#seeing a new side to your not-quite-lover slash best friend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jameui · 1 year

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MA BOY

PAIRING: Lee Heeseung x M!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Fluff

WARNINGS: height/size difference,

SUMMARY: An enemy turned his lover? Who would've known. Lee Heeseung a band leader and you a co-member of his band was a bickering storm, but, oh how fate loves to play with its strins.

"Writing another song, Y/N?" One of the members of your group who happened to be passing by at the living room saw you all slouched out near the coffee table as your tongue stuck out a little as you tried to concentrate on what you were doing. You did acknowledge his presence and heard his voice, answering his question with a nod. The male just sighs feeling a little bad that after all your effort, the band leader never approved of the songs you've written and persisted on only playing the ones he wrote for HIS band. You are just wondering why he was so against your compositions. Everyone else loved what you have, so how come your leader always reacts with a horrid look and disagrees to ever play one of your songs?

Your roommate slash bestfriend, Sim Jaeyun or simply Jake, exhales through his nose and sat himself down beside you as you wiggle a little more to the side so Jake could have a comfortable seating. "Y/N, you know Heeseung will never agree to play one of your songs any moment now, right? Save your effort for something else. I feel guilty that I can't do anything." Jake lets out, yet you didn't listen and continued on, strumming the guitar occassionally and experimenting on how the next verse would sound like to add a little flavor to the song. If you like how it turns out, you jot the notes down on your music sheet. "Y/N..." Jake calls for your attention, you taking a second to stop and sighed.

"I know, Jake. One more of the reasons why I decided to quit the band and decide to go solo or maybe even start a new band." You told Jake, the latter shocked to hear your revelation. It was just a little too sudden and was totally uncalled-for. "I know you want to stay with hyung and the others, so I don't want to give you a choice, but know I'm always open for a synthesizer." You told him, the other male smiling sadly and embraced you in a comforting manner.

"Whatever makes you happy, Y/N." Jake said, caressing the back of your head as you gave him a nod and smile, hugging him even tighter. "I wish you the best and I just know you'll do great." Jake stated before he breaks off and pats the top of your head making you giggle.

You nudge his shoulder playfully, chuckling. "Thanks, Jake. You're the best friend a person could ever ask for." You told him, the other male smiling up at you with his pearly white teeth looking similarly to a cute dog to which he is, metaphorically speaking. "I just wish I didn't have to do this, but it's for the best." You said in a bitter tone, which made Jake frown sadly, his brows furrowed.

"I just simply think that Heeseung is a little insecure with what you can do and he doesn't want his ego to be stepped on especially by someone who's younger than him." Jake told you to which you knitted your brows out in confusion, never actually seeing it in that same perspective. You just thought he really hated you. "I know it's not what you intend to do, but forgive Heeseung. He just... has a reputation to uphold. Let's just say he's feeling a lot of pressure." Jake laughed softly to explain his statement, you finally understanding the slightest bit as to why the older male seems to despise you.

You let out a sigh and looked at the papers that was placed on top of your usual work place for writing, biting the bottom of your lip. "Jake, I know what I have to do. I made up my mind. I'm not quitting the band and I might actually try to know whatever is bothering hyung. I won't be able to solve anything if I keep trying to run away from the problem." You told Jake, whose brows furrows in concern, wanting to make sure if you're certain of your decsion. He just want what's best for you. "Jake, don't you worry about a thing, because I got a strategy." You gave him a wink, Jake smiling awkwardly.

"Yey, Y/N. I hope it works." Jake whispers, you already planning out your marvelous idea in your head. Oh, it is going to be perfect. It's going to be amazing, jaw dropping and mouth drooling. You just have to find the right time when to initiate the first stage of your plan.

"Hyung." You called out to the male who was having a talk with his friends outside of the band, turning his attention towards the voice as he looks for the owner of it only to see you a feet below him as he rolls his eyes and groans in frustration. He opened his mouth and opted to say something, but before the words could come out of his mouth you decided to cut him off. "You look like you haven't slept in days, hyungie. Aigoo, the dark bags under your eyes. Tsk, tsk. Have a coffee!" You said all in one go, ending with a cheery tone and handed out the coffee you had with you and gave him a smile.

