the elevator down again.

But what you don't see coming is Jungkook suddenly moving to head outside the elevator.

Looking at the indicator once again, you confirm if he really is going to the 15th floor.

The door already closed by the time Jungkook is finally out, which eases your nerves. You're way too relieved to forget thinking about why he's in the 15th floor.

You stop at the 16th with a smile on your face, feeling like you just got away with murder. You've never done it – get away with murder – but that's exactly how you feel.

On your way to the office, your phone vibrates from the pocket of your trousers.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [8:56am]: Correct me if I'm wrong but I think I just saw you at the elevator today

You thought of ways to dodge his bullet, thought about denying his claim and telling him that he must've seen somebody else because you work all the way across town and him seeing you would've been impossible.

But you know the attempts will be futile.

If anything, though, you take it as a sign to finally make things right.

Avoiding Jungkook will never be efficient. In order to be successful in that regard, you'll have to hand in your resignation or move out of your apartment completely and you can't do that.

Besides, for what it's worth, you kind of miss hanging out with him and if you were to continue hiding from him, you will have to say goodbye to having him around at all.

The moment you got off work today, you think of plans to talk to him and maybe, just maybe, invite him for dinner – to, hopefully, make up for all the times you've bailed on him.

With a tail tucked between your legs, you stand apprehensively in front of the door of his unit, still unsure about your plans but doing it nonetheless. There's no going back now.

You ring the doorbell, taking your hand back quickly as if you just got electrocuted by it.

Please don't answer. Please don't be home. Please don't answer—

And there he goes, in his plain white shirt and grey sweats, hair wet from his previous shower – you assume. He's still drying his hair with a towel when he opens the door, but his ministrations stop the moment he lays his eyes on you.

You just give him an awkward smile that probably look more like a grimace.

"Hi."

The surprise is evident on Jungkook's face. Regardless, he is quick to get over it and gives you a big grin instead. An expression you did not expect to get.

"__, hey," Jungkook greets, placing the towel around his neck and letting go of his doorknob. "What brings you here?"

You balance your weight on your other side and purse your lips in a thin line.

"Do you, uh, wanna grab dinner?" You ask right away, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Jungkook's smile somehow grows wider at your question, and you don't know what to feel. If he's petty, he'll reject your invitation but with the look on his face right now, he doesn't seem to have the intention to do so. At least you hope so. It will be so embarrassing for you to have come all the way to his place instead of just asking him through text.

He was about to answer when somebody suddenly approaches the door.

"Jeon Jungkook?" The guy asks, and you immediately shot your eyes to look at him. With his printed shirt that reads a famous food delivery brand and his hands carrying bags of what you assumed take-out food, you figure what he's here for. "Here's your order, sir."

Embarrassed, you scoot to the side to give way to the food delivery guy and let him extend the bags towards Jungkook who grabs his wallet from the pocket of his sweats to pay for the food, thanking the man in the process.

He already has plans for tonight, you realize. Your invitation to dinner is futile because he already bought take-out.

The food delivery guy gave you a look before he took off in which you returned a timid smile for. And then, you turn around to look at Jungkook again.

"Nevermind, don't answer my question." You say, referring to your invitation prior to the arrival of his food delivery. "Uhm, bye. Good night."

You were just turning your heels to go the other way around when Jungkook suddenly speaks.

"Wait, don't go yet," Jungkook steps to the side and inserts his wallet back into his pants. He raises the bags of take-out and arches his brow towards your way, "Do you like Thai?"

"I do." You reply, not really understanding where he's getting at first.

Jungkook smiles. "Good. Do you wanna come inside?"

When you realize what he just said, you shake your head, "Oh, no, no. We could grab dinner outside tomorrow if you're free."

"This is enough for two?"

He's inviting you to his place. Is he insane?

You shake your head once again. "No, Jungkook, I really don't want to impose on—"

Jungkook cut you off with a hearty laugh.

"__, you won't be imposing. Come on, I bet you haven't had dinner yet either." When you don't answer, he insists again, "I think I have Thai tea around here somewhere."

You narrow your eyes at him.

"You think I'll go inside just 'cause you have Thai tea?" you say, raising your brow at him, challenging Jungkook to say something to that. He shrugs with a smile of amusement. Then you break your demeanor and sigh. "You're actually right. I can probably be bribed with daily boba supply."

Jungkook laughs at your absurd claim.

"No matter what's on the line?"

"Yeah," Then you decide to joke a little, "If you're the one on the line."

His laughter only becomes louder, and you shake your head at him because you genuinely wonder why he laughs so much at your nonsensical jokes. You would consider yourself funny but not that funny.

But this is good. Joking is good. This dynamic is surely better than you avoiding him.

"You're so..." Jungkook stops to look at you and you stare back at him. That moment stretches into a minute until you feel the hair on your nape stand.

It's the night air, and not at all the almost intimate way he looked into your eyes.

That's what you'll tell yourself tonight.

"I'm so what?" You decide to break the silence, seemingly snapping Jungkook out of the trance he's put himself in awhile ago.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Okay, now you're just making me curious."

"It's nothing."

"Okay, I'm gonna let it pass this time..." you say, eliciting a low chuckle from him.

He must realize that you've both been standing on his porch for a while now.

"Come," he says, gesturing inside his place.

Your steps are a bit hesitant as you follow him inside. But nonetheless, you both get in, Jungkook offering you a pair of home slipper that are almost twice as big as your feet as he locks the door.

When you let your eyes wander, you're more than surprised to see the state of the interior.

Jungkook's place is surprisingly... clean.

Sure, it must be because there aren't any decorations or much furniture yet, but from your experiences with men, the one thing they have in common is that they are messy. It's almost impossible to not see clothes strewn all over their places or food wrappings on any surface at a corner, but Jungkook's is spotless.

Except maybe for the few boxes that stand beside the door of the room all the way across the room which you assume is his bedroom, but other than that, there's no indicator that a man is residing inside. Admittedly, it's even cleaner than your own.

"Sorry, it's a little messy. I haven't unpacked all of my stuff. Got busy."

He seems to notice you eyeing the aforementioned boxes, and hearing his words, you shake your head.

"Oh, no, trust me. This is the cleanest place I've ever seen." You say truthfully.

"Thanks." Jungkook responds with a smile.

His apartment, like yours, has an open layout so from where you are in the living room, you can see him putting the bags on the kitchen counter, unloading them and starting to transfer some of them into his own plates.

You approach his direction to find yourself useful.

"Is it okay if we eat at the coffee table? My table set hasn't arrived yet..." he rubbs the back of his head, a sheepish smile painting his face.

"It's fine."

His coffee table is wide enough for all the food to fit, anyway. That's what you thought when you bring all the food to the living room, sitting on the floorboards opposite of him.

Before you start dinner, Jungkook asks if you want to watch something on the TV.

"It's like a jumbotron." Is your throw-away comment when he turns on his huge ass TV. It's genuinely so big you aren't even exaggerating. You are not that good with estimation but the screen is probably the same height as you...

"What?" Jungkook chuckles, looking at you all confused.

"Nothing. Just that your TV is so big."

"Yeah? I wanted to buy this one for so long and I got really lucky to get it on sale here. I have the Criterion channel so I've been wanting to watch stuff with an OLED screen—" he cuts himself off and looks at you with a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry."

You look away before you can go on a spiral about how cute he looked with a proud smile on his face while he was going off about how he got his jumbotron on sale. He was geeking out about a freaking TV. But you guess it makes sense for a tech guy like him.

"Uh, what do you want to watch?" He asks, going through his streaming services.

The big TV and the streaming services just click so much in the context of him. You, in contrast, cannot relate. After forgetting to unsubscribe to Netflix a few months ago, it automatically stole the thirteen thousand won from your account, and since then, you're more than traumatized to pay for any streaming services until today. Pirating is bad but so is capitalism.

"Anything is fine."

"Okay."

You really couldn't have cared less about what he's going to click on, but National Geographic pops up on his big screen and you think he must be joking but he starts tuning in with genuine interest.

Oh. Wow.

He's just a big nerd trapped in a hot human body, huh?

How cute. And how unbelievably hot to discover this about him.

After a few minutes into the documentary, it turns out that whales are interesting to a certain degree. Sure, Jungkook's huge ass screen made it a little funny because the pictures are too big, but they did pique your interest a little, especially when Jungkook would add in a little of his own knowledge about them. When you asked him about the weird little stick thing on their mouth, he told you that they were tusks and only male narwhals had them, and that they used it as some sort of sensory tool. He admitted he hyperfixated on whales for a while when he saw them first on Discovery Channel as a kid.

You didn't even have to pretend to be engrossed, you were just in genuine awe of his interests and how enthusiastic he was about sharing them.

Food is starting to run out, making you realize that it's been awhile since you've eaten Thai food and you should probably eat them once again tomorrow.

You're just about to ask Jungkook which restaurant he got it from when he beats you to speaking first.

"You're still in your work clothes."

You stop.

"Yeah..."

And then you're reminded of why you're here in the first place.

It isn't for the whales or for Thai food, that's for sure.

You haven't changed out of your work clothes, indeed, since you planned going out for dinner in hopes of talking to Jungkook while ago. The night is going so well so far that you actually forgot about that. But then since he already cocked the gun, might as well just pull the trigger and get it over with.

You look at him, an uneasy feeling settling in your nerves.

"So... about your text earlier."

There is a hint of a smile on Jungkook's lips when he nods his head.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't me." You say, trying to look for a reaction, trying to see if he'll insist or anything.

But Jungkook just nods his head again.

"I see."

He does not seem to see, though, and you know right then and there that your cover is finally and officially blown.

"Okay, I lied. That was me." You take back your words, jutting your bottom lip out when you add, "Turns out we work at the same company. And that you're apparently my boss."

"And you're my cousin's girlfriend."

You gasp audibly.

So he knows you were at that party! How? And what? He thought you were Jimin's girlfriend for real? Wait, does he not know it was all Jimin's ruse?

"How did you know that?"

"They mentioned Jimin's girlfriend was in the bathroom when I arrived. I asked Jimin about it and he told me her name was __."

You would face-palm yourself if Jungkook wasn't present.

Ugh. Of course, Jimin doesn't know.

"Well, okay, just so you know, I was a paid actress." You tell Jungkook, which earns you a laugh from him. Then you cover your mouth, realizing you shouldn't have said that. "Oh—uhm, do you know...?" You trail off, looking at him expectantly and hoping he knows what you meant.

You swear you remember Jimin telling you that Jungkook knows about him being gay, but now you are second-guessing yourself and you will be in trouble if you did slip up.

Thankfully, Jungkook nods, seemingly understanding where you're getting at.

"Don't worry, I know." You heave a sigh of relief at his verbal confirmation. Jungkook takes the tom yum goong and started peeling the shrimp from the bowl, continuing to say, "And Jimin brings a fake date to every family gathering, so I knew right away he was lying about dating somebody," Jungkook chuckles, and as if an afterthought, he adds, "I wish I could've seen you act. You two left so early."

Well... you did play a role in that, you think. But you can't tell him you purposefully didn't go back to the table that night because you saw him.

"Oh, Jimin had to send Joon off at the airport." You say, which is actually true. For a change.

He nods. "His boyfriend, yeah... did he go to Italy with him?"

You wonder how he knows about the Italy thing. Jimin, probably. They're close after all—

"Namjoon's a close friend as well." Jungkook adds, as if having read your thoughts.

"Ah," you nod, not surprised at all about their apparent link.

Wealthy people do have a tiny world.

"Jimin hasn't actually contacted me yet since that night."

It has been a few days, and you're starting to think he's dead or something. Your calls go straight to voicemail and your messages do not send. You've sent him a few on social media as well but it seems like he hasn't been online at all.

"I'm worried about him. Has Namjoon said anything?" You look at Jungkook, hoping he'll say yes.

But he shakes his head instead.

"I wouldn't be worried, though. I think they're together."

"In Italy?"

"Yeah."

You won't be surprised if that's the case. Jimin is the king of spontaneity and if he did fly off to another country abruptly with his boyfriend, you won't question it.

You do miss him though and you're gonna make sure to make him feel bad for not telling you anything soon.

"You're right." You sigh.

Jungkook has been peeling shrimp for awhile now, setting them aside in a small bowl. You think he's gonna eat it himself, but you're surprised when he slides off the bowl to your direction.

"There. I noticed you weren't eating the tom yum. You don't like it?" Jungkook asks, smiling at you.

You can't help it; blood rushes to your cheeks at the realization that he just peeled shrimps for you.

Is this normal for him? Like, does he just go around and do things like these for friends?

You will scream in your bathroom later when you get home.

"Oh, no, uh... I'm actually allergic to shrimp." You give him a tight-lipped smile.

You feel bad at the way Jungkook's expression drops as soon as you said that.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't know," He takes the small bowl quickly and looks at you apologetically.

"No, it's fine! I didn't tell you either."

"I'm really sorry. I should've asked first."

"Jungkook," you chuckle. "It's fine. Thank you, anyway."

"I could've done serious damage to you, huh?"

"Yeah, you'd have to tell Jimin you killed me because you fed me shrimp."

"Don't say that," Jungkook laughs. "How long are you friends now, by the way?"

You nip on your chopsticks, answering him.

"We've been friends since college... so almost ten years."

"That's really nice."

And then you remember to ask, "Did you tell him?"

"What?"

"That you know me?"

"No. Not yet, at least. Didn't have the chance." Jungkook proceeds to eat the shrimp himself and you have to keep yourself from letting out a breath of relief at his answer. "Did you tell him?"

"No. Uh— I know this is weird. But... can you not tell him?" You ask. Jungkook looks at you for a bit, studying your face. You clear your throat when seconds passed and he still hasn't said anything. "It's just that I want to tell him on my own time." You decide to add.

"Okay." He says after a while, smiling.

Thank god he doesn't ask any more questions.

"Thanks."

And now there's another elephant in the room that you still need to address.

A bit hesitant, you open with, "Did you uhm..." You think about how to word it, but then you think, fuck it. "Did you know by that time at the party that I work at Blue Nexus?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

"No, I saw you at the company and only put two and two together."

Your brows furrow. "When?"

"Uh... earlier this morning."

"Oh. Yeah..."

You don't know exactly why, but you feel a tinge of disappointment that he meant earlier. You really thought he recognized you at the ceremony.

But then you shake the feeling off and jokingly narrow your eyes at him. "Why didn't you tell me about the party, then?"

"Why, did you see me there?"

You shut your mouth. Right. You're supposed to pretend you didn't seen him that time.

"No." You lie.

"So I thought it didn't matter... though I was pretty surprised when I saw you today."

"Ugh, I thought I hid myself pretty well." You lament dramatically, embarrassed that you really thought covering your face with your hair would do you any good.

"Nah," Jungkook shakes his head while laughing at your misery, "I thought, "who is this five-foot woman hiding in the back","

"Wow." You gasp, not believing his audacity. But you're also thankful that he makes talking to him so easy. The way your conversations goes from funny to serious is so seamless, all because Jungkook knows exactly how to turn the wheels around.

"Kidding. I actually recognized you by your blouse..." he gestures at your baby blue polo sleeves, making you furrow your brows, not quite sure how he meant. But then, he continues, "Did the ink ever come off?"

Oh. Right! He had seen you wear the blouse before and even heard you tell him the story about how the jammed printer caused a blot of ink to stain your cuff.

You're surprised he even remembers that. It seems so long ago.

Raising your arm to examine the cuff area of your blouse, you look at it with small amusement.

"Yeah, it did, actually."

"How did you do it?"

You deadpan, "You're not asking me how I do my laundry, Jungkook."

"Hey, I love doing laundry," You raise your brow, not believing him, but Jungkook insists. "No, I really do."

"Okay." You nod, chuckling because he really seems way too eager to prove to you that he loves doing laundry.

What you've found out about him so far is so... mesmerizing, to say the least. With how he looks like – you meant, the tattoos and the body – you would most likely assume he likes guy stuff. You know, big macho man stuff like that. But turns out, he's just a guy who likes big TVs and NatGeo and... laundry.

He's such a fascinating person.

"I'm also not your boss." Jungkook suddenly says, making you look up at him.

"Well, you're CTO, you technically are." You point out.

"Technically, yes. But I don't oversee the accounting department, so you're not really working for me, which means I'm not your boss."

The mental gymnastics make you frown but you get his point.

"Okay, that's true. But still... your father is Mr. Jeon."

"Would you believe me if I denied that?" He jokes, the tilt in his voice telling you he is.

"You kind of look the same, so I probably wouldn't believe you."

"Really? A lot of people say I look more like my mother..."

You've seen the pictures. It's more of a split, really. But you can't tell him that obviously.

Silence sits in his living room for a while, the NatGeo narrator serving as background noise at this point.

You drop your chopsticks down and sigh. Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows, worried about your sudden seriousness.

"So, you're not like weirded out about this whole thing?" You ask him straight to the point.

Joking is good, as you said. And this night is going better than you thought. But it feels like you are just glossing over the facts, and you need to address it with him lest it becomes a problem in the future. You don't know how exactly they are going to be; you just have a feeling in your heart that they are going to.

"The what?" Jungkook says, looking genuinely confused, as if he doesn't know what your deal is.

"The I'm-your-cousin's-best-friend? And the fact that you're an executive at the company I work at and we live in the same building?" You lay out, sounding exasperated now that you're taking it all out.

Jungkook stares at you for a bit.

"Why would that weird me out?"

He isn't being dense, you can see that. He's just plain confused.

You sigh once again. Seems like you've been doing a lot of that these past few days.

"Because it's just... too many eggs in the basket."

Jungkook chuckles, wiping his hands with a tissue. "Isn't it good you have many eggs in the basket?"

You glare at him, and it makes him raise his hands as a peace offering.

"It's bad because..."

"... because?" Jungkook, now with his hands clean, props an elbow on the coffee table, looking right into your eyes as he leans closer to your direction.

You look away.

"Because it means I can't hang out with you anymore."

When you look at him again, the smile is wiped off his face, suddenly exchanged with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because again, it's too many eggs in the basket and—" Running out with metaphors, you say the first thing that was off the top of your head, "That makes you my uncle."

Jungkook's jaw drops a bit.

"Your thought process really amazes me."

You grimace, already expecting that. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

"No, it's really... interesting."

He doesn't look judgmental at all, just full of genuine awe, but you're eager to come to your own defense and so you say, "You don't get it? It's like—" You fling your hands around, trying to explain what you just said. "You don't have a close relationship with your uncle, right? 'Cause it's awkward. When you're with them it's like being with your boss, which means you can't be friends with them 'cause, again, it's awkward."

Jungkook still looks like he doesn't know what the hell you're talking about, but he nods his head, nonetheless.

"Okay... but I have a very close relationship with the CEO..."

You pout. "That's not what I meant."

And when he chuckles at that, you know he's fucking with you and understand exactly what you were trying to say; fooling around as if you aren't having an internal crisis.

Jungkook must've seen how you're genuinely not finding anything funny and stops.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me the past few days?" He raises his brow, but his voice is gentle as he speaks.

You didn't think he'd confront you about that, but you decide to look away when you try to lie as an answer.

"No...?"

Jungkook only chuckle at your indignation.

"Okay, okay, let's divide and conquer, yeah?" He smiles at you. Warm and soft. "First, you're Jimin's best friend, what's the issue? It just means you must be a good person to hang around with because you're friends with the person I'm close to. Second, I'm not your boss, will you please stop saying that? And third, we're neighbors... so what? We just happened to rent in the same building. No big deal."

Your frown just gets deeper at what he said because... he's right. So right.

You overreacted the whole time you tried to hide from him.

With nothing else to add, you weakly ask, "Okay but... can you fire me?"

In your head, it's a relevant question. You don't know how the chain of command worked at the company. He's an executive which probably means he has firing rights, right? What if he finds you too rude towards him over the past few days that he wants to take your job away from you? Can he fire you because of personal vendetta?

"Asking the important question?" Jungkook teases.

"Damn straight, I am. I mean, I did complain to you about my job before, and it turns out you're one of the executives at the company."

"I can see the wheels in your head turning but sorry to say I'm not actually an official executive. I'm just an interim CTO. And no, I don't have the right to fire you," Jungkook chuckles, seemingly amused at your thoughts. "And you can complain to me about your job all you want."

You send him a suspicious look.

"No, thank you."

"Seriously?" He asks incredulously. "Interim CTO or Jimin's cousin or not, I'm still Jeon Jungkook. Just your plain ol' neighbor."

"You say that but what if I arrive to my desk tomorrow with my things packed because you told Ms. Jung all the things I told you about her?" You squint your eyes at him.

"God, you're unbelievable." Jungkook says in between his laughter.

"Okay, but I wanna ask you something." You say. Jungkook hums. "I'm curious... why here?"

It isn't like your apartment complex is abominable or anything of the sort. When you were still on the look-out of apartments five years ago, here was the only decent one that did not cause you a 3-month pay. It's why you chose it in the first place. The unit is big enough for yourself and it's located at the center of the city, which means that it's near establishments that are relevant to your daily living. The bus station is also just a few minutes walk, and it only takes you an hour commute to get to your company building. It was the best out of all your choices back then.

However, for a guy like Jungkook, you wonder why he isn't at the big shot complexes like in Cheongdam or Hannam. You don't doubt he can afford those.

But Jungkook surprises you with his answer.

"It's cheaper."

You can't help but raise your brow.

"What?" And then as if realizing your look, Jungkook chuckles. "Oh, I see... you think I'm, like, rich?"

You shrug.

Jungkook answer with a simple, "My parents are loaded. And anyway, it's near the company. I also really like it here so far. Hannam felt like prison when I stayed there in my first week. Guards were way too strict."

Nodding, you recall Jimin's stories about that gated community when he himself stayed there for merely three months. It makes sense for it to almost seem like prison, though, given that most people who live there are high profile.

"I commute on my way to work. What about you?"

"I bought a parking spot nearby; it's surprisingly cheap compared to America."

You wouldn't know because you've never had a car in your life. First of all, you refuse to apply for a driving license because you're sure you'll kill yourself on the road. Besides, cars are expensive. You'll stick to your buses and trains all your life even though commuting sucks ass sometimes.

But you nod at Jungkook's words.

Soon, you both engage in more conversation about yourselves until you notice the time.

"It's getting late, I should go. I have work tomorrow." You tell him with a pout, genuinely disappointed about having to go.

Jungkook looks over at the clock hanging on his wall and then turns to you, "We have work tomorrow, you mean."

You blush at that for no reason.

"Well..."

"Okay, I'll walk you to your place."

"What?" You laugh. "That's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about it? You're so short, the crickets might attack you." Jungkook says with a serious face.

That makes you frown instantly.

"Ugh, you've got to stop saying that. I'm starting to dislike you."

"Hmm."

Jungkook indeed followed you on your way out, though, but not without you insisting that he didn't need to walk you to your door because it was literally just across his, but Jungkook was persistent and you had no choice but to walk the five steps it took to get in front of your apartment from his own.

He's still laughing when your face is still contorted into an unpleasant expression.

"Okay, good night." You say. You point to his chest absent-mindedly, but you quickly take it back when you feel how hard it is. "A-and stop calling me short, I'm not. The __ karma is real, I have Jimin to prove that."

"Fine, I'll stop." Jungkook smiles, watching as you enter your threshold.

"Good."

You stand on your door, leaning over the frame and not closing it just yet.

Jungkook gives you a heart-warming smile before he says, "See you tomorrow."

And he speaks the words so gently that you feel your cheeks heating once again.

"S-see you as well."

"You look banging in that polo shirt." Jimin says, obviously chatting you up because the moment you accepted his call earlier this morning, you did not hesitate to tell him off about going MIA on you so suddenly.

"It's literally just a plain white polo."

"Okay, and you still look good in it, so..." He shrugs, but you can see the look on his face, sheepish and apologetic.

You scoff.

"You can't compliment me out of sulking. I'm mad at you."

There's a pout that forms on his lips quickly; a tactic so predictable you almost roll your eyes.

"I know... but I told you! Joon and I spent the last week—"

"Fucking each other to Sunday and back, blah blah blah. Still, you could've told me you went to Italy, you slut."

Jimin lets out a loud laugh at your blunt words.

"Slut shaming in the big year of 2028? I thought you were better than that." He shakes his head, pretending to be pointed and curt with the bitchy look on his face. But you know he's just teasing to get you out of your own bitchy mode as well.

It works every time.

You don't fight the way your eyes roll on their own accord as a response this time. Jimin compromises, "Okay, I'm sorry! For not telling. It's just that I've turned off my phone for the past week because I'm sure dad and his secretary are going to blow up my phone— they are, by the way, so cut me some slack."

Forgiveness comes easy when you take into consideration what he's been through for the past few weeks. The spontaneous trip to Italy and him flying along with his boyfriend may come off as immature, but you know deep inside he's just wanting to get away from the reality of his life: which is pretty much toxic family with incredibly high expectations and boring ass management school.

You are certain they are giving him shit, and you don't need to add more to that.

It's 7:20 and you're currently prepping for work. Privacy is almost moot in your friendship with Jimin, so you're quite literally dressing up in front of him on call, sweeping your hair to the side as you pull up your trousers.

"Okay... are you having fun there?" You ask instead.

Jimin smiles a knowing grin. "Babe, I just told you me and my boyfriend are having sex 24/7 in here, I'm having the most fun in my life."

You button your trousers and groan at his words.

"I wish I was also in Italy."

"I mean, you could."

You give him a look.

"And what? Third wheel you and Joon? No thanks."

Jimin just shrugs, the angle of his camera going shaky for a bit as he moves to lay on what you assume is his bed.

"I don't know, girl, maybe you'll find a nice Italian man here."

That earns him a snort from you while you duck to wear your sandals.

"I've long forgotten that fantasy since I was 19."

"You're not a stranger to relapsing..." Jimin clocks and that makes you shoot up straight so he can see the look of incredulity on your face as an immediate reaction to what he just said.

"Rude!"

Jimin just snorts. "Okay but for real, how are things going over there for you?"

You sigh. "Same old, same old. Pretty and single and working a very boring job."

Your best friend can't help but mirror the wince on your face.

"You could change the last two but never the first one, babe. So, you see, you're still miles ahead." He says as a matter of fact, sounding like he's giving out some sort of motivational speech.

"Lucky me," you noted with a straight face. You start rummaging your bag to see if you got everything you need. Then, there's something at the tip of your tongue. Something you've been wanting to open up to him. So, you start by clearing your throat – subtly, you hope.

"But you know, life's pretty... eventful the past few days."

Jimin quirks his eyebrow at that, obviously catching onto what could possibly be a new news.

You bite your lower lip, nibbling on it slightly as you contemplate whether to tell him about what you've been up to.

For some weird reason, you still haven't told him about Jungkook, and it seems like Jungkook has made good on his promise not to tell your best friend because if he did break it, Jimin would be inquiring you all about it now.

You figure now is sort of the perfect time to... maybe tell him.

"Uh, well... not eventful, per se, just a little..." you trailed off, finding a bit of uncertainty in your voice. You see Jimin's face morphing into more of a confused look rather than intrigued as the second passes. Pursing your lips into a thin line, you finish your previous sentence with, "Just a little different, I guess."

"Don't edge me, I swear to god." Jimin threatens playfully, making you chuckle.

"It's not something groundbreaking, okay? It's just the, uh, do you still remember Mr—"

The yawn that Jimin lets out stops you from completing your words, and you remember him mentioning a while ago that it's currently midnight from where he is.

"Ugh," Jimin groans, "Sorry, I slept so late yesterday. Anyway, go on, what were you saying?"

The uncertainty you felt a while ago increases, and you decide that maybe, now is so not the perfect time to bring up Jungkook, his cousin.

So, you shake your head, smiling at him, packing the words of your confession in a box that that you place at the back of your head, ready for unpacking when the time calls for it – which you don't exactly know when.

"Nah, go to sleep. This conversation can wait."

"You're gonna kill me with curiosity."

Rolling your eyes, you make a gesture of shoving him.

"I have to catch up with my bus soon, anyway." You say, dodging his insistence.

"Just tell me pretty please, I won't be able to sleep!" He dramatically says.

You roll your eyes again at the theatrics.

"It's really nothing big."

Well, it is. Sort of. Or maybe it's not, and you're just doing that thing again where you put too much thought over something inconsequential.

You swear you were ready to tell him about Jungkook, having even hyped yourself in the bathroom a few days ago and practicing what you're going to tell Jimin. But as of this moment, right now, it suddenly feels... unimportant. Not in a negative way. Just in a... does-it-really-matter way.

