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scuttling · 3 years

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If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #request

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strxnged · 3 years

Text

a couple more.

-> akaashi keiji x gn!reader

summary. finding somewhere the two of you can wait the rain out is your best bet. or is it?

genre. shoujo manga but in real life but in fanfiction. fluff but with a plot. friends to lovers. (you're going to hate me after reading this.)

word # 6k.

warnings. might be slight cursing at one point? but very pg. except for the kiss scene. cover your kids' eyes/j

author's note. i'm not writing hq fanfiction anym- akaashi hi there. would you like to be stuck together for 20 hours? me too. let's do it. (no but seriously, i cranked this out in less than a day, please read it because i have no patience to even edit it 🙂)

You were really quite useless on days like this.

The skies were gray, rain falling in buckets, and wind was howling like a pack of wolves. Walking down the sidewalk was a drenching nightmare and so you and Akaashi were trapped seeking shelter between overhangs. The plan had been to go to the beach, to finally get your best friend to enjoy a day off, but there had clearly been a miscalculation in the weather report as the two of you learned on the street five minutes after you left the train station. You had been well-prepared for today — well, for your plans today, meaning that you were wearing your swimsuit under your clothes and were carrying a towel and deflated beach ball in the bag on your arm.

Convincing someone like Akaashi Keiji to come to the beach was like coaxing a wild owl into your hands. It wasn’t impossible, but it didn’t seem quite worth it either, until it was over. Your arguments had been all over the place — “you need a break!” — “Summer’s short — “if I was Bokuto you’d agree...” but in the end it seemed as if he was just waiting for an appropriate time to agree to it. Akaashi wasn’t a fan of being disappointed; he took the proper precautions and always lowered his standards in order to avoid it. So of course, you should have expected him to wait until he knew for sure that he’d have time today and knew for sure that the weather’d be nice.

You’d always hoped that Akaashi had set his standards low for you as well. He was always rather cynical about things, seeing them as they were rather than how they could be. He was a good problem solver. He was honest. How could you not fall for him after all this time? But still, you hoped his standards were low for you because you didn’t know what would happen if he found out about your feelings for him.

Sometimes you wondered if he had ever had feelings for anyone at all. And you found yourself thinking often that it was such a shame that he hadn’t been picked up by anyone, and that it was a waste of a man who would make a very good partner.

Indeed, while his standards in life might be low you found that yours were exceptionally high. You saw the good in everything, or at least tried to. You wanted the best, which was perhaps why after meeting Akaashi you couldn’t think about another person. And maybe it was why you tried so hard to get today with him, because you wanted it badly enough.

But now you and the manga-editor-in-training were rushing between overhangs, avoiding puddles and umbrella-users, back in the direction of the train station. The glass door of a small café opened and a couple walked out with an umbrella, and the two of you glanced at each other before stepping inside after them.

The door creaked as it closed and you looked around. The floors and walls were wooden, and the sharp scent of coffee pricked your nose. You’d never been here before, but it was an oddly comforting space after all.

Akaashi ran a hand through his hair, water spraying off down his neck. His shirt was completely soaked. His white T-shirt.

“Well,” you said. “Guess we’re not going to the beach.”

He chuckled. “I got my wish, then.”

“Keiji…”

“You want some tea to warm up?” he said, flashing you a smile. “Sun warms your skin but there isn’t anything like the heat from a cup of tea on a rainy day.”

You complied, and the two of you ordered from the barista. She had a classic outfit on, and gave you a wink at one point although you were sure you’d imagined it.

After taking your drinks, you took a two-seater window seat, gazing into the unrelenting precipitation. “It’s like a hurricane,” you stated. “One just striking in order to ruin our plans.”

“Your plans,” Akaashi corrected you, relaxing his elbows onto the table with his face placed in his hands. “But, yes, I agree, the timing is strange.”

You shivered and reached into your bag for your towel to help you warm up, only to realize it was wet. You swore under your breath and then raised your eyebrows at your companion. “I’m sorry, did you feel forced to come along today?”

“I feel as if I should have been the last person you would have asked to come along.”

“Why? Do you have something against beaches?”

He chuckled. “No, of course not.”

“Then… Do you have something against me?”

“No, Y/N. If I had something against you, you’d know it by now.”

“Then why do you hate time off?”

He nodded. “That’s it, yeah. I just… I’m at a place in my career, Y/N, where going to the beach or hanging out in a cafe when I could be perfecting my skills seems like a waste.” Akaashi took his glasses in his hand, wiping the rain from the lenses.

“Okay. Fun is bad. I’ll remember that.”

“No. Hey, no, that’s not what I meant.”

You stirred your tea with the stir stick, casting your eyes down. “Oh, I know, Keiji. We’ve had this conversation enough times. You’re a perfectionist, and you can’t bear not doing things right the first time. You analyze things too much. Can’t you romanticize anything?”

Akaashi took a deep breath and sighed. “I haven’t told you about the most recent manga I was assigned to. You’ll get a kick out of this.”

“What? What is it?”

He put his glasses back on and looked straight at you. “A shoujo manga. Romance.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes, apparently.”

You giggled to yourself. “Who saw you and your skills and thought, ‘hey, this guy looks like he’ll be good with romance’?”

He smiled at you, and you felt tears spring to one of your eyes. Maybe it was just that your tea was too hot. Probably, yeah.

It was moments like these that you wished you could replay. And days like this that you were utterly useless on, days where the atmosphere was just so… nice. It was unfair that life could have moments like these.

You shook off your thoughts, sinking back into the conversation. “Maybe they need you to help them tone down the unrealistic aspects. You know, time loops and abundant sparkles on the love interest and great displays of affection. They look great on paper but when you stop to think about them…”

“Well, I dunno. I think younger people enjoy it despite knowing how unlikely it is. It’s no different from fantasy in that way.”

“Romance is so unlikely to you that you see it as fantasy?”

He clicked his tongue. “Hm, Y/N. Have you ever been stuck in a time loop?”

You sipped some tea. “You win, I guess.”

Minutes spent in this little café turned into a few hours and you were both pleased that no one was rushing you out. You really felt quite lucky to have found this café. Maybe you were enjoying yourself more than you would have at the beach. Either way, you were spending time with your best friend and the man you loved, so was there really anything else you could ask for?

The rain had stopped or at least calmed down substantially from what you could tell. You made plans to head in the direction of home; it would be too late to really enjoy the beach now. You both tipped the barista and walked towards the door. You realized just as you were walking towards the door that you’d forgotten your bag, so you encouraged him to go on as you ran back.

“You’re a cute couple,” the barista told you gently as you walked past the till.

“Oh, we’re not…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…. Look, he’s even holding the door for you. Are you sure you can’t reconsider?”

You laughed, feeling a little uncomfortable. You’d reconsidered, plenty of times. But no, you’d never have the guts to even try. And that was it.

You followed Akaashi out the door and as soon as your feet hit the sidewalk you heard another telltale gust of wind. The pattering of rain was picking up again, and Akaashi beckoned you to an overhanging a few feet in front of you.

Of course it would start raining as soon as you stepped out. You felt an immense lack of sense of direction as you followed Akaashi. “Shouldn’t we turn back?” you called to him, raising your voice over the wind.

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!” he replied. “C’mon!”

Here you were yet again, darting between coverings, feeling your clothes getting soaked again. People with umbrellas passing you. A couple exited a café, putting up an umbrella, and Akaashi silently told you to come with him inside.

“It looks like we’re really not going to the beach,” you said, and felt deja vu hit you like a bus.

Another couple?

Another café?

“I got my wish, then,” Akaashi said.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, trying not to panic.

“You want some tea to warm up?” he asked you with a smile. “Sun warms your skin but there isn’t anything like the heat from a cup of tea on a rainy day.”

You nodded, your eyes widening. Was this a prank? How could this be happening? What was going on? You took your phone out. 13:43. No, it should be— it should be nearly evening now—

The barista — the same barista — flashed you a thumbs up and a wink. You didn’t imagine it. You were sure of that.

As the two of you sat down at the table — the same table, you realized — Akaashi sighed. “Hm. Well, I guess I have time to tell you about the manga I was assigned.”

“The…” you replied, staring at him. How should you act? Should you act like you knew you were being pranked somehow? Or should you go along with it?

“It’s a shoujo manga. Romance.”

“Romance?” you asked dumbly.

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled at you.

That smile. You’d seen that exact smile just a few hours earlier. But you hadn’t. It made no sense.

If Akaashi Keiji would have been stuck in this situation, what would he do? He was much smarter than you, probably better versed in how to quickly deal with strange circumstances after being the best friend of Bokuto Kotaro in high school.

He’d probably do nothing at all. He’d probably keep quiet and figure it out on his own. Akaashi could solve problems and do things well and work hard, but he never, ever asked for help.

You were not Akaashi Keiji.

“Sh-shoujo manga, huh? Do they have… like, you know… time loops and stuff? In them?”

He frowned at you. “Funny that you should ask. I had to tell the author that putting in a third chapter about a time loop sort of made it feel more unoriginal than necessary. Time loops are a fun idea but readers will get the idea after the first go.” He took his glasses into his hands to wipe the rain off of them with the edge of his shirt.

“What do you mean, chapters? Like, three times reliving it, or—”

“No, three different time loops altogether.”

You went quiet. Well, at least you didn’t have it as bad as those characters.

“Yeah, I know. A little much, right? At this point, romance and fantasy are hardly different genres.”

… Then again.

You cleared your throat. “Keiji, what would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?” Your eyes looked up into his and you gave him a studied expression of casual inquiry rather than the impatience and panic you were feeling.

“That’s a compelling question,” he began, frowning. He restored his glasses to his face. “A time loop… What sort of time loop?”

“Does it matter?”

“If it’s just a normal day in the life that’s repeating, I’d probably try to handle it calmly. But if it was an alien invasion happening over and over again, then I’d wake up.”

You blinked at him, and then smiled a bit. “Haha. That makes sense.”

“What about you, Y/N? What would you do?” Akaashi’s blue eyes peered into yours and for a shattering moment you thought that he understood, somehow. But his expression returned to normal almost immediately after.

“I’d ask for help,” you said. “Hoping someone would believe me.”

“Hm. Who would you ask?”

“The closest person, I guess.”

“I think if you’re the only one conscious of a time loop it means that you are the only one with the power to change it.”

“That’s… that’s true. That makes sense.”

“You’d have to find the variable that is causing it, and eliminate it somehow. Usually you’ll have to try a lot of things. No time loop is ever just twice.”

“Since when did you become so experienced?”

A chuckle escaped his mouth. “Like I said. Shoujo manga. Three chapters. It’s an easy way for character development and it shocks the readers… until it’s been done a few too many times.”

“I feel like you would be better at editing shounen manga. You seem to value plot development more than relationships.”

“It’s the same story every time. Or at least it feels like it. But… It's not that I enjoy reading it particularly, but I like knowing that young people enjoy it despite how unlikely it is. Like I said, it’s no different from fantasy.”

You tried to relax. There wasn’t anything at all wrong with having another conversation with Akaashi, despite the fact that he did seem to be repeating a few sentences from the last time. No matter the circumstances, his company made everything seem a little less bleak.

Perhaps it had to do with your bag, you thought, seeing the rain had slowed. You made sure to remember it as the two of you left a tip — you gave her the same amount as last time, grateful to see that at least your balance had reverted since before.

“You’re a cute couple,” the barista told you, a knowing (unknowing) smile on her lips.

“Thanks, but we’re not a…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. Well, you’re both very cute individually, then.”

Akaashi thanked her as you cleared your throat uncomfortably. Was she going to say that every time? It seemed like unnecessary punishment.

Maybe this would be the last time. Maybe whatever variable there had been last time had been changed correctly, and it wouldn’t start raining again as you stepped onto the street.

The weather mocked you by splashing you right on the face.

“Do we have to go on?” you called out to Akaashi. Maybe it was the café that was causing this — you only had to find somewhere else to wait it out.

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!” he replied over the sound of the wind.

You planted your feet. “I think the rain will pass. I don’t want to get any more wet than I am.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said, turning back to you with a smile on his face. He tousled your damp hair and grabbed your hand. “Come on.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” you grumbled.

It all continued as expected. The couple. The café. The barista giving you a wink that you were now absolutely certain that you had not, in fact, imagined. Akaashi’s glasses. The conversation about shoujo manga. This time, you didn’t even bring up time loops and he didn’t either. It was peaceful and gentle but you couldn’t help but notice the strong feeling in your gut that you weren’t getting anywhere.

“You’re a cute couple.”

“We are, aren’t we?” you replied quickly. “The cutest.” This better not be the last chance, you thought, putting your arm around his waist and cooing, “Right, babe?”

Although you found yourself enjoying his following expression, it melted away into the familiar determination to find shelter as soon as you stepped out of the café. However, you hadn’t accounted for the possibility that your position would remain the same and so when he glanced down at the way your arm was around his waist you could feel yourself panicking.

“I’m cold,” you explained quickly, feeling your heart speed up.

“I see,” he answered shortly. His arm slid behind your back. “Let’s not waste any time. Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet, alright?”

Although you weren’t exactly used to being this close to him, it was something you were more than happy to enjoy while it lasted. You tightened your grip on the damp fabric of his shirt. “Maybe we don’t have to.”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon.”

You didn’t relent this time. There really had to be something about that café. And it was scaring you, honestly. “I don’t want to go to some café and talk for three hours again. I love talking with you but we were meant to get outside and live a little. Can’t we, I dunno, run to the beach? Even though it’s raining?”

He turned back to you. A raindrop rolled down the side of his face, heading down the line of his jaw and stopped right at the end of his chin. Before you knew what you were doing, you reached up and swiped it off, pausing when you realized his face had turned to yours. You glanced between his eyes and lips.

“Keiji…”

What now?

He narrowed his eyes at you. “We’re standing in the middle of a flash hurricane and you want to run around on the beach?” He put a hand on your forehead. “Are you delusional?”

“I’m completely sane, I swear—”

“You said you were cold. We need to get inside somewhere.”

You made it to the café — but then you passed the café, seeing that same couple already having left, walking ahead of you. This was new. You’d somehow stalled, and now you were passing it. Was this going to save you?

“Where are we going to go, then?” you asked.

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!”

Well.

Akaashi had said, in the second time over, that people in time loops should try as many different ideas as possible. Despite his knowledge being from editing a shoujo manga, you had no choice but to trust the idea. This time, you allowed him to take you into the café but you led him to a different table, closer to the till. The barista joined in on the conversation at one point. She still managed to compliment the two of you as a couple, and you still managed to become rendered helpless in response.

You told Akaashi you’d be right back, looking for the bathroom. You were beginning to feel… motion sickness? Claustrophobia? Anxiety? It was hard to tell, but as you leaned on the sink in the humble washroom, you knew that something was off. Even if your physical state had been reverted at each timeskip, your head was pounding and there was a pain in your stomach. Your eyes felt hooded and your tongue dreaded the flavour of that tea.

Was it possible that you were sleep deprived? Your mind hadn’t been getting restored every time the way your body had, so maybe it was carrying over. When was the last time your mind had slept? Your attitude had changed greatly since the day had begun for you — you’d been jittery, looking forward to spending time with Akaashi and seeing him have fun for once. But now, you sort of just wanted to collapse on his comfortable-looking shoulder and take a nap.

You did the math. 20 hours? More? It seemed reasonable; you’d stayed up longer before. But it was not reasonable. It was 2:32 in the afternoon.

As you stepped back into the café, the barista gave you a look. “Are you feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little pale.”

Your heart drummed. This woman knowing your name was a clear sign that something was not as it should be. There was something you hadn’t considered and it was right in front of you.

“Time loops are exhausting when you’re not used to them,” she remarked, leaning her elbows on the counter. “I get it.”

“You— you know?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I get stuck in them too often. It sucks ‘cause it’s not included in my hourly pay since they have no way of tracking it, you know?”

She seemed so casual about it. As if it was an everyday occurrence. You tried to formulate a question but you couldn’t come up with a complete sentence. “Why…?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s a story for another time.” She glanced over at Akaashi. “Like I’ve said, the two of you would make a cute couple, hm?”

You made a face. “Is that supposed to be some sort of clue?”

The barista hummed, straightening her apron. “Does that make you Col. Mustard? And me Ms. Scarlet? Ooh, what about him? Is he Mr. Green?”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“Perhaps not. But the great question remains, Mustard. Who killed Mr. Boddy, and where, and how?”

“I don’t understand…” you said, and she turned away from you. But even as you sat back in your chair with Mr. Gr— with Akaashi, it began to sort itself out in your mind.

You were looking for a “who,” a “where,” and a “how.”

The “who” was clearly not the barista, since she’d been aware of all that was happening. It wouldn’t be you, either, if that logic applied. Akaashi? Was he the ‘killer’? What action was it that he was doing that caused this afternoon to repeat, and how could you get him to stop?

“Have you ever played Clue, Akaashi?”