You hear a small scoff come from Heeseung as you tilted your head to the side, confused. The taller man starts to walks up towards you, ever so slowly your hand retreated back towards you as you lifted your head up to face Heeseung. "You really think this will make me want to play any of your songs? I'm not that easy to get, dickwad." Heeseung spat out, his arms crossed.

You shook your head with a small pout on your lips as if to contradict with what he said. "I know it would seem like that, but you really need to know that I'm just genuinely trying to be your friend. We're both in the same band for crying out loud and we don't get along well." You told him, to which Heeseung just scoffed at before swatting the coffee off your hand which was thrown onto your uniform shirt, hissing at the burning sensation of the newly brewed hot coffee.

"Yeah, right." Heeseung smirks, leaving you agitated, but tried to keep a smile on before letting out a breathe of irritation and picked up the now empty cup of coffee and angrily threw the trash in the garbage.

Jake meets you halfway, who was watching the whole scene unfold. "I told you it was a bad idea. He just won't open up to you that really quick." Jake said, but you were determined to make your master plan work. You just know somehow, someday it will work. It's just got to work. You didn't listen to Jake and walked past him, whilst Jake just sighed out and followed closely behind. You are just that stubborn.

Later that time during recess, you were forced to only wear your blazer exposing some bits of skin on you, but you didn't mind. It was not like anyone would stare at you. "Jakey, listen. I know you're going to think this is crazy, but my gaydar is telling me, Heeseung-hyung is queensified." You told him, Jake a little confused with your choice of words, you sighing at his cluelessness. "I meant gay, Jake. I think Heeseung is gay." You deadpanned, Jake's lips forming an 'o' shape as he nodded his head finally understanding what you meant to say.

Jake clears his throat after taking a bite from his ham and cheese sandwich. "I don't feel like you've known about this, but Heeseung and I used to date." Hearing that out of the blue confession you were able to spit out the milk that you were trying to drink and snapped your head towards Jake who continued to munch on his food, unfazed. "Surprise, surprise." Jake awkwardly laughs.

You wiped your mouth dry and took your handkerchief from your pockets to wipe off some of the milk that dripped down your chest. "Jake, how come you've never told me about this before?" You asked the male who only shrugged his shoulders and sipped his strawberry yogurt away. "Guess the master plan has to stop and I actually have to befriend Heeseung-hyung." Jake raises a brow.

"You don't really have to anymore though." Jake suggested, but you shook your head in reply, Jake knowing you have something in mind that you don't want to happen.

"I have got to. If I stop he'll know himself that he was right and I hate it when he's right. I just simply hate it!" You yelled out, Jake laughing a little as he caressed your back to calm you down. You were suddenly like a lion trying to burst out of its cage. You looked over at Jake and gave him a determined look. "I won't let that happen. Hyung is going to be my friend. He will be." You told Jake who gave you a look that said 'suit yourself' and looks away while you thought of what to do next. To become Heeseung's friend.

The day went for a very long time and you just couldn't hurry more to band practice and meet Heeseung there who was always the first one to arrive at the band's designated room. You ran to the room as fast as you can and stood at the door with a halt and a smile, as usual, catching Heeseung playing a few songs on his guitar. "Hyung!" You called out, the voice clearly making Heeseung groan exactly knowing who owns that all too familiar annoying voice. He turns his head around, his anger evaporating for a second the moment he laid his eyes on you.

So suddenly, Heeseung was entranced by the way you were clothed. With only the blazer on top and a little bit of skin showing, it was as though you purposely had done it to seduce the taller male who just can't keep his eyes off your exposed ches—"Hyung!" You shouted at him for another time, snapping the male awake from his train of thoughts, immediately regretting that he was actually checking you out. "Before you say anything, I was not lying back there and really wanted to become your friend. You don't have to play any of my songs. I'll do what you want." You said to the taller male all the while you picked up your own guitar and plugged it to the amplifier. You did a little riff to warm up, Heeseung still in a daze. "Hyung, are you alright?"

"I, what? Huh? Shut up." He retorts yet you just shrugged and practiced on the guitar with a few of Heeseung's written song, every once in a while the older male stealing a glance, but shook his thoughts away and focused on something else to distract himself. "Fuck, what is wrong with you?" Heeseung whispered to himself, grabbing a towel to clean his guitar.