Jimin will find out eventually. But not now when you're not totally ready.

"I know what this is," Jimin suddenly says. At his suspicious tone, your heart starts to pick up the rate of its beat. You can see the way Jimin squints his eyes at you, and you wish he doesn't see the way you're slightly frozen. "You got back with your ex, Hansung."

You hope he sees the disgust on your face the moment he let out the words.

"Oh my god, hell no!" Is your instant response. Just hearing that name again made the hairs on your nape rise. "Jimin, what the fuck."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "You look so nervous, that's how you look like when you're about to tell me you've done something stupid."

Okay, fair. The assumption is coming from a valid basis. It makes you frown at him.

"You're such a bitch." Jimin laughs at the way you deflate. You let out a sign. "It's just... Taemu. From the IT dep."

"That guy?!" He exclaims and quickly covers his mouth. "The cute guy you refused to date a second time... you're finally dating him again?"

"What do you mean, finally?" You narrow your eyes at him, surprise at the positive comment about Taemu. "Jesus, I thought you were with me when I said I found him boring."

"What can I say? He can be cute and boring." He points out, as if he did not talk behind the Taemu's back when you ranted about the guy to him.

"You're fake as hell." You laugh, unbelieving.

Jimin joins your laughter, finding his sudden switch up funny as well.

"But you're, for real, dating him again? It means he still likes you?" He asks, obviously intrigued at this newfound information.

Unfortunately, it's a bit of a lie. You feel bad, but it is a great scapegoat to dodge the bullet of the conversation about Jungkook.

"I don't know... we're talking."

Which, for once, is true. Taemu and you did not exactly end on a good note (courtesy to you, boo), but you work in the same company, after all. There are times in the company's cafeteria where you bump into him, and it would have felt weird if you just snub him and act like you did not have an acquaintanceship before he asked you out to a date. Taemu's ultimately still your friend, and there are no hard feelings on his part, you can confidently say. He's... nice, you guess. Somehow of an afterthought. You're starting to think you completely misjudged him on your first date.

You take a quick trip to the fridge to grab a glass of cold water since Jimin is on loudspeaker anyway.

"That reminds me," Jimin suddenly quips. You hum to acknowledge him. "My cousin now works at your company, right? You still remember Jungkook? Have you met him yet?"

You couldn't help it; the water splattered all over the place when you heard Jungkook's name from his mouth.

Jimin quickly asks you a series of "are you okays" and you respond with a "yes" that's interrupted with a cough every time; a weak nod with a raised hand, telling him not to worry.

"Water just got in the wrong track." You reason, coughing and slapping your chest to regain your breathing. When you see wet spots on your shirt, you let out a whiny groan.

"You're so jumpy today. You're sure you're fine?" Jimin checks once again, and you have to bite your tongue to not show the way you froze a little at his observation.

You nod at him, showing him an expression that hopefully conveys he's the one being weird and definitely not you.

"Yeah, it's fine." You look down on your shirt. You're debating whether to stick with it and just let it dry in the bus later or completely change out of it. "But uh, your cousin! I did see him. We had a ceremony a week ago."

You would've said that with a smile, but Jimin knows you too well that he'll surely know it's fake. So, you spoke with an almost straight face. What Jimin says next surprises you a bit, though.

"I hope you meet each other," Jimin's excitement is visible on his face. "It'd be kinda fun; my closest cousin and my best friend... imagine that? I think you'll like each other." He seems to be so geeked about the idea that even when you're internally having a crisis, you can't help but find it cute. But then his smile gets wiped off his lips just as quickly as it showed. "It'd be awkward, though. He's, kinda like, your boss, right?"

You suddenly remember Jungkook's words about him not being your boss. It makes your lips curl, but you have to shake off the thought.

You give him a hesitant look.

"Well, not really, but he's an executive. So... it would be awkward. I guess."

Jimin nods, agreeing with you.

"It's crazy though, I never thought he'd be working at uncle's company so soon..." He trails off and he looks deep in thought, like his words were just supposed to be inner thoughts and you're not supposed to hear them. But he shakes his head after a while, moving on to another subject that makes you quietly sigh in relief. "Anyway, I'm sure I'm keeping you up. I'll sleep and you better tell me all about Kang Taemu when I wake up, okay?"

You chuckle, shaking your head at the threatening tone of his voice.

"I will. When will you come home, anyway?"

He groans, obviously not wanting to discuss home for the reasons you know exactly what. He confirms your assumption by telling so.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm trying to avoid responsibilities as much as I can. God, I wish you were also here. There's a bar Joon and I discovered that sells these insane bottomless mimosas."

Before you could reply, Jimin goes off the frame suddenly, but the lower part of his face makes you see the way his lips curling up into a smile and saying, "Hey, hon."

There's a greeting from another person on the other end of the line – one that you are certainly familiar with.

Jimin moves his camera and as expected, you see Namjoon waving at you.

"Hey, __,"

You mirror the smile on his face. "Hi, Joon."

"Let's not keep her up. She has to go to work," Jimin tells Namjoon. "Anyway, bye. Kick some ass at work."

Laughing, you tell them, "I'll be off. Good night to you both."

When the call ends, you look down to your shirt once again, seeing that the little wet spots still haven't dried yet. Sighing, you decide to change out of it because it looked untidy.

Too bad you didn't check the time when you were doing it though, because as soon as you were done buttoning the new shirt you've worn, the clock hits 7:55 am. You bus arrives at exactly 8 am.

"Shit." You hiss, scrambling out of the apartment hoping that you can somehow run your way fast to the station and hop on it on time.

But you're no The Flash or Usain Bolt. To piss you off more, the strap of your bag got caught up with the handle of your door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You whisper, hastily untangling the strap off the door which won't let up.

"__?" As soon as you hear the familiar voice, you stop with what you were doing and turn to Jungkook, conjuring up a what you can only hope a pleasant enough smile.

"Hey!" You say, chirpy in that weird way. You hope he didn't catch you cursing the door.

But with the way he was looking at your hand on your door, you knew he did.

Sigh. He just really has to catch you in your most vulnerable moments, huh?

"Good morning," Jungkook greets with a smile, ignoring the case at hand. As usual, he looks put together with his sleek suit and styled hair and eyeglasses.

"Morning," You say, slowly taking off the strap around the handle, gentle and slower this time.

Fucking door handle, you thought bitterly.

As you do that, you catch a glimpse of your wristwatch. Shoot.

You look back at Jungkook apologetically, moving away from your porch. "Nice seeing you. I have to catch my bus."

"When is it coming?"

"At exactly... two minutes from now. Bye! Gotta run!" You were about ready to literally run but Jungkook calls out your name.

"Wait!"

You stop coming down the flight of stairs to ask him, "What?"

"I can drive us together there."

"Oh," You slap your hands on your trousers. "That's so nice of you. Thank you—" And then suddenly, his words register, and you take back your quick agreement. You hate that you're so slow sometimes, but it's innate at this point. "I mean, no! That's a nice offer, but no, thank you."

"You won't catch your bus at this point," Jungkook says as a matter of fact, even taking a quick glance at his own watch. He begins to walk down the stairs to walk with you. "It only takes thirty minutes to drive by car to the company." When it takes you long to answer, Jungkook insists, already predicting the "no" that you're going to hit him with. "Come on, do you want to be late?"

"No."

Jungkook smiles at you. "Okay, so...?"

You purse your lips into a thin line, blowing your bangs and giving him a sheepish look.

"Okay, fine. But I owe you."

The smile on his face only grows wider. "More than fine by me."

He leads you both to the parking building nearby where his car was, only taking about a few minutes to walk towards.

When Jungkook points at his car, you follow his behind him shortly, stopping on the one side of the door. You're just about to open it when you feel Jungkook looming behind you, his hand extended forward to open the same door. You stretch your neck to look at him in question, making sure to keep a decent distance between you both.

"Uh...?" You utter.

And then it hits you.

He's trying to open the door for you.

You take a step back after the realization, feeling shy about the prospect of such a chivalrous act from him.

"This is the driver's seat."

"Oh!" You exclaimed. Eyes widening, you walk backwards to give him more space. "Yeah! Fuck... sorry," You apologize, cheeks starting to heat in embarrassment.

You round about the car and enter the passenger seat quickly, seeing Jungkook already set in his own place. You look to the side, almost pressing yourself to the window just so he won't see the way you wince.

So fucking embarrassing. This is exactly what you write about in your diary during high school days.

"Your seatbelt," Jungkook says, and you look at him with widened eyes. Right. You were way too deep in embarrassment that you forgot about it. You fiddle with the seatbelt a few seconds before he speaks once again, "Let me."

And you couldn't have stopped him from leaning closer to you to grab the seatbelt and wear it around your waist, carefully and gently, making you hitch your breath at the sudden proximity.

Of course you've noticed it way before, but this is the first time you were close enough to deduce that he smells like green apple and fresh laundry. A little different from the musky scent that you were used to smelling on men that you've been with before.

"There." He smiles at you before sitting back on his chair, wearing his own seatbelt.

You are way too stunned to acknowledge what he did that for the first few minutes, you're just quiet, mind flying to some place. You only snap out of it when Jungkook speaks again.

"Slept late last night?"

You shake your head at his question. "No... just facetime with Jimin this morning. You were right to tell me not to worry, he's with Joon."

Jungkook nods at your words, turning the ignition of the car. He starts to reverse, and you feel yourself growing embarrassingly hot when he does the thing of putting his arm around the back of your seat while the other spins the wheel, stretching his neck to look back.

You decide to look away for your own sake.

"Uh, anyway, I'm really sorry."

"Hm?" Jungkook hums, eyes on the road as he starts driving.

If you think about it, you were just at his place a few nights ago eating dinner with him, and now, you somehow find yourself in his car as he drives you both to work. His constant kindness is not lost on you... but Jungkook's casualty makes it seem like this is just his plain nature.

You quirk your head to the side.

"Are you free later for lunch?"

"I can arrange my sched. Why?"

"Do you want to go together?" You ask. You'd say the offer is a form of compensation for his help today, but getting lunch together for the pure sake of it doesn't sound bad, either. Both works, so you're only a bit hopeful as you try to look for his reaction.

Jungkook has a hint of surprise on his face when he takes a quick look at you before turning his attention back on the road.

"Really?" There's a little lilt to his voice, as if he's not surer if you're being serious.

You shrug to appear casual. "If you're not too busy, that is."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"You're gonna find out later." You tell him. Jungkook cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"Okay... where should I meet you, then? At your office?"

"Oh, god, no." Is your quick response. Jungkook immediately looks at you in offense, but it's more like amusement when he stares longer. At that, you wave your hand so he doesn't get the wrong idea. "No, no, I mean— it's just rude if an executive, like, comes to our office."

"You're still not hung up on the boss thing?" You roll your eyes at his teasing tone which earns a hearty chuckle from Jungkook. He shakes his head playfully at you. "I doubt anyone would care."

You jut your bottom lip out because he's probably right. But still, your co-workers would ask, and you're not trying to dig yourself a hole by making yourself news of the day because the newly appointed interim CTO just walked into your office for what? Lunch? The HR would have a field day.

"Maybe we can meet at the parking lot?" You offer, thinking it's the sensible place.

Jungkook smiles. "Alright."

You had to stay behind Joonhwi and Sol as lunch came, making an excuse about going out with a friend as opposed to not coming with them. In your head, you think you were doing Joonhwi a favor.

After that, you were welcomed with text from Jungkook when you turned on your phone. It said he was already at the basement where he parked earlier, so it wasn't exactly hard to spot him right away the moment you got there.

The drive to your destination was quick enough to only amount to around fifteen minutes. As soon as Jungkook managed to park his car somewhere, you lead him to where the place you'd chosen for lunch.

When he finally registered where you were, his amusement does not go unnoticed.

"I've always wanted to go here," He tells you, looking around the stores in-line by the street.

You look back at him in surprise.

"You haven't been here?" Jungkook nods and you want to ask him if he's kidding around, but then you realize he's no ordinary person like most of the people you know in your life, recalling that Jimin's first time in a marketplace like this was only when you introduced him to it during sophomore year. "But you eat street food, right?" You ask him, even though you know he does. You did spend nights on that food truck around your building.

"Of course I do," Jungkook chuckles, rubbing a hand at the back of his head, seemingly shy. "I just never tried it here."

You give him a wide grin. "You're gonna enjoy it here. Follow me, I have a favorite store here that sells really good hotteok."

You spent the better part of the morning thinking about the place where you can bring him, opting out of going to cafes and restaurant because it was just getting kind of old. Aside from the fact that you stopped going to the food truck across your apartment building, it's also been a while since you enjoyed some street food yourself. You're also delighted to know that this is apparently Jungkook's first time going here.

The area is usually livelier in the later hours of the night, but there are still a lot of people by lunch time. Students, civilians, tourists... a usual day in Seoul, you can say.

When you reach the hotteok stall, you ask for your usual right away, almost asking the same thing for Jungkook but remember that he might actually want something else.

"Do you want other flavors instead?" You look back at him while he stands behind you with his hands in his pockets. He's forgone the coat – it's somewhere in his car seat – which left him with his usual polo shirt, sleeves folded up to his forearms. He kind of looks broody with his stance and you know... the exposed tattoos – but he looks adorable when he gives you that familiar easy-going smile at your question.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

You're hungry for a while now so you don't wait a long time to take a bite of the hotteok when it's finally served. It's hot, and Jungkook laughs as you learn it the hard way, sputtering as you move the food away from you.

"Fuck!" You curse, blowing air and fanning your mouth which doesn't really do anything.

"Slow down," Jungkook says in between his chuckles. You feel his arm resting on your back as some sort of support. "I'll get you some water."

It only takes him a few seconds to stop by a nearby stall to get you some bottled water, and you thank him after drinking it quickly.

"Sorry 'bout that," You apologize, smiling sheepishly.

"There's a—" Jungkook gestures at his mouth. You arch your brow at him, a bit confused. He tries again. "Something in your—" He interrupts himself, shaking his head, and takes out a handkerchief from the depths of his slacks.

Your immediate reaction is to take a few steps back when he goes to wipe at your mouth. Jungkook stops, pausing his movement. You give him an awkward thumbs up which prompts him to continue.

"Done."

You choose to gloss over that occurrence, taking another bite of hotteok after that.

"You know I always wondered why I don't see you going out of your apartment every morning." You start a conversation while you walk together mindlessly.

"You wonder... why?" Jungkook looks at you for a brief moment. With a teasing grin, he says, "You wanna see me every day?"

You gasp.

"Gross, Jungkook." You say, absolutely scandalized at what he said.

He just laughs, shaking his head, amused at your reaction. It makes you roll your eyes.

"I just figured you don't commute so you don't need to leave early." You tell him.

You notice he seems to be extra playful today.

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

"Lucky you. I'm so sick of commuting."

"You don't like driving?"

You shake your head, "I don't know how to drive, and I don't have any intention to."

"I think I've heard that from Joon before." Jungkook chuckles.

"Oh yeah, he told me one time he'll most probably kill himself if he drives. Which– same."

Jungkook bites on his hotteok, chews on it for a while before saying, "That's what I thought when I started to drive a motorcycle."

You almost snap your head to look at him.

"You drive a motorcycle?" You ask, just to be sure you heard him right.

Jungkook nods. "Hm."

"Oh, wow... that must be..." You trail off, looking blankly ahead of you.

Well, now you can't get it out of your head. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with his tattoos out. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with a leather jacket.

Ugh. You told yourself you were gonna forget about the stupid crush! This is so counterproductive. There's nothing special about a man who drives a motorcycle! Not at all.

"Must be...?" Jungkook curiously asks you.

"Nerve-wracking." You say, which you think is a fair answer. He doesn't have to know that you're thinking about a totally different thing.

He nods. "It was for the first time. Mom always gives me an earful whenever I use it." He shakes his head while laughing.

You can't help but ask.

"You're close with your mom?" It only registers to you that the question must be way too privy, but Jungkook doesn't seem to think so as he answers casually right away.

"Yeah. She was really glad when I came home."

You smile. You once thought he's close with his family... turns out you aren't exactly wrong.

"That's sweet."

He just gives you a soft smile. "You?"

"Oh, me? She, uh, died awhile ago. So."

The smile on Jungkook's face falters.

"That... sucks."

"Thanks." And then it makes you laugh. "You know most people say sorry. You're the first one to say it sucks."

"I..." Jungkook seems to track back on what he said. "I mean, I'm sorry, of course. But it must suck, right? I just... love my mom a lot. Can't imagine losing her."

You nod, completely understanding where he's coming from.

All your life, people have always felt sorry for you for losing your mom, your only parent. Of course, you're thankful for the sympathy, but sometimes... you just need someone to be real with it. Someone to say it sucks – because losing a parent is hard. Losing a mother suck.

"You're not so bad, Jungkook." you comment after a while, and as you take a quick look at Jungkook, you see him in another light. The same light you see a person in when you figure you want to befriend them and be in their life.

"What do you mean by that?" Jungkook asks with an arched brow.

You shake your head, smile not going away.

"Nothing!"

Jungkook annoyed you some more about it and you had to laugh at his curiosity because it was funny the way he insisted about something really inconsequential. Even when you went to another stall to buy some drinks, he still tried to bring up the same thing, but you're more stubborn than him so of course his efforts did not bear any fruit.

After a while, you sit on some bench while you eat tornado fries.

"I don't like this." You say, looking at your stick and frowning. Turning to Jungkook, you extend your tornado fries to him. "Try this one."

He takes a bite from your own stick. Surprisingly, he seems to like it.

"You wanna exchange?" He offers his cheesy tornado fries in exchange with your sour barbecue-flavored one. You nod, taking it from him. Jungkook chuckles at you. "I told you to get that one."

"I was feeling experimental." You tell him simply.

When you were in front of the stall, you told him how you didn't like sour barbecue at all but still wanted to give it a try. Obviously, that did not go well. Good thing Jungkook bought the cheesy flavor, though.

From your peripheral vision, you see a group of what seems to be a group of teenage girls sitting on the bench across from you. Judging from the very familiar uniform, they're in high school. They've been there for a while now and you notice they've been stealing glances at your direction.

You glance at Jungkook and snort.

"Looks like someone here has some admirers from Seoul High School." You tease Jungkook. He does not seem to notice the girls at all, looking at you with confusion first before turning his head to look across.

In a second, Jungkook turns uncomfortable in his seat.

"That's Seoul High School?"

You laugh at the obvious way he ignores them looking at him. Still, you nod your head at his question, "Yup. Went there."

You subtly look at the girls' direction again, catching them do the same and you can just see Jungkook's ears getting red by the second, visibly embarrassed at the unwanted attention.

"That's just across my high school." He casually says, trying so hard not to mind the girls.

"No way!" You gasp. "Yongsan International?"

He nods.

"The cheerleading teams on both schools used to have, like, this big beef before, you know that?" You tell him, ready to lay out the huge gossip that happened in your batch. And then you remember, "Oh. You've probably graduated when I entered senior year in high school."

Jungkook gives you a look. "Rude. I'm not that old."

The sass comes unexpectedly which makes you laugh out loud you almost choke on the fries.

You were just about to tease him some more when somebody approaches you both.

"U-uhm..."

When you both look at the girl, she's one from the group who was shamelessly looking towards your direction, which is obviously aimed at a specific someone by your side, Jungkook.

"Hi!" You greet cheerfully.

The girl blushes and then turns to Jungkook.

"O-oppa..." She utters, hesitant when she pulls something out of her skirt pocket. It's a small, crocheted sunflower.

You coo at the sight, looking at Jungkook in amusement. The man beside you just grow more uncomfortable in his seat. He looks so constipated, god bless him.

"My friend told me to give this to the eonni beside you."

Your smile is quickly wiped off your face the moment her words sink in, confusion slowly coming to paint your expression. You look at the girl but before you can say anything, she's already walking away as soon as Jungkook takes the crocheted flower from her. You watch as she and her friends ran, their figures slowly disappearing from your line of sight.

"Looks like you got admirers from Seoul High School." Jungkook quips beside you. "For the eonni beside me." He teases, extending the cute little flower to you.

Hesitantly, you take the flower from his hands.

"You know, it suits you." Jungkook says when you don't say anything, still stunned from the literal turn of events.

You look up, baffled. "Huh?"

"A sunflower. It suits you... you're like it." He smiles, soft and gentle. There's a look of fondness in his eyes that you couldn't have mistaken for anything else. "I'm glad they gave that to you."

You open your mouth to speak, but there's nothing at the tip of your tongue.

Shying away from his gaze, you mumble a low, "Thank you."

You don't think you hear his next word right.

"Cute."

You have a hobby of collecting hobbies instead of focusing on one thing to be good at, jumping from one activity to another, even if it means abandoning your previous thing. Hobbies for most people means time lent to be better with it every day, but in your defense, you don't necessarily think you have to be good at something.

You've tried drawing. You've tried dancing. You've tried the guitar and you've tried the ukelele and you've tried crocheting and you've tried to study astrology. You've built three huge boxes of storage containing the needed materials for each of them, but they end up collecting dust.

Why can't a hobby just stay as a hobby, anyway? Why can't you just feel goofy one day to suddenly start drawing and give up the next day the moment you realize shading is hard? Why can't you just buy dress patterns and only sew the skirt part because tops are complicated to sew? Why can't you just learn four guitar chords because it's enough to play at least five songs using them?

None of it matters, you think. People will pressure you to push and push until you can possibly capitalize on something you're good at, but it just isn't the case for you.

You'll collect all the hobbies in the world until your head is full of random things and you just burst with it.

And true to your words, you find yourself wandering about in the baking aisle of your local grocery store at the late evening hours.

Yep. It's 2028 and your hobby pick for the year is baking.

So, what if you're a disaster in the kitchen? Cooking and baking are two different worlds! At least that's what Google tried to tell you a while ago when you were cleaning your bathroom earlier this morning, suddenly craving for some matcha cookies after you were done.

It sounded about right in your head that you decided to pick up ingredients for it, deciding it will be your dinner. At the back of your head, you think you should've just gone to the hundred cafes surrounding your apartment complex like, you know, any regular person would if they're craving something. But you figured that if you know how to bake, you could get matcha cookies anytime you want.

What can you say? You like to live life on edge. (You'll probably burn yourself in the oven later, but that will just be another lesson that life is soon to give you. You're just taking it in advance.)

But living on edge doesn't mean getting your card declined when you turn it to the cashier to supposedly pay for your grocery.

"I'm so sorry, uhm, can I have a few seconds, please?" You tell the cashier, giving her an awkward smile as you grab your wallet from your tote bag again, taking your card from her. You take another one of your debit cards this time and offer it to her, subtly looking around in hopes that no one is watching.

"Oh, we don't accept debit cards issued by this bank, ma'am." She says, and you're just about ready to dig yourself a hole from this complete, utter embarrassment.

"Okay..." you trail off nervously, glancing at the computer to look at your total. "I'll just pay in cash."

You do not, in fact, have enough cash.

You can tell the cashier is getting impatient from the way she shifts her weight from one side to another, and you keep yourself from making eye contact with her, fumbling with your wallet.

Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year and your card chose to decline on this very particular day. Why don't they accept your debit card? And why don't you have enough cash with you? Are you really this broke?

This is going to be a disaster. You can't afford to go to prison for this. Can you even go to prison for not paying grocery? Okay, maybe jail time for like 12 hours? But you have work tomorrow!

"Excuse me, miss,"

Somebody says but you refused to look at whoever it was, still counting the bills in your wallet that do not even accumulate to half the amount of your total.

"You can charge her bill here."

At that, your head quickly snap to the owner of the voice only to reveal himself as no other than Jeon Jungkook.

You swear you almost sigh in relief at the sight of him and have the sudden urge to hug him big time.

Jungkook looks at you and gives you a smile.

"Hi."

"Jungkook," you breathe. "Thank god you're here."

The cashier looks at you both weirdly but nonetheless swipes the card Jungkook gave her., instructing him to type his code on the key pad. There's nobody in line for the cashier you went to other than you both because it is too late an hour to be getting groceries, so Jungkook is able to butt in seamlessly and get his cart checked out as well.

"You're very much welcome." He says warmly.

Jungkook's dressed just as casually as you; a combination of simple white t-shirt and shorts and a pair of sliders. His grocery contains a lot different than yours, showing all sorts of food ingredients. You wait for his stuff to get bagged until you both head out of the store.

His car was just parked nearby, so you follow him towards its direction to apologize.

"I'm so, so sorry for earlier. I'll pay you later when we get home, of course." You say, just now registering how embarrassing it is for him to catch you in that situation. You're no stranger to getting your card declined... but really, now?

You decide to add awkwardly, "Or... do you have Kakao Pay?"

Jungkook chuckles while he opens his trunk, picking up his bags of groceries to place them in there. He shakes his head, keeping his hand outstretched to upwards to hold the hood of his car.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

You're about to speak in protest when he gestures at the bag in your hands, as if asking you to place it in the trunk as well. You shake your head repeatedly.

"No, it's okay, I'm just gonna take a cab home." You say, pointing to your back where the street is, politely refusing his obvious offer to drive you home.

He's done too much in the span of ten minutes you've seen each other tonight. He's paid for your groceries for heaven's sake, and he still has the intention to drive you again to your destination? Not adding the fact that he also just drove you to work yesterday to keep you from being late. It's like he's just doing you heaps of favors and so far, you've done nothing in return.

"__, please, I'm offering." Jungkook insists. As usual. "I really don't mind."

Shoulders deflating, you let out a sigh.

"It's just that..." You start, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"What?"

"You've just been doing me a lot of favors lately." You say, looking away from his gaze.

Jungkook calls your name gently. You train your gaze at him. He steps closer to you and gives your shoulder a soft tap. "Hey, I'm not counting."

The words in itself aren't all that special, but the way he said it and the way he looked at you while he did may have just did a little damage to your heart because why did it seem so genuine?

Still, you shy away.

"It's just really embarrassing." You say, out of argument now.

Jungkook lets out a sound of amusement and takes the bag from your hands. He didn't even give you the chance to protest before he managed to put it successfully in the trunk of his car, together with his own groceries.

"Why don't you pay me back by helping me make dinner tonight?" Jungkook muses.

You give him a weird look.

"You really want me in a kitchen? Have you not listened to my horror stories this whole time, Jungkook?"

He laughs as he leads you both inside his car. You follow quietly behind but this time, you don't mistake the passenger seat from the driver's seat and instantly wear your seatbelt as soon as you're sat.

"I dunno, I'm just offering. I thought it'll be fun." He shrugs, turning on the ignition of the car and starting to drive back to the apartment building.

"Okay, I can at least chop some onions and garlic..." You trail off. And then you remember as an afterthought, "Oh, I'm actually baking tonight as well."

Jungkook takes a quick surprise glance at you. "You never told me you know how."

You snort. "I don't know how, trust me. I'm just starting right now."

"Is that why you went out grocery shopping tonight?" He arches a brow.

"Yep. Totally a spontaneous thing. I wanted, like, this very specific matcha cookie..."

Jungkook laughs. "Should I help you with the baking as well? I might learn from you."

"Really? You want to help?" You ask him delightfully.

He nods, making your grin wider.

"Sounds fun."

You both agreed to cook and bake at his place, partly because you personally are not ready for him to see your own flat. When you get inside his unit, Jungkook cutely bragged about his table set that just arrived earlier this morning according to him.

Personally, you've barely cooked at your own place let alone somebody else's. The one time you were in someone else's kitchen was Jimin's but even then, it was just to microwave some pizza and other take-out food.

It should feel weird to be prepping ingredients with someone, to move around the kitchen with the goal to make yourself a homecooked meal – especially with somebody like Jungkook – but truthfully, it felt almost... natural. Probably because you're conversing casually while you're doing things so there isn't any awkward silence.

You're making tangsuyuk, according to him, and he's obviously taking the lead – expertly prepping the meat while you go chop some spices needed for the dish.

"Is this okay?" You ask, showing him your work. You hope he likes it because you're kind of under a weird pressure to be in here, helping him. Also, you're not sure if you minced the garlic right.

But Jungkook just gives you a hearty smile.

"Good girl."

And goes back to what he's doing as if he just said nothing.

Which—okay, he seemed to have unconsciously said it that now you're gaslighting yourself whether you heard him right or not. Did he really say what you think he just said? What the fucking fuck.

Thankfully, Jungkook's too busy to notice that you become a bit frozen in your position for a good ten seconds. If he truly didn't mean to say that, he needs to get those words out of his vocabulary before he sends you in a sudden cardiac arrest. It'd be the most mysterious death of humanity.