He thought this over. “Yeah, we played with Bokuto once, remember?”

You recalled the event, smiling to yourself. “That must have been ages ago.”

“It was, indeed. Which leads me to the question, Y/N: why on earth are you asking?”

“A random question.”

“I see. You’ve asked a few of those today.”

You stared. What did he mean? “Like what?”

“You asked ‘where are we going to go?’ earlier, and then ‘can’t we get a different tea?’ as if we’ve been here before.”

For a moment your heart stopped and you stared at him. “As if we’ve been here before?

“I thought it was your favourite kind, Y/N.”

You blinked at him. “Keiji.”

He looked outside, passively ignoring you. “Looks like the rain has stopped. We might as well head home, hey?”

Maybe this was it. Leaving, stepping back onto the sidewalk. He was, after all, the first person to talk in each repetition. If you could somehow prevent him from going out there… maybe there was another door? But how would you be able to explain that?

“Keiji, let’s go out this way.” You grabbed his wrist, leading him towards the back. Maybe there would be a kitchen you could sneak into, and a staff door or something?

“What? Why are we— Y/N, we can’t just—”

You dragged him behind the counter and towards the back area. It was nothing more than you’d expected, and there was a door right there. This was it, you’d escape!

“Just trust me. I talked to the barista earlier.” You hoped that the barista wasn’t going to try to prevent your escape now.

You were almost there — you pushed the door open, sighing in relief when the sky didn’t open up on you again. You’d never hated the rain, but you were honestly finding that it was getting old after all this. Back here, there was a small parking lot and the gravel had a few dirty puddles in it from the rain earlier.

“That was weird,” Akaashi muttered.

“Sorry.”

“No, I mean…” He was watching you carefully, not saying a word more.

“Can we stay back here for a bit? I need a breather.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything.

“Is that okay with you?”

He was still looking right into your eyes, searching for something.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “You really aren’t aware?”

Your mouth fell open. “You mean you are?”

“The time loop.”

“Yes!”

He sighed in relief. “I was worried I’d have to figure it out on my own.”

“How many times have you lived it, Keiji?”

“This is the second time. It started when you said something about talking to the barista, right?”

Oh. Oh no. “This is getting weirder and weirder,” you muttered, frowning at him.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Don’t quote Alice in Wonderland at me right now.” A time loop within a time loop? Except — you were conscious of it because he’d told you, right? Your head was beginning to hurt. Maybe the fact that you knew meant that this was the right do-over. Right?

What were you missing? You were becoming too confused to even begin to understand. Maybe you should go back inside the way you came out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen again.

“Last time, we went back inside because you were panicking, and then we came out again,” Akaashi said as if reading your thoughts.

“You mean, we went back in the staff door?”

He nodded.

“Okay, then,” you said, taking his arm. “Let’s go to the front.”

As you expected, as soon as you rounded the corner to that familiar sidewalk, the rain began. Here came his line. You couldn’t help but mouth the words as he said it.

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!”

There was the couple, walking out of the café. At this point, you were willing to try anything, so you called out to them. “Hey! Weird café, right?”

You did not expect to see the person on the right, holding the umbrella, to turn around and be Akaashi.

“You’ll see,” he said. You could barely hear him over the sound of the rain.

How could that be Akaashi?

How could Akaashi next to you stop in his tracks and stare at himself ten feet away?

“Just go inside,” you said. No, not you, but the you over there.

You glanced at the guy next to you, who was remaining silent, clearly trying to understand.

The other you and the other Akaashi moved on. You couldn’t help but notice how close they were to each other. Were you feeling jealous of yourself? But wait, were they… were they your future?

Somehow you knew you’d finally done it, you’d narrowed it down to the who and where. All that was left was the how. But you couldn’t keep this time over. Akaashi was confused, searching for answers, and it would be impossible to try anything. You rushed him forward, past the door of the café, as you’d done the… fourth time over? You could hardly keep track anymore. You were tired.

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!”

There the couple was, and although you couldn’t see them clearly, it did look like the two of you once again. You tried to stay calm as the two of you walked inside.

“I’m going to ask for an umbrella,” you told Akaashi.

“You’re a cute couple,” the barista said to you and you nearly broke your hand from clenching the corner of the counter.

“Do you have any umbrellas?” you asked, the word ‘please’ repeating in your head over and over until she responded.

“Sure,” she said. “We sell them. Here, this one suits you two.” She took one out from under the counter. It was identical to the one you’d seen before.

If this didn’t work, at least you were making progress. However, you were also getting more tired and your patience was worn thin. Akaashi had come to stand next to you and you looked at him.

“She thinks we’re a cute couple,” you told him, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

“Couple? Oh, sorry, but we’re not a couple,” he told her. He turned to you. “You want some tea to warm up? Sun warms your skin but there isn’t anything like the heat from a cup of tea on a rainy day.”

“No,” you said. “We’re using this umbrella and we’re going back out.”

“You want to go back into that? Are you delusional?” He raised a hand to your forehead and you felt a sob rise in your throat.

“I’m fine, Keiji. Please, let’s just go.”

He frowned. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Please. Please. You just wanted to escape. You just wanted to finally go on with your day with him. You couldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t make it. You were so tired.

You took a deep breath before following Akaashi into the street. It was still raining, you told yourself. It wouldn’t loop this time. You had the umbrella. What else could there be?

“C’mon, Y/N! Finding somewhere—”

You swore loudly and then clapped a hand over your mouth, feeling tears of frustration prick in your eyes. “Yeah. I know. It’s our best bet,” you said, wiping your eyes. “Yep.”

As you stepped into the aromatic café, you could feel your legs shaking and you slowed.

“Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, feeling another wave hit you. “I’m tired,” you said, and began to lose your sense of balance. Your head was pounding.

Akaashi didn’t hesitate to support you with an arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You took a shuddering breath, successfully willing the tears to stop.

“Maybe we should just stay in here for a bit? Order some tea?”

You looked him straight in the eyes.

Akaashi Keiji, worrying about you. Still. Every single time you’d done this, he hadn’t once put himself over you. It was unfair to him, you thought, how you pushed him around but he always ended up taking care of you in the end. He was unfair. And you were completely, wholly, useless.

“What do you want, Keiji?” you asked, tilting your head at him. “What is it that you wanted to do today?”

He paused, looking at you through obscured glasses. “Anything,” he decided. “I’m happy with anything, as long as you’re happy.”

“That’s an awfully romantic statement for a cynic,” you said, and then pursed your lips. “They should put you on editing a shoujo manga.”

“Funny that you should say that…” He trailed off, seeing how intently you were looking at him. “What makes you think I’m a cynic, hm? I can be romantic.”

You had no complaints against being close to him like this again. He still hadn’t moved his hand from around your shoulders, the purpose of which you assumed had been to support you.

“Y/N, have I ever told you…”

Your breath caught.

“Did I tell you that they did assign me a shoujo manga?”

Damn it. “No, you didn’t. That’s funny. Who saw you and your skills and thought, ‘hey, this guy looks like he’ll be good with romance’?”

He smiled at this and for the umpteenth time you couldn’t say a thing, admiring him. You would think that after all this you would have been able to bear it, but obviously not.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You smiled back awkwardly. “I don’t know why,” you said, “but I thought you were going to kiss me.”

His eyes widened. “Kiss you?”

You shook your head, stepping away from him towards the barista who you guessed had witnessed all of this. She said her normal line about your cuteness as a couple and you asked if you could buy an umbrella.

“I could kiss you,” Akaashi said when you walked back to him. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You laughed at him. What was he trying to do, anyways? “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. What you want is important.”

If you were being honest, being in time loops and seeing it all over and over made you worry a lot less about word choice. “So then, I guess that makes you pretty important, Keiji. Because I love you.”

You weren’t usually in a rush to start the next do-over but this time you found yourself rushing him outside before he could respond.

Well, not before he could get three and a half words out.

“I love you t—”

You turned to him, reaching blindly. “What?”

“Finding somewhere we can wait it out is our best bet!”

This time, you grabbed his hand. If you were supposed to try every option, as he’d advised you all those attempts ago, then this was a valid attempt, wasn’t it?

“Hey, Keiji. Kiss me.”

“What?” The rain was loud, water slapping the sidewalk like a whip. Water ran down his face and arms. His blue eyes searched yours, clearly sure he’d misheard you.

“Kiss me,” you repeated.

He took off his glasses, squinting at you. “Why?”

You panicked a bit, trying to quickly come up with a response. “I’ve always wanted to be kissed in the rain like this. Come on, can’t we try it?”

“Do friends usually ask each other to kiss them?” he asked you bluntly. It seemed like a strange thing for him to raise his voice about, but thunder was overpowering his words so he had no choice.

“Maybe.”

You watched him think it over. Then, he took the side of your face in his slim fingers and you thought your heart would beat out of your chest. His fingertips were cold but you paid that detail no heed, instead focusing on the fact that he had already made a move towards you. But now, he paused. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t overanalyze it,” you replied. “Just do what you want, Keiji. Do what you want for once in your life.”

His lips were against yours and… well, it didn’t feel like he was just doing you a favour, you could tell that much. People doing favours did not kiss like this. You didn’t think someone like Akaashi was realistically capable of kissing like this, although you’d of course had your moments you’d wished for it. His hand was firmly planted on your waist, the other hand tilting your face ever so gently. His kiss was like an expression of everything he’d wanted to say. At this moment, Akaashi was realizing that after this you’d know it all and there was nothing he could do about it. But he kept kissing you and you backed up to the wall of the building behind you.

The softness of his lips — but the persistence of the kiss — made for a fluid and intimate embrace that only ended when he leaned back and stuttered, “Was— was that— was it okay?”

You nodded. “Let’s get an umbrella.”

Your mind was screaming at you. You’d kissed your best friend. You’d kissed Akaashi. No, Akaashi’d kissed you. He’d kissed you… passionately. You were sure your cheeks were a flame when, after you purchased the umbrella and left a tip knowing how many times the barista had had to sit through your time loop, she said “You’re a cute couple.”

You opened the umbrella as you stepped outside and blankly told Akaashi to put his arm around your waist like he meant it. And he did, asking you if you were alright in the meantime.

The umbrella stayed in your hands. Finally, it didn’t disappear, and Akaashi didn’t say anything about shelter being your best bet, and you were the couple.

It had only taken eight or nine tries. And a few risks.

You froze when the weight of the umbrella disappeared from your hands. Oh, not again. You couldn’t do this all again. But you realized within a moment that all that had happened was that Akaashi had taken the umbrella and was holding it for you.

“You seem tired,” he said. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the beach even if it does clear up.”

“You got your wish, then.”

He looked at you in much of the same manner he had just before kissing you earlier. “Oh, no, Y/N. I’ve already gotten my wish.”

author's note (cont'd): so, yeah. i've been watching bunny girl senpai, wanted to try my hand at a time loop. i hope you enjoyed and didn't run out of patience halfway through like i almost did. i really like writing fantasy and sci-fi type things, and i paused writing my doctor who fanfic just to speedwrite this lmaoo 😭

taglist in reblog !

#a couple more.#akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq angst #haikyuu fic #haikyuu longfic #hq fluff #akaashi imagine #haikyuu x gn!reader #akaashi x gn!reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!! x reader #ahhhhhh #okkkkkk

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dreamystuffers · 4 years

Text

drive it forward - lyy

summary: of course the job would never be easy but what kind of idiot dribbles a basketball in the room above yours and then gets pissed about a complaint?

genre: fluff, comedy, nba bubble au, e2l, reporter!reader x basketball player!yangyang

word count: 8.5k words

warnings: profanity, suggestive lines, covid-19 (no one gets it in this fic but like it’s important), not historically accurate? (i tried to follow the actual bubble timeline but i do not have it in me to ensure it’s correct :3), kissing, very rushed character development

note: i had to reupload this cause tumblr deleted it T^T also i have very minimal basketball knowledge. I am also bad at it. If you need to learn how to shoot a basketball, don’t use this fic I just looked on wikihow. also a big thank you to my irl best friend for helping me work out the plot (she’ll never see this but ily) and also @ceruleanskies for helping me with the free-throw scene and @ezralia-writes for beta reading! also for context, the nba season for the end of 2020 was moved to disney world where a bunch of nba players were just vibing playing basketball i guess

part of @leesmrk‘s sports collaboration

From the moment you published your first article, you knew that reporting was your calling. After a year of being the head editor of your high school’s newspaper and getting accepted to all your top college choices, it was inevitable that you would land a position as a reporter at one of the most reputable magazines in your area after you graduated. However, you never would have anticipated the lack of recognition you received.

This is precisely why you’re extremely shocked when the head editor—your boss, Kim Doyoung—calls you at 10:30 pm on a Thursday night, telling you to pack enough clothes to last you several months in Florida.

“What do you mean I’m being sent to the NBA bubble?” You question slowly, trying to process whether or not you misheard him.

“It means we don’t have many young, single reporters that are willing to jet off to another state at a moment’s notice, so we’re sending you.” Doyoung deadpans in return, the clicking of his keyboard keys very much audible from his end of the line. “We’ll cover all the accommodations and other necessities so long as you agree.”

While this is an amazing opportunity for you, you can’t help but internally scream at how harshly said opportunity was delivered. However, as a struggling reporter and an idiot dying for an opportunity, you push away your pride and plaster a smile onto your face.

“Amazing. When’s my flight?”

It takes approximately 24 hours, one poorly socially distanced flight, three absurdly large luggages, and two q-tips shoved uncomfortably high into your nose for you to finally settle into your hotel room in the NBA bubble situated at Disney World, Florida. As taxing as it may have been physically, you were more than glad to discover that your bed was extremely comfortable with an abundance of pillows. After all, the resort you were staying in was also hosting some of the best players in the NBA.

You make a quick job of washing up and unpacking the bare necessities you brought along with you before pulling open your laptop to prepare some research and interview questions for tomorrow. While Doyoung had been unclear as to what specifically you were expected to do within the bubble, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get a head start. It wasn't like you had an awful lot of research to do anyway. While you may not be a die-hard basketball fan, you were definitely somewhere close, actively keeping up with a few players on some teams that managed to catch your eye. Reading off some of your colleagues’ articles, you're quickly able to gather some information on more notable players here in the bubble.

It's only after an hour of hard work that a thumping noise suddenly resonates through the ceiling of your hotel room.

"What the-"

The thumping noise continues but now at a steadier pace. Sighing deeply, you reach into your bag to pull out a pair of headphones and set your Spotify playlist to shuffle. Somehow, you're still able to hear the dribbling noise through your headphones, although now more subdued, but still irritating.

You do your best to continue from where you left off for a couple of minutes before the dribbling suddenly gets faster, the noise incessantly drilling into your ears.

"Oh my fucking god, what kind of idiot decides it's a good idea to dribble in a hotel room at midnight." You pull your headphones off and place them onto your desk before reaching over to your nightstand for the telephone.

Quickly inputting the number for the front desk, you put the cream coloured phone to your ear and listen to the ringback tone.

"Hello!" The receptionist's voice seems much too chirpy for anyone awake and working at midnight. "What can I do for you today?"

"Yeah hi. I'm staying in suite 437 and there's someone dribbling in the room above mine. Would it be possible for the hotel to send someone to tell them to stop?"

"Yes of course! Our apologies for the inconvenience."

The call ends shortly after and you flop into the bed, the sound of the ball still pounding away from the ceiling. It takes a couple minutes for the thumping to finally stop. You move to turn off the lights and your laptop, feeling the fatigue from the long day you had starts to hit you.

A yawn escapes you as you crawl under the covers of your bed, sighing as your head hits the pillow. The shrill sound of the ringing phone pierces through your sleep clouded mind. Of course, it has to ring just as you're about to fall asleep. The universe truly works in funny ways.

"Hello?" Your words come out more slurred than you intended but you could care less at this hour.

"Yes, hello. My name is Qian Kun, head coach of the Portland Trail Blazers. I believe you're the reporter from NeoMag staying in room 437? I'd like to apologize for the noise you were receiving earlier. We'll be sending Liu Yangyang to apologize to you in the morning."

Liu Yangyang? Your eyes widen as you bolt upright in your bed.

"Oh yes, sure. Thank you. I'll see you on the court tomorrow."

You end the call much too abruptly for it to be deemed polite and maybe you'd care a bit more if you hadn't just reported Liu Yangyang.

Third pick in the 2019 draft and currently one of the top contenders for rookie of the year, one of the starting small forwards (which was a feat in itself considering how rare it was for rookies to get any sort of starting positions), and most importantly, one of your favourite players in the NBA at the moment. Liu Yangyang was one of the players to look out for in any game. However, there was one thing that confused you about him. It's not that you found him cute when you first saw him in the draft pick—although you did—it's that with his record of donating to charities and volunteering at organizations, why on earth would he be dribbling in a hotel room? Wouldn’t he be a bit more considerate than this?