You catching his actions, you yelled out to him to stop before he could do any damage to his priced guitar. "Hyung, wait!" Heeseung faces you and knits his brows, feeling a little stressed already and he had just got to hear you squeak out a noise again. "That's what we use to polish the floor." You informed him, Heeseung looking down at what he thought was a towel, but saw a rug instead and thinks of an excuse.

"I was... about to just polish the floor, so yeah.. But, now I'm lazy." He said, to which you just raised a brow at since Heeseung never really like to clean and actually don't think about cleaning at all unless told to. "Just.. I don't want to hear a word from you." Heeseung told you, which you rolled your eyes to and scoffed.

The following days, you kind of noticed the changes at how Heeseung acted around you and it was not even the best one. He always acted weird and really clumsy when you were in his line of sight, like you are some kind of activator or a switch that turned something on Heeseung's bolts that he starts to act unlike him. Like the confidence and shit faded away type of Heeseung and you weren't so sure why this was happening, but Heeseung literally made it clear that he was being all shy and always left when you arrive, except during practices.

For example this morning's flag ceremony where you lined up along with the other students who are late, you unfortunately stood beside Heeseung and the moment he realized it was you he flinches away with a loud scream, shocking you at how sudden it was. Even the rest of the students were shocked to have heard Heeseung scream. "Hyung, are you alright? You always seem to be scared when I'm around." You asked the taller male who only ignored you and cleared his throat. "Hyung?" You tried to find the answer you needed, but your words fell on deaf ears.

For the first time, you admit you wished the dismissive and sassy Heeseung came back. It was starting to get more and more hard to become friends with Heeseung especially with this new attitude he was showing around you. Pretending like you are invisible and never even dares to look at you in the eyes anymore. He busies himself with something else when he talks to you and when you try to find his eyes, he would just look away and avoid you.

"Jake, don't you think hyung's been... off lately?" You questioned a little concerned and a little worried that Heeseung is purposely doing this so he can prove himself right in the end of the day, as though your advances to be his friend was just nothing. Jake looks at you and nodded his head, humming lightly. "I mean, I'm not certain if I'm the only who's able to notice it, but Heeseung-hyung's been very suspicious. I mean not in a bad way." You admitted, Jake giving you a chuckle as you looked at him feeling confused.

"Oh, Y/N. You are just that dense are you?" Jake smirked, putting down the cup of coffee he bought. Seeing you're cluelessness, he just sighs and takes one more sip from the cup and starts to make some sense with his words. "That Y/N is a Heeseung who's in love." Jake said, you scoffing.

"Wow, didn't know Heeseung had it in him to actually fall for anyone. With who anyways?" You threw him another question, Jake scoffing in disbelief. Was his clues not too obvious enough? You glanced over at Jake when he fell silent, the male giving you a knowing look, you totally confused why he had that look on his face. "What?" You took a chip from his snack and chewed on it, wiping your fingers clean and stood up. "Anyways, I'll chat you later. I have somewhere to be." You told Jake, the latter nodding his head as he gestured for you to go already. Jake smirks smugly, your brows knitting together as you shrugged it off as nothing and left.

On the way to your destination, you unfortunately bumped into a wall, putting a hand over your head since you weren't paying much attention to where you are walking, lifting your head up to see Heeseung. You gave him a smile, although catching the same poker expression on his face. "Hyu—"

"So, Jake, huh?" Heeseung cuts you off mid-sentence. Giving you no context about what he meant. He just went fully with his accusations. You raised him a brow out of confusion, then shook your head and tried to get away from him, but the taller male caught you by the wrist as you averted your gaze to him, your confused expression replaced with a small glare. "Answer me."

"How? I don't even know what you fucking mean. You just come out of the blue and ask me 'sO jAkE, hUh'. What the hell am I supposed to answer? Double it and pass it to the other? Are you a fucking math equation?" You sassed. Heeseung blushing a tad bit in embarrassment, but he kept it subtle and covered it with a clear of his throat, keeping his gaze away from you for a moment, so you don't notice the red tint on his cheeks.

He crosses his arms, viewing you through the side of his eyes. He quickly looks away the minute your eyes met, Heeseung barely forming the right words, on the brink of stumbling through his words if it wasn't for his curiosity. "Sorry, I meant... uh, are you and Jake dating?"