"Do you need the carrots?" You ask, raising the vegetable in your hand.

Jungkook nods and you start to peel it. He watches by your side when you begin slicing the carrot.

"Cut them into Julienne slices."

"Huh?" You look back at him. "Not the cooking jargon, Kook." You deadpan, the nickname seamlessly coming out of your mouth.

He apologizes and tells you exactly what he meant. You furrow your brows in concentration to achieve what he wants, but Jungkook just laughs beside you.

"Okay, let me just—"

He's behind you a second after that, towering over your form and circling his arms around you. Your breath hitches as Jungkook places his hand on top of yours – the one that holds the knife – and begins to guide you through slicing the carrot.

You can feel his breathing from the proximity of your position, and even though there's still distance between the both of you, it's only hairsbreadth away and frankly, the ridges of the front of his body are so prominent against your back.

Jungkook does not seem to face the same internal panic as you though, because as soon as he deems that you are staring to get it, he steps back and let you do the thing on your own.

He leans back on the countertop, crossing his arms while looking at you.

"You're not so bad at this like you claimed." He comments.

You feel your cheeks heating up, so you focus your full attention on the carrot, your hands seemingly having developed a mind of their own throughout the time. Well, at least it's doing the right job. You can only hope you don't slice through your fingers... imagine cutting them right into this very moment.

"This is a trauma response from watching too much Gordon Ramsay."

Jungkook chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

"We're just gonna wait for another thirty minutes for the meat and the mushroom. Should we start baking? What do we do first?" He says, washing his hands first before walking towards your direction.

You take your phone out from your pocket, looking at him a bit apologetically as you say "sorry" for pulling up Google. For the record, you haven't memorized shit and this is your first time baking.

Jungkook shakes his head, telling you there's no need for apologies because he "can't bake for shit" himself. That makes you feel relieved. You thought he's just good at a lot of things.

You don't encounter any trouble while mixing the dry ingredients, but when it comes to the wet ones, you think you've done something wrong. Jungkook tells you to try it. When you dip your finger into the mixture and taste it, you automatically scrunch your face.

"What, why?" Jungkook asks curiously.

"I don't think this is quite right..." You say, looking down at the mixture sadly.

"Mayve we can add more vanilla...?" He takes the bottle with him, ready to pour some into the bowl.

You pout. "But it says one teaspoon and we already put one teaspoon."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know... give up?"

Jungkook chuckles as he says your name.

You sigh. "Okay, maybe we'll try some that."

You do as you say, and as you taste it again, you're delighted to notice the elevated flavor. Mindlessly dipping your finger again into the bowl, you offer it to Jungkook to try.

The very act just sinks into your head when he leans down to suck it off your finger.

It happened quick, not at all sensual and slow like the movies make it out to be, but you feel your heart rate picking up at the feel after-effect of Jungkook's hot tongue touching your skin. But as you look at him, his eyebrows are furrowed, assessing the taste, not at all in a trance by what just happened.

"Oh, definitely better." He comments, as if he didn't just... suck your finger?

... Which you offered.

That he took willingly.

You turn away from him and pretend to busy yourself with the electric mixer, fumbling with the paddle.

"Are you cooking the tangsuyuk yet?" You ask, changing the subject. Jungkook is completely unaware of the current chaos in your head, walking towards the refrigerator to take out the pork he marinated earlier and the bowl of mushrooms.

"Just tell me if you need help." He tells you, touching the small of your back as he passes by you to get to the stove.

You feel your cheeks heating at the touch, moving aside to let him start frying the meat with the batter he's busied himself with awhile ago.

"Shit!" You say, surprised at the sudden whir of the machine. Jungkook quickly looks at you. You laugh and give him a thumbs up. "I'm fine here!"

You both work together on your own thing, and when you let the dough to rest, Jungkook, at the same time, finishes frying the meat of the tangsuyuk. You don't want to feel useless while you don't have anything to work on, so you peer over what Jungkook is doing and ask him if you there's anything he needs.

"Do you want to make the sauce?" Jungkook asks you. You scrunch your nose and hesitantly nod. He seems to notice your uncertainty and chuckles. "I'll teach you."

"Okay, but don't blame me if it tastes like shit later, okay?" You warn but he just shrugs and laugh, telling you that he'll talk you through the process and there's no need to be nervous. You can just experiment with it a little, he says.

You've watched a lot of Hell's Kitchen episodes that you have this silly, unrealistic expectation on what goes on in kitchens, but thankfully, Jungkook isn't like Gordon Ramsay at all and is so unbelievably gentle in teaching you even when you almost spilled soy sauce on the countertop and put too much vinegar than needed. He shrugs your worries off by fixing the thing, thankful that when he offers you the ladle to taste the sauce from it, it's more than decent.

While Jungkook prepares the tangsuyuk for your dinner, you take the time to form your cookie dough into small circles, leaving it in the oven to bake while you follow Jungkook into the living room and start eating the food that you cooked – or he cooked.

Jungkook teases you that you lied about not being good at cooking, but you have to remind him you didn't do shit and only the bare minimum. He looks like he's not convinced.

By the time that you're finished with your dinner, the oven's timer went off. Jungkook insists that he wash the dishes even though you feel like you should be the one doing it, but he tells you to check your cookies in the oven and so you did.

You're not expecting anything, but it will feel really good if it tastes at least okay.

Crossed fingers, your mind says as you take out the sheet pan.

First impression: it looks okay to the eye. Like real cookies.

But soon, your parade is rained on when you try to bite into the cookie.

It looks like real cookie, all right, but apparently doesn't taste like one.

Your face contorts into a frown as soon as you bite down into it a second time.

Okay, that's it. Put them in the tupperware as soon as possible, you thought. So, you do just that, placing all of the pieces into the plastic box and securing them away.

From where you were, you can hear Jungkook shutting the water off on the sink, his footsteps coming near you. Once he gets close, he peers down at what you're doing. Intrigued, he asks for one.

"No." you shake your head. The cookies are to be gatekept not because it's too good but because it should not be consumed at all. Jesus. You just ate Jungkook's tangsuyuk and it tasted exactly like the ones you've eaten from restaurants; it'd be such an embarrassing contrast to your own work.

"Don't be stingy," Jungkook playfully says, already making a move to reach for the cookies in your hands.

You hide the tupperware behind your back and stop him with your other free hand.

"Don't come closer. These cookies are not for consumption. Go away."

But he just arches a brow, walking a few steps forward.

"Jungkook!" You whine. "They don't taste good, and I'm embarrassed by them."

"Just one bite," Jungkook chuckles at you, not understanding your mortification. "Come on, __."

But you're stubborn and you won't let him have any of it even if he tries hard.

Jungkook is just as determined though, as he threatens to get closer and closer to you.

You squeaked out his name when he takes a hold of the tupperware but thankfully, you're quick on your reflex and able to take it back.

The whole thing prompts you to burst into laughter as you run around the island of his kitchen, giggling at the silliness of it all.

Your efforts to get away from him eventually go to waste as he managed to get ahold of your waist with his one arm, the other not missing the beat to steal the cookies from you.

He's firm over his hold, lifting you up while laughing against your head as you try to wriggle away.

"Let me have one bite, __," He says, and with his one arm, sits you on the countertop, not letting you go just yet even when you're fully sat.

You try to snatch the plastic from him but he's much quicker this time. When he opens it, you have no choice but to cover your face in embarrassment.

"I told you it's bad." You say, pouting at him, noting the expression on his face as he chews on the cookies that tells you it definitely does not taste good.

"You're a first timer." Jungkook just says, putting down the tupperware.

"Don't try to make me feel better." You frown even more.

"I'm not! I'm just pointing out that this is the first time you tried so of course it's not gonna be perfect right away?" He offers, some sort of comfort, maybe?

But your shoulders deflate because he's right.

Still.

Jungkook must have noticed your mood and tries to cheer you up one more time.

"Come on, you still made a really good tangsuyuk."

That makes you chuckle, unconsciously kicking his knee slightly making him let out an ingenuine, "Ow!"

You don't notice one of the straps of your spaghetti top falling off until Jungkook fixes it for you in the middle of your shared laughter.

"Thanks." You smile at him, mindlessly touching the strap, keeping it in place.

Jungkook hums as he helps you jump out of the kitchen counter.

The night ended with him walking you to your unit again, a rather silly thing he keeps on insisting to do. It's hard to put a name on it, but there's a certain feeling in your chest when you went out of Jungkook's apartment.

A feeling that lingers its way through when you receive a text from him after you come out of the shower that night.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:05pm]: good night chef

You fight off the smile that forces its way into your lips as you type out a reply.

You [11:06pm]: good night :)))))

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:06pm]: i thought u already slept

You [11:07pm]: at 11oclock??? what do u think am i a grandma

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: fair Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: but i had fun earlier. we should do it again sometime

You lie on your back, can't help yourself from letting a small giggle.

You [11:09pm]: jungkook-a You [11:09pm]: just tell me u wanna be with me??

You meant that as a joke, obviously. Just like how he joked about you one time over lunch about wanting to see him every day when you brought up the topic of not seeing him come out of his apartment. You did not mean anything by it other than friendly banter.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:10pm]: 🤔 Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: that can be arranged. you can be my personal sous chef and I'll build us a restaurant

You [11:11pm]: sweet

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:11pm]: you havent seen all, baby

Your lips part.

Okay...

Your relationship is absolutely platonic at best. But you can't help but think that he gets a little flirty at times... like the few moments in his kitchen earlier. Is it bad that you're thinking way too much about that specific memory of him licking your finger without thought? Of his strong arm effortlessly carrying you against his rigid body and putting you on the countertop, almost manhandling you? Is it bad you can't get the memory of him fixing your top out of your head?

His use of nickname ticks a little light at the back of your head, and you decide to poke the nest a little.

You [11:12pm]: really? what r u wearing right now

Just a little jokey-joke between friends and nothing more.

You don't even expect a reply to that, but your phone dings a second after, and when you open your message thread again, your jaw parts wider this time.

It's a picture of Jungkook lying his bed, his face cut off from the frame. But you know it's him from the arm that peeks out, his tattoos a familiar sight by now. The photo is taken at a low angle, just enough for you to see the sleeveless shirt he's sporting and the strings of his grey shorts.

You [11:14pm]: i meant that as a joke

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:14pm]: 🥴

You do not know what he meant by that. You look for a picture to reply with, and the HAHA reaction is expected the moment you pressed send.

You [11:15pm]: stripper patrick says good night

Laughing silently at the meme you sent him which was Patrick from Spongebob wearing a pair of black fishnet tights and boots, you wait as three dots appear on Jungkook's line.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:15pm]: you're a minx

You chuckle, reacting to his message with an emoji and turn off your phone, almost throwing it on your nightstand and scrambling to bury your face in your pillow to let out a sound of a weird sob, but you're smiling your face off and your cheeks feel way too hot.

The truth of the matter is that you ended the conversation because you're afraid of where it's going.

Turning around, you lay on your back and stare at your ceiling, calming the beat of your heart and forcing your eyes to shut close.

But the picture Jungkook sent you keeps on popping up in your head, almost like those ads from shady websites on the internet, and when you think about it, it triggers a slur of memories that play like a picture in your head: his lips wrapped around your finger... his strong arm... his subtle touch on the small of your back...

"Ugh," you groan, slapping your hands over your face.

You furrow your brows to appear serious, thinking that it'll make you think of something serious as well, wrapping a blanket over your body and sighing when the technique doesn't work.

Okay, think of dogs... and puppies...but that's apparently a wrong move because now you're thinking of Jungkook with his dog.

You're obviously awful at this.

You turn on your bed once again, muffling a sound in your pillow.

But then as minutes passed, your restlessness continues to prevail and you're about to cry with the unknown frustration that sits at the back of your head.

Laying in silence for a while, your hand finds itself roaming over your body, your thumb catching your nipple through your thin top. You pinch the nub, experimental, until it turns into a pebbled rock in your touch.

You bite your bottom lip as your other hand trails down over your panties, running it around the waistband, down until you reach down, down, down to your core.

Your lips part when you feel its heat, two of your fingers starting to stroke where your nether lips were. You sigh at the sensation, squeezing at your boob and turning your head to the side, thinking about how good it feels.

Slowly, you reach down under your parties to part your lips, moaning at the wetness that welcomes you below.

You start to stroke gently with your middle finger, drawing figure eights over your core and making sure to put friction on your clit. The ministration produces more wetness in your cunt, and you spread it over for easier access inside as you start to poke into your hole.

"Oh my god," you mewled, breathing heavily against your pillow, pumping a finger into you. It's a little tight, and you remember you haven't touched yourself like this for over a few weeks now.

But god, how could you forget the feeling of it? The feeling of something going in and out of your cunt, gliding so smoothly because of the abundance of wetness all over.

"Fuck." you sigh out, lips parted, eyes closed to feel more of the sensation.

Your other hand reaches under your top to fondle with your boob, helping you stimulate yourself into that familiar feeling of great ecstasy that comes with your pussy getting touched.

It's starting to feel hot, and you can feel the beads of sweat starting to form on the side of your head even though the AC and your fan are both on. There's a zap that starts from your spine that comes with a sort of electricity coming from within, transferring that tick into your belly which prompts you to pump into your hole faster.

The sheets are a mess at this point, with your feet kicking into them as your movement picks up pace.

"Oh god," you cry out silently, muffling your sob in the comfort of your fluffy pillow.

You chase the feeling of completion, closing your eyes once more, trying to figure out how to get there.

And there's one familiar man that pops inside your head.

Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh shit," you hiss, pinching your nipple and going in and out faster.

Jungkook with his lips around your finger. Jungkook pressing his body against your back. Jungkook carrying you against his body. Jungkook's electric touch as he fixes the strap that's fallen over your naked shoulder.

You let out a pathetic moan, trying to shake away the thoughts of him.

You aren't supposed to. It feels wrong. So wrong.

Suddenly, you feel frustrated over still not reaching your climax up to this point.

You let out a heavy breath, pulling out your fingers from your pussy and from under your panties.

You don't get off. You never do – with your fingers, anyway, that is. And that's why you have a trusted toy buried deep at the back of the drawer of your nightstand, kept away for occasional uses. You'd say you need it right now, but you're too flushed and tired to take it out.

And there's also a melancholic feeling in your heart upon realizing that you just thought of Jungkook while touching yourself.

"Shit, shit, shit." You hiss, the cusses mostly dedicated to yourself.

You shake your head as you sit on the edge of your bed, your hair a bird's nest and clothes strewn over your body as per your reflection on the full-body mirror across your bed.

Sighing, you let your head down and massage your temples.

"God, what's wrong with me,"

You feel guilty... because you aren't supposed to think of a friend when you're trying to get off. You told yourself you'd stop finding Jungkook hot or cute or what-the-fuck-ever so that stupid crush can go away finally. But it feels like all your efforts – or lack, thereof – always seem to fall short.

This isn't good. You need to think straight.

A sudden loud ping catches your attention, almost startling you because it's in the middle of the night, after all. When you snap your head to the side, you see your phone with the light out.

You instantly feel a little nervous. What if it's Jungkook? There's an irrational fear in your head that he knows what you just did, but you shake the thought away, scolding yourself for getting way over your head.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you feel scared to open your phone but then, did you really have a choice?

Slowly trudging to the direction of your phone, you pick it up from the table and turn it on.

August 18: Your cycle forecast Ovulation in 2 days. Your sex drive may just be hitting its peak🌡️ Tap for tips to make most out of it👉

"Oh fuck me." You curse, throwing your phone on the bed, feeling pissed all of the sudden.

Fucking period tracker app... and ovulation.

PART THREE | ...

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[redstarwriting]

his girl | ii. envy me

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, insults, spoilers, probably bad spanish, 42 Miles and reader get into a little spat, stubborn 42 Miles, violent 42 Miles, Miles and Miles almost fight twice

a/n: teehee and so it begins 🤭 didn’t expect this to turn into a whole series but i’m not mad. i hope y’all enjoy the storyline i thought up and please, by all means, give me your input! thank you all for the support 🖤 enjoy :)

previous chapter: i. his girl

now reading: ii. envy me

next chapter: iii. all the riches

───────────────────────────────

Miles, in fact, did not run. He was too taken aback to do anything, even though his body was screaming at him too. And he was too focused on your confused face. You looked exactly like his (Y/n), and it made his heart ache. And that is how other Miles was able to knock him out so fast. And why he just woke up in his Uncle Aaron’s apartment, chained to the punching bag, just like he did to Peter after first meeting him. He hears his uncle's music blaring from his record player. He looks in the direction it’s coming from. His eyes widen as he sees his Uncle Aaron. He’s alive. “Uncle Aaron?”

“Not your tío,” 42 Miles says, and Miles glares at him. “I’m just tryna go home, bro. Why are you doing this? What are you getting from this?”

“You said you’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah. And?” Miles asks, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I was sent here by mistake! I just wanna get back to my world, man. Dad’ll die,” he says, exasperated, and Miles stares at him with a blank expression. “Your dad alive?”

“Yeah, of course, he is,” Miles says, and 42 Miles frowns slightly. “Oh.”

Miles normally would be able to piece together what the disappointment in his voice would mean. But he's a little preoccupied with multiple other thoughts currently to necessarily care to psychoanalyze his own behaviors. He also doesn’t have the chance to see Aaron’s face drop and see the sadness in his eyes. Or the way you immediately look at your Miles to make sure the news didn’t break him. “But he’s gonna die if you keep me here,” Miles explains, and 42 Miles nods. “Yeah. Well, you ain’t leaving.”

“…Please. You have to let me go,” Miles pleads. But 42 Miles just stares at him, unmoved. “Why would I do that?” he asks, placing his gauntlet next to Miles’ head. Miles frowns, placing his finger on the piece of metal linking the chains together, ready to electrocute it and make his escape. The other him stares at him with an unreadable expression, seemingly no emotion behind his eyes, and just as it feels like shit is about to go down, he hears your voice ring out. “Miles. Just let him go.” Both your Miles and 1610 Miles turn their heads to you. It’s the first time 1610 Miles noticed you were in here. “(Y/n)? Bro, why are you letting her around your business?” Miles asks, and 42 Miles shoots a venomous look at him. “She insisted on coming. This is her first time around this shit,” Miles hisses at him. 1610 Miles can’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. He wants nothing more than for you from his world to be here with him. Not even in a romantic way, at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself. He just misses you. He chased you away, and now he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to fix it. His thoughts are interrupted when you clear your throat. Both of the boys look back in your direction. You’re on Aaron’s couch, staring at your Miles with such intensity it makes even 1610 Miles lock up. He can only imagine what it’s like being the one on the receiving end of that look. He sees other Miles’ eyes soften in his peripheral vision as he removes his fist from beside Miles’ head. “Mi amor…”

“No. Let him go, there’s no point in keeping him here,” you say, and 42 Miles frowns. “Not one to let people go, (Y/n). You know that.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Morales.”

“Damn, ma! Not even callin’ me Miles now?” Miles asks, an edge to his voice. You frown. “No. Not right now. Let him go, and we’ll see.”

“Why you want me to let him go? Got a crush on him or something?” Miles asks, and you raise your eyebrow. You glance at Miles, then back to your Miles. “Technically, yeah. I do. Unless you’d prefer I break up with both of you right now,” you say back, your voice just as cold as your boyfriend’s. “You tellin’ me you’d rather have this guy? Sayin’ this guy is like me? Estás de broma…” he mutters, and Miles looks between the two of you. “Not to piss you off more, but this guy is still technically you,” Miles says, and 42 Miles glares at him. “Cállate. No one was talking to you.”

“Man, why do you hate me so much?! I’m you!” Miles says, exasperated. He just doesn’t understand why this version of him is so hostile to him. They’re basically the same! Except Miles is a superhero and other Miles is a supervillain, but they still both have super in the title so how different can they really be? “Is this a call for help or–”

Miles gets cut off but 42 Miles punching the punching bag, right by Miles’ head. Enough force is exuded that the sand from the bag flies out, starting to pour down the side of it. His eyes widen, and you gasp. Even Aaron reacts a bit to it. But maybe it’s just because someone who looks exactly like his nephew is on the receiving end of it this time. This time. “Miles!” you yell, standing up. “What?!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“What I gotta do! You don’t get it, (Y/n)! This is the job!” Miles yells, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Miles. This is the job? He’s you! Wouldn’t you be trying to get home if you knew you could save your dad?!” you yell, and he glares at you. “(Y/n). Don’t.”

“You know you would be,” you walk over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks. He subconsciously relaxes, but only slightly. You sigh. “You don’t have to be such a hardass all the time, amor,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “No comprendes, amor… I have to be this way. Or else— “

“Miles, he’s not a part of the cartel. He’s not gonna tell anyone here that you let him go… he’s not even from here. It’s okay for you to think with your heart instead of your head just this once,” you say, and he huffs. “Nah. I stopped thinkin’ with my heart a long time ago,” he says, and a hurt expression crosses your face. “Then what am I? A calculated move for you to use as an adavantage when you need it?” you ask, venom in your words. “No, (Y/n), don’t be estúpida. You’re mi vida, but him? How I know he ain’t just some experiment they made? To get to me?” Miles asks, looking at you with a skeptical look. You sigh. “Dude! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I have spider powers, is that a thing anyone else here has?!”

“No.”

“Exactly! Why would whoever you’re talking about make a carbon copy of you with enhanced biology just to use me for this?!” Miles asks, and you shrug. “He’s got a point, Miles,” you say, and 42 Miles looks at you again. “Thank you, (Y/n),” 1610 Miles says, and 42 Miles rolls his eyes. “(Y/n) you have to understand that I can’t take no chances. You know that the cartel will go after—”

“I know. I know, Miles, but I really don’t think that—”

“You don’t know that (Y/n). You don’t know them like I do,” Miles says, and you sigh. “Miles. Mi amor. Mi vida. Mi sol, listen to me. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now,” you try to get through to him. He glances back at Miles, and Miles can literally see the distrust and paranoia in his expression.

He must have been through so much shit. This is a world with no Spider-Man after all. And all this mention of a cartel? No wonder Miles turned to the Prowler. It’s similar to Aaron in his world, he thinks. He thought that he had nowhere else to turn, so he turned to crime. But deep down, he can’t be that bad. Right…?

“Amor, I need to be cautious. I just have to ask him some questions before… letting him go,” he mumbles, glancing at Aaron. Aaron nods. 1610 Miles gets the feeling they’re not planning on letting him go. You must get that feeling too, because you shake your head, pulling your hands away from Miles’ face. “I can’t believe you right now,” you say, and he frowns. “(Y/n), please just try to understand—”

“No, Miles! I’m done trying to understand you when you never try to understand me!” you yell, and he clenches his jaw. “What do you mean by that, huh?” he asks, and you scoff. “I just. I need to leave. Before I do something I regret.”

“Like what, huh? Break up with me? Fight with me? Actually understand where I’m coming from for once?” Aaron cringes at that. You’re probably the most understanding person in his life other than him. That wasn’t the right choice of words. And you let him know it. “FOR ONCE?! Miles! Oh my god! Are you serious right now?! How many times have you tried to understand me?! I lost people too, you know! And I’m not out here—”

“Do you think I want to do this, (Y/n)?! Be fuckin’ for rea! I do this for you!” he yells back, and you shake your head, frustrated to the point of tears. “I never asked you to do this!”

“You didn’t need to because I love you enough to want to without you asking me to! You need it, Mamá needs it, everyone needs it, and I can provide it for all of you!” You angrily wipe a tear away, trying desperately to keep the rest of them contained. Miles softens. “Amor, no necesitas llorar—”

“Stop, Miles. Just… just stop. I need some air, don’t follow me,” you turn, hurrying to Aaron’s door. Miles steps forward to go after you, but Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Give her some space. She’ll come around,” Aaron says, and Miles clenches his fists. As soon as he sees you slip out of the door, closing it behind you, he turns to Miles. “This is your fault,” he says, pointing at him. “Miles,” Aaron says, crossing his arms. While he is also weary of this new Miles, his Miles isn’t thinking rationally right now. Then again, he is only 15. That’s why Aaron is here, sometimes he needs some assistance. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Aaron asks the other Miles. Miles hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He shakes his head. “Nothing… nothing. Just… good to see you. Haven’t in a while,” he mumbles, and Aaron raises his eyebrow. That could mean a few things. Best not to dwell on it, though. 

“Who are you, really?” 42 Miles asks, and 1610 Miles groans. “I’m you, dude! Why is that so hard to understand?! I’m not a part of a cartel or anything I just want to get home!” Miles is frustrated. Seeing the world they live in from Aaron’s window, he gets why Miles is so… paranoid. But honestly, how long can he keep this uncertainty up? “Explain how you got here. And don’t just say ‘by mistake,’ alright?” Miles says, showing the claws on his gauntlets. Miles rolls his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man, right? And there’s tons of different Spider-Mans… men? Not important, there’s other me’s! And Spider-Women, Spider-People in a bunch of different dimensions, one of them, Miguel, figured out how to travel dimensions and we all met each other… except I wasn’t supposed to meet them because the spider that made me Spider-Man actually came from this world so someone here was supposed to get bit and I wasn't supposed to exist like this, but—”

“Wait… you sayin’ my world ain’t supposed to be like this…?” Miles asks, and Miles nods. “Yes. The people at Alchemax on my world built a collider and had the spider come to my world and it got out and—”

“You’re the reason for this?” Miles looks at himself, who is not even angrier. “I… n-no, but yes, I—” Miles gets cut off by a gauntlet getting placed way too close to his head again. What he doesn’t know is 42 Miles just put together everything in his head. This Miles was Spider-Man. And his dad was still alive because of it. If that were the case for him, maybe his dad wouldn’t have died. Maybe he wouldn’t have been like this. 

He could have had everything that was taken from him. 

“That’s enough talking, cabrón,” he growls, ready to escalate things yet again. Miles gets ready to break out of his restraints again, and Aaron gets ready to help Miles out. Then, over the music, they hear a scream.

A scream that undoubtedly belongs to you.

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@angeli-fucking-cat​ @dani111* @nightshxdex​ @snixx2088 @shoyofroyoyoyo @staravity​

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you wish to be on the tag list, reach out and let me know! thank you to everyone for the support!🖤

[krirebr]

More Than This 8

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~9.5k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, family drama - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy. Getting this update in right under the six month wire. I'm so sorry this one took so long, you guys. I had to drag this chapter out of me. But uh, it's horrifically long, so that's something?

And, I know I keep saying that we're about to start a happier part of this story and then deliver a bucketful of angst, and yeah, whoops, I've done that again. I should just stop making promises, huh?

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has spent the last almost six months talking this one through with me. And to @bigtreefest who was so great with the encouragement and gut checks and did a quick beta of this chapter! But, of course, all mistakes are my own.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The rest of the day was quiet. Calmer, more settled than you were used to. After having gotten everything out into the open, it was so much easier to acknowledge Ransom’s presence, to coexist with him. You hadn’t fully realized how much you’d been holding your breath until you could suddenly breathe freely. It was a wild feeling.

Once you were all cried out, Ransom turned on the TV, turning it to the classic movie channel. That was how you learned he loved old movies. “Grandad and I used to watch them together. When I was a kid,” he said quietly. He didn't volunteer any other information and you didn't ask. But you watched the old noir with him.

One movie turned into two and soon the whole afternoon was gone. It had been… comfortable, in a way you’d never expected to be with him. Neither of you had said much, but the silence hadn’t been stifling in the way it’d been even just the day before. For the first time since you’d gotten here, you felt something a lot like hope.

He made two arrangements while sitting with you on the couch. The first was for movers to come to collect his gym equipment the next day so that your new room would be empty when your things arrived in a couple of days. 

You were made aware of the second when you received a text from him. You looked up in confusion. You were sitting right next to each other. He chuckled lightly. “That’s the number to your new car service. Call it, let them know where you’re going, and a car should be here within half an hour.”

You stared at the number. Holy shit, you’d be able to go places. You felt silly for how emotional you suddenly felt, but it was like your entire world was expanding in real time. It felt like fresh oxygen in your lungs. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He just nodded in response. “After you’ve used that for a while, we can talk about whether a private driver might be more appropriate. If that’s what you need.”

You looked at your phone again. This was proof in your hands that you could tell Ransom what you needed and he would do what he could to help you get it. That he wasn’t the enemy you’d assumed he was. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes and you took a deep breath to try to quell them without calling attention to your state.