You simply don't have the energy to entertain your thoughts any more tonight as you yawn deeply and drop back into your previous position under the covers.

Perhaps you'd find out tomorrow.

It's around noon when you get a text from the medical team that your violent q-tip endeavours have provided you with negative COVID-19 tests, allowing you to freely roam the expanse of the NBA bubble. After washing up and transferring your night's worth of research onto your phone, you grab a mask alongside your normal things. While it wasn't necessary for anyone to wear a mask in the bubble—especially given that everyone was being tested regularly—you weren’t quite sure what the typical norms were in the bubble. It’s a learning experience.

The ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex was not at all attached to the hotel you're staying in, but the walk from the hotel to the complex isn't very far. It's almost eerie as you walk through Disney world; the once massively massively overcrowded walkways and long lines now replaced with silence and a few stragglers all here for the NBA. You'd visited Disney World last year with your friends for a birthday party and the hour-long waits had been excruciating. Now, only masked strangers greet you as you make your way towards the sports complex.

Walking hastily, you slip through the automatic doors of the main arena in no time, stopping by the temperature checking machine before pushing open the doors to the basketball court. Unsurprisingly, there are already teams running drills and you stand off to the side as you remove the lens cap of your DSLR to take a few photos for your article.

You’re barely paying attention when Yangyang approaches you. Most definitely not out of his own free will if his coach standing within listening distance staring at him says anything about it.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang.” Contrary to interview videos of him, his tone is flat and body language tense.

“I know.”

Your reply comes much too fast and makes a player you recognize to be Hendery snicker to the side.

Yangyang rolls his eyes at your response before shooting you a tense smile.

“Just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. Won’t happen again.” His eyes aren’t even looking in your direction, instead off to the side at the drills his teammates are running.

Liu Yangyang. You’ve read tons of articles about him and even watched several of his interviews. When you’d seen him play at some of the games earlier this season he was the star of the show.

No amount of research or interviews could’ve prepared you for the half-assed apology you just received.

“Okay cool,” Part of you hopes your tone came off as insincerely as he did. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Yangyang’s scoff is very much audible as he mutters something that sounds more like an insult than a noise of agreement before he turns on his heel and jogs off to do drills with the rest of his team.

Letting out a deep sigh, you see Hendery throw you a quick shrug and salute before jogging off after his friend.

Even though you knew some people were different on and off camera, it's baffling to see how someone you considered to be a nice person could be such an asshole.

"Sorry about that," Another boy says from behind you.

His breathing is heavy and there's a slight gleam of sweat on his forehead. You shoot him a strained smile before looking down at his jersey.

"I'm Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul but people call me Ten. I play for the Toronto Raptors but I'm sure you've figured that out already." He gestures down to the black jersey you were already staring at and you set your gaze to meet his instead.

"It's fine. There's no point in apologizing for things that weren't your fault anyway. I'm ___." You stick out your hand to shake his and wince slightly at the sweat coating his own.

"I guess, but Yangyang was just extra pissy today since he had to go back into quarantine after he accidentally left the bubble to pick up the chicken nuggets he ubered. Really killed his vibe you know?"

It would be a lie if you said that you didn't feel bad at all, but Yangyang really dug his own grave with that one.

"Just know he isn't always like this. He's actually a pretty nice guy."

At this point, you feel as if you’d need hours of unreleased video evidence to believe Ten's words but for the sake of being civil, you try to take his word for it.

"Well I'd sure hope one of my favourite players isn't actually a total asshole but it be like that."

You swear you can practically hear the gears grinding in Ten's head as he smirks at you. If time travel was a thing and it could make the you from five seconds ago shut up, you probably would.

"That's very interesting. I'll keep that in mind." Slyly, he shoots you a wink before giving you a quick slap on the shoulder. "Nice talk ___. Looking forward to that interview in a couple of days."

"Interview?” You call out from your spot on the sidelines. “What interview?"

The words don't quite reach Ten's ears as he jogs off and away, leaving you extremely confused and even more stressed than when you first stepped onto the court.

The aforementioned interview is only discussed with you hours later via a very brief phone call with a busy Kim Doyoung. He does nothing but inform you that a formal interview has been booked with a few of the more popular rookie players in the bubble scheduled to take place in two days.

“A bit more direction would’ve been nice.” You sigh as you recall him telling you to write ‘something that would appeal to fans’. Very helpful.

You spend the next couple of days researching off on the side of the court, juggling between typing up questions, Twitter queries, and taking photos of the different teams on the court.

You typically avoided going on Twitter unless your job required it. Nothing quite beats going on that stupid bird app and seeing hundreds of thousands of random thirst tweets from fans around the world. You've done your best to take Ten's words into consideration: that people have bad days and that your first encounter with Yangyang wasn't a reflection of his true self. That in no way stops you from complaining about the sheer amount of idiotic comments on social media, especially as you add some last minute questions to your document for your interview in a couple of minutes. Internally, you feel like that TikTok of Daniel Dae Kim’s son watching his dad read thirst tweets. You do your best not to gag as you scroll through your Twitter searches, actively speed scrolling past thirst Tweets and jotting down a few more questions you can find centred around Yangyang’s ability. Honestly, there are so many questions for him that you'd probably have enough for a solo interview with the rookie himself and maybe a more Yangyang focused team interview.

"This fucking sucks." You mumble to yourself as you pick up your camera to set onto the tripod, only to be greeted by an unwanted close up of Ten’s face.

"What fucking sucks?" Chirps Ten making you scream slightly.

You apologize impishly to the other people glaring at you from outside the interview room which makes another player by Ten's side laugh.

"I was going to say Twitter but now I'll say you." The pout on your face does nothing but make Ten laugh as he nudges the boy next to him.

"Ah right, I'm Wong Yukhei but I guess you can call me Lucas." He giggles and shoots you a thumbs-up.

"Fourteenth pick in the 2019 draft and traded to the LA Clippers near the end of the season right? Plus you shot a really funky shot during last year's dunk contest that went viral." You ramble before shooting him a thumbs-up back. "I'm ____."

Ten shoots you a weird look while Yukhei only seems amused, giggling loudly at your description.

“Yup, that’s me!”

"Anyways,” Ten butts in, giving you a cheshire-esque smile. “Are you perhaps miserable because Twitter's full of thirst tweets for a certain Liu Yangyang?"

You purse your lips and exhale sharply as you glare at Ten. Even though you're aware that he’s correct, it takes a lot of self-restraint for you to avoid smacking him.

"It's a bit difficult to do research on what people want to hear when all I can see is people asking Yangyang to step on them." You deadpan making the two boys erupt into another round of laughter as a few of the rookies file in.

Watching the players scramble before finally taking a seat is a strange sight. Although, any sight involving several tall men arguing over who should sit in which seat is a strange sight. Aside from Ten and Yukhei, you’re also interviewing Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Hendery. You go through the awkward introductions and move towards your camera.

"Okay let's get started." You say once all the boys have settled in, setting your camera to record. "You're all rookies with around three years of experience. What're some of the most memorable things you've learned so far?"

"Well-" "I've learned that dribbling a basketball in a hotel room in the bubble will get a snitch on your ass and a massive scolding from coach." Deadpans Yangyang, effectively cutting off Yukhei's sentence and earning him a smack from another player you recognize to be Xiaojun. One thing you were always told in school was to do a better job of controlling your emotions when interviewing assholes.

It was just unfortunate that Yangyang turned out to be one of those assholes.

"Great." You reply after a beat, doing your best to maintain a pleasant expression. Ten shoots you an apologetic look while you direct your attention to Yukhei who seems a bit too cheesed to continue his answer.

It's unfortunate to say that the vast majority of your interview continues in that manner, but it does. While you did get enough decent answers from the other players (and maybe one from Yangyang) to write a decent article, he'd truly taken every possible opportunity to make some sort of backhanded comments towards you. While you did try your best to stay calm and polite, it was extremely difficult given the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Ten simply gives you a comforting pat on the back as he practically drags Yangyang out of the interview room, the rest of the boys looking equally as sorry as Ten.

You will yourself to remember their sorry expressions that night as you do your best to draft a neutral paper that portrays the boys in a good light.

Maybe someone would even edit the interview to make it sound better or upload video clips that highlighted their personalities.

Only time would tell.

You're not quite too sure if you want to hug or fight the editor back at the office that woke up and chose violence today. While it wasn't uncommon for your magazine to receive a lot of attention, the amount of crazy Twitter stans blowing up your notifications was.

Occasionally, NeoMag would upload certain clips from the interviews (although typically, the videos were just used for quotes), but you were definitely surprised this morning when you woke up to all the clips of you and Yangyang not-very-subtly snarking at each other from last week being shared all over your Twitter feed.

"Oh my god," You groan as you look through your notifications.

An incoming call from Doyoung interrupts your pity party and you take a moment to recompose yourself before picking up the phone.

"Hi Doyoung!" You will every fibre of your being to sound more enthusiastic than you feel.

"Your interview was a mess, " He deadpans into the phone making you sob internally. "But, people seem to enjoy drama, so we've scheduled another interview for you: one on one with Yangyang."

Whatever false enthusiasm you'd previously mustered dies instantly and you're considering all potential ways to tell your boss you'd rather get fouled by Shaquille O'Neal hundreds of times over than let him exploit whatever stupid rivalry it is that you have with Yangyang.

"Great," You say instead, plastering a smile onto your face. "Looking forward to it."

Yangyang's not quite sure who decided to book a second interview but as he watches Kun stride alarmingly fast towards him, it's glaringly obvious that he's about to get his ass beat.

"Liu Yangyang are you stupid or insane?" Seethes Kun as he smacks the rookie's head.

While Yangyang had seen people get on Kun's bad side, he'd never been on the receiving end of it before. Until now, that is.

He wouldn't recommend the experience.

"Ouch," Yangyang whines as he rubs his head. "Isn't it like illegal for my coach to hit me?"

Kun simply ignores his complaints, opting to continue nagging Yangyang instead.

"You'd better be on your best behaviour during your next interview with ___. I don't know what's gotten into you but if you don't clear up this attitude you've had lately, I'll bench you until the playoffs. Are we clear?"

Honestly, Yangyang doesn't quite know what's gotten into him either but he knows the bench is not where he wants to be. As deep into this as he might be, there's no way he's letting decades worth of work go to waste over some petty feud. Definitely not the way he wanted to go.

Straightening his posture, Yangyang flashes Kun an innocent smile before replying.

"Crystal."

He watches his coach huff and stomp away making him wonder to himself if he's perhaps taken this too far.

Honestly speaking, you've never been the most civil person ever. That's why when you end up back in the interviewing room the following week, it's safe to say that today, you were the one that woke up and chose violence.

Sometimes, you just have to fight fire with fire.

"All good Yangyang?" You ask exasperatedly, waiting for his signal to turn on the recording.

He nods solemnly and you shoot him a tight-lipped smile before clicking the recording button. It's quite obvious that he doesn't want to be here, his tense posture and smile glaring indicators.

"So to start, I have a few questions from some fans on Twitter."

Yangyang makes a noise of acknowledgement and even has the decency to shoot the camera a nice smile.

"Cool. What do you typically carry around in your sports bag that would surprise people?"

He pauses for a moment, having the nerve to even look slightly embarrassed.

"Um, I have this stuffed sheep keychain on my bag's zipper that Ten gave to me in college as a good luck charm."

The only thing that could've possibly surprised you more than Yangyang answering the question civilly would be the answer to his question. Maybe you're another victim of those terrible prank shows. At this rate, you're expecting Hendery to pop out of a box and throw Gatorade all over you.

"You and Ten went to college together?" You ask, surprise evident in your tone as you scan the room for any objects large enough to fit a grown 5'11 man holding a tank of Gatorade in it.

"Yeah," Yangyang flashes you a smile and giggles slightly; something that would've knocked the wind out of you and made your cheeks heat wildly before you entered the bubble. "He's one of my closest friends."

Instead, your face only heats up slightly and you look back down at your questions to avoid his stare.

"Very cool. It's interesting to see how different the two of you are personality-wise and how you two can still be great friends."

Yangyang's smile quickly turns into a frown.

"What's that supposed to mean-"

"So the next question is how do you like to relieve stress?" You look up from your prepared questions to meet Yangyang's angry gaze. "I'd assume it has something to do with basketball since you seem to dribble wherever whenever?"

It's almost comical how Yangyang's eye twitches as he shoots you a strained smile before answering.

"Yeah, I really love dribbling. It helps me relieve stress and improve my game. Maybe you should try it sometime."

The rest of the interview proceeds in a similar manner with you asking questions, taking a dig at Yangyang, and him doing his best to stay civil which doesn't work out that well.

It's not until around a week later when your article's been published in the latest issue of the magazine that Yangyang remembers the visual aspect of magazines and the fact that you were in charge of your own article.

"I can't believe ___ managed to write an article that makes you look like a decent human being and published it with those ugly ass pictures." Ten cackles as he watches Yangyang stare at his photos with mild horror.

While you'd done your best to portray the boys in their best light during the group rookie interview, you'd decided to be slightly less professional with this one, publishing an article that included some of your banter and some of the worst pictures of himself that he'd seen in his life.

It hadn't been difficult for you to find terrible photos of Yangyang. One of the occupational hazards of being an athlete meant that it was extremely difficult to take flattering action shots but it was extremely easy to find unflattering photos of the players. You'd purposely filtered through the basketball shots you'd gotten so far and picked out all the worst pictures of Yangyang for use in this article.

"I just can't believe ____ managed to get them to publish the article with the photos like that, " Giggles Ten as he slaps Yangyang on the back. "They're good quality too, you just look like shit."

The younger can only sigh deeply as he looks at the article with a sense of despair. Maybe now that you'd evened the playing field, things would get better from here on out.

To some extent, it was arguable that life was better in the bubble because you'd regained some sense of normalcy.

Since everyone in the bubble was getting tested regularly—your sore nostrils being a big indicator—everyone is guaranteed to be corona free. This also means that everyone's free to go wild without much social distancing and masks.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be inviting me to a party?" You twiddle your fingers and watch as Ten rummages through your suitcase for appropriate attire.

"Of course!" He pauses his ransacking for a moment to redivert his attention back to you. "The only benefit of being stuck in this bubble is that we can go crazy stupid but safe crazy stupid."

With that said, he manages to fish out an outfit that he deems party appropriate and launches it at you from across the room. You catch it unceremoniously and Ten makes his way to the door.

"See you at Gran Destino in an hour."

He sends you a wink before stepping out quickly.

The NBA bubble has three different hotels for everyone to stay in; the most luxurious one being Gran Destino Tower. Teams within the top four seeds in each conference are staying in that hotel, hence, why Ten—who's on the Toronto Raptors—is able to host a party of this extent.

It's admittedly terrifying to step into a location where anything you touch is worth around a week of your pay but you don't get much time to stare at the decor before you reach the lounge area.

"Oh hey, you made it!" Says one of the boys.

You recognize him to be Winwin, one of the more experienced Raptors players. Looking down, you notice his ankle is wrapped and you grimace slightly remembering the injury he had sustained from a practice slightly earlier before the season.

There were a lot of players who had decided to come and join the bubble despite their injuries. You supposed it had to do with team spirit but some other players have mentioned that they enjoy the environment here.

You see Ten trailing behind him and you smile at the both of them.

"Yeah, thanks for inviting me." You settle a few feet away from the boys, unsure how socially distanced they'd prefer to be, only to have Ten walk right next to you to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

"Winwin here was wondering whether or not you'd show up after your very interesting article on Yangyang."

You have the decency to be at least slightly embarrassed at his words which only makes them laugh.

"Don't worry," Ten pats you on the back. "After the way he was acting towards you, he kinda deserved it."

"Speak of the devil." Winwin laughs as he waves at Yangyang who just walked in.

The younger boy smiles brightly at his friends and waves as he approaches them.

"Hey guys!"

It's undeniable that his nicely fitted black button-up shirt and jeans are doing something to your head. Especially with the leather jacket he has on. Terrible. You will yourself to stop staring at him and turn to face Ten instead.

"Since you two just got here, and so did the wings I ordered, would you two mind grabbing the Uber Eats from outside." Ten smiles devilishly at Yangyang. "Unless you think you're going to send yourself back into quarantine."

Yangyang glares at Ten making you suppress a laugh.

"I'm down, " You say, pushing your phone into your jacket pocket, pulling out a mask in its place.

Yangyang rolls his eyes, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket to grab a mask as well.

"I'm down too."

"I'll go with them," Winwin says grabbing his jacket. "There's probably a lot of food anyway."

You know for a fact that no matter how much food there is, it could easily be held between you and Yangyang. Winwin's just trying to avoid having the bubble become a crime scene for a potential murder.

The three of you head out the door moments later, Yangyang confidently striding towards the entrance where said Uber delivery person should be.

"So is there like a line marking the boundary or something?" You couldn't quite remember seeing anything like that on your way into the bubble.