You grimaced at his question and agressively shook your head. "What?! God, no. He's my bestfriend and like a brother to me now. It feels wrong to be dating Jake." You fake gagged, Jake who heard everything from where he was scoffs in disbelief and starts cursing you in his head.

Hearing your answer removed a huge weight off Heeseung's shoulders, his heart swelling with relief, lowkey hiding his smile under an undertone voice, sounding cold and emotionless, like he usually was with you. He tries his best to hide his smile. "Then... can I tell you something?" Heeseung asked you, you tilting your head in question, wondering what exactly could he want from you. I mean, it wasn't every day that Heeseung actually talks to you. When he does, it would only be for him to tease and mock you, so this was a little different to you.

"What? Please, make it quick. I have somewhere to be." You told him, looking as though you are in a hurry, but Heeseung is so persistent to tell you whatever there is for him to tell you. The male actually shocked at himself when he found his hands unconciously on your shoulders to stop you from going anywhere, as if he didn't want you to go.

Heeseung purses his lips, slowly retracting his hands back down his sides and gave another clear of his throats, making you laugh softly at his actions. "I... I actually want to tell you through a song, Y/N." You seemed a little surprise at him hearing your name come out of his mouth. He'd usually call you names just to make fun of you, but you simply shrugged it off and sighed.

You looked at the clock display on your phone's lock screen and decided that there is still an ample amount of time to spare. You averted your attention back to Heeseung, then crossing your arms. "Is it important?" You asked him and Heeseung, surprisingly enough, nod his head vigorously as though excited about something.

"Yes! Too important that you don't want to miss out on it." Heeseung replied, smiling from ear to ear which you found a bit creepy considering the one time Heeseung would only smile at you is when he finds you at miserable state. Maybe, that is his plan and you're falling into his trap.

Not putting your guard down, you still nodded your head and sighed for the nth time. "Alright, fine." He was about to move when you immediately stopped him, pulling him by the wrist which made Heeseung instinctively look down at where your touch lingered before facing you. "You're not... going to try and kill me are you?" You asked him cautiously, Heeseung staring at you for a second or two before bursting out into fits of laughter.

"That's what you were worried about?" Heeseung teases you, holding onto his stomach, making you blush a little out of pure embarrassment.

You avoided his eyes, turning your head to the side trying to hide your reddening face. "Well, yeah. YOU are cruel to me after all." You answered him, Heeseung's laughter dying down slowly and smiles down at you, you looking up at him with furrowed brows.

"Now, you're really scaring me." You told him, Heeseung rolling his eyes before he drags you to the band's practice room, laughing softly all throughout the way. He didn't know what he is feeling as of the moment. It was making him feel all giddy inside and his heart was beating like crazy. He felt nervous and happy both at the same time, but damn, it was you. He didn't know just when it started, but he could no longer handle the ache in his heart whenever he sees you being all lovey dovey with Jake, when it should be him and him only.

"Trust me, Y/N. I won't even lay a finger on you." Heeseung said, which made you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. Heeseung was only grinning happily, but in your perspective he was trying to fool you, his prey for the night.

The moment you two arrived at the band room, he makes you settle down on one of the chairs as he goes on preparing whatever he needs for whatever he wants with you. You raise him a brow, catching sight of Heeseung's shaking hands, the male cursing himself when he clumsily steps on something or drop anything, in short when he gets a little too careless. He checks in on you and you tilt your head to the side, your usual way when asking anyone if their okay or if they need any help. "I-I'm fine, Y/N. Just... stay where you are." He tells you whilst you nod your head in reply, Heeseung hanging the sling of his guitar on his shoulder and turns to look at you. "I hope you will like it, Y/N." He told you with a small smile, taking a deep breathe and started playing with the strings ever so gently with his fingers, strumming carefully.

He starts to sing you the song, smiling to himself with the image of the person he wanted to sing this to, remained in his head. It was like a dream. Looking at him like this, you thought he looked like a man who came straight out of a comic. He looked like a proper gentleman, not like the Heeseung that you always knew. It was a little different.

He continues to finish the song, but soon slowly stops, the melody that his guitar crated fading into the silence, before he looks at you as you clapped your hands, leaving Heeseung a little confused. Didn't you see the hint he was trying to see? He literally just described you THROUGH A SONG. "Hyung, we should totally play that song during the prom! I bet you everyone will like it!" You exclaimed, the edges of your lips reaching up to the heavens.