Ransom, of course, noticed anyway. “Is that not ok?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. I’m sorry, I just–” You had no idea what to say to him, how to explain yourself. As good and necessary as the last several hours had been, he was still a stranger. And as much as he’d demonstrated a willingness to help you, that didn’t mean he wanted you getting your messy emotions all over him. “Sorry,” you said again, “I’m just emotional today. Hormones probably. I’m afraid you’re going to be dealing with this for the next nine months.” You grimaced in what you hoped was a playful manner as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

He remained serious, concerned. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his tone still so soft. But if you looked very carefully, you thought that you might be able to see a hint of panic in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was for the havoc that your pregnancy hormones might wreak or everything that would come after. You didn’t ask. You knew you wouldn’t be able to answer the question for yourself either. So you turned back to the movie.  

At some point, you both started to get hungry, so Ransom ordered takeout. As you ate, you asked a few questions about the sorts of movies he liked, grateful for a safe topic to fill the silence. You certainly wouldn’t call him verbose, but you learned that he had a soft spot for Billy Wilder movies. You wouldn’t really say the conversation flowed, either, but your questions didn’t seem unwelcome. It was nice. He was starting to feel like a real person.

When you were done, you cleaned up the leftovers together, packing them up and putting them away in the fridge. It was while you were doing that that the doorbell suddenly rang. You both looked up, confused. “If that’s fucking Linda, I swear…” Ransom grumbled.

“She never rings the doorbell when it’s just me here,” you griped. You continued putting things away, sticking your head in the fridge as Ransom went to get the door. Then everything happened so fast.

First, you heard Lola yipping excitedly. As you started to turn around to see what was going on with her, Ransom asked “What are you doing here?!” And then–

And then Ransom was on the ground, clutching his jaw, and Steve was looming over him, his hand still in a fist.

“What the shit?!” Ransom ground out.

Steve’s eyes flitted around wildly until they landed on you. He sighed in relief, clearly doing a quick check as he looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone so much gentler than his posture.

“Am I– What– What are you doing here? I don't–” You felt like you couldn’t process anything that was happening. How was he here?? Your gaze caught on your husband, still on the floor. “Oh my god, Ransom!” You dropped to your knees next to him. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I–” he started, then carefully flexed his jaw, “Fucking shit. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Your hand hovered uselessly between you as he slowly stood up. You turned back to Steve, who had stepped fully into the house, closing the door behind him, and now had Lola in his arms, softly greeting her as she snuggled into him adoringly.

“Steve, what are you–” you started but then you saw the suitcase at his feet. “Are you staying here?!”

Steve finally turned his attention away from Lola. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, with a challenging glare to Ransom. 

You sighed helplessly. “There’s no guest room…”

“Yeah,” Ransom grumbled as he rifled through the freezer until he pulled out an icepack, “as thrilled as we are to see you, we do have hotels here. You might be more comfortable in one.” The icy coldness that filled the room wasn’t just from the open freezer. 

Steve took an aggressive step forward. “And leave you alone with my sister for even one more day? I don’t think so. I’ll be just fine on the couch. I’m easy like that.”

“Steve–” you tried but you were quickly interrupted.

“Really? You’re here for your step-sister? That’s interesting because my understanding is that you haven’t had much time for her lately,” Ransom said snidely.

Steve started to puff up in a way that was much too familiar from the playground fights of your childhood. “Oh my god!” you yelled. “Stop! Both of you!” You briefly put your head in your hands and took a deep breath, then one more. You straightened yourself and tried to deal with one of the fifteen problems at hand. “Ok, I, uh, I guess I’ll see about making up the couch,” you said, then stomped your way upstairs to the linen closet.

Steve followed close behind you, still carrying around Lola. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “you haven’t actually said ‘hello’ to me yet.”

“No,” you growled, as you looked through the closet without turning around to look at him, “I guess I haven’t.”

He pulled your arm lightly. “Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ll help pull this stuff together if you tell me where to look. We both know Ransom’s just gonna let you do all the work.”

That earned you finally turning to face him. “Well, he did just get punched in the face, so I think he’s a little more concerned with that than making you feel comfortable right now.”

Steve’s face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you? Well, let's see. You showed up unannounced and punched my husband in the face. Yeah! I'm a little mad at you!”

“He deserved it,” he growled. 

“How would you know?!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You sighed. You did not have the energy for this. And where were all the blankets? You remembered the pile currently in the corner of the gym. Right. You turned around and walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom, Steve still on your heels. As soon as you walked in, he stopped, putting Lola down. “The fuck is this?” he asked, harshly, his hands on his hips. You realized your mistake immediately. His eyes scanned the cushions and blankets set up, the exercise equipment still there, your few possessions strewn about. “Is this where you sleep?”

“No! Just last night.”

“Why did you need to sleep here last night?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

It felt like a trap. If you told him you’d panicked and needed some space, he would ask why. Steve never dropped anything. And you just could not tell him you were pregnant right now. It was the absolute worst time for that. But you didn’t know how else to answer his question. “I just needed a little space.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. God, you hated being the focus of that look. It was the look he gave you when you scratched his car when you were 16, or when you were 18 and he had to pick you up from a party at 2 AM and wouldn’t tell him what had happened. It was the look you got when you were little and used to steal his paintbrushes so he couldn’t paint and he’d have to hang out with you. You’d hated that look since you were six years old. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He just shook his head for a moment. “You sounded so sad and tired this morning. And I’m just so sick of not being able to see you, not being able to tell what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Not being able to protect you.”

“Steve,” was all you could say at first. Then you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You launched yourself at him and wrapped him in a big hug. He was a fucking idiot. You couldn’t believe he’d punched Ransom. You were so mad about that. But he was your fucking brother and you’d missed him so much.

He hugged you back tightly. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Chipmunk,” he murmured into your hair. 

You stood there, savoring the closeness for as long as you both were able, and then you pulled away and stared down at the mound of blankets and cushions. The big couch downstairs had been pulled apart the night before to give you a place to sleep. That severely limited the options for Steve. You sighed. “I guess it would make the most sense to put you in here.”

“And where would you sleep?” he asked, his tone taking on an aggressive edge, aimed at the man downstairs, you knew.

“I’d go back to the bedroom,” you said, with a put-on casualness like you weren’t aware of the fight that was about to happen.

“Absolutely not,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh my god, Steve! You can’t control where I sleep!” you said, throwing your hands in the air.

“The whole reason I’m here is to make sure you’re ok and that he can’t hurt you! I’m not gonna do something that puts you back in his space!”

“Steve, I don’t need that! He isn’t doing anything!”

“Then why did you text me? Why were you crying?!”

You did not have the energy for the conversation that would answer that question, so all you could do was glare at him, which he answered with a confrontational jut of his chin. The two of you just stood there locked in a staredown until Steve muttered, “What sort of grown man doesn’t have anywhere for guests, anyway?”

“The sort that likes an excuse to stop people from staying at his house,” Ransom said pointedly from the doorway, startling you both. “What exactly do you think I’d do, with you right across the hall? I’ve already gotten a taste of how you solve problems,” he said to Steve, gesturing with the ice pack still held to his face. Then, much softer, to you, he said, “I know you want your own space, but you’re more than welcome to share the bed until your stuff gets here. That’s all I wanted to say.” Then he turned around and walked into his bedroom, Lola scampering behind him, ready for bed.

You stared after him, unable to parse the feelings bubbling up inside you. He’d been so different lately. Or maybe you were just finally looking.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve asking “Your stuff?”

You turned your attention back to him. He was watching you too carefully. “Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here. I’m turning this into my room.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask too many questions probably so you cut him off. “It’s been a really long couple of days, Steve. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He set his jaw. You could tell he wanted to fight you. Force you to talk to him. But you held your ground, looked him in the eye with a hint of challenge, and eventually he deflated, just a bit. “Yeah, okay,” he relented before he pulled you into another crushing hug. You’d really missed his hugs.

“I am happy to see you,” you whispered.

“Me too, Chip,” he whispered right back. 

After making sure he had everything he needed, you left Steve alone with a quiet “goodnight,” and made your way back to Ransom’s bedroom. He and Lola were already snuggled in bed, snoring softly. You quickly went through your bedtime routine and then joined them, very careful not to wake either of them. After how eventful and emotionally wrought the last few days had been, it didn’t take you long at all to drift off into sleep.

You woke up in the morning pressed up against Ransom, face to face, your feet tangled together, Lola on your legs. You carefully pushed yourself away, watching him warily to see if he roused at all. Thankfully he didn't. You were sure he wouldn't be thrilled with how close you'd both gotten in the night. 

You quietly got up and let yourself out of the bedroom, a now wide-awake Lola at your heels. The door to the gym was open and the room was empty, Steve’s suitcase wide open on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. You didn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs, so he was out on a run, most likely.

You headed down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then started looking through the fridge for the leftovers from the previous morning. As you were doing that, a creak on the stairs let you know Ransom was joining you. 

“Morning,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse. He went to the coffee maker and just stood in front of it, waiting for the pot to finish.

“Morning,” you said from inside the fridge. You found the leftovers and closed the appliance, finally turning to him with a gasp. You put the food down on the counter and went to Ransom. “Oh my god, your face!” A large bruise in a deep shade of purple took up most of the left side of his face, centered on his jaw and cheekbone. You rushed to his side and without thinking, extended a hand to touch him before you realized what you were doing and pulled back at the last minute, embarrassed. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, his attention still fixed on the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe. 

You stared at him for another moment, before you just couldn’t keep your feelings inside anymore. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

He finally looked at you at that. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

So much, you thought to yourself, maybe, probably. But for right now, in this instance, you just shrugged. “He’s my brother,” you said, a little helplessly. 

“Did you tell him to punch me?” he asked as he decided he’d waited long enough and filled his mug.

“What? No!”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He leaned back against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Where is your brother?”

“On a run, probably,” you said, now helping yourself to a mug and fixing it up how you liked.

Ransom scoffed. “Of course, he is.” He looked at you carefully for a long moment and you struggled not to squirm under his gaze. “You happy he’s here?”

“Of course!” you said, too quickly. He kept looking at you. “I mean, I didn’t invite him here, so… It was just a surprise. I don’t know. He’s very protective, you know?” Ransom raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Right, yeah. He just– Sometimes, he just– he decides what’s right. And then there’s no changing his mind.”

He made a little hum, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I have met him before. But why are you worried about that?”

“Uh, he just, he isn’t always a good listener. And he’s gonna have a lot of questions for me today. I know he will. And I don’t know how I’ll answer any of them without telling him about the– that I’m pregnant.”

“And you don’t want to?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft.

“No, that’s not exactly– I just–” you sighed. “This isn’t what he ever wanted for me.”

Ransom made a small noise of understanding. “You think he’ll be disappointed in you.”

There was no judgment in his tone, but it still made you shrink in on yourself a little. You nodded.

“Listen, it’s no secret that I think he’s a sanctimonious asshole.” You opened your mouth to start defending Steve, but Ransom shook his head. “Let me finish. It’s clear that he loves you. I think you’ll be ok. And if he does give you shit, well, it’ll be just one of a few things he’s done to earn himself a punch.”

“Oh god, Ransom no, please don’t do that.”

He grinned at you. “Nah, I won’t. Some of us have self-control. I know him being here is important to you. I’ll try not to do anything to mess that up.”

You wondered if the warm feelings spreading through you would always be such a surprise. If he would always be such a surprise.

“But,” he continued before he paused to drain his mug. “I am going to try to get out of here before he gets back.”

“This is your house. You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, “you should have a nice day with your brother.” Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and went back upstairs to get dressed, with you staring after him.

Ransom left and, sure enough, Steve got back a few minutes later. He went straight to the shower and you tried to busy yourself and calm your nerves while you waited for the inevitable conversation.

When he came down, his hair was still wet and he was dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. There was nothing casual about his demeanor though.

“So,” he said, sitting down next to you in the kitchen, “you ready to tell me what’s been going on here?”

You started to get up. “Do you want some breakfast first? We have some pastries left over from yesterday.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back down into your chair. “No, I want to know why you've sounded so upset every time I’ve talked to you since the wedding.”

You squirmed under his sharp gaze. You knew him. You knew that he wouldn’t give up until you told him everything. But you also knew how awful his reaction would be and you just weren’t ready to give everything up. “It’s just been a lot of change, you know? Of course, it’s been hard. I’m just… adjusting. It’s been an adjustment period.”

“Adjusting to what, exactly?”

“To marriage! To living in a new place! You know, the obvious.”

“The obvious is why you always sound like you’ve been crying?”

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “You know me,” you tried. “I’m emotional.”

“You’re emotional?! Is that what he says to you?” Shit, he was already getting angry and you hadn’t even told him anything yet.

“No! God, Steve. That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just trying to say that it’s been a difficult transition, but I’m starting to feel better about it.”

“And I’m asking you to tell me exactly what about it has been difficult.” 

You wanted to growl. Once he got an idea in his head, he was so fucking intractable. “What’s been difficult about moving across the country to a brand new city and living with a stranger??”

“Yes. Exactly. In detail please.” And then he just stared at you and you wanted to scream. 

“I’ve been a little lonely,” you conceded, hoping a partial truth might satisfy him. “Ransom has to work a lot and it’s been hard to know what to do with my time.” And then, without giving him time to react, you asked. “How about you? How are you? Now that I’m out of the way, is Joseph trying to set up matches for you?” It was a low blow, but you were grasping for any defense you could reach.

“I don't understand why you won't just tell me what's going on.”

“I'm trying! It's just a lot more complicated than you realize and I think that maybe once you're in an arrangement of your own–”

“My marriage won't be anything like this.”

At first, all you could do was gape at him. Then you just sighed. “I don’t think,” you started slowly, “that you can have any idea what a marriage like this is really like until you’re inside of it, Steve.”

He shook his head. “I know what sort of man I am,” he said confidently. “I know how I’ll treat my wife.” And you saw it then, the pity in his eyes, and everything in you bristled.

Sanctimonious. That was the word Ransom had used. You loved your step-brother so much. You’d defend him to the end of the world and back. But he really could be such an asshole sometimes. And seeing him now, like this, you could understand why someone like Ransom might hate him.

“Well,” you said, trying so hard to keep your voice even, “you’ll be lucky then. To have such an easy go of it. I hope you don’t find that it’s harder than it looks. That appearances can be deceiving.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”

“Because I know you won’t listen! You’ve already decided what’s going on here!”

“Well, it seems pretty obvious! I know you, and I certainly know him. So yeah, when you’re crying every time I talk to you and you send me cryptic texts wishing I was here, yeah, I think I have a pretty good guess about what’s been going on.”

“You’re so frustrating,” you growled a little. Then you sighed. It was inevitable. You knew it. At this point, you just wanted to get it over with. “Ok. Fine. But you have to actually listen to me, ok? Like, to what I’m actually saying. You can’t just jump to conclusions. Okay? I’m serious.”

“Chip, yes, of course. I’ll always listen to you.”

You took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s been– It’s been really hard here. I’ve been on my own almost the whole time and it’s just been really lonely. You just– you can’t know what it’s like to be married to a stranger. We haven’t known how to talk to each other and I just– It’s been really hard for both of us.” At that, Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t stop now, you had to get this out. “Anyway, um, a few days ago I learned some news, that was–” You paused to try to find the right word. You had no idea how to classify it. It wasn’t upsetting, per se, but what other word was there? “And then Ransom found out and that’s when I texted you. And slept in the gym.”

“What was the news?” Steve asked, gravely. He was looking at you so intently. You really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you had to.

You looked off into the corner of the room, unable to get this out and meet his eyes at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.

Steve stood up so abruptly that you couldn’t help but jump. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he actually snarled. You’d never heard his voice do that before.

“Steve, please,” you started, both hands out in a placating manner. “Please, can you calm down so we can talk about this?”

But, of course, he ignored you. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, helplessly. “He’s out. I don’t, I don’t know where.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw and stood rigidly, his hands on his hips. You could practically see the untapped adrenaline coursing through him.

“Can you please just sit down?” you pleaded. “Just take a deep breath and sit down and we can–”

“I’m going for a run,” he said, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

“But you just got back from one!” you called after him. He wasn’t even dressed for a run. But that apparently didn’t matter. He was gone.

You just sat there for a moment, completely lost, with no idea what to do. Then you got your phone out and texted Ransom.

He knows

Don’t come back for a few hours, I think. He needs time to calm down. I’m sorry.

The checkmark showing he’d seen your message appeared almost immediately, quickly followed by the three dots that showed he was typing, but then those disappeared. A few moments later they came back but quickly disappeared again. No response ever came.

The men from the storage company came to take Ransom’s gym equipment away. You threw yourself into directing them, happy to have a distraction from worrying about where Steve was, what he was feeling. But then they were done, the room was empty, and Steve was still gone.

Ransom got back first. He found you in the former gym, trying to rearrange the couch cushions in the center of the room into something more comfortable. He paused in the doorway, Lola dancing around at his feet. “Where’s Steve?” he asked, as he bent down to pet her.

“He, uh–” you said without looking up, “he went for another run. He wasn’t very happy.”

“Fucking asshole,” Ransom muttered.

You finally looked at him, shaking your head. “No, he just doesn’t handle it well when he doesn’t know how to fix something.”

Ransom looked at you very seriously. “And if he makes that your problem, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That's not– That's not what happened. That's not what he's doing.”

He stared at you for a long moment, causing you to look away, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay,” he finally said with the hint of a sigh. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you want company or…” He trailed off and shrugged, then left the room.

About an hour later, Steve burst back into the house, yelling into his phone. “Well, where the hell did that money go? There’s no reason for him to be that over-budget. I’ve seen the dailies. –No, you get down there and you get that set back under control. –I can’t, I’m not in LA. There was a family emergency. –Yeah, I know Joseph is still there. He isn’t my only family, is he? Listen, just go do your goddamn job.” With that, he hung up his phone forcefully then stomped upstairs without acknowledging you or Ransom where you were seated on the couch.  

You could feel the irritation coming off of Ransom but he didn’t say anything. You were grateful. You had no idea what to make of Steve right now, how to explain him. Or excuse him. The awkward silence was preferable to trying.

Several minutes later, Steve came back down, changed into fresh clothes again. He smiled at you in greeting and if not for the tense set of his shoulders, you would have thought everything was fine. “Hey,” he said, “I just ordered the two of us some food.”

“The two of us?” you asked, looking pointedly at Ransom.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed and the fucking fake look of surprise on his face made you want to scream. “I didn’t realize he was back. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s his house. He’ll be able to scrounge up something.”

“Steve,” you started. Of all the unbelievably rude– 

Your ramp-up to letting your brother have it was cut short by Ransom’s hand on your wrist. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. He looked tired and sad in a way you hated. He looked annoyed too, beyond belief, but underneath all that, you also saw something pleading in his expression. You remembered what he’d said this morning. He wanted you to have a nice day with your brother. So you swallowed down all of your anger and didn’t say anything. But you cataloged everything so you could have a private conversation with Steve later.

“See,” Steve said with a smug grin, “it’s fine. This will be nice. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to pig out together. I got all your favorites.”

Despite your protests, Ransom made himself scarce. The food arrived shortly after he disappeared and Steve dished it up like nothing was wrong. You sat and ate with him, even though you weren’t much up for conversation, despite his frequent efforts. He never said anything about the news you’d shared that morning. You tried not to be too hurt by that. 

As you were finishing up, Ransom quietly reappeared, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. Before he could run back upstairs, you stopped him, feeling awful that he must feel so unwelcome in his own home. “Do you want some food?” you asked, gesturing to the copious leftovers. “I could make you a plate.”

Not waiting for Ransom’s response, Steve cut in. “Is that how it works around here?” he asked, not of you but Ransom. “You’ve got her waiting on you on hand and foot?” his voice teeming with anger.

“Steve,” you hissed, trying to stop him, but he didn’t notice.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, and there was a sharp edge to his voice that made you very nervous, “you must have thought you hit the jackpot, huh? Some sweet, naive little thing who's too young to really be plugged into the right part of the prep school rumor mill. Hasn't heard about the designer drugs, or the girls, or the parties. All the trouble your family's had to bail you out of. That's why they had to look clear on the other coast for an arrangement for you, huh? They had to go that far to find anyone who didn't already know what a piece of shit you are–”

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS” you shouted, your stool loudly scraping against the hardwood floor as you stood up. It’d barely been there, you’d barely seen it, the flash of deep hurt on Ransom’s face before he’d covered it up, first with a blank mask, then a sneer that threatened to bring everything down. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You were fucking done. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Can you just stop, Steve?! I’m so tired of this shit!” you yelled at him.

“What?” they said in unison, both men facing you now, surprised.

“Lola!” you called out. “Come on! Steve and I are taking you for a walk!” She came racing down the stairs, and you quickly put on her harness and leash. Then you were out the door, trusting that Steve was behind you.

You walked in silence for a few blocks. You could feel him watching you warily, but you didn’t turn around to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been so mad at him in your life. It might’ve been the angriest you’d ever been with anyone. Your hands were shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you finally seethed, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into you.

“What?” His obliviousness made you even angrier.

You finally turned on him, your face heating up with rage. “You’re such a fucking asshole! You’re fucking everything up!”

He cowed just a bit at your glare but quickly recovered. “What are you talking about?! I came here to help you!”

“Well, you aren’t! I keep telling you that you aren’t but you never fucking listen to me!”

He recoiled a little, and then his eyes went steely. “Really? I never listen to you? I’m the only one who ever listens to you!”

Even if that were true, there was something about the way he said it that really pissed you off. “Fuck you!” you said and charged forward with Lola running to catch up behind you.

A moment later, Steve was on your heels again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting off since I got here.”

You spun on your heels to face him. “I’ve been acting off?! I wonder why! You’ve just barged in here like a bull in a china shop, not caring at all about the damage you’re doing!”

“I’m here to help you. I’ve been defending you!”

“Yeah, now! You’re trying to help me, now!”

“What does that mean?”

“Where have you been, Steve? You’ve been MIA the last three months, and now when things might actually get better, now you’re here to ‘defend’ me.”

“Better? This,” he hissed, flinging an arm towards your stomach, “is better?!”

“We had to do it. There was a clause in the contract. You know that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm sure he reminded you of that every chance he got, as he fully took advantage of it.”

If he hadn't already set you off, that would be the thing to do it. “Never! Ok? I was the one who pushed it. I was the one who rushed It. Me. Never him.”

That brought Steve up short. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Because of your aunt!”

For a frustratingly long moment, he just gave you a confused look. Then you finally saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Laura.”

“Yes, Laura! That wasn't going to be me. Not ever.”

“I never would have let that happen!”

The laugh that burst out of you at that was cold, hard. “How?” you asked. “You're always saying shit like that, but what, exactly, would you have done?”

He started to answer, but you cut him off quickly, shaking your head.

“This is my life, Steve. Mine. I’m the one who has to actually live it. I don’t need you judging me for how I choose to survive it.”

“You shouldn't have to just survive it,” he said. His tone had suddenly turned sad. It made you even angrier. 

“I'll be lucky to survive it,” you growled. “You get to just waltz around, forgetting how this world works whenever it's convenient for you. Meanwhile, I have to claw and fight for just the possibility that I might not turn into my mom.” You took a deep breath. “Ransom, at least, can fucking see that. He's stuck in this mess with me, and I think he might actually want to try. You’re not going to ruin that for me just because he insulted you once at a cocktail party or whatever.” You turned on your heels. You were exhausted. You didn't have the energy for any more of this. “I'm going back. You can come if you want. But you better fucking apologize. He didn't deserve that. No matter what he’s done, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by you.”

Steve was a few minutes behind you getting back to the house, and he did apologize, although through gritted teeth. The whole time, Ransom’s eyes were on you. 

You declared you were going to bed shortly after. It was too early, but you didn't care. You were done with this day.

As you were changing into your sleep clothes, Ransom quietly let himself into his room. You both looked a little startled by your state of undress. Part of you wanted to cover up. It felt so intimate, changing in front of him. But you knew that was silly. He'd already seen so much more of you. 

He just stood there for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You yelled at him for me.”

“Yeah,” you said. “He deserved it.”

“But he's your brother.” He almost seemed confused. 

The absolutely absurd thought And you're my husband popped into your head unbidden, but thankfully you didn't vocalize it. “That doesn't change the fact that he was wrong.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a furrowed brow. After too much silence you asked softly, “Did I do something wrong?”

He jolted a little, like he’d been somewhere else, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I just–” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’m not used to people doing things like that for me.” 

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You suddenly felt so sad for him. But honestly, the only person who’d ever done anything like this for you had been Steve. And you’d seen Ransom’s family. You knew he’d never had a Steve.

Sparing you from having to figure out a response, Ransom took a deep breath, “Listen,” he started, “about the things he said, I–”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. Sometime, maybe, but not right now.” Nothing about his past would change things for you now. You’d still be married to him either way. It was better to just focus on the man he was showing himself to be now.

Ransom took a long moment and looked at you carefully. Finally, he asked, “Did you yell at him for yourself too?”

You nodded, then added a quiet, “I did.”

“Good,” he said, then started to turn around. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” you whispered.

Right before he left the room, he turned back to add one more thing. “I’ve never seen you as naive. Not for a moment in this whole thing.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

You just stood there, in the middle of the room, unable to move for a few minutes. Then you took a deep breath and moved into the bathroom. As you finished getting ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe you had two people in your corner now.

Your bedroom furniture and other belongings were delivered the next day. The movers set up the heavy furniture and then left everything else to you. As you started to begin unpacking, there was a hesitant knock on the door frame. 

Steve stood just outside your now bedroom, looking far less sure than you were used to. “Would you like some help?” he asked softly. 

“Sure,” you said, with a little shrug, pushing some boxes in his direction.

The two of you mostly worked in silence, only broken by Steve’s occasional questions of where you wanted your things to go. After a while he finally broke, “Dad’s been piling a ton of new stuff on my plate.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, listening. “Responsibilities and projects and– He wants me to take on more of being the face of the studio, too, so lots of parties and dinners and stuff. My schedule has been out of control. I’d think he was getting ready to retire if I didn’t actually know him.” He let out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t react, didn’t join him, he put his hands up in defense. “Not an excuse, just–” he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly and sighed, “just an explanation, I guess.”

“You told me that I could call you any time of day for any reason. That’s what you said. And then I did, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I know,” he started, “I–”

You shook your head. It was your turn to talk. “I spent months here feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I’ve had nothing to do, no one to talk to. I was living with someone I thought I needed to be scared of.” You paused, wondering if that would set Steve off, but he just sat there, waiting for you to continue. Like he was really trying to listen this time. “His family’s been so awful to me, his mom especially. And you know my mom's been no help. She just kept telling me to keep him happy, even though I didn't know how. And I didn't know how to talk to him and he didn't know how to talk to me. But I knew the only way I could even start to feel secure here was if we fulfilled every part of the contract. So,” you put your hand on your stomach self-consciously and shook your head. “And the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you, and you wouldn't pick up your fucking phone. It felt like I was just stuck here while you went back to your life and forgot about me.” Tears spilled past your lashes and you hurried to wipe them away.

Steve’s face, which had grown sadder as you'd been talking, completely crumpled. He crawled from his sitting position across the room to you as fast as he could. “Hey, no,” he said emphatically as soon as he was sitting in front of you. “I think about you all the time. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you. I know I haven't done a good job showing it. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care. I–” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, they had the distinct shine of unshed tears. “Talking to you was really hard. I felt like you weren’t actually telling me anything.” Before you even opened your mouth, Steve put up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “I'm not saying any of this was your fault. I know it's all mine. But I just didn’t know how to get you to talk to me. And if you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, then I couldn't fix it. I felt so useless. Every time we talked I felt so fucking useless. And so sometimes,” he paused like he was bracing himself, “sometimes it was kind of a relief to have the excuse of being busy. To have a reason to not call or text you back right away. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was always thinking about you. I was always worried about you. But sometimes I just couldn't fucking talk to you.”

It took your breath away, the intense stab of hurt you felt. “I’ve never needed you to be useful,” you gasped out through your tears. “I just need you to be there for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I just need you to be there for me.”

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice so thick. “I know.” He moved forward, then paused, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn’t, he lunged for you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.”

You just sat like that, holding each other for several minutes. When you finally pulled apart, Steve blinked his eyes clear and said, “I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said softly, and took a deep breath, “and I forgive you for doing it anyway.”

You watched some of the rigidness leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathed out.