"Nope," Says Yangyang. "There's just a sensor or something. They kinda trust we won't do anything stupid anymore but Ten loves his Wild Wings."

You hear Winwin sigh deeply at this and chuckle.

Admittedly, you're not quite too sure what happened after that. All you remember is you and Yangyang walking to grab the boxes of chicken and passing them to Winwin before you and Yangyang are escorted to an isolation unit.

"You're telling me you accidentally left the bubble twice." You can hear Kun practically screeching from Yangyang's cell phone across the room. "I have half the mind to bench you for the next playoff game if the league doesn't make the call first."

"Oh no," Yangyang makes some questionable noises with his mouth. "The reception's bad gotta go!"

You can barely contain your laughter as you watch Yangyang hastily hang up the call and slide his phone back into his pocket.

His shoulders slump as he breathes a loud sigh and turns dejectedly towards you.

"I'm really sorry-"

"It's fine. Neither of us knew-"

"No, I mean I'm sorry for everything." He scoots his folding chair a bit closer to you. "I've been stressed lately and really had no right to take it out on you. I should've apologized properly the first time but I didn't. Now I've got you stuck in quarantine too."

"It's okay. Really." You smile at Yangyang and flash him an awkward thumbs up. "It happens to the best of us. We're just lucky Winwin didn't cross the boundary so he wasn't quarantined. Ten would've been pissed."

Yangyang smiles at this and sticks out his hand.

"Let's start over properly. I'm Liu Yangyang, one of the starting small forwards for the Portland Trail Blazers. You seem cool and witty and despite the fact that you published those god awful pictures of me in your latest article, I think we'd be good friends."

You snort at his introduction but reach out to shake his hand.

"_____. Rookie reporter for NeoMag and a huge fan of basketball and one Liu Yangyang."

"Oh shit really?" Yangyang's eyes practically sparkle at this and you feel your heart flip slightly.

"Yeah," You admit sheepishly. "You're one of the best players I've seen in a while."

And also one of the cutest, but you'd never admit that.

"I must've really given you a bad first impression then." Yangyang scratches his head awkwardly making you laugh.

"Yeah, maybe a little bit."

It's funny how well the two of you get along, the extra aggressive q-tip testing almost a bonding experience for the both of you. A new chapter in your bubble adventure.

You and Yangyang are forced to quarantine for the next 10 days, most of which you spend yelling at each other from your respective balconies and video calling. This does, unfortunately, mean that Yangyang has to miss the rest of his pre-playoff games and three playoff games but he's kind enough to avoid dribbling in his hotel room again. Aside from your interview with Yangyang and the other rookies, you did manage to get in enough tidbits from other players during your time near the court to write another article or two.

"You know they're letting us invite guests for playoffs?" Yangyang says one night over Zoom as you continue to work on an article.

"Yeah, I read something about that." You drag the small window of Yangyang to the corner closest to where your eyes are focused for work. "Are you planning on inviting someone? Significant other maybe?"

Your teasing tone only elicits a groan from Yangyang who seems a bit dejected.

"Firstly I am a sad single Pringle—an unfortunate downside to my occupation where I have to constantly travel and practice—and secondly, my family is in Germany and most of my friends in America are part of the NBA."

"Germany?" You echo, trying to recall any information that you read about his past.

"Yeah. I was born in Taiwan and then my family moved to Germany when my dad got a job offer so my passport-" Yangyang rummages through his desk before pulling out a small burgundy red passport from his desk. "Is German. Pretty cool right?"

"Yeah," You can't help but notice how cute he looks, even with his messy hair and face slightly pixelated from the webcam, he smiles cutely at you. "Pretty cool."

"So tell me more about yourself." Puts away his passport and props his head onto his hand. "You're always asking me all the questions in interviews and I know practically nothing about you."

"Well, there's not much to know." You maximize Yangyang's Zoom window, watching as his face fills the screen of your laptop.

"Of course there are things to know! We can switch roles for today." Yangyang types something into his laptop quickly before sharing his screen.

"Twenty questions to get to know someone better? Really?"

Yangyang can't help but laugh at how appalled you look. You suppose after working with professionals in the industry for a while, it's easy to get taken aback by things like this.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

You watch the screen scroll down to the first question.

"What's your favourite animal?"

"Isn't this question kind of lame?" You question making Yangyang pout.

"Just let me get to know you better." He whines making you laugh.

"Okay, alpacas."

"Why?" Yangyang tilts his head slightly.

"Because they're cute and fluffy." You pull up a picture of an alpaca you have saved on your phone. "See, look."

Yangyang squints at his screen, the webcam adjusting a few seconds later to focus better on your phone screen. "Wait, then why not sheep. They're also soft and fluffy."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Doesn't your name mean 'sheep sheep' in Chinese?"

"Okay, next question," Yangyang says quickly, hoping you don't notice the way his cheeks turn slightly red. "What's your favourite way to spend a day off?"

"That question doesn't apply since I'm always on the job, " You reply almost instantly, sighing put your face in your hands. "It's been a while since I got a day off and even when I have one, I'm still looking for work to do. The pandemic left me with too little work and now that I'm here I still feel like I'm not getting enough work. My boss is kind of a hard ass and I guess I haven't proven myself to him yet."

Yangyang frowns at your words as you continue.

"Even getting sent here felt like I was some sort of second option. Another rookie to drive it forward with no loss. My boss literally said I was being sent since I'm 'young and single so I can afford to drop everything and go to the bubble'."

"You know, as a rookie myself, I totally get that." Yangyang inhales sharply before continuing. "Did I ever tell you why I was extra pissy after you reported me?"

You shake your head and Yangyang shoots you a sad smile.

"I was third pick, but I'm sure you already knew that." You smile impishly at him. "Being third pick, I thought that'd mean I'd get more time on the court and more opportunities to improve my playing but I feel like I'm just being complacent. It's like the team's happy with how I'm playing now so they don't push me to do any better, but I want to get better. I joined the NBA because it's where all the best players are and I want to learn from them but instead, I have some pressure to do well with practically no guidance. Even though I'm doing well right now, I feel like everyone's waiting for me to slip up. I didn't even realize you were there that night since I'd been dribbling in my room for a while. If I'd known, I wouldn't have done it but after having Kun chew my ear off about it in the morning-"

"Yangyang, it's okay." You hold up a hand as you cut off his sentence. "It really just is what it is and at the end of the day, we're all doing our best to get through life. Besides, I'd like to think we're friends now. Friends that get q-tips violently shoved up their nose because of chicken, stay together right?"

"Right."

Your words resonate in his head through the rest of the week and Yangyang can't help but wonder if he wants to stay just friends with you. Something about the idea of remaining complacent with your current relationship didn't sit right with him.

You and Yangyang are cleared to return to the court as quickly as the league policy would allow, meaning Yangyang was getting ready to go for his first playoff game this afternoon.

"A little birdy told me that you and Yangyang were talking during your quarantine period." Sings Ten as he slings an arm around your shoulders making you jump.

You could never quite understand how you never noticed Ten approaching you on the court. He was dressed in casual attire, his team having played their third playoff game yesterday afternoon, which you watched on a livestream while Yangyang called all the holes in their plays through Zoom.

"Jeez, do you ever make noise when you walk?" You whine as you move to hug the boy. "And yes, we've been talking."

Ten smiles softly at you.

"See, told you he's a good guy."

You roll your eyes and let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, he's not bad." You turn to look at Yangyang who's running some drills with Xiaojun. He notices you looking their way and shoots you a wave before grabbing the other boy and heading towards you and Ten. "But how'd you figure out we're talking?"

"Well Xiaojun sent me videos of Yangyang rapping Eminem off the balcony to you and Yangyang would not shut up about how cu-"

Ten never gets to finish his sentence as Yangyang claps his hand over the older boy's mouth before smiling innocently at you.

"Hey ___! Nice to see you in front of me and not from my laptop or my balcony."

He removes his hand from Ten's mouth, instead moving to envelop you in a hug. It's an unfamiliar feeling having Yangyang's arms around you, although not unwelcome. The smell of cologne and bubblegum fills your senses and you feel yourself fall into his embrace.

Xiaojun awkwardly clears his throat as Ten simply smirks at the two of you together. Flustered, you pull away from Yangyang and fiddle with the camera around your neck.

"Nice to see you too." Your voice comes out smaller than you expect and you feel your cheeks get hot.

"You two will be cheering for us while we play right?" Yangyang smiles at both you and Ten.

"Yup," Ten replies, making a basketball shooting gesture with his hands. "You'd better shoot a triple-double today!"

"Against the Lakers? Unlikely" Scoffs Xiaojun as he turns to look at the other team.

The Lakers were predicted to win the playoffs this year so you could see why Xiaojun was so dejected. Even when you'd spoken with some of the other players, it seemed unlikely that the Trail Blazers would progress all the way to the finals. Plus, Yangyang's team had also lost two of the three games he'd missed so far. Statistically, it wasn't very likely that the Trail Blazers would make it much further in the playoffs.

"Xiaojun, Yangyang!" Kun's call motions for the two to head over, the giant scoreboard above the court signalling around fifteen minutes till the game starts.

"Good luck!" You manage to call out.

You and Ten find a spot in the section reserved for staff and guests to watch the game.

Despite the fact that you've seen Yangyang play in person a couple of times in the bubble and before the pandemic, he never fails to impress you. He handles the ball as if he's had years of playing professionally and is able to read the opposing player's movements well. You snap several pictures for your article that afternoon, much to your satisfaction, only noticing later while reviewing the pictures that out of the nearly 500 photos you'd taken during the game, around a hundred of them had been of Yangyang. You don't mention it to Yangyang who comes to your room later the next day to complain about his team's second loss.

"I could've totally scored more points if they hadn't set me up for so many fouls." Pouts Yangyang as he eats some of the room service fries the two of you ordered earlier.

"Learn how to shoot better threes and then we can talk." You tease, making Yangyang gape at you.

"Do you even know how to shoot a basketball? Oh my god, let's go." Yangyang pulls you up from your chair and throws a sweater at you.

"Where are we going?" You ask, saving your files before closing your laptop.

Yangyang grabs his jacket before shooting you a smile.

"I'm gonna show you how hard it is to shoot a three-pointer."

Admittedly, you've never been the most athletic person ever but you hadn’t anticipated just how bad you were at basketball.

“No offence but I don’t think you had any right insulting my three-point shooting ability,” Yangyang watches as another airball rolls past his feet. “You’re literally at the free-throw line.”

Yangyang had insisted you start from the easiest place to shoot first, which you’d argued was right next to the basket but he’d argued you may as well learn how to do layups if you wanted to shoot from there. Instead, you find yourself in the semi-circle that is the free-throw line, consistently missing shot after shot making Yangyang laugh maniacally from the side.

“I like to consider myself to be more of an intellectual than an athlete.” You respond cheekily, moving to grab the basketball.

Yangyang scoffs at you before moving to grab the basketball, dribbling to the free-throw line.

“Come here,” He nestles the basketball under his arm and uses his free hand to wave you over. “I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

You roll your eyes and take a swig of water before jogging to meet him at the free-throw line.

“What do I do coach?” Your tone is mocking but Yangyang can’t help but find you cute.

“Okay so line up like you’re about to take a shot.”

You do as you’re told, holding the ball in your hands above your head with your arms bent slightly.

You glance over at Yangyang who simply shoots you a weird look.

“That’s not okay.” He moves beside you and positions himself as if he were shooting the ball. “Copy me,”

You bend your knees and adjust your arms slightly, trying to adjust to Yangyang’s stance. He simply tsks in response, dropping his stance and moving behind you.

“Okay so first move your legs a bit further apart,” He moves his feet behind yours, trying to position you and you follow suit.

“And then your arms,” He reaches up to lower your arms so that the ball is in your face, allowing you to see just above the ball.

He steps back to check your posture from afar and nods to himself. “Okay so just use one hand to shoot and one hand to position the ball, and then jump when you shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, jumping to shoot the ball and you watch as the ball flies from your hands to bounce against the backboard and lands in the net.

“Oh my god, Yangyang did you see that!” You cry before launching yourself into his arms.

Yangyang can only laugh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls away slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You feel yourself freeze and you can feel the moment Yangyang realizes his mistake, pulling away hastily.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-”

“Wait no,” You walk towards him and cup his face, eyes softening as you look at him. “You did it wrong.”

You take your time connecting your lips with his own. Yangyang kisses you softly, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to cup your face with his free hand. He tastes like the fries the two of you had been eating earlier and you feel your eyes flutter shut as you smile into the kiss.

“Well, you may not be a great three-point shooter,” You say once you two have pulled away from the kiss. “But you are a great teacher and kisser.”

Yangyang scoffs as he smacks your shoulder and pulls you in for another kiss.

“So let me get this straight,” Xiaojun says as the two of them are running drills the next day. “You literally made out with ___ on the court and you didn’t think to make things official?”

Yangyang looks around the court guiltily and Xiaojun has half the mind to smack the boy into the next dimension.

“Maybe.”

Nothing really happened after the two of you had kissed yesterday. You’d both shared a few more flirtatious looks and maybe kissed a bit more before heading off to your respective rooms and Yangyang realized once he woke up that he never asked you out or asked if he could be your boyfriend.

“Just ask then.” Deadpans Xiaojun, passing the basketball to Yangyang with a bit too much force. “Be like ‘hey I’m an idiot but I could be your idiot.’”

Yangyang almost fails to catch the ball as he cringes with his whole body at Xiaojun’s terrible advice. “You’re gross dude. No wonder the two of us have been single for so long.”

“Hey!” Whines Xiaojun as Yangyang passes the ball back to him. “You literally have a chance now. I might be sad and lonely but you’re just pathetic.”

Yangyang can only glare at the other boy, knowing full well that he’s right. As the two of them continue their drills, Yangyang could only hope that he’d muster enough courage to tell you before you both had to leave the bubble.

You’re going through a similar situation and it pains you to say that you’ve gotten way too used to having Yangyang around in your everyday bubble life.

Given the fact that playoff games were best four out of seven and the Trail Blazers had already lost three of four games, it was a given that Yangyang would be busy practicing. You just hadn’t realized just how much you’d miss him.

It’s precisely for this reason that you end up seated on the side of the court with Ten and Winwin.

You were proud to say the Raptors had swept the Nets with a four-game win, which also meant that Ten and Winwin were able to watch Yangyang’s basketball game with you.

“You’re both idiots you know,” Winwin says as the announcer lists off player introductions at an ear-shattering volume.

You’re sandwiched between him and Ten as they sit on the seats beside you, eyes fixated on the court.

“He literally hasn’t spoken to me since that night. What am I supposed to think?” You sigh as Winwin and Ten turn to look at each other.

“You’re supposed to think he’s a coward that’s wildly in love with you and also a very busy basketball player.” Ten says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even Yukhei knows he likes you and it took him three years to realize his girlfriend liked him back before they got together.” Winwin looks pained as he recalls the days of Yukhei and Yuqi’s terrible college flirting days. “Please don’t make us lock you in a closet like we did with them. She nagged my ear off for months.”

You laugh nervously at the idea of being locked in a closet with Yangyang. “Yeah, I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

“I sure hope not,” Mumbles Winwin as the referee approaches the center of the court for the tip-off.

It truly seemed as if the Trail Blazers had a chance, the game fairly close until the gap widened in the third quarter. It was painful to see the Trail Blazers lose to the Lakers in a 122 to 131 game but you could see that both teams played hard, Yangyang even scoring several points on his own. You watch as the few bubble interviewers scramble to get a word from the players.

Xiaojun sees you, Ten and Winwin heading their way and nudges Yangyang.

“I’m not saying it’s now or never but it’s definitely now or when the playoffs are over or something.”

“Yangyang!” You call as the three of you begin to approach him and Xiaojun. “You played well today!”

His lips thin into a line, Yangyang thinks about Xiaojun’s words before throwing all caution to the wind.

"You know what, fuck it. I've lost too many things today." Yangyang runs towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you to his chest and cups your face before placing his lips on yours.

You feel your face heat up immediately but move to kiss him back making the other boys around you coo. Even though you’ve kissed Yangyang a couple of times now, you’re not sure that you’ll ever get tired of it. If one thing’s for sure, you hope you’ll get more opportunities to be with him in the future.

Yangyang grabs your hands as the two of you pull apart and looks into your eyes before speaking.

"Could you maybe give me one win today and let me be your boyfriend?" He shoots you one of his signature boyish smiles and you can't help but smile back as you give his hands a squeeze.

"I guess that'd be a win for me too.

“So yeah, my favourite bubble memory was meeting ____ and now we’re dating. Thanks for listening or reading this interview.” Yangyang smiles cheekily at the camera as you smack his arm.

It was safe to say that you didn’t think you’d be interviewing your boyfriend for a while—especially given the ending of the season and the promotion you received—but you were pleasantly surprised to see that the surprise guest that Doyoung insisted you had to interview was none other than your boyfriend, Liu Yangyang.