"What? No! I mean, thanks, but Y/N..." Heeseung sighs in disbelief. He knew about how you're a little too late to understand the signals, but he didn't know that you are this dense when he already made it pretty obvious that he wrote the song for you and YOU only. No one else. Was it that hard to understand?

Your brows knited together at the center, tilting your head to the side in question. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear from me?" You asked him.

"Y/N—"

"I mean, you always wanted to be the one with the most recognition." You cut him off before he could even say anything, already thinking of other things that Heeseung would probably want to hear right now. Other than that he wants his song to be the only song heard by many. He is a little selfish at that matter, but that's not the point.

"It's not—" Heeseung was about to speak yet another time, but you beat him to it for another time, the older male groaning at how annoying you are sounding right now, mainly since he didn't want to speak about it loud, since it's possible for his ego to be stepped on by you with just a quick no and rejection.

You hummed, paying no attention to Heeseung and started to pace back and forth. "The possibilities of this actually adding more to your fame is about a fifty to fifty percent. I—" You are abruptly stopped mid-sentence when Heeseung yells who could no longer keep it in, especially when he's hearing words that's making him feel too guilty.

"Y/N, I WROTE THAT SONG FOR YOU, OKAY?!" Heeseung let out, puffing his chest while you are left speechless. The taller male turns his back at you, covering the blush that was forming on his cheeks that made him look almost completely like a tomato.

You were dumbfounded. Heeseung? Wrote a song for you? Are you by any chance still dreaming or asleep? Cause if you were, you would very much want to wake up right at this moment. "Hyung..." You uttered out, but the word you wanted to tell him never seemed to leave ypur lips. Your tongue got tied and all you could muster to form was static sentences that didn't make any sense at all. Everything seemed overwhelming and just plain so unreal.

Heeseung breathes in deeply and shuts his eyes close. "Do I have to word it out for you? Fine, L/N Y/N. I like you." He told you without even a tad bit of hesitation as though he was ready with all this. You couldn't even say anything. It's just too sudden and unexpected, like a birthday surprise from a person you know talks shit about you behind your back.

It had already been a few weeks since the confession and it's the only thing that cycled inside your head like a broken record. No matter how much you tried to get it out of your head, you are just forced to think about it even more. It felt like a curse! "AH!" You screamed out too loud that even the person who sat beside you gave out a loud scream as well. "God, sorry." You sighed, almost slamming your head on the table out of habit, weren't for Jake instinctively pushing your head back to stop you.

"What is it now, Y/N?" Jake asks you, moving his hand so he could flip the page of the book he is currently reading. He may have been too engross with what he is doing, but you are his top priority. He had to always look out for you. "Is it still about that confession?" Jake asked, you whining with nod and groaned, laying your head on his shoulder and held onto his arm.

Jake looks down at you with a chuckle and locks your head in place in his arm, feeling his bicep's muscle flex. "Seriously, Y/N? It's clear as day you share the same feelings." He told you, while your cheeks were being squished, your lips puckered up a little like a duck's beak, you sighing.

You knew that Jake was right. You did find the feelings mutual, but you just don't know how to face Heeseung right now after that incident. You acted on impulse and just left, when you shouldn't have had. Just thinking about it made your stomach feel a little funny. "I... I know." Jake raised a brow at your answer, the urge to just open your brain and see what's going on inside there.

"Then, what seems to be the problem?" Jake asked you, removing yourself from him and groaned.

"I don't even know! I'm just going crazy now." You let out in frustration, you yourself can't even understand yourself any longer. Sure, it made your heart flutter and things, so what seems to be the problem if not that?

Jake's attention went over towards the entrance and smirks, laughing softly. "Well, make a choice. We leave now or stay. Heeseung at three o'clock." You immediately snapped your head towards the direction and you do see Heeseung, but there is something different about him now.

He was glistening with beauty. He looks like an angel, your world starting to revolve slowly as your eyes focused only on Heeseung and watched as he smiles at you, your eyes furrowing at awe, unable to find the answer how the heavens would ever create such a fine man. His new dyed hair and his hair sleeked back, shiny with the hair gel he lways loved to use. You're seeing a complete different side of Heeseung and, God, you just fell even deeper. "HIDE ME, JAKE!" You yelled at Jake, pulling him by the collar and quickly found your way behind him, Heeseung who saw it all rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, I'm not blind and you can't just keep on hiding from me." Heeseung crossed his arms, eyeing you from behind Jake who just pursed his lips and moved back to reading his book before taking a sip of his iced coffee, snorting when he hears your answer almost choking on his drink.