Neither of you said anything, and there was still this tension in the room. You were so tired of it. You just wanted your brother back. You just wanted any normalcy you could possibly get, so you wiped the tears from your eyes and said, “You're right. I wasn't telling you anything. I think because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't listen past the first two words and then do something completely wild, like fly all the way across the country to punch Ransom in the face. Ridiculous, right?”

He just stared at you in shock and then clocked the wry smile on your face. He laughed despite himself, then rolled his eyes and groaned. “You're sure he didn’t deserve it?”

You pulled a small pillow from the box beside you and threw it at him, annoyed as he dodged it easily. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole!” You scowled at him, but you couldn’t quite keep the corners of your mouth from ticking up. The whole room felt lighter now, easier to breathe in. It was such a relief.

“I can’t believe you actually like him now,” Steve whined, his whole face scrunched up in disgust.

You shrugged. “I still don’t really know him. But I’m going to try to. We both are, I hope. I don’t know, I think maybe we could be friends, eventually.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a best-case scenario I never really imagined.”

Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and with a hint of playfulness, said, “Well. I’m never going to like him.” His eyes got a little more serious. “But I’m really happy, and so relieved, that things are getting better for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said softly. Then you both went back to unpacking, conversation ebbing in and out much easier now.

Eventually, you heard him let out a long sigh. You turned to look at him as he carefully pulled something from a box. Oh. It was Mr. Bun Bun, your favorite stuffed animal as a kid. You remembered crying as you packed it away to put into storage, Steve sitting next to you, gently rubbing your back.

He slowly took a few steps to the head of your bed and then reverently placed it against your pillows. He just stared at it for a moment and then looked around at the rest of the room. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded so sad, “I guess you really live here now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I've been here for months.”

“Yeah, I know. But I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess it still sort of felt like you'd be back any day. But all your stuff's here now. It just– It feels final.”

You looked around the room as well. It wasn't exactly like your old room in your old apartment but this was the closest thing you'd had to feeling home in months. “Yeah,” you said quietly, not quite sure what to do with these feelings. “I guess it does.”

Steve sat down on your bed and you immediately joined him. He knocked his knee against yours. “I know I keep saying this, but I really do miss you. It’s so weird to not have you in LA anymore. To go to all these parties and not be able to talk to you there. Or to be able to just drop by your apartment when I need to see you. Or when you need to see me.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to actually keep in touch.”

“I know,” he said, seriously. “I’ll be better at it. I promise.”

You hummed in response and grabbed his hand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was such a relief to just be able to enjoy his closeness, without the tension hanging over both of you.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’m gonna go home tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“You were right. I’m just in the way here. It’s time for me to go.”

“Ok,” you replied, your voice small. You weren’t sure how to feel about that—the last few days had been so hard and so exhausting. But you’d finally gotten your brother back and now he was leaving again? “Are you sure?”

He jostled you with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently with a smile. “I’ll be back. And I’ll even let you invite me next time.”

You smiled back. “Advanced notice?” you asked. “How novel!”

Steve grabbed one of your pillows and hit you with it. You collapsed into giggles, feeling lighter than you had for a long time.

You spent the rest of the day with your brother, which warmed your soul even more than you thought you needed. 

You took Lola out for a short walk in the evening, while Steve finished gathering his things before the car would come to pick him up. When you came back in, you found Steve and Ransom locked in a serious conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, leaning across the kitchen island to face each other. There was no yelling. No tensing muscles ready for a fight. All the same, it made you very nervous. 

They both quieted as they noticed your presence. That didn’t help to quell your worry at all. “What’s going on here?” 

Steve gave you his trademarked boyish grin. “Just getting to know my brother-in-law.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously then cast a concerned glance at Ransom, but he waved you off with a reassuring shake of his head. Steve was still grinning at you like everything was fine. He really could be such an asshole. “Sure. OK,” you said, resigned to whatever weird dynamic was happening in front of you. “Are you all ready?”

“Yup,” Steve nodded, gesturing to where his luggage was waiting by the door. “Car should be here any minute.”

You nodded back, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. He pulled you into a hug quickly. He just held you for a moment before you heard Ransom clear his throat behind you. “I’ll give you two your privacy.”

You pulled away just enough to see Steve look over your shoulder so he could say, “Remember what we talked about.”

You looked over to Ransom who held Steve’s gaze and firmly said, “Yeah, you too,” then went upstairs.

“The fuck was that?” you asked Steve.

“Nothing, just a conversation we needed to have.”

“Steve,” you sighed in exasperation as you separated yourself from him.

He put up his hands in defense. “It’s fine. I’m playing nice. I promise.”

“Sure.”

He took a step back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you. I should have done it yesterday when you first–” he shook his head. “My reaction when you told me about the baby was awful, I know that. And I don’t know if ‘congratulations’ is something you want to hear right now, so I just want to say that I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. And I’ll be here for the baby too. OK? I just really needed to say that.”

You searched his face, his eyes for anything that might warn you that his words were empty, but all you found was sincerity. You took a deep breath. “All I need is for you to pick up your phone.”

“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I will.”

You were so torn between the exhaustion and frustration of the last few days and just how much you'd missed your brother. You pulled him into another hug. “You’re such a jerk,” you said with a hint of fondness.

“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“And I love you so much.”

You felt him exhale, any remaining uneasiness bleeding out of him. “I know. I love you too.”

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Your car is here,” you said sadly, pulling away.

“Hey, that’s ok. It’s not like they’ll leave without me.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you should go. You don’t want to get home too late.”

“Oh, chipmunk,” he sighed. “Ok, one more,” then hugged you again. “I’m so proud of you.”

You pulled back to look him in the eye. “What for?”

He took a moment to gather his words. Finally, he said, looking you right in the eye, “For being so much stronger than you should have to be.”

You had no idea what to say to that so you walked over to the door, Steve right behind you. 

At the door, he put one hand on his suitcase, and with the other, he grabbed your hand. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”

You nodded, searching for something to say. “Uh, thanks for coming.”

That elicited a big hearty laugh from him. “Yeah, sure.” He squeezed your hand. “Take good care of yourself.”

“You too,” you said, opening the door for him.

He gave you a big smile before he walked out the door. You watched the driver take Steve’s suitcase from him and open the back door for Steve to get in. You stayed in the doorway until the car slowly backed down the driveway and turned onto the road. After closing the door, you still stayed where you were, trying to breathe through the flood of emotions overtaking you. You already missed him so much, yet you were so relieved he was gone. What were you supposed to do with that?

You were finally jolted out of your reverie by the sound of Ransom coming down the stairs, the tinkling of Lola’s collar accompanying him. “Steve’s gone?” he asked as he came off the last step. 

When you nodded, you saw the way his shoulders slumped in relief. You held back the apology desperate to crawl out of your mouth. Steve’s actions weren’t your responsibility, you tried so hard to remember. But still, Ransom had lost the comfort of his own home for days. The guilt was there.

He got himself a water out of the fridge and then looked at you carefully. “How are you?”

The reflex to tell him you were fine was strong, but you did your best to resist it and answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”

He smiled a little ruefully. “I have no idea what’s normal for siblings.”

You chuckled lightly. “Neither do I.”

He took several steps towards you and you couldn’t help the way your body swayed in his direction, just a little. “But you’re alright?’

You nodded and said softly, “I will be.”

“Good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way the fingers on one of his hands drummed against his thigh. “Well. I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, strangely aware of the space between you. “I appreciate it. It was a weird few days, but I think I’m ok. Or I will be.”

“Yeah. Good,” he said again. 

You both just stood there for a moment, the air around you oddly charged, until Lola pawed at your leg. “Right. Well, she needs to go out. So. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, then turned toward the sink as you went outside with Lola.

When you got back in, there was no sign of Ransom, so you led Lola upstairs to your new bedroom. She immediately hopped onto your bed, wagging her tail wildly. As you looked around, all of your things almost as they’d been in your apartment in LA, those feelings you felt while unpacking your things with Steve grew in you even more. You smiled at your little dog. “Yeah, feels almost like home, doesn’t it, Lola?”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @citronbun @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle @lokislady82 @thedazzlingburglar @23skidoosteven @she-wolf09231982 @arbesa-mind @samfreakingwinchester @blackhawkfanatic @emerald-writes @identity2212 @have-another-doughnut @patzammit @blackhawkfanatic @mooievis @dontbescaredtosingalong @curiousandjoyous @helensdrafts @cricket66 @vyctorya @disgruntled-cat @heyyitsreign @reader2003 @zaqnette @kmc1989 @steviebbboi @itsteambartowski @mrsstuckyboo @promiscuousbarnes @womoon @as-white-as-snow-love @bigsimperika @nerdyjeansblog @creatingjana @@titty-teetee2

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

So wooo it's been a while since I stepped foot in here, started posting around May (and then took down the first fic because I didn't like it) and I'm really glad I did because writing is the one thing that has really resonated with me my whole life. 

I reached 200 followers at the beginning of November and now I'm 6 from 300, which, again, is crazy! And I have a tag list now, it's unbelievable. Thank you so much to each one of you, I love you.

So I definitely want to give something back to this amazing community.

Starting today I'm going to try to do a monthly post dedicated to all the amazing stories I've read. 

This month will be a list of all the works that have stuck with me since I have been here, unfortunately I will never remember them all because my memory sucks, but I hope I have included most of them.

I am so looking forward to discovering many more authors (my tbr list is so long, so many fics so little time, I really hope to read more over the Christmas holidays) in the coming months and I hope to grow this little space more and more into something safe, friendly and nice for everyone.

(Feel free to add me on discord if you like and you haven't already, I'm always happy to chat and make friends, you can find it in my bio).

Anyway, let's cut to the chase, it's a long list of outstanding work below the cut: 

• The Wolf You Feed - @arcanefox207 Joel Miller x f!reader

Look, I'm so in love with her Joel. He’s hot, he's grumpy but also comforting, he plays guitar, he feels true to character. So precious.

• BDSMaid - @mountainsandmayhem

Basically, my Roman Empire. Everything about this is so damn good and this Joel? Hello? Please marry me? I will never stop screaming about him. Also, yes, it’s an AU but he feels so Joel, you know.

• Do your worst, Little Dove from Little Dove series - @mountainsandmayhem Joel Miller x f!reader

This changed my entire brain, okay. Probably the hottest thing I've ever read and if you're into sub!Joel this is something you should read immediately.

• Never made it as a wise man and following chapters - @almostempty Joel Miller x f!reader

Never laughed so hard for a fic and honestly, after this I learned that Wed could write whatever and I'll worship that.

• He knows - @almostempty

Lucien x f!reader

The way it’s written it’s out of this world, I loved it so much♥️

• Self esteem series - @almostempty

She managed to make me fall in love with fuckboy!Joel, which is remarkable because there’s nothing I hate more in this world than fuckboys, like I despise them with all my heart but I’m still here wanting to kneel in front of him. Damn, Wed, stop doing this to me. (Jk)

• Paris, Texas - @almostempty

Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña

*laugh hysterically* I want to live in this fic. I want to be reader. No, actually I want to be the fourth.

• Unscripted desires - @gothcsz Javier Peña x f!reader

The way Kat writes Javi is something unique, I don't even know how she managed to write so much about him doing a fucking banger every single time. This one was probably the first thing I read written by Kat and I'm not going to forget my first love anytime soon.

• Blackmail - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña

I read this series in one day and I was so needy when I finished, jeez! Milla is so damn good and she’s an absolute queen at writing dirty talk, it's honestly unbelievable the way she delivers every single time and leave me speechless.

• Her - from 5 days collection - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader

It’s so dear to my heart (odd to say this about a pegging fic? Probably, but I still stand by what I just said). It was so good that inspired me to write a pegging fic myself and she was so kind about it 🥹 And she was probably the first person engaging with me here and I’m so fucking grateful that she did. Milla, if I have people reading me it’s because you reblogged me and gave me a chance in the first place, I will never forget this.

• Table for Three - Who's your daddy - @aurorawritestoescape Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

I read those in my early days here and wow Kate definitely sets a bar in terms of hotness for me. So good. And she’s another person that I cherish so much, thanks for being so supportive and encouraging.

• Keep on your mean side - @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader

These two are dead dove queens and this one is simply amazing 10/10 no notes.

• Cherry, Cherry - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

You have to know something about Adriana, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, just a beautiful soul. I’m still in awe of how she managed to write this series with so many characters and such a rich plot, it’s so sweet and comforting but also angsty and so good, I teared up a little bit at the end 🥲

• Daddy can fix it - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

Handyman Joel lives in my mind rent free and the fact that this one feature a plus size!reader is the cherry on top ♥️ All bodies are beautiful and should be considered worthy of Joel’s love.

• Like a good girl should - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

WELL. I mean. This one gave me an inexhaustible desire to be spanked sooo yeah. So hot.

• Flesh for fantasy - @syd-djarin Joel Miller x f!reader

I thought about that for days after reading it and it’s still one of my fav things ever, like my brain just exploded, I remember having a conversation with @almostempty about this. The fuck Syd, you just broke my mind.

• Pink - @netherfeildren

Joel Miller x f!reader

One of the first thing ever that I read in this fandom and honestly sets a bar so high I was afraid to start writing anything. The urge, the need that drips from every word, the way the shaving scene is still stuck in my brain. Wow. Just wow.

• Touch Tank - @thundermartini

Javier Peña x f!reader

So beautifully written and soft!Javi made my heart melt ♥️

• Spiaggia, amore e limone - @thundermartini

Javier Peña x f!reader

It sets in Italy, of course I am the biggest fan of this. And not only that, Javi is so cute, smut is so hot, everything in this fic feels like a warm hug.

• Trēs series - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucius Verus

This is the first time I've ever popped into an author's notes and I'm so fucking proud 🤣 Thank you Mallory, you made my day, my week and my whole month 🥹

Plus, this is so good, think about your fav indulging dessert… it’s this series.

• Fifteen - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Din Djarin x f!reader

So comforting and endearing, I love it so much. Like, she made me read Din. I rarely read Din, enough said.

• Do I move you? - @lemon-nomel

Joel Miller x f!reader

I’m so damn proud of her for finding the courage to finally publish this and I’m also honored that she sent me her draft to read 🥹 She’s the sweetest person ever and stood by my side all these months through hard and happy times. Thank you love, for everything and your writing is amazing♥️

• ma’am - @mssalo

Joel Miller x f!reader

Another sub!Joel I won’t forget anytime soon, wow, so damn beautiful, so hot, perfectly executed. I’m so weak for sub!Joel it’s honestly ridiculous.

• So Cal to North Cal - @lotusbxtch

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

It features two of my fav Pedro boys and it’s honestly so good. Would love to take a trip with them and not only that.

• Guilty pleasure - @for-a-longlongtime

Joel Miller x f!reader

Typical DBF!Joel? No, it’s not! And I loved that, no spoiler but my jaw literally dropped to the floor lol

• To Dig a Grave - @softpascalito

Joel Miller x f!reader

I love this series so much, angsty and sad but also comforting in so many ways.

• Wherever you stray, I’ll follow - @cavillscurls

Joel Miller x f!reader

I think this was my first omegaverse fic and it was incredible, so beautifully written.

• Big fat tally - @toxicanonymity

Joel Miller x f!reader

I will probably never forget Joel in a harness, it’s carved in my brain, thanks Toxi for providing this delicious image to me.

• In the woods - @tonysopranosrobe

Frankie Morales x f!reader x Santiago Garcia x Benny Miller

First sex pollen fic I read and I loved it so much. So desperate, so good.

• How do you sleep? - @thriftedtchotchkes

Joel Miller x f!reader

Honestly so good. Wow.

• each man mad’s desire - @pascalispretty

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

This is so beautiful, it’s like a poem, I still have no words.

• The Real Deal - @strang3lov3

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Oh this one was so damn good, please, this Frankie is perfect. I still yearn to have him.

• Bedridden - @strang3lov3

Joel Miller x f!reader

I’m still laughing, it’s so damn good, well written, funny, sick Joel is unbearable but still the hottest ever.

• Doctor’s pet - @evolnoomym

Dave York x f!reader

Oh this one. I mean I’m a secretary in a clinic, it’s clear I need to work for Doctor Dave.

• Ptolemaea - @lovely-vamp-princess

Joel Miller x f!reader

She just started this and it already feels so original to me, like something I never read before and I’m so curious to see how it unfolds.

• Smooth operator - @penascigarette

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel calls a sex line and OMG. They’re softer than I thought, so good and funny. Lovely, just lovely.

Happy reading ♥️

[billiesguitar]

Fuckboy!Billie x Nerdy!Reader | Au Masterlist

Headcannons

Fics

Blurbs

Moodboards

Chapters - 2 3 4 5

How they first met...

You'd never been one for partying. You loved hanging out with your friends but the whole club scene was never your vibe. But tonight was different. You'd been dragged out of your dorm by your friends because "You never go out!" and "You need to live a little!" So you found yourself at a party, feeling out of place and a bit overwhelmed by the loud music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies around you. You'd been sipping on a drink for what felt like hours, trying to blend into the background and hoping no one would notice you.

And then you saw her. Billie Eilish, the girl everyone talked about at college. You weren't one to date but your friends did always talk about her, warning you to never ever cross her path. She was known to be a player. Yet, you weren't worried, its not like she even knew who you were, or so you thought.

Your friends, dispersed throughout the party, leaving you alone in a corner with your drink. You made your way to the empty kitchen and sat on one of the marble counter tops. That's when the door opened and immediately you knew who it was by the back of her baseball cap. She said a final word to whoever she was talking to before turning her attention back to the kitchen, to you. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, smirking.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here." she said, her voice was deeper than you'd imagined, and sent a shiver down your spine.

"I'm just taking a break." you replied, trying to sound calm despite the racing of your heart.

"A break from what? Having fun?" she took a step closer, her dark eyes piercing through the dim light.

"I don't do this kind of thing." you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"Don't do what? Party?" she took another step closer, the smell of her perfume, something sweet and musky, filling your nostrils.

"No, I mean, I guess sometimes." you gestured to the party outside.

"What do you do?" she tilted her head, her curiosity peaking.

"I just… I don't know, I'm not like a party person."

"What makes you say that?" she was closer now, looking you over.

You looked away, playing with the hem of your shirt. "I'm just not into… that."

"What are you into?" she questions, stepping closer to refill her drink with the stuff on the table.

"I'm into… books and music and movies… I don't know, just chilling."

Her smirk grew, "Books, huh?" she took a swig from her cup, watching you over the rim. "What do you read?"

"Everything, I guess. But I'm really into mystery and romance." you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Hmm." she tilts her head and smirks, stepping a bit closer. "What's your favorite movie, hm?"

You blush at the question, "I don't have just one."

"Liar." she says with a chuckle, "Everyone has one, tell me."

"Okay, okay, if I had to pick… it's probably the whole Scream franchise."

She bites her lip in a way that makes your whole body warm. "Scream…interesting."

You look up at her, feeling the heat from her body and the intensity of her gaze. "What's yours?"

"Mines probably-" She gets cut off by some girl bursting through the door, "m'Billie!" she slurs, clearly drunk. Billie rolls her eyes and turns back to you, "Sorry I gotta take care of this, I never got your name." "My name? uhm, Y/n." you answer shyly. "Alright, I'll see you 'round, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a bit disappointed, but she didn't leave. Instead she leaned in and whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Don't go anywhere."

You watch her leave, feeling the heat of her words linger. You're not sure what she means by it, but something in her tone makes your heart race. You decide to stay put, taking another sip of your drink, hoping she'd come back.

in the meantime you continued drinking. Quite a bit actually. By the time Billie comes back, you're feeling a bit tipsy.

"You still here?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'm drunk, I think."

Her eyes widened for a moment before she chuckles, "You're adorable."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, taking the cup from your hand. "You've had enough of that."

You pouted, but she didn't give it back. "Give it back!" you whine, reaching for it.

But she's too fast, placing it on the counter out of your reach. You were never one to drink much, but you got caught up.

"Come on," she says, taking your hand, "Let's go."

You stumble as she leads you out of the kitchen and through the party. You're not sure where you're going, but you don't care. You just want to be with her.

The party is loud and you feel like you're in a daze. Billie leads you down the hallway and into a balcony. You both sit down, "what are we doing here?" you ask, a bit confused. "You smoke?" Billie pulls out some pre-rolls out of her pocket, she reaches into the pocket again to take out her lighter but doesn't seem to find it. So you reach into your own bag and pull out a hello kitty one. "No but my friends do." you say, handing it over.

"Perfect," she says, taking it and lighting one up. She takes a drag and offers it to you.

You hesitate before taking it, feeling the warm smoke fill your lungs. You cough a bit, not used to it, but she just chuckles, patting your back gently.

"Thanks," you murmur, passing it back to her.

"So, Y/n," she says, her eyes on you as she takes another drag, "You got a boyfriend?" she passes the blunt. "Uhm, no-" you chuckle and take a drag, "I'm uhh, on the other side of things."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Oh really?" she takes the blunt back, "So you're into girls then?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"What about me?" she asks, her voice a low purr that makes you want to lean closer.

You swallow hard, "Yeah, I guess."

"Just guess?" she smirks, taking a hit before leaning in closer, "You guess you want this?" she says, her voice a whisper that sends your heart racing.

You nodded, your eyes locked on her lips.

Without warning, she presses her mouth against yours, her hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You melt into the kiss, feeling your inhibitions slipping away as the alcohol and the thrill of the moment take over. She tastes like mint and a hint of something else, something sweet and addicting.

Her tongue slides into your mouth and you moan, your hand coming up to grip her shirt. She pulls back, chuckling. "Good, because I don't do vanilla."

Before you can ask what she means, she's on her feet, pulling you up with her. She leads you to the bedroom, the party sounds fading away as the door shuts behind you.

The room is dimly lit, with the glow of a lava lamp casting shadows across the walls. She turns to face you, her eyes dark and intense.

"Take your shirt off," she commands.

You obey, fumbling with the buttons before it falls to the floor. She takes a step closer, running her hands over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever she touches. She reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a swift motion. It falls away and she palms your breasts, her thumbs flicking over your nipples until they're hard, making you gasp.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Now, the pants."

You obey again, letting your jeans fall to the floor. She steps back, eyeing you hungrily. "You're so pretty," she says, her voice thick with desire.

"Thank you," you whisper, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"You don't have to thank me," she says, her voice firm.

"turn around and get on the bed"

You comply, feeling the coolness of the bed underneath you. You lay down on your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel her climb on the bed, her weight shifting the mattress.

"Spread your legs," she orders.

You do as she says, feeling a rush of excitement and fear.

Her hand slides down your body, her fingertips brushing over your panties before she hooks them down and off your legs, leaving you bare. Her hand caresses your skin, moving over your ass and down your thighs before sliding between your legs. She runs her fingers through your wetness, making you moan into the pillow.

"So responsive," she says, her voice a mix of amusement and approval.

Her fingers continue to explore, pushing into you with a firmness that makes you gasp. You're so turned on, you can feel yourself getting wetter.

"Billie," you moan, arching your back.

"Mm, I like that," she says, her voice thick with lust.

Her hand moves away and you hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing. When she touches you again, it's with her strap on. It's cold at first, but quickly warms as she presses it against you.

"You've never had one of these before, have you?" she asks.

You shake your head, your eyes wide with anticipation.

"Good," she says, "You're going to love it."

With one hand, she holds the base of the strap on, the other hand caressing your back, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, "Ready?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. She positions herself behind you, aligning herself with your entrance.

"Remember, you're mine tonight," she says, pushing into you slowly.

You gasp, the feeling of being filled so suddenly overwhelming. She's rough, but not too much. She knows exactly what she's doing, and it's clear she's not new to this. She starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her hand reaching around to play with your clit as she fucks you deeper.

"Yes," you moan, pushing back against her.

"That's it, baby," she encourages, her voice a low growl.

Her movements become more erratic, her thrusts deeper and harder. "m'fuck!" you shout into the pillow.

"You like that?" she asks, her breath hot on your skin.

"Yes, yes," you pant, your body responding to her every touch.

"Good girl, so responsive." she praises, her hand smacking your ass, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to your arousal.

You can feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening around her. She reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back.

"Look at me," she commands.

You turn your head to look into her eyes, seeing the desire and dominance in them.

"Come for me," she says, her voice a demand.

And just like that, you do. Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your pussy clenching around her strap-on. She continues to fuck you through it, not letting up until you're a quivering mess beneath her.

When she's done, she pulls out and flips you over, straddling your chest. She unbuckles the strap-on and tosses it aside. Billie's hand wraps around your neck, she presses her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on her tongue.

Billie stands up and starts to put on her clothes, but not before writing her number on an orange post-it note and jokingly sticking it on your chest.

"Call me," she says, before leaving the room.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Since I did what Doflamingo does/says in I'll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) (Rosinante x Reader x Doflamingo WIP) I bring the aforementioned brother from the title and a snippet (which is before he dies but I wrote it and nearly cried, so I thought it was worth a share) with him:

Some NSFW mentions in the bulletpoints but nothing descriptive:

Gets into a first bath in a month with Law and bathes him, trips on the floor getting out the bath

trips and falls in his own house in a hurry to get the medicine for Law's fever

most softest 10 foot lover in the One Piece World but he absolutely can rock your world

always careful with his big hands

never holds himself to intimidate while home

has fun coloured sweaters and fun shirts

your favourite outfit of his is his blue dress shirt and white pants, he looks so FINE in that 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 also his marine uniform without the coat 🫠

watches you fuss over Law and cries

he kneels down to hug you, and always loves getting his hair ruffled by you

peppers you with kisses when he comes home

removes make-up and makes Law scream thinking he's Doflamingo

"Did you think my actual name was Donquixote Corazon? Cutee~"

when asked by Law who you are, Rosinante blushes, smiles goofily and chuckles, saying "She's... my wife."

insulted by Law saying to you, "You deserve better."

dances with you in the kitchen

finishes his jobs for Doflamingo early so he can spend the rest of the days he is supposed to be away with you, which means this man sails to you as much as he can

spent two weeks with you and got you pregnant in that timeframe

always bring a bouquet and chocolates and souvenirs from islands he visited when he comes home to you

puts you in a Silent bubble so you can scream your anger/frustration away

his Silent is literally your therapy and when you tell him his Devil Fruit is your favourite Devil Fruit, he grins so bright, the sun wishes it could shine like that

you meet him when he crashes into you

How many guys can say their clumsiness got them a wife? Not many. Exactly, Rosinante is built different.

cries every time you make him pancakes for breakfast

actually a solid cook, but he needs to be watched, always have water nearby

You call him Rosi or Rosinante

He blushes when you call him Corazón or Cora-san. Once roleplayed as his "pirate" persona, and he managed for five minutes before breaking character and you laughed for a good ten minutes

you can get as loud as you want in the bedroom within his Silent bubble 😉

you love his red hat

he can bake cookies and they're sent from heaven

has his own marine squad since he's a Commander and his crew is awesome (original characters but I like them, you'll see)

kills a Celestial Dragon that tries to kidnap you and makes it look like an assassination by pirates - Sengoku is on board with it

humble and sweet wedding day, Rosinante cried the whole time

loves cuddles & loves your cooking

cried of joy when getting a lunch box for his journey with Law from you

takes the secret he has a wife to his grave, never mentioned you to Doflamingo, never let Doflamingo find out about you (considering the chapters with Doflamingo that come, very clear why)

died not knowing you were pregnant, as even you didn't know it at the time (I'm so sorry 😭)

And here is the snippet:

Your face flashed in his mind.

Sorry, mi amor. thought Rosinante.

The red lenses that have by now become his brother’s eyes stared down at Rosinante coldly, red stained glass reflecting the falling snowflakes.

Guess I’m not coming back home this time.

Rosinante was going to make sure Law gets away. He could get himself to Eudai by paying a fisherman to get him there. He’d be safe there, and with any luck, he could then decide what he wanted to do with his life. He knew you wouldn’t ask Law to stay with you if Law didn’t want to. You were good at reading the kid like that.

Law was a smart cookie. He’d probably activate his Devil Fruit powers in an hour from now on and heal himself within a minute. Rosinante knew it. He believed in it.

Rosinante isn’t worried about anything, he isn’t afraid. He is grateful. He is so grateful to be here, in this moment, on the side he considers right.

Not on the marines’ side. Not on the pirates’ side.

On Law’s side. He was Law’s Corazón now, not Doflamingo’s.