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.” You say, eyes sparkling as you move to give Yangyang a quick peck.

“Well, now I’m your idiot basketball boyfriend.” Jokes Yangyang as he interlocks his hands with your own, eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Yeah, I guess you are.” You ruffle his hair. “Mostly an idiot though.”

“Hey!”

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it :3 feel free to leave me a message to let me know what you think!

550 notes · View notes

saintobio · 4 years

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remember, forever. (11)

↳ kageyama tobio x f!reader

description: in which the boy you’ve loved for years unexpectedly becomes your baby daddy. the catch? he’s in love with someone else.

genre: angst, cheating, unrequited love

a/n: a filler chapter for whats about to come >:)

You ended up staying pretty late at the office because you had to deal with this project that you’ve been working on for the past few months. As the Tokyo Fashion Week was coming near, you were making sure that your team would comply to your deadlines and that your proposal for this month’s feature cover would go smoothly.

Working at a fashion magazine company wasn’t all about the glitz and glamour. It was actually a pretty hectic job, but you loved what you were doing.

You could have easily stayed in New York City, especially with the kind of industry you were in, you knew you had more opportunities there. In New York, you had all the connections that you needed to be one of the recognized fashion editors in the world. That was your dream.

But right now, Japan was where your heart wanted to be.

You got distracted as your phone buzzed from your table while you were fixing your things. It was already 8pm and you still had somewhere else to go to.

Tobio: I’m done for today

Tobio: Where are you?

You closed your phone and grabbed your bag, carrying some of the portfolios you had to review for the weekend. There was just so much work to do.

When you came out of the building, Oikawa was already whining about how long you took.

“I’m hungry as heck!” he complained, offering to carry your stuff.

“You and me, both.”

You thanked him in gratitude as he carried your bag and the both of you started walking towards this nearby ramen place.

“You look cute,” you commented on his preppy boy outfit.

“Always am.” He winked. “I missed you for the past days! I didn’t have anyone else to annoy.”

Jina and Iwaizumi were already in the ramen place by the time you two came and the first thing they asked you was all about the Osaka trip.

You were honest. You told them exactly what happened and how much fun you had.

You did leave out the part where Kageyama left you at the train station to go to his ex-girlfriend.

You convinced yourself that it wasn’t a big deal to you. It was normal for him to come to Lara’s aid especially at a situation like that. Worse things could have happened to her and she could’ve been taken advantage of. Of course, you didn’t want that to happen. After all, she was devastated with this whole thing and you contributed to it.

Still, you were a bit hurt yourself too. You weren’t exactly mad at Tobio—you just wanted to take the time to handle your feelings and not be irrational. He just had to do what he had to do.

“You say you’re happy but your face tells me otherwise,” Oikawa pointed out.

“Exactly,” Jina agreed. “If something else happened, you can tell us.”

You were quick to deny. “I’m just tired right now because of work, but I really did have fun.”

Plus, they were going to give Kageyama hell for it. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was already trying enough for you and you’d be selfish to keep him for yourself. He wasn’t even originally yours to begin with.

You ought to be more understanding and compassionate.

After awhile, you heard Iwaizumi clear his throat, cutting you off your trance. Strangely, him and Jina looked like they were going to say something important.

“We have something to tell you guys,” Iwaizumi announced, sending his girlfriend a loving glance.

Oikawa took a sip from his juice. “I think I know where this is going!”

You nudged his rib to shut him up.

“Well, I guess you do,” Jina answered, showing a beautiful diamond ring on her finger. “We’re getting married soon!”

Wow.

You felt so genuinely delighted to hear the news that you had no other words but to say “Oh, my gosh.”

Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life since high school. They were getting married. You felt genuinely happy that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa fake-cried. “You’re a grown up!”

Iwaizumi threw a balled tissue to his face, causing you and Jina to chuckle. “You’re my Best Man.”

“And you,” Jina looked at you. “Are my Maid of Honor.”

You cooed. “I’d be glad to! I’m so, so happy for you guys! Oh gosh, this is amazing! Congratulations!”

You couldn’t wish for any other guy more perfect for Jina. They deserved each other and you already knew that they’d have a wonderful married life.

There was no flaw to their relationship because they completed each other. They were fated to love each other, like twin flames. They were two beings that share the same heart.

You wondered if you’d ever have this kind of relationship, too.

———————————————————————

That night when you came back to your apartment, you didn’t expect that Kageyama would be sitting at your couch waiting for you.

Then you remembered you did give him the passcode to your door lock so he could enter whenever he wanted to.

“Hey.” He got up to take your things from you. You noticed he was in his casual clothes. “You didn’t respond to my texts so I had to check on you.”

It was the first time you’ve seen him again since the night at the train station and your heart was doing somersaults.

“Sorry, I was out with Jina,” you told him.

“I could’ve picked you up,” he insisted, following you to your bedroom. “Are you avoiding me?”

You looked back at him, feeling terrible. “No, I was just busy with work. I’m sorry.”

Should you just pretend that nothing happened? Maybe that was the best thing to do.

You really didn’t want to make him think that he had to stop talking to Lara for your sake. You weren’t exactly in the position to demand something like that and he did tell you that it would take him some time to adjust to his feelings.

You were nothing but guilty, because every time you spent some happy moments with Tobio, Lara had to deal with a broken heart alone.

You understood her pain, too. And you understood that Kageyama was trying to set a middle ground where no one would get hurt because of this.

He walked closer to you and reached for your hand. “Listen, about Lara... I just made sure she got home safe.”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reassured. “I get it and it’s okay. I’m glad to know she’s fine.”

The fact that he put it upon himself to clear it up was enough for you. He was being honest and you appreciated that.

He sighed of relief. “Thank fuck. I thought you were gonna get mad at me.”

“I won’t,” you answered, truthfully. “I just...I wanna say sorry to her that she has go through this—”

“Not your fault, it’s mine.” Kageyama kept a calm composure. “She’s very broken right now because of me.”

———————————————————————

Kageyama had stayed the night with you.

You insisted that it was fine if he didn’t, but he claimed that he wanted to be sure he was there if ever you had cramps again.

And even if you got used to him holding you in his arms to sleep, it still made you feel at ease. Sleeping next to him just made you feel safe.

“Jina and Zumi are getting married,” you spoke as his thumb caressed your belly.

“Nice,” he replied, eyes glued on the TV screen. “When’s the wedding?”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “In two months. They said they just wanna rush into it so they can get to the honeymoon stage, it’s so cute.”

The idea of marriage seemed to have thrown him off because he stayed quiet for awhile.

You totally forgot that marriage was a hot topic between the both of you.

“You haven’t told me what your parents think about this,” he brought up.

Oh...

“I-I haven’t really told them,” you stammered. “I don’t know when I will.”

He nodded understandingly. “They’re gonna know either way.”

Well, you just weren’t prepared for it. You didn’t want to think of how disappointed your dad’s going to be as well as the reaction your stepmom would have when they hear about it.

“I bet your dad’s gonna kill me,” he claimed in good humor.

“He’d be a hypocrite to do so,” you retorted. “He got my mom pregnant and she was a mistress.”

Just like what I am to you.

Kageyama took a deep breath. “What happened to your real mom?”

Only a few people knew about the story because you couldn’t really open up about it unless you trusted the person. You just felt like people were going to judge you for being an illegitimate child and the last thing you wanted was to hear people look down on you or your biological mom.

“She left me after childbirth,” you spilled, knowing Kageyama was someone you could open up to. “But I’m not mad at her. I don’t know where she is now, but I still wanna meet her. Even for a few minutes.”

Kageyama pulled away to look at you and didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

You wanted to know what was going through his head because he was possibly the most complex person to exist.

From then and now, it had been difficult to figure out what he was thinking of because he showed little to no emotions. Most times, he resorted to using anger as a form of emotional release when his thoughts went array.

At those times, you wanted to be the person that would help him to simply handle his emotions in a healthy way. You wanted to make him an even better man and be at his side whenever he needed you.

Isn’t the world unfair? How come you had to care so much for a man that couldn’t even love you? You loved him and you would always love him, not just because he was the father of your child but because he was Tobio Kageyama.

How happy would you be that, even if you two get married, the only reason he was with you was because of the baby?

You were at a point where he could hurt you again and again. He could trample over your feelings, step on them, and you would still love him, because you were programmed to do so.

He was truly the only man you could love so much like this.

“I love you,” you spoke those three words like you’ve wanted to say it for a long time. It was the raw and pure truth.

His eyes were full of hesitation. His breathing was still. Fear was visible on his face.

You already knew his answer was no.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbled, pulling you back to his chest.

———————————————————————

For the first time in a while, Tobio was heavily distracted throughout the team practice. His coach was fast to notice it and had asked him what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

He was just thinking about that night you told him you love him.

When Oikawa asked him before if he liked you, his answer was that he didn’t know because he loved Lara.

For Tobio, love was a strong word and it wasn’t something you should just say carelessly.

You already told him you loved him before, back in high school when you confessed to him. Kageyama didn’t believe you at the time because you were young and he wasn’t interested in romance. He told you that you should come back to him when you get older and see if you could say the same thing—by then, he would believe you.

He did believe you now and he was amazed by your dedication.

He didn’t think he deserved you enough for it because he was a coward. Tsukishima was right. Kageyama was a coward who couldn’t be honest with his feelings. He was afraid of telling you how he really felt.

“Kageyama!” one of his teammates called from the court just as he grabbed his duffel bag. “Stay for a while and toss for us! You used to stay longer after practice.”

He shook his head. “My girlfriend’s pregnant. I can’t stay too long anymore.”

He was about to leave until the guy spoke again.

“You mean the sidechick?” He sniggered. “I can’t believe you replaced Lara for her, bro. You could have chosen someone better. Chick’s a downgrade.”

Kageyama clenched his fist.

“Besides,” the guy continued. “If I were you, I’d have forced her to abort the baby so I can go back to smashing Lara. Doubt you really liked that other girl, anyway.”

The next thing he knew, Kageyama was already charging at the guy out of frustration and two of their other teammates ran to hold him back.

“For someone who just sits on the bench every game, you sure have a loud mouth,” he spat towards the guy. “Learn to mind your fucking business. You don’t know me.”

He’d already had enough of how other people talked shit about you. Yes, he was aware of them. He knew what people thought of you and it was all his fault that you were perceived that way.

But Kageyama knew the real you and it would never change. He didn’t care about what other people would say. All that mattered to him now was to see you happy.

#tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama angst #kageyama fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake—”

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

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

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

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

“Done and done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been seeing red for days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trouble in paradise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hot?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Favorite movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which means?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me? You don’t even know him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss kiss kiss!”

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

“Kiss him before I do!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t say it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?”

“That’s the one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What movie?”

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

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

“Jung Hoseok!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Already out the door, bossman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you say something?”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were worried?”

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But still.”

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that, baby girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.”

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?”

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

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

“What, like fake moan into the wall?”

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

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

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t deserve your trust.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Long version or short version?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Living vicariously all day, every day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?”

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.”

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.”

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you.

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right.

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee.

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?”

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.”

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal.

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions.

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.”

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.”

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.”

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.”

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.”

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.”

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.”

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?”

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.”

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye.

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?”

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.”

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.”

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?”

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.”

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.”

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.”

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!”

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream.

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?”

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings.

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?”

“Yep,” Jungkook pops.

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?”

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag.

“Hit us with your best shot.”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #jjk #bts x reader #how did i manage to write this

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meruz · 4 years

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Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for?

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha.

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at [email protected].

<33333333333333333333333333

#ask #anonymous

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #239: Late Night of the Super-Stars!

January, 1984

1984! Can’t wait to make a bunch of Orwell jokes that are poorly thought out and land poorly!

But I guess it’ll have to wait since we’re on Late Night with David Letterman in this issue.

This sure is an interesting turn of events. Although the team we see on the cover doesn’t seem to be the actually active roster. They’re over in the corner box turned away - either from shame or because they’re off doing their own thing.

Because its Assistant Editors’ Month!

A fun-sounding non-event. Although, looking it up, very few books that were considered part of the event actually did anything with it beyond a slightly goofy issue box on the cover.

So we’re going to see some Avengers go on a talk show today.

Superheroes as celebrities! What a novel idea.

Anyway, I learned an interesting detail about the cover that would have totally missed me. The checkerboard strip at the top was a hallmark of DC comics around this time. And the round MC logo in the top right is an obvious spoof of the DC logo from this time.

It’s not much more than a goof for this book but the Captain America book released for Assistant Editors’ Month also had the checkerboard and logo and was a style parody of DC comics.

Last times: Vision went into a robo-coma from walking into an invisible dome created by Annihilus and only recently recovered the ability to talk. New Avenger Starfox hooked Vision up to ISAAC the Titan computer and overclocked Vision’s robot brain so now he can project himself as a hologram and has an even faster computer brain. At the end of Avengers #238, the Avengers got a call from Tigra about some nonsense going on in San Francisco involving Spider-Woman.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye got a whole miniseries all to himself where he met Mockingbird, lost his job at Cross Technological, his girlfriend revealed that she was paid to date him and also hated him, he teamed up with Mockingbird to uncover an evil scheme by Crossfire to kill all superheroes, Hawkeye lost his hearing by putting an ultrasonic arrowhead in his mouth but foiled the scheme plot, and married Mockingbird. He’s had a very busy week or so!

This time: Hawkeye comes back to the Avengers Mansion to show off his cool new wife.

Hawkeye: “Hey, everybody -- your wanderin’ boy Hawkeye has come home... And you’ll never guess what I’ve gone and done!”

I can just imagine Mockingbird replying “Me” with the biggest shit-eating grin. She feels the sort to do that.

When Hawkeye and Mockingbird arrive there’s no one to greet them except the floating disembodied hologram head of the Wizard of Vizh.

Hawkeye has also made the decision, for some reason, to not wear the hearing aid that Mockingbird got him so he can’t hear what Vision is saying when he compliments his new costume.

Mockingbird introduces herself for Hawkeye and Vision tells the two to join him in the medical labs so they can catch up.

When they arrive, Vision raises his volume so Hawkeye can hear and recaps everything that’s happened to lead up to him becoming a robot in a tube who can hologram around.

Vision: “[Starfox] set up a direct link between ISAAC, the world-computer of Titan, to better diagnose my condition. But, instead, my brain became overloaded with ISAAC’s energy-information matrix --!”

Hawkeye: “And you became several with the universe, right?”

Vision: “‘Several with the’ --? Oh -- hah-ha! Very witty!”

Overclocking his brain seems to have done wonders for Vision’s sense of humor.

He even finds Hawkeye funny now.

Vision also explains where the dickens everyone else is (because Hawkeye asks him where the dickens they are. Its so weird for Hawkeye to say dickens).

Jarvis was given the day off to visit his mother, Captain America and Thor are both busy with nonsense in their own books, and the rest of the Avengers are off to San Francisco because of that call from Tigra.

Hawkeye offers to fly out and give them a hand, which Vision declines since they’ll call if they need help.

Instead he asks Hawkeye how he met Mockingbird and Hawkeye recaps the miniseries in only five panels.

He’s better at this than I am...

Hawkeye: “Anyway, Mockingbird and I had made a pretty good team -- so when it was all over, we ran off and got married!”

Mockingbird: “What can I say? The big lug needed somebody to keep him out of trouble!”

That’s the task of a lifetime, Bobbi. But good for you two! Cute couple is what I say.

Vision: “Marvelous! I hope you two will be as happy together as Wanda and I have been!"

Vision and Scarlet Witch probably are the healthiest superhero marriage of this time.

Vision asks if Hawkeye and Mockingbird intend to stay in the mansion, which they do. But it’s cool because Mockingbird has security clearance from working with SHIELD so they won’t need to bother Mr. Sikorsky and agitate his hatred of living in the superhero genre.

After Hawkeye takes Mockingbird off on a tour of the mansion, Vision receives a call from his brain brother, Wonder Man.

Who, very reluctantly, is coming to the Avengers with hat in hand. So to speak.

Wonder Man: “Okay. Here’s the situation -- my acting career hasn’t been going anywhere lately! So my agent, without my approval -- used the fact that I’m a reserve Avenger to get me a booking on David Letterman’s show, and now, they want me to bring other Avengers along with me! My agent really put me in a tight spot on this one. I hate to impose, but -- !”

Vision: “It’s no imposition at all, Simon! I’ll personally call the network and confirm the Avengers’ appearance!”

Wonder Man: “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

Vision: “None whatsoever! After all, we have many Avengers -- !”

You sure do! Not as many as you’ll have by the No Surrender days. But still.

Also, I love this can-do attitude from you, Vision!

This is a pretty low priority in terms of fighting crime and whatnot but Vision is like THIS IS EXTREMELY DOABLE, I AM THE INTERNET.

Although imagine how sad it is from Wonder Man’s perspective. His agent put him on the spot pulling sorta-rank to get Simon some media attention but the media is like ‘ok but do you have something better?’