You peeked from where you are and glared at Heseung who tried to find your eyes, but you only looked away. "Says you." You muttered, still loud enough for Heeseung to hear you.

"Goodness." The male sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Catching the stress on his eyes, you bit on your lower lip thinking whether to have a talk with Heeseung or not, considering that every time you tried, you're only engulfed in a deafening silence and Heeseung is left to wonder what you're supposed to tell him.

Gathering enough courage, you tapped on Jake's side, the Australian humming in reply telling you that he was listening to you. "...Jake, can you leave me with Heeseung for a moment? I'd like to speak with him in private." Jake closes his book and nods his jead, looking over at Heeseung and gave him a look. He just wanted to make sure you'll be in safe hands the moment he leaves.

Jake finally stands from his chair and starts making his way out of the place. You silently sat down in front of Heeseung who only stares at you in anticipation. You cleared your throat to calm your nerves a little; a headstart to be exact. You lift your head up to see the male eye to eye. "Heeseung, look... I don't have any problem with the confession and your feelings." You admitted, fiddling with your fingers due to how anxious you felt right now.

"...Then? Why are you trying to avoid me?" Heeseung questions, his head slightly towards the side.

"Cause! Everything was all too sudden and I embarrassed myself Infront of you by just literally kissing you that day!" You answered him, the taller male chuckling at your reply, then shaking his head.

He holds your hand into his, which caused you to jump a little in shock. "I liked that kiss though." Heeseung said, placing a kiss on top of your hand, not losing the eye contact you both held, your cheeks starting to turn red.

"Hyung!" You whisper-shouted, Heeseung laughing cutely at you, deciding to tease you even more. You pouted at him, finally peeling your eyes away from his and covered your tomato cheeks.

"I'm leaving." You pulled your hand away from Heeseung and grabbed your things, leaving the table and walked your way out, hearing a soft laugh from Heeseung who follows behind you closely.

The male's hand reached over your chin and slowly moves your head so you could face him. "What? I just said what I should have. Your lips are soft, I could kiss them all day." His words slithered out of his mouth smoothly, that it became unbearable for you anymore and started to regret trying to ever talk to him when he'd constantly just tease you.

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chelleztjs18 · 3 years

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Lost in Assistance - Ch. 4

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

GIF: I do not own this GIF. Found it on gifimage.net

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

All chapters

Today is Wednesday but not just a regular Wednesday. It’s the day of the meeting with Elizabeth Olsen and her manager, Jane Vernon.

Your phone alarm sounds break the silence in your room slowly but sure it gets louder enough to motivate you to start the day. You woke up with mixed feelings. Excited yet nervous at the same time. You turn on some music. Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit starts to play and you get ready. After a fresh shower, you put on just enough nude color makeup then you go to your walk-in closet to pick a close-fitting button up white shirt with burgundy stripes and black slim fit women's suit and trousers with burgundy open toe high heels that match with your nails color since it’s your favorite color. You get your side parted wavy medium length burgundy colored hair done that makes it flow down to your shoulder. You may be the type of girl who doesn’t really like to put on much makeup, but you take your hair, clothings and nails pretty seriously as well as your perfume.

As soon as you are all ready and putting your heels on while sitting on a little sofa in the middle of your closet, your phone rings. You guessed that it’s Mitchel and you are right.

“Good morning darling.” You answered as you continued to put on your shoes. “Oh wow, that's the spirit! Good morning love! Are you excited for today? Are you ready?” said Mitchel on the other end. “Well, yeah but no but also yeah that I’m all ready to go.” You replied while you took another look in front of the mirror and slowly twirled to make sure you looked good. Then you spray a little bit of perfume and you are ready to go downstairs while still on the phone. “Okay great. I will see you over there, I want to say hi to Jane. Everything will be okay. Don't be nervous, okay Y/n?” Mitchel tried to make you feel better. “Thank you Mitchel. I appreciate it. I’m leaving soon so I’ll see you there. Bye.” You grab your medium size leather purse and go downstairs.