You said such to him yourself. Law saw Rosinante as his guide, Law trusted him, had faith in him, just like you did. Law had become a part of Rosinante’s family, your small family Rosinante was the patriarch of, the protector of. Rosinante wasn’t fighting for the marines now, or for the pirates. He was fighting for a sick little boy because nobody else would, nobody else wanted to, nobody else thought to, except him and you.

You had guided him and supported him to become the man he is today, catching him by the hand before he could trip and fall the same way his brother did. 

He remembered the first time you tried to teach him how to dance with him, and he ended up stepping on both your feet. 

“I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance.”

You told him, “Just enjoy the dance.” before pulling him into your first dance together, and he did as you asked, letting his legs follow the beat and the song, and it turned out okay. He never stepped on your feet again.

Six months later, he was dancing with you every day in the living room of the house the two of you called home, pulling you into a dance on the field of blue forget-me-nots, your sweet, soft laughter caressing his ears.

Because of you, Rosinante knew he’d never lose his way. Because if he did, you’d set him straight, grip his hand so he doesn’t fall apart. 

You were the flag Rosinante carried in his heart.

He felt so lucky to have you. He was the clumsiest, luckiest man on the planet. He never thought his clumsiness would bring him to you.

Rosinante was happy. Donquixote Rosinante was the happiest man on earth. He didn’t need any treasure, or an army, or a country, or immortality, or the world. None of those things could ever make him happy as living with you and Law did.

And Rosinante realised it then; it was that Doflamingo lacked. He had a family, but he also didn’t. For a moment, Rosinante pitied his brother, even though his brother had done it to himself. To live without experiencing pure happiness, genuine happiness, without hurting anyone to attain it… 

It must hurt, Doffy. thought Rosinante sadly. You must be lonely.

Rosinante looks at his older brother, and for the last time, there is a pang of pain in his heart at the sight of what his older brother has become. 

Rosinante pulled out the pistol, aiming it at his big brother — at Doffy, at Doffy — pulling back the safety pin, knowing very well he wouldn’t press the trigger, and knowing very well his brother would.

Rosinante really wished he’d gotten to dance with you one more time. 

***

Word Count Report:

Currently, Rosinante's part (Part 1) is 8.4k words, Doflamingo's Part 2 is 13k words so that one might get separated into 2 parts to keep it a normal word count. Part 3 (also Doflamingo) is the shortest at 4k words but there is a lot left to write and plan for that part.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (02/10)

The Contract

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: there is no turning back now and now you and Aemond set the rules and conditions to start the whole farce.

word count: 4.6k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥳

I thought this would be a very nice way to wish happy new year to all of you beautiful people who support me and like what I write, you don't know how much that means to me🥺

thank you for so much support and for so much love, I have loved being here and I definitely plan to stay for longer, seeing how that love evolves and my place here as a writer🥰 so enjoy a lot this new chapter that I really hope you like it a lot❤

many blessings to all of you, my best wishes for your lives in this 2024, I love you all so much!😊❤

enjoy!

It's the first thing you see after turning off the alarm and you curiously enter to read the recent messages from an unknown number, not having the slightest idea of who it might be.

But you let out a long sigh of frustration when you read them and see that it's Aemond, who you don't understand how the fuck he got your number. Of course, it shouldn't have been hard for him, just a few questions and anyone can tell him what he wants to know.

And knowing that you have a long day ahead of you today, you already feel the pressure all over your body when you haven't even left your bed, where you also feel the frustration and all this uncertainty that you thought you had already overcome, but no.

You barely accepted yesterday and suddenly putting the plan into action from one day to the next, it's too much. But without really having a choice, you reluctantly force yourself to get up and start getting ready.

After an hour, you leave your house with the nagging feeling of carrying a weight on your shoulders to school. And all the way there, not even the music in your ears can make your mind calm down for a moment.

Knowing very soon that your whole social life will be a mess and you will no longer be invisible, since after all Aemond was right in that respect, causes you even more uneasiness and also nervousness because you are going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school.

And once the bus makes its stop, you soon enter the halls of the bustling school. And knowing that a certain silver-haired guy is waiting for you right now, every heavy step you take towards the schoolyard echoes loudly in your ears, increasing your nervousness and anxiety.

You're even tempted to back up and tell him to forget it, but you resist and keep moving forward.

As you walk through the huge doors of the backyard, it's only a matter of time before you make out the figure of Aemond sitting at the same table as yesterday in the distance. Your heart skips a beat and you feel more nervous, but gathering your courage and taking a long breath, you advance towards him, ready but with uncertain steps.

Every step seems heavy, as if you are walking into the unknown and you try to hide the nerves in your gaze, especially when Aemond notices your presence. He watches you and slowly turns to you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Again there is that feeling of telling him to forget it, to find someone else, that you can't do this. But... your mind stops you and screams at you not to be silly, that at the end of it all there will be a reward, a very good reward that getting it by faking a relationship with him, is nothing.

And it's definitely worth it.

So resigned, you reach out to him.

"Hey," he says to you without wiping off his little smile, as you take a seat in front of him and he waits for you to finish settling in, "So you've come."

"Don't bother me," you tell him without humor, definitely contrasting his mood to yours.

"Now what did I do?"

"That," you point to his face, "You're enjoying this, seeing that I haven't backed out."

"Oh, please, I actually thought you wouldn't come and tell me to fuck off after you thought better of it," he justifies himself.

"Yeah? Well, nothing a free admission to your dream college won't do," you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, though implicitly admitting your reasons, "And it's actually not like I like skipping classes, so could we get this started?"

Aemond exhales long, averting his gaze from yours for a moment before returning to watching you.

"You know you'll have to be charming and act like you're completely in love with me in public, right?" he poses, expectantly.

"Yes, I know... in public," you point out to him, "Just now no one knows we're 'dating' genius," you add, underlining the falsity of the situation.

He places a small, amused, smirk on his lips.

"Yet."

He adds with a slightly defiant tone and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get too excited either."

"Are you not?"

"Oh yeah, I can't handle the excitement," you feign in a high-pitched, ironic voice, making exaggerated hand gestures.

Aemond lets out a short but genuine laugh at your gesture. He leans back slightly, his eye revealing a mischievous glint as he watches you.

"Glad to see you're keeping your sense of humor in this," he says with his tone changing slightly to a more relaxed one.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" you reply, accepting his change of mood, but still maintaining a certain emotional distance.

You figure it's just a matter of the two of you getting more into trust, and if you're going to do this with him, you're definitely going to do your part. But for now, this is still a little awkward and unexpected. And the sooner you do this, the better it will be for you.

So you shift your focus and lean forward slightly with a more serious expression on your face.

"So let's get started?"

"Well, making a contract will take up a lot of our time, so I thought it would be easier to just say and agree between us-

"It will be easier this way, to write down and establish the rules and the conditions we want to do during all this, just to have everything clear and not miss anything, Aemond," you interrupt him, taking out a notebook and a pen to start writing.

"Okay, fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?" you watch him expectantly with the blank sheet of paper in front of you and your pen in hand, "What do you suggest first?"

"Well... first we need to know when this will all end," he begins to say, adopting a relaxed but firm stance, "And I would say that it may end when it is no longer necessary for both of you to continue pretending. But I think it's a better idea for us to last until graduation."

He proposes, looking at you intently, waiting for your reaction and you can't help but be a little surprised to hear that.

"Until graduation?" you repeat and he nods, "But you really want to do this for almost five months?"

"I know it's a long time, but that time can be beneficial for both of us," he explains, "That's enough time to give our relationship credibility and authenticity and it's also enough time to handle any problems that arise."

He says and you nod cautiously, evaluating his words.

"But if you disagree, tell me," he hurries to say.

His calm tone and your reasons contrast with the uncertainty and indecision you feel. And the two of you have barely started.

Five months is such a compromising situation and it generates some concern, because you know you will face so many things you still have no idea about and every day it could become more complicated to maintain the farce.

"I guess it's okay," you cautiously admit, trying to see the big picture, "But I feel like it's still a long time. But also reducing that time might not be enough," you agree.

"Yes but I'm sure we can handle it. And don't worry, if at some point we feel it's too much or we don't have enough reason to keep pretending anymore, we can talk iand end it."

You remain pondering, considering his words and after a few seconds you nod in agreement, and write it down as the first point on the sheet. But this alone is the first piece of a much more complicated puzzle.

1. Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

And Aemond also brings up the next point of the contract, expressing his ideas with quiet but evident assurance.

"Now, second..." he begins, "As for behavior in public, we should genuinely show affection in the hallways, cafeteria, and at any school activity and event. In a relationship people don't take their hands off each other, so we should smile at each other, hug each other, make subtle gestures, hold hands-

"Don't say kissing, please," you interrupt him, pleading, taking him by surprise.

"Of course, Y/N," he tells you instantly, incredulous, "Obviously we'll have to kiss."

As if having to act completely in love with him and be every moment touching him isn't enough. But the idea of kissing seems a bit much to you.

"I agree about showing affection and all that, but that kissing thing might be awkward and... weird," you say, trying to be sincere but not seeming completely closed off to the idea.

Aemond looks at you incredulously.

"So you don't want us to kiss?"

"I don't think it's necessary, honestly."

"Are you crazy? How are we supposed to pretend if we're not going to kiss? No one's going to believe us if we don't kiss and that's what will literally make the whole relationship believable," he insists, visibly concerned.

"Yeah, I get that it might seem necessary, but...at least I don't want to be having to kiss you every single time."

"You don't want to kiss me?" he asks you, visibly surprised, confused and... maybe a little hurt?

You watch him silently for a moment not understanding his reaction and then watch him with a small amused smile.

"I'm not one of your fans, Targaryen."

"Oh come on, everyone wants to kiss me," he says confused and incredulous, proving his point.

"Even the guys?"

"Well... yeah, I don't know, maybe some of them," he says with a shrug.

"Seven Hells," you mutter, averting your gaze for a moment, "I-I really don't want to do that," you say, speaking seriously and then you let out a sigh, "But you're right that no one's going to believe us-

"Obviously. I always have," he is quick to say.

"So my proposal is this... we'll kiss, yes, but only when it's extremely necessary, and when I say extremely necessary I mean extremely necessary."

You watch him intently, keeping yourself willing with your proposal, waiting for his opinion, which judging by his face, he doesn't quite agree with.

"And what would those extremely necessary moments be exactly?" he inquires, attentive and interested, also still looking slightly worried.

"In the cafeteria or in the hallways when everyone is obviously looking at us and we're attracting attention. Just don't abuse it."

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Well, let's limit them to extremely necessary moments," he finally says resignedly and you quickly note the second point.

2. Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

"But then that second point is also going to apply to the parties you'll be going to with me and my lacrosse games you'll be going to."

You quickly raise your gaze to him.

"What?"

"Yes," he nods, "Going to the parties together will also lend credibility to the relationship and obviously we have to be very close to each other. And it's the same in my games, you must go to support and encourage me, like any girlfriend in love with her boyfriend would."

Aemond's words provoke an instant reaction in you, that confusing you and taking you by surprise.

"But I don't go to parties."

"Now you will," he says with a calm expression, reaching out his hand and taking the pen and your notebook.

"But-

He is already writing in a section further down the sheet which he lists as; 'additional conditions'.

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

"Aemond, I'm not a big fan of parties, really," you insist, "You'll have a bad time if you take me with you and I'll probably ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you the trick to having a good time and change that mentality you have. Besides I won't take you to every party, just a few," he assures you, "All while keeping up appearances," he hands you back your notebook and pen, "With me you'll never get bored, I promise," he says with a small smile on his lips.

You let out a sigh, placing the notebook back in front of you, still undecided.

"Yes? Well, we'll see about that. I warned you though."

He lets out a soft little laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you can't be that bad."

"I assure you I can be."

"And so what do you do for fun?" he asks you, keeping his smile, curiosity evident in his gaze.

And there it is, the question that totally describes your personality and that in fact you don't like to answer to just anyone, because then they call you boring. But you can't lie to Aemond, he is astute enough and would notice.

So you decide to be honest.

"I like to read," you reply, lowering your gaze and feeling slightly embarrassed, "And I love going to the movies or watching movies and shows at home, either one is totally fine with me. Oh... and... hm... I also like ice skating, although I don't do that as often but... it's something I like too."

And even though it's only a bit of the world of things you like, Aemond listens to you attentively with a soft expression, saying nothing afterwards, as if he's processing every word you've said, while you only feel more embarrassed by the silence.

You know there's nothing wrong with it but it always made you insecure to share your hobbies, mostly because you know that many girls your age enjoy their teenage years going out with friends to parties and getting drunk.

That didn't and doesn't appeal to you now. You have long been more comfortable with the idea of staying home or going out somewhere else instead of going to parties.

It's not as if you don't attend or avoid every social event, yes you can attend and have a good time depending on who you are with and where, but not as often as every weekend.

However, you understand and recognize the logic behind Aemond's suggestion and that is that attending parties, is essential. And just as he is about to finally speak, you do so first.

"I know they are simple things and are not very exciting for most people. I also know they can be very boring but for me... that's what I like," you shyly confess.

"Hm," he says, taking a small moment, watching you softly, only causing you even more embarrassment, "Well, that's not what I was going to say," he says, catching your attention, "Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most to everyone and, being honest... I find them interesting," he adds, trying to evaporate any awkwardness and embarrassment you might feel.

You raise your gaze, meeting his bright blue eye watching you softly and with his gaze full of genuine understanding, along with that hint of curiosity. And that gets your attention too.

He's not judging you. And even though it's not something he would do or at least hasn't tried to do yet, he's not judging you for it and you see that genuine interest in his gaze.

"Tell you what, for every party you go to with me, I'll read one of your favorite books or a movie or shows you want me to watch," he says, picking up the notebook and pen again.

"What?" you look at him confused, unable to help but smile in bewilderment, "Are you serious?"

"You must set your own conditions too," he states as he writes, "I already dragged you into my world, so now you're dragging me into yours," he looks up at you, "What do you think? Is it a fair exchange or not?"

His proposal takes you by surprise and also confuses you a little, however, the small smile remains on your face.

The genuine expression of openness on his face and the determination with which he wrote definitely makes you feel more comfortable. His willingness to immerse himself in your interests was not something you had agreed upon from the beginning, nor is it something extremely necessary to fake a relationship.

But it's for the simple reason that you both feel comfortable if you're going to pretend for almost five months and it seems like a nice gesture from him to include it, something you honestly didn't expect from him.

And when he gives you back your notebook, you see the new rule under 'additional conditions'.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

"Yes," you nod, "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Aemond smiles, pleased with your answer and also seeing the expression on your face.

"Great. We'll see if I discover something new I like. And you too..." he points at you with his index finger, "You won't regret it after you have a great time at my parties," he says enthusiastically, with a sort of complicity in his tone.

"Well, we'll see if you manage to impress me."

And right there, the two of you exchange complicit glances, Aemond having that little smile on his lips while you don't understand this strange new alliance the two of you are building.

But even though you didn't expect it, it's definitely to your liking.

"Now, third..." you point to the notebook with your pen, "Reinforcing the second rule, public appearance," you say, observing him, "We must act as a committed and attentive couple to each other at school and to these parties you want us to go to."

Aemond nods determinedly, thoughtfully.

"Yes, commitment at all times," he states seriously.

"So, that also means that neither of us can be with other people for the duration of all this, not even secretly," you add, making the point clear.

"And you want to write that as a rule too? It's obvious that neither of us should-

"I'll write it as the fourth rule, just to be clear about everything as I told you."

"Oh, fine."

3. Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

4. No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

"Oh and also..." says Aemond, reminding, "Since we're at that point, on additional conditions write that we should both upload photos and videos together on our social media. It's another way to lend credibility to our relationship."

"Photos and videos together on our social media," you repeat, looking at the notebook.

And this catches Aemond's attention.

"Don't tell me you don't use your social media," he says beginning to sound alert and concerned.

"No, no, I-I mean, yes," you hasten to say, "It's just... I don't know, I most likely don't use them as often as you do, besided I have very few followers."

"Don't worry, whatever followers you have are fine. Besides, I'm sure they'll increase when I upload my first photo with you."

You roll your eyes with an amused smile.

"Okay, Mr. Popularity."

"And speaking of that, hand me your Instagram and all your networks," he says instantly, grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, "We better have that all figured out now."

Obviously Aemond's accounts had to be public while you maintain your privacy, with barely thirteen hundred followers while he has almost the entire school following him and probably from other schools as well.

In fact, your numbers compared to his are embarrassing. But you never really had the interest of having more followers on Instagram or more friends on Facebook, Snapchat is the same and apparently that doesn't matter to Aemond.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

"And well, I also think another very important thing is to maintain privacy," you suggest, lifting your gaze to watch him and Aemond gives you a confused look.

"Do you really want to write that down too? It's obvious we can't tell anyone-

"Let me enjoy this, Aemond. It's actually fun and I want to write it all down. So act serious," you ask.

He lets out a choked laugh.

"Well, yes, we must be discreet, no one must know that all this is false, only we know the truth and we must keep it that way," he says and you excitedly write it down.

"We mustn't involve our families in this either," you add, watching him intently, "But that will be difficult because your siblings are here," you grimace.

"We can keep up the farse with them for a while too, I'll convince them not to say anything to my mother or the rest of my family. And once everyone here at school is convinced enough, I'll tell the truth only to them," he say sure and confident, solving the problem.

"And you're sure you'll manage to keep them that way?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "They're my siblings. I know how it works with each one."

5. Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot..." Aemond says as he points to what is already written, "You must also go on each year's trip to Dragonstone with me. That's another additional condition of mine."

"What?" you inquire again, surprised and confused.

"Yes, the trip to Dragonstone," he affirms.

Oh God, the trip to Dragonstone.

Dragonstone is an island not far from King's Landing, where there is an ancient castle with a lot of history but has been modernized with the same name and is open to every visitor.

The school makes an annual trip for educational purposes as the castle has relics and structuring from thousands of years ago. You have seen pictures and videos where everything looks really beautiful, ancestral and almost royalty.

In addition the castle offers other activities, such as rides on its huge luxury yachts, surfing, diving and swimming lessons.

You always had the spirit to go but have always known that the trip is anything but educational. You've heard stories that happen with the students, such as getting drunk, partying on the yachts, hot tubs and obviously you've heard stories of who slept with whom.

Even the most reserved get to have fun and it's not something you're interested in. You know you don't fit in that environment, especially since everyone has to share a room and you're sure that if you go, you'll have to share a room with girls with different tastes and perspectives than yours. They probably won't even let you sleep.

"Come on Y/N, you've never been to Dragonstone?" asks Aemond incredulously, noting the grimace on your face for wanting you to go there with him.

"Well, yeah I've wanted to go but... I-I, I don't know, I've heard that instead of learning about the place, everyone goes to having fun, they party, they get drunk and I-I don't...

"And what do you expect us to do in a modern castle on the shore of the beach with yachts and hot tubs?" he inquires again, expectantly, "The trip is planned for the middle of the last month of these five months and you can't let me go alone with the things that go on in that place."

You make your grimace more visible, revealing your clear indecision. And even though you and Aemond have been at odds lately over the matter of tastes, he still places a soft smile in your direction, understanding that you are not like him and prefer to do other things.

"Look, you don't have to go to the parties and drink if you don't want to," he starts to tell you, "But we can at least go to one of the parties on the yachts and then do the activities they offer on site, swimming, diving and all that," he proposes, "We'll take pictures, tour the castle and we'll both be equally satisfied."

You ponder for a moment, considering his proposal. You know you only have to get your father's signature on the permit to be able to go to the island and it's not like you've gone before so... you can do it now.

"Well, I guess that's fine," you nod, "But really promise you won't leave me alone and we'll take the time to do other activities that aren't related to partying on yachts and hot tubs."

"Please, we'll go as a couple, so of course I won't leave you alone. You'll be stuck with me," he assures you, "And I also promise you that we'll do other activities, not just the parties."

"And..." you start to say, in a serious, warning tone, "Also promise you'll pick me up every morning to bring me to school. That's another one of my additional conditions. The bus isn't very comfortable anymore."

He nods, shrugging, completely unconcerned.

"Sure, it's no problem. Besides it will make the relationship more credible," he says softly.

Despite your doubts, you feel a sense of relief at seeing and acknowledging his commitment. And you also feel more confident knowing that you have his support in all of this, even in your conditions. So you write down the two new additional conditions.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

At the end you both sign the sheet, looking honestly ridiculous but being funny, then both seal the whole contract by shaking hands.

"So when do we start all this?" you ask him, putting away your notebook and pen.

"I say tomorrow," he gives you a look of understanding, "But we need to talk now during classes in the hallways or in the cafeteria, so that when they see us together tomorrow, it won't be so surprising and will seem more believable."

You give him an unsure look.

"I think it will still be very surprising, Aemond."

"It doesn't matter, we just have to start showing together today, just talking. But tomorrow is when we really start."

And just as he says those words, with that determination, you feel again those nerves in your lower abdomen and that insecurity. But at least you still have all day today to mentally prepare yourself, and you're grateful for that.

"And before I forget this too..." he says again, "I need you to send me all your academic information to work on your college application now," he tells you seriously and you watch him completely attentively, "The five months will go by fast and during that time college applications will start. So it's best to get it all in now."

At this, you feel your heart start to beat fast and you don't know why, you guess because it's a very important issue for you. And more than anything else it's the reason you agreed to do this with him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you say softly, "I-I'll email it all to you."

He smiles softly in your direction.

"Very well," he nods at you, "I'll text you my email."

Despite your slight doubts about whatever is going to happen next, the idea of starting a fake relationship leaving you with a knot in your stomach and feeling your emotions mixed, you know this will all be worth a try.

So you pick up your phone and you start to write in an email all your personal and academic information. While at the same time all is said and done and the fake relationship contract is over.

THE CONTRACT

Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

ADDITIONAL CONDITIONS

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

general taglist

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff

[unbearableblog]

My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

TW: self-harm (reader scratching herself as a coping mechanism to calm her emotional distress).

A foreign language fills your ears, but the high-pitched, rapid sound feels awfully familiar. Your eyebrows furrow in your sleep as you try to make sense of the noise. You blink open your eyelids, your half-conscious mind struggling to piece together the source. Oh, birds. The melodic chorus drifting through the window is a sweet birdsong that rouses you from slumber.

Slowly, you become aware of your surroundings, along with the warm sensation surrounding your naked body. The breath of another person tickles the back of your neck. Bleary eyes flutter open to find yourself nestled in the embrace of a pair of strong arms. Light streams over the corded muscles of his forearms, picking out the golden hairs dusting his skin and his intricate tattoos.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, you twist in his arms and start to slip away. But before your toes can reach the floor, a tug forces you to fall back onto the mattress.

“And where do you think you're going?” He said, rough morning voice rumbles next to your ear.

Simon buries his face in your shoulder, and you laugh at the ticklish stubble grazing your skin. He plants a kiss, turning you to face him.

Gently, you run your fingers through his short locks. "I have practice early, remember?" He acknowledges your comments with a grunt, but remains unwilling to release you. You chuckle lightly, tracing the shell of his ear. “Your hair's gotten longer. Time for a cut, don't you think?”

Simon hummed, nuzzling into your chest. “You should do it. Last time turned out decent enough.”

“Well, first, you’ll have to let me up.”

Once more, you try to slip out of his arms, only for Simon to wrap them around your waist even tighter. He presses his face into your skin again. In this comfortable silence, your eyes become heavy once more. A mischievous voice in the back of your head tells you to go for the phone and call in sick so you can spend the whole day with him. Five more minutes, you tell yourself.

“Stay with me.” His words were muffled, barely audible to you. But, after years of being with Simon, your ears had become accustomed to hearing even his whisper. “Just like this, forever. You think that’s possible?”

Forever. As in: to many more walks and giggles with you, to many more sunrises and sunsets. The image of Simon leaning the ladder against the wall of a remodeled old house, as you directed the picture frame to be set straight. With ballet performances every weekend, and he would come to pick you up in his Ford. And after more years with him, he'll paint the blue you handpicked while his head kept turning in fear that you would enter the fume-filled room.

To stay forever is to outlive the sun. To lie down and be shaded on your lap as he listens to your story.

“It can be,” you whispered, a shy promise but one that you intended to fulfill. Your lips parted again to say the next words, “Fore—”

CLANG!

The crashing sound startles you awake, eyes snapping open only to be greeted by darkness. For a moment, disoriented, you recognize the same bedroom, except for the presence of a certain man behind you. The cold air hits your skin as reality sets in—it was all a dream.

Behind the curtains, the dark sky still stretches; the pale silver light of the moon creeps right into the long hand of the wall clock. It's three in the morning. You sit on your bed, trying to gather more consciousness while listening for any further sounds. When you hear another—this time louder—you immediately jump out of the blanket to check.

The floor lamp in the living room area is on, casting long shadows. But, the rest remains cloaked in nighttime gloom. Glancing around, you nearly let out a scream at the massive figure hovering over the open cabinet.

“Simon?”

Simon stands in the kitchen, peering at you nervously before relaxing his stiff shoulders. You reach over to turn on the light switch. He's holding the dolphin mug you purchased from IKEA with his left hand, and his right hand is stuck in midair.

“Just after some water,” he says, holding up the broken mug in his hand. You glance at the shards of ceramic on the counter, and Simon notices. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Or break the mug.”

At his explanation, you do a quick scan of him. “Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I’m alright, just clumsy is all.” Simon bends down to pick up his dolphin head piece. He places it on the counter for you to see. “Pity about the mug, though. Dolphin didn’t make it seem.”

You let out a small laugh at his lame joke. Stepping closer to examine the mug, a familiar sweet scent enters your nostrils. You look up at him, noticing that his tall form looks surprisingly put together despite the late hour. His hair is half-damp, having been towel-dried a little before leaving the rest to the air.

“Did you use my shampoo?” you ask.

“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” he says, turning to pick up the broken ceramics on the counter.

When his back is turned to you, you notice more details about him. His shirt, while wrinkled, seems freshly smoothed. And there, on the stool, sits his leather jacket, as if just waiting to be tucked back in at a moment's notice. The two combine and prompt an assumption.

“Are you leaving then?” The question slipped from your lips easily as an eel.

He looks back at you. “Captain needs me back at the base.”

A hollow ache bloomed in your chest at his words. Though separation was expected, some selfish corner of your heart wished to keep him here, beneath your gaze, within the reach of your hand. But, there was always a world to snatch him away—a world he had to save. He would return to being a ghost, coming and going as he pleased through the grip of your fingers.

“A busy man, you are.” Despite the burn, you try to force lightness into your intonation.

Simon huffs out a chuckle, and you consider that your temporary compensation. “Not as busy as you, from the looks of it.” He nods toward the fridge where your scribbled schedule hangs on a magnet.

As he steps past you, your eyes follow his movements. He retrieves his leather jacket from the stool, shrugging into it. Your fingers ache to reach out and smooth the material over his form, but you simply tighten your grip on yourself instead. He searches his pockets; he digs out a cigarette and his black face mask, but a puzzled expression creases his forehead.

“Phone’s missing.” He mumbles, scanning the kitchen and retracing his steps to where he had been standing. Nothing.

You offer, “I could try calling it, if you’d like?”

Simon nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your own phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand. You’re back at his side in a flash, thumbs dancing to type in the passcode, and you open the call app.

“What’s your number? I’ll ring it so we can hear where it’s hiding.” Your fingers hover eagerly over the keypad as you watch him expectantly.

He rattles out his phone number, and you swiftly tap it in. Your phone starts to dial; the two of you wait in silence, attempting to listen carefully. A muffled ringtone draws both of your attention to the living room, and Simon extends his stride to collect the small device hidden between the couch cushions.

A flip phone. Simon snaps it open to silence the call, and you can't help but note how small it is in his palm. He presses the thin buttons with his thumb, gaze fixed on the retro screen, reading the text message.

"I didn't realize they still make flip phones." You teased.

Slipping it into his jeans pocket, he shrugged. “It gets the job done,” he said. “Lot harder to trace than one of those newer ones.”

“You sound like some wanted criminal on the run.”

“Well, maybe I am.”

Simon turns and fully faces you, locking his gaze on yours. Those brown eyes, deep and intense, hold you captive like the pull of the moon on the tide, like rain on your parched soil. You wish him to stay, to not walk through that door and return to a place where he believed he belonged, so he wouldn't have to get hurt again. So that he wouldn't add more bumps and bruises to his already battered body.

The human heart swells with the desire to be reciprocated for all its longings. The urge to stretch onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his overwhelms you.

But before you could act on it, Simon had put a polite distance between the two of you once more. That moment, whatever it held, was over, and reality had returned to its uninvited seat.