This man is trying to improve his career and the David Letterman show looked at him and said ‘ok but what else have you got?’

Oof!

Anyway, Vision uses the superpower of being wired into the phone system to call up some extra Avengers who aren’t very busy right now.

He calls Black Panther, Beast, and Black Widow.

Their varied responses are pretty funny.

But Black Panther’s is probably the best. He interrupts a meeting with his advisers to take the call and then he’s like ‘yeah sure I can drop everything I’m doing to appear on David Letterman!’

T’Challa really would rather be doing anything but kinging.

Beast initially protests that he’s too busy with the Defenders to just jump on some Avengers business but...

Beast: “The Letterman show? Hey, why didn’t you say so?”

And Black Widow is unbusy sunbathing at the Waldorf Towers while between missions. She doesn’t really want to make a television appearance (it’s kinda counterproductive for a spy, I would guess) but Vision mentions something that has Natasha agree to be there.

Based on what happens later, I guess Vision mentions that Hawkeye will be there.

A couple hours later, ELSEWHERE, well if it isn’t our ol’ friend and punchline Fabian Stankowicz!

Remember this goofus? He attacked the Avengers right when everyone was feeling bad about Hank Pym? Iron Man easily beat him up while the rest of the Avengers breezed on by. Or when he attacked Wasp’s cool superheroine brunch? Which was a hilariously terrible idea because he got between She-Hulk and breakfast foods. Also, nobody took him very seriously there either.

I guess the Avengers didn’t bother to press charges either time because he’s not in jail. He’s at his home working on some machines while his dad criticizes how he spends his time.

Dads, amirite?

Granted, what he’s criticizing is Fabian’s tendency to pick fights with superheroes. And... granted. Not a great use of his time.

But apparently Fabian can afford all the robot suits he keeps attacking the Avengers with because he won the lottery.

So he has a pretty good position to shoot down his dad’s protests, really.

Dad Stankowicz: “Fabian, I’m glad your poor mother didn’t live to see what’s become of you... It would’ve broken her heart!”

Fabian Stankowicz: “Aw, gimme a break, old man!”

Dad Stankowicz: “‘Old man’? This is the way you talk to your father?”

Fabian Stankowicz: “What do you want, egg in your beer? Was it you who won the state lottery and got us out of the Bronx? No, it was me! I won the money, and I’ll say how it’s spent! And I’m gonna use it to make a name for myself! Me... Fabian Stankowicz!”

And when Fabian sees an ad saying that the Avengers will be on Late Night with David Letterman, he has an idea. A wonderful, awful idea.

Also, who the heck puts egg in beer?

I’ve looked it up and I get that it’s a saying but apparently the saying is based on people actually doing that! Why??

The next afternoon, at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, where the show 30 Rock and this issue of Avengers both happen, this issue of Avengers is happening.

A CBS page shows Black Widow to the green room where the other Avengers are already waiting.

Also: I know that it’s all the Avengers who weren’t busy (even though T’Challa really should have been?) but this is a fun roster.

Hawkeye, Wonder Man, Beast, Black Widow and Panther?

Heck, I could imagine this being the Marvel equivalent of the Justice League International team, one more geared for some light-hearted comedy?

Except we’re in 1984 so this predates that.

But you have Beast and Wonder Man, your comedy duo best buds. You have Black Panther and Widow being varying levels of straight man to the nonsense. And you have Hawkeye who can be very serious or very ridiculous depending on how hot-headed he’s being at the time.

This team could be hilarious!

(Avengers International. Think about it, Marvel.)

Outside the green room, our ol’ buddy ol’ punching bag, Fabian Stankowicz is in disguise as a repairman with a mustache as cover for installing some devices in the studio. Then he puts on a beard to disguise himself as Perfectly Normal Bearded Audience Member.

I appreciate his intiative although I doubt any of the present Avengers are gonna recognize this guy on sight even if he wore a t-shirt that said “I’m Fabian Stankowicz.”

Fabian Stankowicz: Boy, this is gonna be so sweet, especially after the way the Avengers made me look like a chump those last two times! This time, it’s gonna be different! This time, I’m going to have a ringside seat for the defeat of the Avengers!

Or at least the Avengers that were available to show up on the Tonight Show with David Letterman.

Y’know, I like Fabian Stankowicz. He’s just smart enough to be dangerous and dumb enough to be entertaining. I think there’s a place for an ineffectual doofus with delusions of grandeur in the foe Rolodex of any superhero team.

Meanwhile, back with said Whoever Was Availables, Black Widow and Mockingbird are meeting for the first time.

And luckily, they’re both mature adults who don’t act like you’d usually see in media when the missus meets the ex.

So with a fight to the death NOT happening in the green room, Hawkeye gets to asking Mockingbird about the errand he sent her on which was why she wasn’t in the room when Black Widow first showed up.

Presumably using every bit of skill in espionage at her disposal, Mockingbird got a copy of the questions Letterman will be asking during the show.

Because Hawkeye will be fielding the questions and he has made the decision not to wear his hearing aid. And has also made the follow-up decision that not only will he not be hearing anything tonight, he’s also definitely going to be fielding all the questions.

Mockingbird: “Why won’t you wear a hearing aid?”

Hawkeye: “No can do, sweetheart! The fewer people who know I’m half-deaf, the safer it’ll be for all of us!”

(I don’t really get this reasoning but okay, man)

Mockingbird: “Then why not let someone else be spokesman? This is supposed to be Wonder Man’s big night!”

Hawkeye: “Sure... but I’m the only active Avenger here! Give me a kiss for luck!”

Not for nothing does Mockingbird think that he can be impossible sometimes. And she’s only known him a couple weeks! She’s already come to the correct read on him in that short a time.

David Letterman starts the show with an opening monologue.

David Letterman: “Tonight... What can I say? Tonight is something really special! In fact, it’s probably the most special show we’ve had since our 'camping with Barry White’ program! Yes... hard to believe, isn’t it? But with all due respect to Mr. White -- I think that this show may be our greatest ever. But, as they say, ‘that’s for history to decide!’”

Imagine being a talk show host and getting to introduce the Avengers. Pretty neat.

I like that bandleader Paul Shaffer is wearing a Captain America jersey. Although that makes me wonder once again what merchandising is like for Marvel superheroes.

Clearly it exists but did Cap sign off on a jersey mimicking his costume? Does he see any money from that? Or at least did he get to say that all profit goes to such and such charity?

Letterman introduces the Avengers for the audience.

(Fun how you can get a sense of their personality just by how they’re sitting. It’s the little touches that make a comic fun.)

Hm, I wonder how well the marvel public follows superhero roster changes.

I know that sometimes new Avengers rosters have gotten attention with press conferences and everything. And sometimes they just swap in and out members as personal business comes up.

Some of the people in the audience may not even recognize Black Widow as an Avenger. Becaaaaause, wait I don’t think she ever was one. She’s assisted on some missions and they were ready to vote her in when she vanished to go do a SHIELD mission.

Okay, better example, does anyone remember that Wonder Man- oh wait, he very publicly burst out of a crate in front of Avengers Mansion during press furor over a roster change. Also, he’s a pre-successful actor.

Black Pan- no, no. He was framed for killing the Avengers his very first day on the team. There was a manhunt.

And of course, everyone knows Beast was on the Avengers. He got around. Romantically.

David Letterman mentions that this group isn’t even all the Avengers because some couldn’t make it (read: were busy with more important things).

Which leads to a funny cut to audience where Beard Fabian is annoyed that this group is who got caught in his revenge scheme.

Fabian Stankowicz: Blast it, where’s Captain America? Where’s that &#%$ She-Hulk?

You better wash your brain out with soap before She-Hulk finds out you thought that about her. She’s dunked people into the garbage for lesser offenses.

Beast decides that this Late Night interview is the best time to reveal that he’s quitting as a reservist Avenger to focus on his version of the Defenders.

Letterman: “Wow, that was some bombshell the Beast just dropped, Hawkeye! You’re group spokesman... What do you think of that?”

Hawkeye: First question -- ! “Well, David, the Avengers is a non-profit organization, fully sanctioned as a peace-keeping force by just about ever international organization you could think of!”

Letterman: “Eh-heh-heh! You don’t say!”

Oh god, Beast’s bombshell messed up the order of questions and Hawkeye is firmly sticking to script because he can’t hear.

My god, Hawkeye.

Letterman: “You know, I was just about to ask you something along those lines. You wouldn’t be psychic by any chance -- ?”

Hawkeye: “No, of the founding members, only the Wasp and Thor remain as active Avengers.”

Letterman: “You little dickens! You’ve been peeking at my question sheet, haven’t you? All right, I might as well as my next question which is... ‘I hear you were recently married! Is that true?’”

Hawkeye: “Yes, Dave... just a few weeks ago!”

Letterman: “How about that!”

Did Hawkeye just think they were going to blaze through the questions? Even if Beast hadn’t preempted the first question, did Hawkeye think that there would be no follow-up questions? No discussion?

I’ve been on the fence on whether the jokes about Hawkeye not hearing the questions are poking fun at deaf people or at Hawkeye and yeah, Hawkeye is definitely the butt of this joke.

Fabian Stankowicz loses patience for this very dry question and answer session and decides to start his attack nnnnow.

One of the studio cameras is secretly A GIANT LASER. Because. And it blasts the stage.

Mockingbird is watching this on a tiny screen in the Green Room and goes out to help only to run afoul of some kind of mechanized steamrolling dumpster.

Back in the studio, Wonder Man has found his new nemesis.

Move over, Grim Reaper. You’re one-dimensional and everyone especially me hates you. Hello, laser blasting camera.

Wonder Man: “Let me at that thing, Beast! It’s ruining my guest-shot!”

Beast: “You’ll have to wait your turn, Wondy! It just shredded my favorite shirt!”

Priorities!

You know, this was supposed to be about Wonder Man and he only got to say two words during the interview portion.

Dangit, Hawkeye.

Apppppparently, the audience is just assuming that this is all part of the show. A cliche, sure. But it makes sense.

Would you really have the Avengers on a talk show and just have them talk? That’s a waste of perfectly good superheroes.

Also.... apparently? David Letterman used to run things over with a steamroller a lot? So a steamroller looking contraption crashing through the wall to attack the Avengers does seem like something that might happen?

Also, Paul Shaffer decides to just roll with it so as not to panic the audience.

The show must go on, after all.

The steamroller also starts firing missiles at Beast, as ya do.

Beast: “Hunter missiles? I don’t believe this is happening on network tv!”

Wonder Man tries punching the steamroller to no avail but which does give Black Panther a chance to pull out the tried and true “Wonder Man’s fists carry as much bludgeoning power as Thor’s hammer!”

Y’know, originally, that was a flex that set Wonder Man as a threat to the team but after he joined, that never really seemed to actually be the case.

Imagine if Wonder Man always hit as hard as Thor’s hammer? Like, he’s minding his own business and then the Gorr the God Butcher arc happens and Wonder Man is like ‘huh, why do I suddenly feel like my punches could destroy planets light years away? That’s a very specific feeling!’

Fabian Stankowicz takes advantage of the spectacle chaos to walk out of the audience, plunk himself down into one of the interview chairs, remove his entirely convincing beard, and introduce himself to David Letterman as the guy who is definitely to blame for all the action setpieces going on.

Letterman, like Paul Shaffer, just decides to roll with it. Humor the guy. Ask him why he’s doing this.

Fabian Stankowicz: “Why? To prove it could be done! To show what one incredibly gifted individual can accomplish...”

Letterman: “... To get your name in the papers?”

Fabian Stankowicz: “That too! After all, the Avengers have battled Zodiac... the Masters of Evil... Doctor Doom! I want to make as big a name for myself as those guys!”

Letterman: “Seems to me that ‘Stankowicz’ is already a pretty big name!”

Badum pish?

He asks Fabian to explain all of his devices and Fabian is happy too.

I mean, he’s being a supervillain for the notoriety and supervillains already love to hear themselves talk so he’s double dipping into the ‘I will exposit everything at the drop of a hat’ well.

And imagine, Fabian built all this stuff in his garage with lottery winnings.

The steamroller thing isn’t just a steamroller, it’s also got a gravity generator. Which, I guess, makes sense if you’re expecting to go against a She-Hulk or a Thor. A regular steamroller isn’t going to do more than annoy.

Wonder Man fighting so hard against the roller makes it increase gravity so much that Simon and steamroller just fall through the floor.

Hm. I wonder what’s filmed in the studios the floor down. They’re about to have an exciting guest star in that steamroller.

Black Widow (still tangling with the laser camera) points Hawkeye towards Fabian. Although she has to shout and Hawkeye still doesn’t really get it but is happy to shoot an arrow at someone that Black Widow is vigorously gesturing at.

Alas, Fabian is one of those prepared villains we’ve been hearing so much about.

He built a force field too, and the arrow just bounces right off.

(Hey, uh, Hawkeye? What kind of arrow was that? Because it looks technological and you just shot it at this guy’s head)

Truly, can nothing stop this insidious yet not very menacing criminal genius?

Oh, I guess David Letterman can.

Knocks him out with a big knob.

It’s just plain big.

Prop comedy, amirite?

The audience seems to love it anyway. I looked up a clip of the big doorknob and it didn’t meet with this much applause. Maybe its because it was used to do violence this time?

Was the giant door knob a beloved part of Late Show lore?

David Letterman: “I guess that’ll teach you not to mess with David Letterman!”

That’s a line with weird energy to it.

Anyway, it would be a sad day for this random assemblage of backup Avengers if they were upstaged completely by David Letterman and his big knob.

Black Widow and Hawkeye finally manage to blow up the laser camera.

I’m not sure why it took them this long. Sure, the camera could apparently move, based on motion lines in previous panels. But the world’s best marksman couldn’t nail it sooner?

But the important thing is that eventually, they did do it.

The floor starts rumbling as well as Wonder Man flies back up with his belt-jets with the trashed roller and a shit-eating grin.

Wonder Man: “Sorry this took so long -- But I guess I’m a little rusty at tackling big hunks of tin like this!”

Fabian Stankowicz: Rusty? It took me a month to design that, and he totaled it in less than five minutes!

But since everyone’s focus is on Wonder Man (for once), Fabian tries to sneak away.

And runs smack dab into Mockingbird who has a lot of justified anger over almost getting run over by the roller earlier. But she just throws him over to some police that have finally shown up.

Letterman tells the audience not to try any of this at home, just in case any of them have gravity-generator osmium steel steamrollers lying around? And cuts to commercial, presumably so that some basic tidying can happen.

Hours after the filming of the show concludes, the Avengers TV Squad have returned to the mansion, with Vision wishing he could have taken part of this assistant editors month special issue.

Vision: “What became of Stankowicz?”

Black Panther: “Well, with all the charges NBC is leveling against him, the only machinery he’ll be dealing with for some time will be in the New York State Prison library!”

So, he attacked Avengers Mansion. He attacked Wasp’s superheroine brunch at the Van Dyne residence. That’s all well and good. He attacks the Avengers again in the NBC studio and the man is going to jail forever.

I guess the Avengers really haven’t been bothering to press charges on Fabian. But a massive media corporation isn’t so kind.

Since Hawkeye is technically the active Avenger (even though Vision’s hologram head is RIGHT there) he has to follow up on the thing Beast said about quitting the Avengers reservists.

Beast says its not right for him to be an Avengers reservist if he’s also trying to turn “the Defenders into a for-real group!”

Uh, Defenders fans? Wasn’t the appeal of the Defenders them being the not-team team? How did people feel about Beast going ‘ok but what if they were more like other teams instead?’

Meanwhile, Wonder Man is pacing, waiting for the Late Show to come on so he can see how he did when WOMP WOMP the show is interrupted by a special news bulletin.

Wonder Man is aghast that his big break isn’t even airing but when the special news bulletin is about a burning chemical barge, his hero instincts that he has suddenly swell up.

Wonder Man: “This... This is awful! What’re we standing around for? Let’s do something! We’re Avengers, aren’t we?”

Black Panther: “That we are, Simon! Let’s go!”

Beast also decides, hey, one more time won’t hurt and accepts his Avengers ID card back from Hawkeye.

And as they’re headed off to the Quinjet, Beast has a hopeful note for Wonder Man.

Beast: “Hey, Wondy -- remember, there’s a three-hour time difference between the coasts! If we can get this mess cleaned up in time, maybe some folks in California will still see you get your big break!”

Wonder Man: “And if we don’t -- ?”

Beast: “Well, that’s show biz!”

Pretty enjoyable issue! Like, sure, its a good for Assistant Editor’s Month. But if you’re going to do a goof, then you can do worse than bringing back Fabian Stankowicz for a third time’s not the charm.

Speaking of charm, having the Avengers appear on a talk show is a charming concept. Not a whole lot was done with it except the joke about Hawkeye answering the wrong questions but its still a fun idea.