“Best be off then, love.” He said, slipping his mask into place, ready to leave.

“Will I see you when it’s over?” Simon stopped walking when he heard your question. Shifting uncomfortably between your legs, you licked your dry lips. “Your duties, I mean. Do you know when you might return?”

Turning to you once more, he let out a sigh. “Can't say for certain, darling. You know how it is.”

"Will you at least call?" You ask again. “Or text, if you can. You have my number now..."

Simon stared at the distant wall as he considered your request. “Yeah, alright. I’ll send you a text.”

A smile came across your face where hope had once been extinguished. "Okay."

Interpreting your response as the end of the conversation, he turned and headed towards the door. Like fog dissipating into the air, Simon disappeared behind it, leaving no trace except the broken dolphin mug lying discarded in the trash, the only reminder of his presence. You lingered by the door for a while, secretly hoping he would come back, but deep down, you knew he wouldn't be returning anytime soon.

Simon’s disappearance period always leaves a bitter taste on your tongue—a sensation of longing for something that is out of reach.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you drag your feet to tidy up the little messes around you. You straighten the cushions again after fluffing them, then fold the blanket and set it on the sofa arm. Simon must have spent the majority of the night sleeping here. It's baffling that, despite seeing you naked multiple times and uncovering ecstasy-inducing parts of you, the idea of sharing a bed is where he draws the line.

Perhaps it’s the sense of belonging—he doesn’t feel like he deserves to belong on the other side of your bed any more than you do in his arms. If you say you’re not disappointed, you’ll just come off as a big, fat liar.

However, that promise. That first promise he made to you—the “Yeah, alright. I’ll send you a text,” promise that he uttered acted as some kind of hazy, ephemeral illusion that dulled the ache in your heart chambers. You view it as more than an oath—symbolic of something growing strong; roots taking hold. And like a diligent gardener, all you can do is patiently wait.

You drift to the kitchen to continue tidying up. After placing the bottle of bourbon in the cabinet, you return to the stool and shove it under the counter. Glancing around the room, your eyes fix on the spot where, just a few hours ago, you were laying on your stomach with his tongue buried deep inside you.

A secret smile grows across your face, but the warmth that comes with it goes unnoticed as you walk to the bathroom. There’s about three hours until the alarm goes off. You consider making sure everything is in its proper place one last time before going back to sleep.

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo lingers in the air, and your sight shifts to the shower drain. Bare feet touch the damp tile as an empty thought forms. Though longer than last time, Simon’s hair is still considered short—a military regulation he has to follow—so none could have been caught and tangled there.

The man has been exceptionally dedicated and consistent in never leaving anything behind on his visits other than longing and the need to see him again. It’s silly, sentimental, maybe even pathetic, but the urge to search for crumbs—for even a strand of his blond hair—compels you to kneel and check the shower drain, your hands spreading the grating to verify what your irrational mind has been fantasizing about.

Nothing. There is nothing left behind except a phone number that is certainly inactive most hours and an ever-widening emptiness—as if it's gradually spreading, searching for what once filled it. You feel irritated, almost angry—but you realize that you have chosen this, willingly signing your name and scribbling your signature on something uncertain, something wild that keeps drawing your gaze to the door.

As you rise from your crouch, planning to turn back to the bedroom, something catches your eye in the living room.

There, on the coffee table, sits the ashtray you bought two months ago but never found a use for. Ash scatters the rim in the most unsatisfying manner. But instead of being empty, now in its ceramic bowl are the butts of about three cigarettes. Your breath catches in your chest, and your heart skips a beat. This is clear evidence that Simon was really here.

Your fingers itch to tidy it up, to scrub the ashtray until it sparkles like you always do. Yet another part of you resists. This is the sole memento you must cling to in his absence until he returns to leave more behind. With a last glance, you tear yourself away and rush to your room, leaving them untouched.

“And one, plie… two, tendu to the side… three, rise up… four…”

The coach's count serves as a consistent metronome during morning class, allowing your warm muscles to fall into a familiar rhythm as you flow through the opening combinations. You focus on your reflection in the mirror, striving for perfection in your stance. Lean muscles extend and contract. Your hair is tied neatly back, not a strand daring to escape the tight confines of your bun.

“Thomas, keep those arms rounded; don’t let them drop.” She corrects someone behind you. You take the opportunity to glance at the clock on the wall – ten minutes until class ends and rehearsal begins.

“Claudine, you’re late again. This is the third time this week, you know punctuality is important.”

The coach's scolding causes you to glance around, and you see Claudine murmuring an apology as she rushes to find a spot. She turns her gaze to you, eyes filled with a venomous twist that churns your stomach as she takes up position at the barre next to yours. Determined to keep your focus, you fix your gaze on your reflection in the mirror and the coach's voice in the background.

However, Claudine has a knack for spotting vulnerabilities, even in your attempt to appear emotionless. “How’s Odette coming along? Still not feeling her yet?” she says, voice saccharine.

“It’s fine.” You replied curtly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice her smile widening, as if she’s found a tender spot to poke with her weapon of choice. “That’s not what I’ve heard from Jacob.”

Jacob. Of course. Your dance partner, and no doubt her latest beau. You blink away the stinging sensation in your eyes, your shoulders heaving slightly in your attempt to take a subtle breath. “I’m working on it.”

Claudine lets out a derisive chuckle as you move through plies and tendus. When your eyes meet in the mirror once more, hers are sparkling with challenge.

“If you can’t cut it, you know I’m always ready to step in,” she turns her head to you, lips curling into a mocking smirk. “All you need to do is say the word.”

Your chest heaves as humiliation climbs up your throat. Before you could form a reply, the coach called an end to the class, announcing a ten-minute break before rehearsal began. With a smug smirk, Claudine's sly eyes returned to you as she pursed her red lips together and blew a parting kiss in the mirror reflection. She swept out of the room with a rustle of tulle and lace. Out of sight. She won the competition of having the last word.

Dancers line the long, dim hallway, lined with doors, as they take this opportunity to rehydrate before diving into another round of rigorous dancing. However, unlike them, it seems you have your own agenda. Instead, you briskly stride towards the restroom, push open the door of one of the empty stalls, and hastily drop your duffel bag on the floor.

Your head is tilted up, and your eyes are blinking incessantly in an attempt to clear your blurry vision. The thumping in your heart persists. Feeling your legs start to buckle, you close the toilet lid and sit down. The grimy bathroom floor tiling is the last thing you want to concentrate on, but anything other than you seems more appealing right now—your way of escaping the awareness of your own existence, of being a being who cannot conform to anyone's expectations, anywhere.

The words uttered by Claudine aren't new; this is hardly the first time another dancer has taken a jab at you. “Robot Ballerina” is a title you’ve been given since you joined, courtesy of the gossipy whispers that trail you wherever you go. It has always been so.

And yet, something has shifted, tearing away the veil that shrouded you, pulling you forcefully out of a long, empty dream. Suddenly, everything is overwhelming, and you become hyper-aware of every stare, every criticism, every scrap of talk thrown from one to another—from your dance partner to the person who could potentially replace you if you still fail to live up to the director's expectations today. One side of your head is throbbing with pain.

Your breath hitches as a sharp pain shoots up the back of your neck. Instinctively, you reach back to massage the area, your fingernails digging into your skin, leaving faint crescent shapes and a momentary calm that smothers the burning sensation within you like water dousing a flame.

In the next second, the turmoil was back under control, and your mind was clearing from the thick red fog. Breathing felt so much easier.

You dig around for your phone in your duffel bag. The screen lights up automatically, and your eyes wander to look for a text message or missed call.

But, of course, there’s nothing. He just left this morning—he couldn't possibly text like he promised in such a short amount of time. You swipe to your call history, his number staring back at you from the brief call you made when he misplaced his phone.

A sigh escapes you. Rehearsal begins in three minutes. You took your duffel bag and rose up. You turned on the faucet and ran water over your hands, scrubbing under your nails to make sure there were no stray bits of peeled skin left underneath.

Casting a final glance at your reflection in the mirror, you swiftly removed the smudge of mascara and tended to a few stray hairs before making your way out and into the rehearsal room.

The same music resounds once more, harmonizing with the same steps. Following your pre-practiced movements, you and Jacob take your own positions. Yet, something about the room feels quieter. As muscle memory guides you through the motions, your mind sinks into a tiny bubble of awareness—of each piano note, of the curl of your fingers coming out with precision, of Jacob’s slender fingers intertwined with yours.

Which then distorted into a pair of calloused hands belonging to someone. Your eyes widen, and you stare right into brown irises shaded by pale lashes.

Simon lifts and spins you through the act, the warmth of his palms sending goosebumps down your vertebra. You let yourself to feel –your lifeless spine arching against him. Higher, he lifts you into the pale light, and you stretch your wings like extensions of his very being. His lips ghost your brow. You feel exposed—an unveiling of a girl with grand, sweet dreams. You twirl like a ballerina in a music box.

A man in love—and like all men in love, Simon took your hand in his as he bent his knees before you. Brown eyes stared at you expectantly; on the tip of his tongue was the sacred confession of his devotion to you.

Your heartbeat thunders as the music swells to a crescendo. The moonlight touches his bottom lip as he sputters out a brave vow. Yet, before you can comprehend the words, a force separates you from him. You feel Simon’s arms loosen reluctantly from you.

Your fingers stretched to their maximum in their attempt to reach for him again, and yet it was all in vain—something was yanking you apart from him, opening up a gaping chasm between you and Simon. Alarms blared in your head. Hopes were starting to rot in the lake, swept away by glittering silver and erased from existence altogether. Know your place, my silly little girl, something seemed to whisper. Who put these sickening ideas in your head? I knew this would happen—this is exactly why I told you to stay where I could watch over you, because I know the kind of girl you are.

Simon persisted in his pursuit, desperation in his eyes. His face was twisted with anguish, body extended taut as if bridging the distance between you two. But you were drawn too far now to return to him. The mocking laughter surrounded you; her cruel voice hissing in your ear.

As if the coalescing of the melodies infuse her with fresh determination, the cruel presence’s hold around your soul tightens, her hold tight and oppressive. Your limbs move of their own accord, stretching out your imitation swan wings. Despite the blurred features, you can sense her satisfied smile. The tug of the puppet master pulls you further from the light, a hapless marionette in its malign grasp. 

In a flicker of a moment, your eyes meet his across—an unconfined determination written on his face. You’re caught like a captive moth on a funeral pyre, your wings aching to be saved. The shadows thicken and thicken. Before you know it, they’re engulfing you.

“Finally! C'est ça que je parle!"

A loud voice snaps you back to reality. You peer up and find Henri's face, his features illuminated by a smile so wide it hurts your jaw. He claps his hands together as he walks towards you.

“This is what I have tried to tell you, non? You BECOME Odette! C’est magnifique.” he gave a hearty cheer, and everyone around him began to clap as well.

But, how?

Almost deriliously, you glance around, half expecting to see Simon standing there, answering confusion. Only Jacob watches you with a small smile that brings a flush to your cheeks. You are flustered, but in a nice way, for the first time. And if Henri is right, then this is a good thing—a major breakthrough.

Henri declares, “Ten minutes break!” as the dancers begin to disperse with chatter. You stagger dazedly towards your water bottle.

The mineral water slides down your parched throat, its slightly salty and earthy taste slowly sharpening your focus. Yet something felt amiss. As you dart your eyes around, first toward Jacob and then toward Henri, you notice the two engaged in an inaudible conversation. Then, Henri catches your gaze and responds with a broad, relieved smile—the first you've seen in a long while. From his expression, it's evident that whatever he's witnessed has pleased him.

A few hours later, the rehearsal is over, and you go through one more routine before calling it a day. Facing the mirror, you relive the results of the previous private coaching, spreading your arms wide imagining wings of feathers flapping from your shoulders.

“Good extension… keep the line… reach further." Your coach’s voice guides you as she scans your form from behind. “Alright, that'll do for today. Keep practicing that fluidity.”

You empty your lungs with a sigh of relief. Turning your head, you walk over to the chair where your duffel bag sits and start gathering your things. Your coach takes out her journal, scribbling a few notes before shoving it back in her tote bag.

“You're getting there, sweetheart. Just need more flow, like the swans in the park. You might need to observe more.” Your coach said from behind.

"Okay," you affirm, placing your water bottle back in your bag and preparing to zip it closed.

“Heard from Henri you finally sorted it.”

You paused, and you turned to face her, finding her gaze fixed on you, waiting for confirmation. For a moment, you considered your response. It felt oddly undeserved, as if the praise was misplaced—because despite Henri's approval, you still weren't certain what had changed, what had “sorted”. This... breakthrough, you couldn't promise it would last.

“Maybe.” You said.

The older woman gave a gentle smile. She walked towards you, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “You're going to do great things, my darling. Just don't lose what's making this happen, alright? Keep nurturing it.”

Oh.

You try to put on a thin smile. “I’ll try.”

With a casual wave, she takes her leave early, mentioning plans with friends to go out for drinks. Must be nice, you thought. The dance studio falls silent in her absence. Soft evening light filters through the window, gilding the mirrored walls in a mellow glow. Returning to your duffel bag, her voice continues to echo in your mind.

The zipper of your bag remains open, presenting an opportunity to take a furtive peek at your phone, still sitting atop your pouch. The screen is dark and silent—tempting. Infused with agitation, your fingers, almost of their own accord, close around the cool metal. Taking a steady breath, you swipe it awake.

Nothing.

Disappointment settled like a heavy load on your chest, only this time it felt just a touch lighter than the first. The dull ache settled in your heart, teaching it to adjust to his absence, even in something as simple as a text. He's a soldier, not unemployed, you reminded yourself. Another rationalization, another excuse—and what you allow is what will continue.

Slipping the device back into your bag, you shoulder it and flick off the last lights. You walk down the dim, empty hallway, passing slowly through echoing corridors alone. Ahead is the overly familiar, dull street you always take to get to the station. Craving a bit of variety, you decide to grab a coffee before heading home.

But it was the tech store a few blocks away that caught your eye.

The newest models of devices, boasting advanced specifications, gleamed beneath the bright lights. Advertisements for durable aluminum phones with promises of long-lasting performance. However, it was the memory of Simon's voice that held your interest instead. The things he had mentioned about his flip phone—how it was harder to track, harder to find.

He's not wrong, of course. New technology offers possibilities—subtle ways of leaving breadcrumbs.

And you, like a hungry pigeon, are eager to follow every trail you can unearth.

You take a deep breath, firming your determination, then stride towards the shopfront. The employee greets you with a sour face—a long day at work, you assume. No matter. Your mind is made up. It'll be a swift transaction.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[adamsrcnan]

OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

[yourelliewillms]

the guy from the record

store wasn't a guy?

ellie williams fanfic

━━ chapter 2 wc: 3.1k

read the chapters here !!

you've managed to become closer with the guy you're interested in! this feels like a dream, everything feels like a dream but maybe this (or he) is too good to be true.

hiii omg this chapter is way longer than the first one but i had to do it, i'm sorry !!! anyways i hope you like it <3

based on the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all !!

friendly reminder that he/him pronouns are used for plot purposes !! so please imagine ellie when i use them. i'm not writing about a man, i'd rather die, honestly.

7 in the afternoon. ellie spent the entire day looking at the phone number written on her wrist, scared that the black ink may erase at any time. she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose planning a whole dialogue in her mind that she probably would forget the second she heard your voice, she didn't even know what she was supposed to say to you, the girl that was basically interested in her.

but she knew how excited you were about this, everytime she closed her eyes she could imagine the look on your face if she called you. she knew that you needed someone to share your interests with and she couldn't deny that having someone to talk to about music sounded like a good idea to her too. ellie'd been alone at school for almost a year now and even if you didn't know that the guy you were wishing to date was actually her, you were going to find out at some point and, if you didn't get mad at her, you two could be really good friends, then ellie wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

the whole idea of finally getting to know someone running through ellie's mind while she stared at her phone and her fingers anxiously tapped the desk where her phone laid. she started to type your number on the screen of her phone. she breathed in, blinked quickly and cleared her throat when she pressed the 'call' button. she could already feel her heart pounding so hard threatening to get out of her chest at any second.

you walked in circles around your room with your phone in your hands. you could already feel your eyes drying for you couldn't even blink, you desperately stared at the screen waiting for that call.

but what if he didn't call you? what if he thought you were annoying and he was just being nice when he lent you that album? all kind of negative thoughts ran through your mind. just the idea of being rejected broke your heart into pieces and you could feel that knot in your stomach.

or maybe a worst scenario was that he actually called you. what would you say? would he expect an opinion about the album? would he want to talk to you or would he prefer a shorter conversation?

you fidget with your fingers and bit your nails from time to time as you too planned a whole script in case you had to carry a whole conversation with your crush. you wanted to impress him, show him that you could be as cool as he was.

bzzt

the sound of your phone took you out of your trance and you froze for a second. an unknown number, but you know very well who was calling you. your face lighted up and you immediately picked up the call.

maybe it was because of your excitement that you couldn't help screaming at the phone awkwardly "i loved the album!" you immediately frowned and closed your eyes regretting your whole existence. the cringe was physically hurting you and the seconds you had to wait for his answer felt like an eternity.

"hi to you too," you heard his raspy voice followed by a chuckle that warmed your heart in a second "i'm glad you liked it, it's became one of my favorites."

you started to play with a string of your hair. "i know, i liked it very mussh!" once again you'd embarrassed yourself, it felt like you couldn't stop shouting and screwing things up. just when you thought nothing could make this moment even worse, you heard the loud voice of your mother coming from the kitchen.

a shout of your name followed by a "dinner's ready!" you closed your eyes and sighed hoping that some god had heard your prayers, had mercy of you and avoided that your crush listened to your mom calling you.

but that was asking too much and you could hear a soft laugh coming from your phone. just when you were already feeling the drops of sweat on your forehead reminding you that embarrassing moment, that husky voice blessed your ears one more time. this time it sounded like a whisper, one that warmed your ear and it almost felt as if he were only inches away from you. he called your name and you stopped dead.

"tell your mom i say hi." you hummed trying to hide the panic and the butterflies that only one sentence caused inside you. all the fear you felt seconds ago was replaced by pure ecstasy.

you two talked for a few more minutes and ended the call. ellie felt on her knees and buried her face in her hands. the initial plan was to talk to someone from school and make friends, but why was she unconsciously flirting with you? was it really unconsciously or she didn't want to admit that she was doing it on purpose?

"hey, did you do the homework for today? i didn't do it and i can't have more bad grades. i was wondering if you..."

the voice of one of your classmates called your attention. you sighed and rolled your eyes, you were ready to deny the request, but you frowned when you looked up and realized that the request wasn't for you.

you turned to your right and there it was, your classmate jesse talking to ellie. or rather than talking, he was disturbing her, interrupting her so much preciated tranquility.

"i didn't do it."

the response felt ice cold but she didn't seem annoyed, just nonchalant. you bit your lower lip in order to stop the laugh coming out of your mouth.

"really? but you look like a nerd..."

now the soft smile on your lips slowly faded and your teeth bit your lips so hard they were turning a dark red, the blood threatening to come out from the corner of your lips. you furrowed your eyebrows and scrunched your nose. the conversation was none of your business but you felt the sudden impulse to say something, you couldn't stay quiet and see how someone insulted your classmate.

"so you ask for help and then diss her?" your words came out like a bark "how childish." both of them were now looking at you in surprise. ellie's mouth half opened, the green orbes grew bigger than ever. she blinked a few times before fixing her glasses with her index finger while she cleared her throat.

you just watched jesse leave without saying a word but you could notice his embarrassment miles away. you smiled proudly as your eyes fell on ellie. she mouthed a 'thank you'. you nodded and couldn't help smiling.

only the sight of her felt familiar, had she always been like that? with that little sparkle in her eyes that tickled your stomach and in some way made you feel a connection with her, feeling as if something about her would be able to captivate you any time.

you stared at the notebook in front of you trying to make up your mind. maybe she was a nice person and this was a sign to talk to her, maybe it was the sign of the beginning of a good friendship.

you opened your eyes as soon as you heard the sound of your alarm. never in your life have you been happier about waking up at 8 in the morning on a saturday. you got up from your bed and appreciated the cute outfit laying on your bed, the one you'd carefully chosen the night before. spending hours on choosing the best clothes from your closet and doing your makeup to make you look stunning was worth it if it meant seeing your crush one more time.

you held in your hands the album he had lent you some days before and you couldn't hide the excitement that the butterflies inside your stomach caused. your left hand brushed your cheek and you felt the warmth of your skin almost burning.

you hadn't payed attention to the weather outside because what could go wrong? all the past days had been okay, why would this one be different?

before you cross the front door of your house, tough, your frizzy hair was already warning you something. the bright and warm sun that was beautifully shining the previous day was now all covered in heavy gray clouds that were taking with them the shiny colors of the flowers on the porch of your house.

it was just a 10 minutes walk from your house to the preciated record store but it took only 5 minutes for the pouring rain to start soaking your hair that had taken hours to get done.

but not a single thought of going back home crossed your mind, that was definitely not an option. nothing was going to stop you from having that desired love life you'd prayed for so much for so long. some rain wouldn't screw it up.

your path to the record store consisted of you running to get there faster taking little breaks under the trees that covered you from the rain. you inhaled and prepared yourself to start running again, it kept like that until you finally were only one block away from the place.

the light coming from inside the store gave you an immediate feeling of warmth. the characteristic music of the place was softer than the other days for the sound of the raindrops falling onto the floor was mostly the only thing you could hear.

you sprinted towards the door, the familiar ring of the bell welcoming you once again to your now well known record shop. your eyes scanned the room and stopped at the stunning figure you soon recognized.

it was the guy, your guy. it seemed like he'd also been outside because his hair and face, which was still covered with a mask, were adorned with tiny raindrops. he was drying his forehead with his shirt revealing his well toned abdomen, the small freckles highlighting his pale skin.

soon you felt the warmth quickly coming back to your body almost rushing. your uncolored cheeks now growing crimson while you clenched your teeth afraid that your jaw would fall to the floor if you stared too much.

it didn't take too long for him to notice your presence. he turned around to look at you with those hypnotizing emerald eyes, you could notice the concernment in his eyes as soon as they fell on you. he quickly grabbed the gray hoodie laying on the counter.

"hey, you might catch a cold."

his raspy yet soft voice blessing your ears and before you realized it, he handed you his hoodie.

"you can wear this."

this was the moment you coul swear that that was not rain at all, that was holy water. the day you thought was ruined had became a day you'd remember your whole life. it took you a minute to go back to reality and confirm that this scene was not a product of your imagination.

"oh, thanks." you couldn't hide the sweet smile on your face and you could tell that he was smiling too by the way his eyes looked at yours.

you put the gray hoodie on and all you could think about was the nice smell coming from the fabric, a mixture of a sweet yet woody perfume combined with his natural scent invaded your nostrils and was quick to make you head over heels.

meanwhile, ellie was sweating just by the thought of the possibility of her clothes smelling. but there's no chance that you could find this new fragrance other than pleasant.

after spending what felt like minutes but was actually more than an hour in the record store talking about the things that you had in common, which was not much more than music, but that was enough to make your heart flutter and giggle at his spontaneous jokes and at times sarcastic behavior.

minutes felt like seconds and you had the feeling that you two had something special. the natural conversations and casual jokes made everything feel right and, in some way, it made you think that all the scenarios you made up at midnight before falling asleep while you listened to a playlist you'd made specially for him, could become real. because you were like that, only a few days of seeing this guy and you'd already made a playlist for him with all your favorite songs in it.

"i wanted to share something with you." you hold your breath as you waited for a response.

"yeah? what is it?" you heard the curiosity in his voice.

"it's kinda stupid but i..." you doubted for a second before finishing your sentence "i made a playlist with my favorite songs, maybe you want to listen to it?" your fingers fidgeted with your rings.

his gasp was almost inaudible but loud enough to let you know that he was actually excited about this. "that's not stupid at all, that's awesome." the green eyes looked for yours "send it to me right now, please."

you immediately looked down at your phone in an attempt of hiding the sparkles in your eyes while you sent him the link of the playlist, little did you know that it would soon become that guy's, or ellie's, favorite playlist.

the feeling of your empty stomach reminded you that it was time to go back home and after chatting a bit more with your favorite employee of the record store, you waved and said goodbye to him with a sweet smile, his own eyes smiling at you too thanking your for your visit.

you'd always been fond of participating in every festival that your school organized. this time wouldn't be the exception, your mind was already full of ideas for the spring festival and just the thought of being in charge of it excited you. you'd already decided the music, decorations and organized the little shows that some of the students would make, everything carefully organized by yourself.

but your plans couldn't be as perfect in reality as in your mind, it was when you heard your professor's voice that you knew this was going to be harder than you thought.

"you'll work with jesse, he needs extra points." your jaw fell to the ground when the professor basically forced you to work with one of your classmates, one that you'd already had a little argument with. it wasn't like you hated him but you'd never worked with a boy before, let alone being close with one, with the exception of the guy from the record store, of course.

"i can't... i won't work with him alone, i-" you looked around your classroom with the hope of finding someone who could save you from this situation, someone who you knew would be helpful and would make the atmosphere less awkward.

your face lighted up when your eyes noticed the person next to you, a smirk placed on your face for you'd found the perfect one.

"i think ellie'd do great if she helped us with the organization too." you patted her shoulder. she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked into your eyes for an explanation "you can help us with the music. you have good taste after all, right?" your voice softened when you turned to her, your face expression almost begging for her to accept your offer.

"i- uhm..." she swallowed when she noticed you were watching expectant at her "i guess i could try?" her rising tone making it sound as a question rather than an affirmation. the familiar sweet smile on your face thanking her was everything she needed to confirm that she wouldn't regret this decision.

you spent some minutes thanking her after everyone left the classroom, this being one of the first times you had a conversation with her that lasted more than two words exchanged. it wasn't too deep though, some instructions about the organization of these festivals mixed with words of encouragement for her before she left the classroom.

the room all empty now, every sound you made echoed between the walls as you packed up your belongings and put on your backpack ready to leave too, but the shinning screen of the phone lying on the desk next to yours called your attention. you grabbed it in your hands and carefully examinated it. "it's ellie's phone" you thought.

you turned to look at the door expecting ellie to come back looking for it, but not a single soul seemed to be near there. your attention went back to the mobile. the unlocked screen with a song playing on it, a song you well knew, awoke your curiosity. you'd always hated people who snitched in other's phones but you couldn't help it, plus, there wouldn't be any damage in looking into someone's playlist.

a little grin placed on your face as you noticed the so much similar taste in music you two seem to have. what a coincidence that these were all your favorite songs!

your smile faded and turned into a frown as you read the tittle of every song, one after one. the cold sensation at the back of your neck hitting you when you reached the end on the playlist. all you favorite songs, all in one playlist, the playlist you'd made which only one person was able to listen to other than you. the phone fell from your shaky hands onto the desk, your breath getting faster with each thought running through your mind, the sudden realization hitting you like cold water.

the sound of the door opening took you out of your half-conscious state. "oh, you're still here." you couldn't even face her, now it all made sense "i forgot my phone." the voice you soon recognized making you shiver.

you took a deep breath before turning at her and faking your best smile as you handled ellie her phone "yeah, here." you tried to hide the shaky voice caused by the knot on your throat. "thanks, see you next week!" you watched as she left the classroom once again, then your hands fell on the desk in front of you as you tried to catch your breath and swallow the incontrollable feeling of crying.

these past few weeks, the days you spent talking to what you thought was a guy, was actually a girl? it was not only a girl, it was your classmate, ellie.

taglist: @ohnopoteito (and the editor 💋💋 thank u for your help you've won a crocheted gift 👏👏👏 parabéns) @bready101 @everegretseverything @idk-sam @jupitersversionn @seraphicsentences @fatbootymuncher @ilovetocas1 @blackandwhitewindows @nombreuxx @mooneylou

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt.2

Notes: yeah there was always going to be more to this, honestly. Sfw, more of Reader's dad being an ass, more elaboration on Reader's job and condition, and some suggestive content towards the end.

Pt 1 here

You weren’t surprised that your father had requested you make your presence limited during his dinner with the Regrator. That was the only part of this situation that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of it all, you’re unsure which is more shocking; the fact your father had asked Pantalone for a do-over dinner, or that Pantalone accepted the invitation. There’s also the realization that your father is willing to work with the Fatui in order not to compromise the wealthy lifestyle your family has been living for generations now. A month after the initial party, the shock is not only still real, but his doubling down on it has taken you and your mother aback. 

“Dear, I understand things have been a little shaky for us,” your mother said the night Pantalone’s invitation acceptance was made known, “but do we need to do this? We can honestly get by fine enough, even if it’s not as much as we had before.”

You could hear in his voice that your father was scowling. “You’d really want to embarrass both of our families like that? Lose all standings and ties we have with our friends and colleagues?”

“By the Tsaritsa, you’re making it out like we’re about to go homeless! We’re downsizing!”

“Will we be keeping all our servants if we downsize? Are you going to start cooking our meals? Taking our son to his appointments or to his publisher? Buying all his supplies?”

You raised your hand, not looking up from your book. “Friendly reminder that I am the one who pays for my appointments and supplies now.”

“That’s pocket money compared to the costs of transportation and the accommodations we’ve made and will need to make,” your father snapped, “and you’re still making less than us to boot!”

You looked up and directly in the direction of your father’s voice. His silhouette was backlit by the light of the fireplace, and your initial thought was how it looked like hellfire. You made a mental note to include it somewhere in the next few chapters of your book. 

That was not the end of the arguing between your mother and father, but that was the point you stepped out of the conversation. Their bickering grew louder when you left the room to read elsewhere. With the eerie, hateful silence that plagued the manor the next morning, you took that as a sign that this dinner with Pantalone was happening whether you and your mother liked it or not. 

Fine, whatever. You have work to do anyways.

That is the mantra you repeat in your head as you feel it start to ache in frustration. Your eyes pour over the words you’ve typed so far, trying to make sense of the point you’re making. The wording is clunky, awkward, but you’re struggling to come up with something more concise that accurately conveys the thoughts in your mind. You hear your editor’s voice telling you it doesn’t have to be perfect, that’s the point of a first draft, to just get the point down and then figure out how to make it sound nice after you’ve figured out the whole story. The perfectionist in you screams otherwise, but offers no solution other than to start over completely.

You rub your eyes, feeling mentally drained. Part of you says to take a break, but part of you says you have to make the most of your motivation while you have it, and you are so close to figuring it all out, it’s on the tip of your tongue. Or fingers, come to think of it.

You’re on what feels like the hundredth reread of your scene, having stared at the words so much that they start to look foreign. Your concentration on the page is hardly broken when you hear the door to your office open, and as such, you do not look up. It’s merely Adelaide, you think, just bringing you some refreshments. Your fingers hover over the typewriter as soft footsteps approach your desk, just out of your vision.

You poke at the keys slowly, feeling inspiration drain out of your fingertips. The footsteps grow closer, and you find it odd that Adelaide has yet to say anything, but continue hyperfocusing on your work. Come on, you have the image in your head, and your descriptive vocabulary is vast enough that you should know how to describe it, even if only in fragments. You have the wording of it in your head so why can’t you actually put the words down on paper?

The footsteps stop right next to you. You don’t pay them any mind, assuming Adelaide is about to place something on your desk, perhaps a slice from the cake your father bought for his dinner tonight. You move the geography textbook you have out to the corner of your desk and move what you have of your chapter so far out of the way.

Unable to look out of the corner of your eye, you can not see her move closer to you, but you sense her presence right next to you. The feeling of someone’s body heat is hard to miss, as is the distinct sensation of being watched. You can’t see it, but it feels like Adelaide is standing right on the edge of where your vision ends.

You barely look up from the typewriter when you address her. “Adelaide, I would like some personal space.”

The laughter you hear right in your ear is a man’s. You immediately jump up and away, stumbling over your chair and falling on your back. You sit up, and at first, you see the dark attire and feel your stomach sink. It continues sinking down as your eyes move up to see Pantalone’s face. He’s smiling, which might have been handsome if he wasn’t finding clear amusement in your reaction.

You can’t find your words, so Pantalone speaks instead.

“Apologies,” he says, chuckling a little, “I was just… testing something.”

My fight or flight instincts? You ask yourself but know better than to verbalize. Pantalone steps forward and sets your chair upright, and glances at the typewriter on your desk. He stares for a few seconds, and lets out a soft hum as his eyes drift to where your other finished pages are. His gloved hand drifts over to the pile, and that’s when you quickly stand up.

“That’s not finished yet,” you quickly tell him, “it’s a rough draft.”

You see his eyes glance your way, and he retracts his hand. Pantalone takes a step back, turning to face you. “So I’m not allowed to read any of it?”

“I…” The verbal trap he’s laid out is not lost on you. He knows you can’t easily, confidently say “no” to a Harbinger, especially since you have made a fool of yourself in front of him before. You swallow, and rephrase your thoughts. “I-I would prefer to have a finished chapter before I let anyone read my works.”

Pantalone smiles wider. “Ah, I suppose that is fair.”

He continues to smile and stare at you as you awkwardly sit back down in your chair. You turn your head in his direction, propping your chin up on your hand. “I, um, I thought you were having dinner with my father…?”

Pantalone nods. “Yes, we were, but when I had asked why you were not joining us, I could tell I had struck a nerve between your father and mother.”

“... How so?”

“Your mother asked if she could speak to your father for a moment, and when they did not come back for another ten or so minutes, I figured I should go find them.”

“Did you?”

“They seemed… busy.”

You can imagine the argument right now. You shake your head. “Sorry about that, things have been sort of, um… hectic here. It’s taken its toll on my parents.”

Pantalone nods in understanding, and you wonder if he thinks this has anything to do with the party. You turn back to the typewriter and, rereading the page, decide you hate it and it needs to go. You reach forward and grasp the knob on the end of the roller, twisting it until the paper can be slipped out. You reread it one last time, then crumple it up in your hands.

You hear Pantalone’s voice. “So, I take it you enjoy writing?”

“Right now? No,” you say, which earns a laugh from Pantalone, “but generally, yes.”

“How long have you been writing?”

You lean over and toss the crumpled paper in the waste bin next to your desk. “Professionally, I’ve been writing for eight years, though I started using the typewriter when I was ten.”

Pantalone watches as you slip more paper into the roller, cranking the knob on the end until the paper has been fed through properly, making minor adjustments to the paper’s position. You then slide the roller to the left, the carriage stopping it once it’s in place. Your fingers hover above the keys for a moment, and Pantalone sees your focused expression shift into exhaustion. You groan, running a hand through your hair. If he had to wager a guess, you’ve just lost all writing motivation.

“You know,” Pantalone says, “I could hear your typing through the door before I entered. You type rather fast, it’s impressive.”

The flattery noticeably catches you off guard. “Oh, um, thank you,” you reply, still a little on edge with a Harbinger in your study.

“I have secretaries who couldn’t type that fast without making mistakes, but that page you were working on had consistent strokes and only one typo.”

You turn your head in an attempt to sort of hide the way your cheeks warm up, but Pantalone silently leans over anyway to see you blush. You don’t see him doing this, which Pantalone makes another note of.

“I have the muscle memory for it, I suppose,” you remark, “it’s one of the things I’ve been working on since my diagnosis.”

“Diagnosis… oh, your eye disorder?”

You blink, and turn to Pantalone, surprised at the casual question. “How did you–”

“Your mother briefly explained it at the party,” Pantalone recounts, “that you were diagnosed as a child and do not have any peripheral vision.”

You sigh, and Pantalone hears a hint of annoyance. “Yes, that’s why I ran into you.” You turn to your typewriter, fingers hovering over the keys while you balance thinking of your scene and carrying on the conversation. “It’s called retinitis pigmentosa, and it runs in my mother’s side of the family. My grandfather had it, which made my mother a carrier for it, and then she passed it on to me, and possibly my sisters.”

“Wait, sisters?”

“One older, two younger,” you say, “and an older brother, but he got lucky so his eyesight is still fine.”

“When were you diagnosed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was eight when I was properly diagnosed,” you recount. “I used to stumble and trip over furniture all the time when I was little, and was scared of the dark. My family used to tease me about it, until I was around six or seven. That’s when my mother started getting concerned, because I was a seemingly normal child who could read, write, and talk just fine, could walk and stand upright just fine, but I would still trip and fall over seemingly obvious hazards, especially in the dark.”

“I see, I see…”

You pull your hands away from the typewriter, and interlock them on your desk. “With adequate treatment, the rate of my going blind has slowed, but cannot be prevented. From what my doctors say and what I know of my grandfather’s case, I will lose my central vision sometime in my forties if I’m lucky.”

“Oh, I’m… very sorry to hear that.”

Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. Internally, you’re screaming at yourself for just dumping all of that on the Regrator. In all fairness, he did ask, but still.

At the edge of your central vision, you see a page from your rough draft slip away from the stack. You turn your head, and see Pantalone holding it. Heat spreads across your face, and you quickly pull the page from his grasp. The knowing smile on his face tells you it’s too late.

What sounds like condescension laces his voice. “I was enjoying that, thank you very much.” “And I said I don’t like people reading my work before it’s done,” you hiss, your embarrassment painfully obvious. You place the page back on top of the stack and lift it up and away from Pantalone. You search for a spot on your desk to put it before deciding on sticking it in a drawer. When you slam the drawer shut, your humiliation over the scene you are writing makes you use more force than is needed, which knocks your geography book off the corner of your desk and onto the ground.

Pantalone tilts his head, and you watch him lean down to pick the book up. Horror floods your body, and you try to rush around the other way to stop him, only to bang your knee against the desk. When you stand upright and look, you see Pantalone has not only picked the book up, but has opened it and started flipping through it. Now, that would not normally be a problem, except for the fact that this isn’t a geography textbook, it just has the dust cover on it.

Pantalone’s eyes widen, and though the lighting in this room is a little dimmer than you’d like, you can tell there is the faintest hue of pink on Pantalone’s face. Time slows when he looks up and meets your eyes, and all you can see is his lips twist into an absolutely massive smile, before he cackles with laughter.

He turns the book around to show you the page and the picture displayed inside takes up the entirety of your vision. Your face is on fire, and Pantalone nearly doubles over with how hard he’s laughing. He barely manages to pull himself together enough, straightening his posture and wiping tears from his eyes. He’s not even trying a little bit to hide the amusement he’s feeling at your expense.

He adjusts his glasses so they’re no longer crooked. “J-Just what sort of writer are you?”

You snatch the book from his hand and slam it shut. Pantalone watches you, waiting for an answer. “I-If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

Pantalone just smiles down at you, and you feel your heart pulsing in your throat at the sound of his voice. “Oh? Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

You glare at him, and he just shakes his head in defeat. You look down at the floor, and your voice trembles in shame. “... I write romance, b-but my editor said I should try something, um, steamier. Their w-words, not mine. I-I don’t really know how to write that sort of thing, so I have this, for reference material.”

“Reference material, he claims,” Pantalone teases.

“L-Look, I’m not in the mood for this,” you snap, “and my father is probably looking for you, so could you please let me get back to my work?”

You do not wait for Pantalone’s answer before you walk away and plop back into your chair. You toss the book into another drawer and slam it shut as well, this time out of anger and embarrassment. Pantalone takes that as a sign that any and all conversation has stopped, and decides he’s had enough fun toying with you. This bizarre scenario aside, you do make a good point; he really should get back to this meeting.

He walks away, trying not to laugh again at what he’s learned about the young man who nearly ruined his suit. He makes his way to the door, taking hold of the knob.

“Wait.”

Pantalone pauses, and looks at you over his shoulder.

“... Don’t mention this to my parents.”

He chuckles. “I won’t, as funny as that would be.”

“N-No, it’s not even that, it’s…” You lower your head and voice. “I haven’t told my family I like men yet.”

At that admission and your obvious discomfort, almost shame, the hilarity of the situation fades. A feeling of almost guilt starts to build in Pantalone when he looks at you. He would normally find and revel in the schadenfreude of this sort of situation, but given the new context, Pantalone can recognize a crossed boundary and general invasion of privacy.

He grips the doorknob. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

The door shuts behind Pantalone, leaving you alone in your study. In the quiet of the room, you’re left with your thoughts, and the bizarre reality of what just happened actually sinks in. A Fatui Harbinger just walked into your study and found your gay smut.

You push your typewriter forward so you don’t hit it when you smack your head against your desk to keep yourself from yelling.

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 05 . The art of paying attention

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 3,354 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 05 ) • Sometime the little details mean more than people think. More info under read more.

Includes ( this chapter ): The squad<3. Subin my love. And other new characters. A kind of out of nowhere jump in time ( just a few weeks ) because the writing just flowed like that, I don't know what to tell you. A mini-drama ( this is the spoiler I posted on ko-fi the other week ) and a bigger drama.  Author's note: so… I'm sorry this took so long to be updated Y_Y As you may know, inspiration hasn't been too good these days, but after some lovely comments and knowing people are interested in this story, I finally finished this chapter, so thank you! Also, let me know if you figured out what the drama was before the end, or if you had a theory about it, etc. Hopefully you like this one, and remember to leave a comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or what not, to help my motivation. Thank you for reading <3

“Kang Subin, queer and honorable member of the divorced parents club.” Is how your roommate introduces herself friday night, pointing to the latter as the reason she is only now, a month after classes started, arriving to campus and the city in general. 

She says her dad insisted on doing a year abroad as he did, assisting to his Alma Mater and hopefully fall in love with the city to move full time with him. And she did love it… a little too much. She admits the change of scenery was liberating, she could be a totally different Subin from the one in Seoul, and sadly that meant neglecting her notes and putting at risk her art history degree.

You're glad to note she will be joining you ( and some of your friends on occasion ) for classes, since she managed to keep her notes high enough to not lose her first semester. And then you spend the weekend getting to know each other, practically becoming friends overnight. Subin says it must be a you thing, and shaking your head no, you confess essentially begging the administration for a roommate because you're stuck with silly boys and all girls hate you because you aren't cool like them. She laughs, asks if that means the plan is making everyone hate her too and be stuck with you. And you freak out a little, but her laugh keeps flowing across the dormroom and you know she is joking; you know that things would be fine.

Monday arrives and between classes, you continue to give Subin small tours of the campus, mostly the art building and where all the vending machines are. 

“There's more than I thought, could you make me a map?” She jokingly asks.

“I'll ask Jungkook for the one we made last semester,” you know he has it because it was offered to Yoongi before.

“Hey, y/n!” calls Taehyung, appearing at the other end of the hall with Yoongi, and when he asks “you got some gum?”, you know they were just on a smoke break.

“Oh, hi, Tae. Nice to see you.” Sarcastic tone all over it, “are you having a nice morning?”

He rolls his eyes and Yoongi laughs at his side.

“Sorry, I'm actually not. And I'm running late,” still you give him a look and as a little kid he repends. “Hi, you guys look pretty today, as alway.” He adds before you can argue anything, and only then Subin chuckles, understanding this must be part of your dynamic. “Do you happen to have some gum for us, your lovely friends?”

“Yes, actually.” Taking one strap off, you move your backpack to your front, looking for the little package they keep stealing from. “Here,” you hand one wrapper to Tae, who starts running in the other direction immediately, screaming how much he loves you. And a “nice to meet you!” to Subin.

Everyone laughs, Yoongi turning back in your direction after Taehyung disappears down the hallway.

“You want one?” You ask and before being able to stop yourself, you add, “Is cherry, though” 

“Of course it is,” he smiles and you look away, pretending it's only to search for another one to offer Subin. Memories of friday’s night invading your psyche and shyness your whole body. 

Well, that's your own fault.

“Thank you,” she says, looking at the two of you while unwrapping it. “I'm Subin, by the way, the new roommate.” 

“Oh, she actually found one!”

“Just hoping she doesn't abandon me too,” you pout and Subin wraps one arm around yours.

“Never.”

“Yoongi,” He introduces, thumb pointing to himself and then behind, “And that was Taehyung, but I guess you'd meet the whole squad later.”

“Ah, yeah. I've been told she collects cute guys.”

“Did someone actually say that?” Yoongi asks when you're not even surprised.

“Yeah and when I asked about girls she looked relieved,” subin goes on, “I actually wanted to know, you know.”

Yoongi and you laugh, “someone doesn't like competition,” both say in unison.

“I told you, they lied.”

“Well, I can't really say that yet. I've to look first,” Subin insists, walking through the cafeteria's door. And it doesn't bother you because it comes from a place of curiosity and not horniness. No shame to anyone, your friends are hot, but you've known them for so long and know they have other great attributes that sometimes it feels superficial and it bothers you.

Besides, as a friend, you need to keep their egos just high enough to be healthy for everyone involved.

“Listen, kids,” calling for the table's attention, you stand in front of them, “this is Subin, my—”

“New roommate?” Asks Jungkook, remembering the text you sent, and you nod excitedly.

“That's Jungkook, he is in music and sports.”

“Which ones?”

“All. Some. We don't have time for that,” you joke, but only continue with the rest of his introduction after the youngest clarifies is soccer and box this year. “Oh, he also takes an art class with Taehyung and I, and now you, this semester. You know Tae from earlier, the one who keeps stealing my gum.”

“You're the one that tells me to not show up to class with cigarette breath!” He pushes back against accusations.

“I think she wants you to buy your own,” Jimin suggests.

“Or quit,” adds Hobi and the table laughs even more.

“That’s Hobi, the group's mom.” Tae offers after.

“Does that make Mai the dad?” Jungkook asks, with a serious expression on his face.

“I'm telling her so,” Yoongi says, already phone in hand and texting his best friend.

“You'll have to meet Mai later, she is great,” you continue, “but Tae is in arts. And Hobi and Jimin, are both dancers,” index finger pointing at their direction as you say each name, “and well, you already know that's Yoongi, he is in music too.”

“And the last new guy, right?” Subin remembers from your talk earlier after she met him for the first time, “I guess I took your title.”

“Are we enemies now?” He jokes, “I was about to offer you my chair, but now I don't know.”

Again, laughs all around and before anyone can think about the sitting arrangement too seriously, Jungkook is standing up, saying he needs to go back to the house before his next class.

“Oh, you are the biker from friday!” Subin exclaims as Jungkook’s helmet comes into view, everyone turning to look at her, “can't believe I forgot to ask you.”

And then five pairs of eyes are on you, all but Yoongi's, since he doesn't need an explanation. 

“...What?” Asks Tae, finally.

“Had to call her to my rescue because I lost my key and from the hallway's window I saw someone drop her off on a motorcycle,” she explains, “that's when the girl told me about you collecting cute guys.”

“But that wasn't me,” says Jungkook.

“Yeah, you weren't with us that night. We were all at the house, so who was it?” Ask Jimin, and the curiosity in his voice makes you nervous. You have never lied to them, and starting right now without preparation is terrifying.

However nothing compares to the feeling on your stomach when Yoongi answers, “it was me, actually.” And without a beat, your friends are looking at him now, “What?”

“You what now?” Mister interrogation Tae goes on, “Why were you together? What time was it? Was it late?”

“You were alone? Why?” Asks Hobi.

“We can't hang out now?” You ask back, wasn't he who set you up in the first place? And yes, it didn't turn out the way they planned it, but wasn't the whole premise to get to know Yoongi?

“Not what I meant,” he corrects, “Just… you didn't say anything.”

“Well, you guys canceled, what were we supposed to do? Not do anything just because you weren't with us?” Yoongi answers before you. 

“And we just hang out, you know, eat junk food and chat. Nothing to write home about.”

“Aww,” coos Jungkook, sliding his arm over your shoulders, “does that mean you missed us? You really love us, uh?” you pull back, sticking your tongue at him and pushing him towards the exit, telling him to hurry because if he is late to class you aren't covering for him again.

Thankfully, that's enough to get them off your back and Subin’s arrival provides better entertainment through the lunch hour, as your friends don't hold back on their questions to get to know her. And you're glad they seem to like her as much as you do.

“So… should I've not mentioned the bike thing?” worries Subin later, when everyone has left and is only her and Yoongi at the table.

“Don't worry about it.” He reassures her, offering a tangerine slice when she doesn't return the smile. “Seriously.” 

Is not her fault, he thinks. He can't blame the guys either for wondering and going into big brother mode as soon as they hear you're hanging out with someone, since the prevalence of that is not the best right now. And although he does feels bad about keeping things a secret from them, mostly Hoseok, who Yoongi himself give the “you better be careful with what you do with my best friend” talk, it consoles him a bit to know that the both of you are on the same page with what you have. 

Maybe if they knew it wouldn't be a big deal, he thinks. Better him than anyone else, right?

Putting away your phone and with the excuse of going to the bathroom before class, Subin and Tae follow their journey to the second floor without you and without suspecting anything. As you walk in front of one of the classrooms, a hand wraps around your forearm and pulls you in.

“What th—!” scream is interrupted when you recognize Yoongi. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I could've punched you.” And with adrenaline still running through your body, you actually push his shoulder with less force than you first intended.

“Ouch.” He rubs the place you hit, dramatically, as he explains, “Sorry, I panicked. There were people around and I didn't want to scream your name”

“Yeah, we should be careful after what happened at the cafeteria. Good save, by the way.”

“You own me,” he quickly returns.

“I do not,” you deny, crossing your arms, “You were the one insisting on going into the parking lot, I told you to leave me at the gate.”

“Well, forgive me for being a gentleman.”

You laugh, “and modest.”

Yoongi smiles, relaxing his body against the wall beside the door, “are you telling Subin about us?” he asks before you can question him about why he asked to meet.

Uncrossing your arms, you fiddle with your nails instead, scratching the acrylic paint off of them. “What is your opinion on that?”

“You can't answer a question with a question, miss.”

“Well… I don't know.” Is your final answer after a few seconds of silence. “She is cool and I really think we’re going to be friends and maybe I can gossip to her about you.”

He chuckles at that.

“And also she said sorry and asked if it was supposed to be a secret.”

“Really?” Yoongi sounds surprised, “She asked me that too earlier and I told her to not worry.”

“I feel bad about it because it seems like she is actually worried she messed up,” you share, “maybe I should just come clean. Only to her, at least. But of course not, if you don't want to.”

“No, it's okay. I think is good you have someone to talk to. And she seems nice.”

You nod in agreement, relieved you don't have to start hiding things from Subin as soon as you two met.

“Also,” Yoongi goes on, holding your hips and bringing you closer to him. You allow him to without much thinking. “It was nothing to write home about?”

“What?” 

“Friday night, you said that earlier.” 

“Did your ego get hurt?” You tease.

“No. But I didn't know you were a liar.” he throws back and you laugh. “I'm going to call you Pinocchio now.”

At that, you gasp, “stop giving me nicknames!”

And your attempt to pull away is just that, an attempt, because between laughs he holds you closer. “But is funny. And all of them are true.”

“They aren't.”

“Are so.”

“I don't like you.”

“That's not what I got from friday.”

“Yoongiii—.” you gasp again, his laugh louder this time.

Wanting a clarification stops him from dumping his phone back into the duffle bag and so, throwing the strap over his shoulder, he makes his way over to Chris and other teammates. 

“Are you ready to go?” His roommate asks, and Yoongi nods, “good, I'm just waiting for Ha-ri.” 

“Hey!” As they turn around, it is not difficult to recognize her as one of the cheerleaders since she is carrying her pom-poms and all, but is only as they continue talking that Yoongi realizes who she is, “sorry, I was saying goodbye to the girls and planning for next practice.” 

“Don't worry, babe.” 

“You must be Yoongi, hi,” she waves her free hand enthusiastically enough the pendant on her bracelet makes a jiggly sound, catching his attention “welcome to the university. And the team. Go, Bears!”

She seems nice, Yoongi thinks, “Go, bears!” first in the air, he chuckles in response before they all make their way to the parking lot and to Chris’s car.

The drive home is short and filled with questions about his last school and the reason he transferred, which Yoongi manages to give simple and vague answers that satisfy Ha-ri’s curiosity. It definitely helps that he has been questioned about it more than once the last few weeks, giving him more than one chance to practice before today.

The more weeks pass, the less people ask. And soon the mystery of his arrival is pushed to the side as people decide to talk about his accomplishments in the basketball games.

Every now and then someone recognizes him as an ex Tiger's player, and asks why he changed teams, but before anything can get to deep, a “well, now you are on the right team,” or something alike is thrown his way and he couldn't be more glad for the rivalry between the universities.

For what is worth, the change has proven to have been a good decision. Of course he is nostalgic for the past and he misses hanging out with Mai more often, but he has friends, basketball and music. He has even been planning to perform at school events with Jungkook as he did with Jay back then. 

It feels like he is starting to build a new life, and it wasn't as difficult as his brain told him it could be.

With chuseok around the corner the university starts to plan the events for the weekend and some professors feel generous enough to give extra credits for participation. Others just used it as an excuse to make the assignments related to it, that's his and Jungkook’s case.

Yours is the first one, because getting a good grade for hanging out with your friends sounds too good to pass out. That's why for the last few days you have been following them around taking pictures and notes, preparing your article about their performance Saturday night. 

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks from his spot at the end of the bed when you take the headphones off, the ones he made you wear so he wouldn't have to listen to himself on the interview recording.

“Yep. I only need Kook's side and I'm done,” end of the sentence elongates a bit, arms in the air as you stretch your back.

“How long for him to be here? I need him to go over something before he eats and gets a food coma.”

“I'm glad you're already prepared for that,” you giggle, “Because he is not even seeing my texts.”

“He is still busy?”

“Yeah, kissing someone for sure. Does he think I don't have things to do too?” 

“Like making out with someone too?” he jokes, putting his guitar down on the bed, deciding to take a break too.

“Why? Are you jealous?” you tease, trying not to laugh and is surprising when you're met with a serious expression as you spin around on his desk chair.

 “I thought the rule was to tell if there were other people.”

“I'm just kidding,”

“Wow, a comedian.” he rolls his eyes, and you know he is only pretending to be annoyed.

So, you push. “I'm funnier than you, don't get mad.”

“Cocky.” 

“What, you don't find confidence attractive?”

“Oh, I find a lot of things about you attractive.” 

Touche; you think as a smirk appears proudly on his face and makes you turn around, shy reaction at the security of this voice.

And he laughs. Of course.

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

“If you want to kiss me, just do it,” he only has to stretch a bit to pull on the chair, making you turn to him again and bringing you close.

And you do kiss him.

Not only to erase his stupid and attractive gummy smile, but also because you've missed it.

With projects and exams, with Yoongi not only being in a different major but also in his third year, hanging out only the two of you hasn't happened as much. 

You don't mind. You understand that is not a priority and there is something relaxing about it being an unspoken agreement, something that you truthly appreciate. 

But you would be lying if you said that you didn't miss Yoongi's lips against yours and the way his hand cups your cheek, still gentle as he tries to lead the kiss. 

Looking for closeness, your hand finds balance on his tight, making you contemplate ditching the comfiness of the desk chair for a sit on his lap.

“Is pizza night, baby!” breaks through the house before you can make another move, making you jump and pull away on instinct. Moving out of Yoongi's reach, even hitting the desk with the back of the chair as you stand up in record time.

“Careful,” he murmurs and you don't understand why he isn't freaking out. Even dears to chuckle.

“Min, come out!” another voice calls out.

“That's not Jungkook,” you say as a matter of fact, your brain still in shock.

“I'm starting to think he stood us up.” He stands up, looking at his phone still without texts from the younger guy, “Wanna meet my roommates? They have pizza, apparently.”

And your empty stomach makes the executive decision to hide your shame, and disappointment, in exchange for some food.

You're introduced to Jin first, who introduces Namjoon while taking the knife out of his hand with a “let hyung do it.”

“I swear he never lets me hold a knife for more than five seconds,” he says and you find it adorable, but Namjoon seems genuinely confused and maybe a bit hurt by it. 

You wonder what more there's to that. But before you can ask anything, a third roommate comes out of the kitchen, “Is for your own good and the wellbeing of everyone involved,” he says, making your whole body tense as the familiar voice rings through your ears.

“That's Chris.” Jin says, and you almost answer that you know, but for a second it is even hard to breathe.

Nevertheless, you don't need to say anything, because your silence is everything Yoongi needed to confirm that an introduction isn't necessary and in fact, you'd probably rather forget about him. 

Because is him.

The guy who hurt you.

A/N: I missed writing this! again thank you to anyone who has show interest one way or another, you're the reason this chapter was actually finished uwu♡. A/N 2: I'm working on the intros for the characters that aren't part of the squad, and sometimes I ask for your help with fc's suggestions or names, so... that's something to know if you're interested. Send a tip on ko-fi and get some rewards!!

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

➪ 01 ・ 02  ・  03 ・ 04 | ➪ Tag for TCT verse | ♡ Join a tag list | ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Pinned