And having the Avengers off busy lets us brush off some Also Avengers that haven’t been in play for a bit. That’s a fun idea that I wouldn’t mind seeing some more.

Have the reservists called in because of a situation happening when the Avengers are already busy.

Heck, I’d like to see a situation where the silliest and least regarded Avengers are the only ones available to respond to an emergency. Have them bounce off each other as a group. Maybe they’re mutually aware of their bad reputations.

Anyway, I expected this issue would be ridiculous but it was also enjoyable. Didn’t mind it at all. And (though by a different writer) the Hawkeye miniseries was very enjoyable too.

This is just feeling like a good era for the Avengers team.

Next time, apparently The Ghost of Jessica Drew. So she’s some kind of ghost spider? Nobody tell Carol Danvers.

Follow @essential-avengers because I typed this post partially while a cat was lying on my wrist. That’s dedication. Which you can’t spell without cat. Also, like and reblog if you think its likeable and rebloggable.

#avengers #Mechano Marauder #Hawkeye #mockingbird #Wonder Man #Beast #Black Widow #Black Panther #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #the one wherein they appear on david letterman #pretty fun

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shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Ch. 2

Words: 2.4k

Pairing: NCT Misfit Unit x OCs

Genre: Fluff, angst, suggestive, mystery!AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of poisoning, death, light alcohol consumption

“There was a what at the ring?!” Taeyong panicked loudly, causing Savannah to nearly drop her spoon as she ate her yogurt.

She hadn’t realized the news was on as she was busy eating her breakfast and preparing some interview questions. The reporter on the screen was covering a story about an underground fighting area that had become a crime scene after a fighter “mysteriously froze all of a sudden before collapsing to his death.” Behind her was the abandoned nightclub and the same yellow tape blocking off the general public.

“Oh, that,” Savannah sighed as she smacked her forehead. “I meant to tell you, but I was exhausted from it all.”

Taeyong could never get angry with her. As much as he wished she would have told him what had happened, he understood the emotional trauma of witnessing a tragedy like that. Although part of his job as a fireman was to get civilians to safety, not everyone is lucky enough to make it out alive; and just having to deliver the bad news to the families who lost loved ones is heartbreaking enough.

A sigh escaped his lips as he massaged his temples. “Savannah, this is why I don’t like when you go into the field for things like this,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Honey, I wasn’t hurt,” his wife defended herself. “I know you worry about me, but I’ve taken self defense classes. And you were the one who got me pepper spray.”

Taeyong couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Still,” he sighed. “It just scares me that I could lose you when you’re by yourself.”

“Hey, I get nervous, too, but I have more chances of survival in certain situations.”

“Well, I still want you to call for help when you need it, whether that’d be me or emergency services. Promise?”

“Pinky swear.”

Taeyong kissed her goodbye one more time before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

“...The wrestler’s autopsy report states that he passed away of cyanide poisoning,” the news anchor reported. “Medical examiners found large amounts of the toxin in his bloodstream, and concluded the fighter had consumed it minutes before he died.”

“Cyanide,” Savannah repeated.

She quickly jotted bullet points of everything she knew so far:

Hendery saw someone strange

Jeno had a weird phone call about someone (girlfriend?) and left the scene. Nervous about something(?)

Wrecker was poisoned with cyanide. How?

Now, she hoped Johnny would have some answers for her. Savannah wasn’t expecting to solve this mystery right away, but she had a start.

After checking the time, she grabbed her keys and her purse, turned off the TV, and then headed out the door.

The drive to the gym was about five minutes as Taeyong often worked out there when he wasn’t on duty. It was in a joint building with a pizza parlor and a dry cleaning service. The Iron Bell’s sign displayed a red dumbbell logo with lettering in a sort of punk cooper black font.

“It’s always the gyms who have the loudest signs,” Savannah chuckled as she walked into the building.

The interior of the gym was pretty nice to Savannah’s surprise, and it was much larger than she expected. The walls were a bright shade of crimson with multiple TVs showing multiple channels and lined up near the ceiling. On one side of the gym were your typical ellipticals, treadmills, and weight equipment; but on the other side of the gym was a large, fenced-in octagon mat used for MMA practice or whatever type of defense/offence practice. Two men, YangYang and the medic boy from the fight, were busy practicing defense moves, and a few people were making use of the machines.

Savannah took note of her neighbor Mark Lee taking advantage of the available weight set as his fiancée Alice Gilmore, a coworker of hers, was busy jogging on one of the treadmills, her blonde ponytail swishing with each step.

“Hey, Sav!” he greeted as he finished a set of reps. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Mark, Alice,” she smiled. “I’m here to see Johnny Suh. Is he here?”

“I think he’s in his office,” Alice replied, out of breath as she slowed down her treadmill speed. “It’s behind the wrestling mat.”

“Thank you,” Savannah nodded as she headed towards the office door, which she now saw labeled in white as “MANAGER.”

With three knocks, she heard a voice say, “It’s open.”

Savannah carefully pushed the door open to find who she was looking for sitting at a desk and on the phone with someone. The office itself wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was organized. The shelf displayed a few awards for the gym, and a few pictures of a familiar young boy with blond hair and a bright smile around six or seven years old. Her coworker Sierra had pictures of the same child on her desk at the newspaper office. Then, it hit her: Johnny was Sierra’s husband, and he was the boy’s stepdad.

“Alright, baby,” he said as he smiled, and Savannah guessed he was talking to his wife. “I’ll pick up Alex for his doctor’s appointment. Hey, I’ve got to go. Savannah’s here...I love you, too...Bye.”

He hung up and stood to greet the journalist who just entered his office.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized as he held out a hand. “I didn’t quite catch your name when we spoke last night.”

“I’m Savannah Nguyen, Mr. Suh,” she introduced herself as she shook his hand.

“Please, call me Johnny,” he scoffed lightly. “We go by a first name basis here, Savannah. Have a seat.” He motioned to a leather seat that was covered with duct tape. Clearly, it had seen better days; but it held Savannah up fine.

“My wife mentioned you two were coworkers,” he continued. “I thought your last name was Lee.”

“Legally, yes,” Savannah nodded as she fished out her notebook from her purse. “I married my husband about a year and a half ago.”

“Oh, yeah! The firechief Lee Taeyong.”

“That would be him.”

“Then, why are you still going by your other name?”

“My editor suggested I use my maiden name for my stories. Nguyen is more of a pen name of sorts.”

Johnny just nodded.

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about marital statuses,” Savannah changed the subject. “I managed to catch you after the fight, but then the whole fiasco had everyone shaken up. And if you saw the news this morning, his autopsy came back as death by cyanide poisoning. So, could you tell me about anything that might have happened leading up to the murder?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary that I noticed,” Johnny shrugged as he thought about it.

“No strange people? Or any snacks that could have been tainted?”

“We get all kinds of people who come to the fights, so anyone could have taken out Wrecker.”

“Pretty much.”

Savannah then showed him the notes she had.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have so far.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed as he read what was in front of him.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I did notice that Jeno had disappeared, but I wasn’t sure where.”

“My best guess is that he has some sort of female acquaintance in the hospital, but since he works with Taeyong, I’m told the girl in question is his girlfriend.”

“Probably,” Johnny agreed. “I’ve seen her. Really pretty girl. He would bring her when he had a fight, but she hasn’t been coming the past few months. We asked about her a few times, and Jeno said she was fine. The conversation never went further than that, though, so we figured it was none of our business really.”

Taeyong’s hunch had been confirmed, however, the question of what exactly was going on with her was still in the air. Savannah knew she would have to talk to Jeno to get the full story, but she hated feeling that there was something off about the situation.

She took the notebook back from the gym’s manager and wrote down some new notes.

“Do you know if Wrecker had any enemies?” she continued her interview.

Johnny laughed a little. “Wrecker had beef with everyone,” he scoffed. “But enough to end his life? Not that I know of.”

“Well, the guy named Hendery said he saw someone run from the scene.”

“Who?”

“He wasn’t sure. All he saw was a person of medium height in a dark coat and fedora. He couldn't tell if they were male or female.”

Johnny clicked his tongue and nodded. “Okay, that is a little weird. Come to think of it” -he sat up a little straighter and rubbed his chin- “I did see Wrecker drink something before he went on, and it wasn’t in his usual bottle he aggressively drinks from.”

Savannah paused for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“It was some small paper cup thing, but I don’t know if you’d want to go digging in the garbage for it.”

Savannah just nodded and wrote down more of what he said. “Well, I think that’s gonna cover it for now,” she said as she put her notebook back into her purse. “Thanks for meeting with me, Johnny.”

“No problem, Savannah,” he smiled as he showed her to the door. “And if you want some more people to talk to, Brittany has had some business dealings with Wrecker a while back. If you wanna find her she works at Jessi’s. I’m not sure if she’s working today, but it’s a great place if you want a margarita.”

“Noted.”

With the new information in hand, Savannah decided to go pay a visit after work.

Taeyong drove his wife to the bar in case she decided to have a drink, so he would pick her up after he ran some errands. Jessi’s wasn’t too far from their house, and many of the people she had worked with always recommended it due to the great drinks, food, and the owners and employees were super friendly and sociable. The outside of the bar seemed like your normal restaurant on the outside with the neon sign of the name written in an elaborate sort of cursive and bright colors. As soon as one walked in, they were met with what looked like a mix of a cool lounge decorated with black, gold, and platinum records. The main dining area’s furniture were white chairs, and the tables were the cleanest looking silver Savannah had ever seen. Even the dark-wooden floor was spotless. A few posters of the singer were the centerpiece on each wall, and two TVs hung on the bar wall above the drink mixes.

Savannah was almost in shock at how creative such a bar was put together.

“Hi, Savannah,” Brittany smiled enthusiastically, her name tag reflecting off of the late afternoon sunlight that peaked in. “Have a seat.”

Snapping out of her daze, the journalist did as she was asked and set her purse on the wooden bar.

“What can I get for you? A Manhattan? Whiskey sour? Or are you a beer gal?”

“Do you have any Mojito?” Savannah requested.

“Oooo, Hemingway’s alleged fave. Would you like vodka or tequila with it?”

“Tequila, please.”

Brittany immediately got to work. She began slicing a lime into four wedges and put them into a glass. Some sugar was scooped up and poured into the glass before Brittany muddled it all down to a mix. She then took some mint into her palm, gave it a firm spank, and then added it to the drink. After giving the mix one more gentle muddle, she poured in some crushed ice about halfway up before adding the tequila and stirring it. After one more small scoop of ice and an adding of some club soda, Brittany topped it off by rubbing some mint leaves along the rim and using it as a drink topper.

“Here you go,” she said, proud of her work once she added a slim black straw.

“Thanks. So, Jessi really owns this place?” Savannah asked once she took a sip of her extravagant looking drink. “Wow! That’s good.”

“The one and only,” Brittany nodded as she wiped down where she had prepared the beverage. “And she has joint ownership with Hyuna, who owns the Red Lounge with her husband Dawn.”

“My husband and I have been there. Great environment like this one.”

“Oh, absolutely! Hold on, let me handle these guys, and I’ll get back to you.”

Two men in suits had entered, and Brittany was quick to fix them their Bloody Mary and Alice. Savannah studied her body language and the way she spoke with them and two other guests who walked in. Brittany always had a smile, her high-pitched voice was always warm and welcoming, and she made sure the guests were served and relaxed with their orders. She could be ruled out as a suspect, but Savannah still wanted to make sure in order to narrow down the list.

“You’re so talented at this,” Savannah applauded when she returned. “Do you also entertain in the evenings with the drinks? Like tricks with shot glasses?”

“Thanks,” Brittany giggled as she mixed and served a Mimosa for a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. “And no. Hendery does all of the fancy tricks. I just mix and pour. Plus, I only do the day shifts.”

“I see.”

Savannah pulled her notebook out as she took another sip of her drink.

“Anyway,” she began, “Johnny mentioned that you had some business with Wrecker a while back.”

“Oh, that,” Brittany rolled her eyes. “Well, he had borrowed money from me because he needed a flat on his truck fixed; but he had failed to pay me back. So, I confronted him about it before the fight on the night he was killed.”

“Did either of you threaten the other?”

“I didn’t threaten him,” Brittany defended herself, “but he did say something about ‘watching my back.’ Honestly, the fighters there give empty threats most of the time; so I wasn’t too worried.”

Empty threats? Savannah thought. She did see how the other fighters protected each other in that makeshift arena, so Brittany did have something of a point.

“And everyone knows I carry pepper spray, so Wrecker would’ve had to get his eyes flushed out if he tried anything.”

“I see.”

“Cyanide poisoning,” Brittany repeated the news report. She must have seen it that morning, as well. “We were thinking he had some sort of poisonous dart shot at him. Nobody heard gunshots.”

“Wrecker was poisoned for sure, but I spoke with Johnny. He thinks he ingested it through a drink of some sort.”

“Weird.”

Savannah nodded and sipped her drink.

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 2

Masterlist of other Chapters: Here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the food so far, please take some more of it. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist or anything like that. For now, let’s enjoy our favorite angel doing ... not very angelic things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Luxurious Smut Tags: Voyeurism, mutual masturbation Summary: With the first chapter behind him, there's still something missing in Simeon's writing, and he needs your help to figure out what it is.

Stumble

True to his word, Simeon had the draft he promised in your email inbox within a few days. You were surprised. He seemed to be struggling so much when you last saw him, you really expected him to take a little more time. Regardless, it was to your benefit since it meant you had more time to edit.

Even if it was just the first chapter and a little bit after, you were surprised at the speed in which he jumped to the lewd scenes. It wasn’t surprising considering sex was the focus, but you would need to teach him how to reign in his enthusiasm. By the time you were finished reading through the draft the first time, your whole face had gone hot. The explicit details he wrote out only brought your mind back to what you had acted out in that sunroom just a few days ago. It was a direct translation of your actions to text. Sure, Simeon was new to the genre, but his talent as a writer still shone through.

Despite the roughness of the draft, the publisher approved it as acceptable proof of progress. They greenlit the whole project and you were more than excited to email Simeon and let him know the good news. Just as you had come back from the meeting with the executives, your phone chirped with a new message.

[SMS: I AM STUCK. I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. HELP ME.]

You laughed at how short and crude the message was. For someone who spent most of his time on a computer writing; he was absolutely hopeless with any other form of technology. Shaking your head at how someone like him had gotten so far in life barely knowing how to send a text, you packed up your things and made your way to his place. You did have a few notes about his first chapter to give him, anyway.

Simeon hated being deceptive. He hated how quickly he had started to rely on that image of you in his brightly lit sunroom to fuel his writing and for his own desires. He was ashamed to ask you to come over again; but he was repeating the same motions in his writing, he needed new visuals and you were the only one he could trust. In reality, his request was a thinly veiled request to see you perform again. He was able to complete his work so quickly after watching you. Researching video clips and online articles gave him some fuel, but nothing got him so fired up as watching a scene unfold from you.

It was a strange obsession he was still wrapping his mind around. He had to be careful, the temptation you possessed was absolutely dangerous. Simeon had to reassure himself that he was ancient and knew his way around humans with how long he had studied them. He needed to convince himself that he would never sully a human body, no matter how much he wanted you. His title, status and reputation as an angel were the most sacred parts of him. With so many years of writing experience, surely he could write a proper sex scene without actually ever having to fuck you.

It didn’t stop him from being nervous. No matter how many fail safes he came up with, he knew that you were effortlessly enticing him to be joined with you. He had to be vigilant. It would be the ultimate test of his will and his determination. Both for his career and his soul. He would see it through, he knew he could. No material experience could be more important than his angelic status. Right?

He paced back and forth in the foyer of his home, gnawing on his nail while he waited for you to arrive. It had taken him half an hour to find the right words to text you. Simeon glanced at the phone in his hand almost every ten seconds, hoping you had replied. He knew you had a meeting, but it should be over by now and you should be arriving at any moment. You hadn’t answered him which made him antsy. Usually you would have at least told him you were coming over. He could only hope that you were just eager to see him as he was to see you again.

He didn’t want to admit how he had fallen asleep with his hands down his pants the past three days, dreaming about your sweet voice as you came and called out to him. He didn’t want to think about how many positions he had imagined you being in. Simeon didn’t want to dwell on how many scenarios he came up with just to have you reenact them for him. Some of the scenes delved so deep into his darkest desires that he was scared to even admit he thought about them.

But he wanted to see them play out.

The doorbell barely finished ringing and he was already flinging opening the door to let you in. “I’m guessing the meeting went well.” He said with a bright smile to hide his nerves. He was already set up in his sunroom. During the time you were gone, he had brought a small folding desk to the recliner. The cable for his computer had also been moved so he didn’t have to worry about the battery being drained. You instinctively went over to the couch lined up against the wall but he stopped you. Instead of letting you lounge like you did the last time, he offered you a chair across from his makeshift desk instead. He refused to make eye contact as you made yourself comfortable.

“The meeting went as well as it could,” you said while taking out the envelopes that contained his work. “They like everything so far, but it’s still rough and needs a little bit more refinement, and I have to agree with them.”

You glanced up at him and noticed him fidgeting with his fingers while he kept his face calm. “So, what needs to be fixed up?”

You flipped through a few pages and showed him the paragraphs of smut he had written. The color drained from his face as he was face-to-face with the obscenity of his work in physical form. “So, it’s not bad. But I can tell it was your first time. There’s something missing about the partner. I can’t place it, but it just feels… flat? Like I can’t tell if they’re feeling anything from the exchange or what.”

“Ah… Oh… Hahaha. I see… That explains a lot.”

You raised a curious eyebrow at his comment. “Does it?” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the chair. It seemed as though Simeon was just at the verge of another great discovery about his writing and you were rather intrigued about what his thoughts were.

“Yes. I was struggling to write this next scene and I just… couldn’t figure out how to convey the partner’s feelings. It’s frustrating. I should have all the resources that I need to make it work.” He gestured at what he had written and bade you to take a look.

It was always fun to see his work in progress. With the partially polished scenes and unfinished sentences, it was like you got to see the inner workings of his brain. What he had in front of you was a far cry from the more polished work you were used to, but the overall flow of action was much better than the travesty you had seen last time. However, you could see the exact point where he started to struggle. As he said, there was a lack of feeling behind the words.

“Ooh… So this is the part where you need my help again, huh?”

Simeon covered his face with his hand. “I’m ashamed to ask you to assist me with another scene.”

You smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’d be the world’s worst editor and manager if I refused to help you, right?”

“You don’t have to…”

“But I want to.” You reassured him, while getting up from your seat to start stripping. Truth be told, you were waiting for the next time you got to see him so hot and bothered while working. Something about how focused he was on writing and not what his body needed made you want to push him further, see just what it took to get him distracted. “But you know… I’m sure you’d get more out of it if you experienced it too. Sometimes, just watching isn’t enough.”

Simeon felt his heart drop to his stomach from your suggestion. You were putting into words all of his desires and what he had craved ever since the last time. If he didn't have his wits about him, he knew he would have taken you up on the offer. The temptation of knowing how it felt to be in you while you moaned had piqued his curiosity and he longed to experience it. “I… Uh,” he stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around how to reply.

You dragged your finger up his thigh, pausing right at his crotch and waited for his reaction. He was so cute with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and his brain short circuiting from your advances. You wanted to devour him and see him crumble under your fingers. “You what?” You encouraged, moving the focus from his crotch upwards, your finger skirting the soft sweater he wore and up to his chin. You tilted his head upwards to meet you eye to eye. “You want to write the best novel… don’t you?”

“I do…” He breathed, unable to take his eyes away from you and his mind struggled to keep up with how quickly you had taken control of the situation. He needed to wrestle some semblance of calm back in his favor if he wanted to continue getting what he wanted without you suspecting his obsession. “In order for me to do that, I need you to show me how…” He trailed off, cheeks flushed warm from thinking about his lewd request.

“How what? Come on now, you asked me to fuck a pillow last time, how is this going to be any worse than that?” you teased. Much to your delight, he became more flustered, his gaze dropping to the floor and he mumbled to himself. You let him get over his shyness, waiting patiently with his chin balanced at the tip of your finger.

Please uhm… Please show me how you please yourself… for this next scene.” He managed to save himself from falling completely into your trap, specifying exactly what he needed you to do. You were so alluring and so close to him, he had almost asked for the unforgivable.

You smiled, letting go of his chin and stepping back. “It’d be so much easier if I had some toys to do that… but I guess I’ll show you since you asked so nicely.” You planted a kiss on his forehead before undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“T-toys?” Simeon squeaked. He had seen them in video clips and read about them in reviews when he researched; but it never occurred to him that you might want to use them.

“It’s okay if you don’t have any. I can always settle with this…” You teased, walking over to him and fondling his crotch. “In fact, I would prefer this over anything else.”

You were close enough to see his pupils dilate and notice how his breath hitched as you touched him. He pulled away from you, hiding behind his screen and pretended to be busy with opening a new document. “I… I need to write.”

“But that’s the problem…” you whined, pouting that he pulled away but you didn’t press the issue any further. Watching him squirm was so satisfying; and you hadn’t even done anything yet. “You were writing the last time and you had the same problem, so stop writing this time and get into it.” You suggested.

“I can’t.” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t do it. No.”

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips and looked at him. You never pegged him to be the kind of guy who waited until marriage to be intimate, but it seemed like he was alluding to the fact that he was saving himself. If he wasn’t, he was at least being very reserved for the type of content he was writing. “Fine, we don’t have to do it,” you conceded before going back to stripping yourself bare. “But feel free to help yourself to whatever you need for inspiration.” You winked, looking down at his crotch and he hastily crossed his legs when your gaze lingered.

He was so cute. You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to expect someone so beautiful and of his age to not get intimate when the chance arose. Part of you wondered if it was because you weren’t desirable to him outside of your little acts. Dwelling on that thought made your chest hurt in bitterness and you shoved that to the side to focus on helping him instead.

You flopped back down on the chair, spreading your legs and resting them on the arms of the chair so that Simeon had a clear view of what you were about to do to yourself. Having him watch everything you did so close to you aroused much faster than you expected. “Well, time to get to work.” you said nonchalantly.

You closed your eyes, imagining Simeon joining you in getting nude. You imagined what it would be like for him to reveal his skin a little at a time in a playful strip tease. He always wore such bulky and cozy looking sweaters, it made you wonder just what kind of body he was hiding underneath all the layers. You started at your breasts again, squeezing them together and playing with them to aid in the fantasy.

In front of you, Simeon was typing up a storm. In your mind, it was his hands at your breasts, playing with your nipples until they were perky. You thought about him latching his soft lips around your nipple, licking at the sensitive skin there until you squirmed and moaned his name. You were careful this time to make sure you didn’t accidentally call for him when you really got into it. You weren’t in a rush to experience that embarrassment a second time.

He could see your folds progressively get wetter as you touched yourself and wrapped yourself in a fantasy he had no access to. Recalling the last time, Simeon wondered if he was occupying your mind again. This time, he was much more aware of his body’s reactions to the scene in front of him. There was no way he could ignore the pressure growing in his pants. No matter how much he focused on the document in front of him, he could feel his desires bubbling and threatening to spill over.

It was different this time. You were sprawled out in front of him, moaning softly and panting. Your head rested on the back of the chair. With your eyes closed and your mouth open slightly in an “O” you looked absolutely angelic. He wanted to join you, his fingers stopped typing and he was once again frozen, watching the performance in front of him.

You noticed he stopped typing much sooner than the last time and smirked a bit, cracking open your eyes to see his precious face staring at you in wonder. “Like what you see?” You asked coyly, sliding one hand down from your breast to your pussy. You spread yourself wide so he could see exactly just how wet you were.

Simeon only nodded, entranced with the way your folds glistened and he could smell your arousal from where he sat. He licked his lips holding onto his fraying desires as best as he could. Control yourself. You can do this. “Y-yes…” His voice came out thickly, as if his vocal chords refused to work properly.

You giggled, loving how riled up you were getting him and slowly rubbed your slick slit with your fingers. You moaned, the pleasure your fingers gave you was much better than riding a pillow. With just a quick glance, you noticed he had uncrossed his legs and was sporting a rather impressive tent in his pants. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not bored.” you teased much to his dismay.

His hands flew to his crotch, covering himself and he tried to will his boner back down to no avail. You giggled again, pulling his attention away from his arousal. “It’s okay, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t get turned on by what you’re seeing.”

“I uhm…”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him again. “Feel free to join in however you want. It only makes it all the more fun.”

Simeon gulped, torn between work and pleasure. He put himself in this predicament, he needed to figure a way out of it. He needed relief and he needed to write. The two sides of him warred as he scrambled with his fizzling brain to figure out something. An epiphany dawned on him when he heard his phone go off.

“Spam?” you asked when he fumbled with the incoming call, trying to silence the ringtone. “Or were you expecting someone?”

“Ah.. uhm… spam. I think.” He confirmed once he managed to figure out to disregard the call without picking it up. The next thing he needed to figure out was how to get the camera working and recording. You wanted to help him, but with one hand covered in fluids, you weren’t sure if he wanted you touching his phone.

Eventually with a little vocal coaching on your end and a lot of fumbling on his side, he got it to work and propped the phone up to start recording what you were doing. If he was going to get relief now, he needed to at least have proper reference to go back to later.

“Wow… you are so much kinkier than I thought.” You joked, causing Simeon to cover his face in shame, but he didn’t try to argue. There was something about having everything recorded for later that only added to the sexual tension in the room.

“It’s for research…” He mumbled more to convince himself than to explain to you what he was doing.

“Right… research.”

He moved his hands to mirror your own. One at his crotch and the other at his chest. It was difficult to hide your disappointment when you saw he wasn’t about to expose himself. His hand slipped under his clothes to touch and tease at his skin. You could see the barest hint of his abs peeking out from underneath the oversized sweater and you practically drooled at just the little bit of skin he showed off. You couldn’t help a small pout, frustrated at how unfair it was that you were putting in so much work for him and he could just so cutely masturbate alongside you.

The frustration disappeared the moment you saw his eyelids flutter clothes and he let out a soft moan. It was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was infinitely better than anything you could have imagined. His blue eyes lidded with pleasure were only opened to a sliver as he urged you to continue what you were doing.

With the camera rolling and the very vision of sin in front of you, you were more than eager to get back to getting off. Your finger found your clit and you rubbed it in the way that always made you see stars. “Hmmm, oh yeah…” You groaned, flicking your finger side to side before circling the little bundle of nerves. You were undoubtedly going to ruin his furniture again, but you didn’t care.

Simeon watched the way your fingers moved and he mimicked everything you did. His hand under his shirt pinched and rolled his nipple between his fingers. The sensation made him hiss from the initial pain but that was quickly replaced by pleasure which sent jolts of bliss straight to his aching cock. He bit his lip, repeating the motion, drowning himself in the sensation over and over again.

The scent of your essence was thick in the air. It felt like you were surrounding him with every breath he took. You were invading his every thought and infecting everything he thought was pure. But the freedom you gave him and the gratification that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of your breathy moans and the wet sounds of your fingers toying with yourself.

His own hand in his pants pumped his cock in time with the motion of your fingers. At one point you had done the most lascivious thing and slipped a finger inside of you. His eyes widened as the digit disappeared and reappeared covered in your slick. His cock twitched in his hand in jealousy. He wanted to be buried in there, he wanted to feel your heat surround him. But all he had was his hand to satisfy him.

Simeon was heavily panting now, working up to a frantic pace in his pants as his hand stroked his length. It was cramped and uncomfortable; but he couldn’t bear to expose himself to you. Surely that would be too much for you to see; and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he stripped alongside you.

“Mmm, I’m getting close.” you groaned, rolling your hips to meet your fingers and you teased your clit further, feeling your body tense in preparation for your climax. “What about you?”

“I… Uh.. I’m…” Simeon, stuttered, not able to process how close he was. It was so different from all the times he relieved himself alone. He just had to keep going until he was done. But with you in front of him, he wanted to do it together with you. Seeing your soaked pussy right in front of him made him more excited than he ever had been. “I think I’m close…”

You laughed at his naivety. “You think?” You teased. Perhaps you needed to up the ante a bit. “Come on… come with me.” You beckoned and pressed two fingers into your tight hole.

He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what his hormones were doing. Seeing your fingers being engulfed by your pussy, sliding in and out slowly while you moaned right next to him was pressing all the right buttons in him. He could see you stretch to accommodate your fingers and he was entranced by that. Without warning, he gasped, his grip on his cock tightened as he came. “Oh … I’m… I’m sorry…” He panted. “You just… that was… Uhm..”

“Too hot for you to handle?” You asked, now working yourself faster. The face he made when he came all of a sudden was so hot. You would definitely think back on it during lonely nights. Simeon’s breathy moans, the way his skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. It all added up to be a breathtaking image.

“I...Yeah…” You could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks and smirked, satisfied that he was enjoyed himself just as much as you were loving every moment you were in front of him.

“Good… I guess it’s my turn then.” You said and went right into the motions of getting yourself to climax. Locking the image of Simeon’s “O” face in your mind, you finger fucked yourself closer and closer to completion.

You could feel your inner walls tighten and you were just at the edge of no return when you felt Simeon’s firm hand pull your fingers away. Whining loudly and glaring at him, you were about to berate him for ruining your good time until your entrance was filled with his own slender fingers. “Let me help you…” He said, his bright blue eyes were lit with a determination you hadn’t seen before and the fire behind them was such a turn on.

For someone who had just been so bashful about being intimate with you at the beginning, Simeon sure was being bold now. You didn’t say anything, not like you really could. Your capacity to form coherent words disappeared when his slender fingers entered you and mimicked the motions you had shown him. He was a fast learner, able to have you shivering with little to no effort. It was hard to believe just how he had a sudden switch in personality, but it was beside you to figure it out now.

You were free to call his name. After all, he was the one touching you now. “Oh… Simeon.” you moaned, panting and once again ramping towards your climax. This time, he was in control of the pace and the intensity of what got you off. He curled his fingers in you and you cried out loud when he brushed past a sensitive spot in you. He was so gentle and so precise, it was mind blowing what he picked up just from watching you.

“You’re close… right?” He asked sweetly. You looked at him and the intensity in his eyes was only made more obvious against his dark skin. The tone of his voice was in direct contrast to the laser focus his gaze had on your most intimate parts. Just the dichotomy of that alone inched you dangerously close to your climax.

Then, his thumb pressed against your clit and your world exploded. It was just the last bit of stimulation you needed to go over the edge. You clutched onto the arms of the chair while you rode out the high on his fingers. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you breathlessly tried to ground yourself. Your inner walls clenched around his digits and Simeon continued to slowly slide them in and out of you, marveling at the sensation of your pussy milking his fingers.

You kept seeing stars at the edge of your vision with every extra pass he took. You wanted to tell him to stop, but he was too engrossed in his ‘research’ to really pay any of your protests any mind. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you and you sighed in both relief and disappointment.

Simeon looked at his glistening fingers, holding them to the light and observed the slick essence that coated them. It was almost a little embarrassing to watch him be so intrigued by your fluids that you needed to distract yourself by getting dressed again so you didn’t have to look at him. While you had your back turned, Simeon experimentally licked his coated fingers and by the time you were fully clothed, he had fully cleaned them off. He looked at you and licked his lips. “Research.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“Right… research.” you said, already getting hot and bothered again at what you had just witnessed. This man will be the end of me. “Do you think you’ve gotten all you need for your next scene?”

“Hmm….” He nodded sagely, remembering to stop recording. “I’ll have to review everything, but I think I know where to go from here.”

You smiled good naturedly and pat his head gently. “Don’t overwork yourself.” you said gathering your things. Once again, it had gotten late and you had to regretfully leave to ensure you caught the last trains home. “Call me or text me if you need help again, okay?”

“Oh, of course. I plan on it.” He smiled at you and your heart melted a little, but there was a devilish nature to that smile that had never been there before. “I’ll finish the next chapter probably in a week and send it to you.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it’ll be great, as usual.” You grinned, feeling giddy after such a great climax as well as knowing that Simeon was able to continue working. It would definitely be good news to report back to the publishing house and keep them off his back as he worked in peace.

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It was a shame that he was already back to his usual innocent self. You wouldn’t have minded seeing more of that sex god who showed himself a few moments before. “Well, I’ll do my best to not disappoint. I have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll be sure to help you in any way I can.” You said. Looking down at your phone, you gasped noticing the time. “Shit. I gotta run if I don’t wanna walk all the way home tonight. Text me if you need anything!” You yelled, halfway across his home and stumbling to get your shoes back on.

When the door slammed shut, the silence that surrounded Simeon was deafening. He had been able to hold out on taking you, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten a taste of what it was like to sin. The uncomfortable dampness of his cum clung to his leg, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was focused on the file on his phone. The recording of what transpired that afternoon.

Taking a shaky breath, he resisted the urge to press play. The scent of your arousal and the taste of your essence were still too fresh in his mind. He needed to clean up. He needed to work. He needed to research and plan for you. He sighed and started to make his way to the shower. If he needed relief, then at least he could take care of it there and not in the mess that was his soiled pants.

As the sun sank past the horizon and gave way to night, the light within his soul waned and the darkness he had pushed aside grew. After a taste of sin, it was only natural that he would crave more until it consumed him.

And it felt heavenly.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me! Fanfic #Obey Me! Simeon #Obey Me! Smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey Me! AU #My writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #It's innocent ish now #It'll only get kinkier as we go #Formatting is weird af on tumblr #go to the Ao3 link for it to be proper with the words emphasized as they should be #I'm too tired to bother through tumblr sorry folks

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