As usual, your mom is already awake, sitting on the big living room couch. “Morning Ma. I have a meeting this morning. It shouldn’t be that long but you know Mitchel, he might want to have brunch after that but just call me if you need anything, okay? Love you Ma.” You gave her a hug and went to the garage. “Okay hun. Good luck. Love you too.”

You put on your prescription aviator style sunglasses, blast some music to amp you up started by White Lies - Odesza then start driving. The sun was up but not too bright, the traffic wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be so you arrived there a little too early.

As you walked into the lobby you saw a coffee shop so you decided to get some ice coffee for you. Just when your order is ready and you are about to grab it, you notice a familiar face whose order is ready too. It was Lizzie grabbing her order. Eye contact was caught between you two and you gave a smile just to be friendly and she replied with a nod and small smile. You recognize her even though her long dirty blonde hair flawlessly covers both sides of her face and she is wearing sunglasses that were intended to cover her face so she won’t be recognized. You both walk towards the elevator and blend in with a group of people in the elevator. You saw her pressed the floor button then she dived back into whatever she was doing with her phone. The elevator stopped on your floor, some people went out to go to other offices which are on the same floor as Vernon’s office. Lizzie went out as well but she stopped in front of the elevator to answer a phone call so she didn’t know that you both actually have the same destination to meet Jane.

After you greeted and talked to Aaron, Jane’s assistant, he informed you to wait in the waiting room. Few minutes later, you heard that Lizzie came in and was told the same thing as you were. She is sitting on the chair across you talking on the phone with her best friend about the plan to meet up after the meeting, while you are browsing on your phone and enjoying your ice coffee you can feel that sometimes she takes a quick glance once or twice at you without knowing who you are and why you are there.

“I don’t even wanna be here. I still think it’s a stupid idea to get me another personal assistant. This already made me upset to begin with and it’s just gonna make me not like this person already even though I know it’s not her fault to get hired by Jane.” She tried to talk as quietly as possible but not quite enough for you not to be able to hear it. Aaron came and told her that she can come into the meeting room. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later after the meeting. Bye.”

She hangs up then proceeds to follow Aaron to the meeting room. After what you heard, you can only chuckle to yourself knowing this is not gonna be easy work between you both. Aaron comes for your turn. “Ms. Y/l/n, they are ready for you. You can come this way.” Aaron guides you to the meeting room. You smiled and thanked him as he opened the door for you.

You come into the meeting room that has large windows around it that give natural light and a pretty sky view decorated with clouds and top of skyscrapers of L.A with the trails of the streets and cars that look so small from up here. You see Lizzie is sitting next to Jane with Mitchel sitting in front of them, parted by a big rectangle glass table.

“Y/n darling! You made it!” Mitchel came to you and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss as always. “Hi Mitch. I’m glad to be here.” You smiled.

“Come, let me introduce you to these fabulous ladies. Jane, Lizzie this is Y/n Y/l/n. She is my best friend slash the best personal assistant you are looking for. Y/n, this is Elizabeth Olsen and her manager Jane Vernon.” Mitch proudly introduces you to them.

“Nice to meet you Y/n, Mitch talked a lot about you once he knew I was looking for a professional assistant. I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name.” While Jane offered her hand for a friendly handshake yet felt so formal, you can see from the corner of your eyes Lizzie’s jaw dropped a little, looking at you up and down realizing you might have heard what she said on the phone earlier about you. “The pleasure is mine Mrs. Vernon and yeah I don't mind you calling me by my first name” You gave a firm professional handshake and smiled. “You can call me Jane.”

You then slightly turn your head to Lizzie and her beautiful green eyes are now so easily noticeable by you without her sunglasses on. “Ms. Olsen, It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and tried to stay professional even though you know how she feels about this meeting and about you. There is an awkward vibe from Lizzie towards you since she thinks you heard her conversation but her stubbornness about this whole thing is bigger than the awkwardness itself that made the friendly Lizzie respond a little cold to you. “Thanks, same here.” She gave you a quick handshake but you can feel the softness of her skin even though just for a few seconds.

The four of you take a seat. “So Y/n, this is not an interview because practically you are already hired because I read your resume plus the reference from Mitch here. I gotta admit, it’s pretty impressive. Lots of years of experience working in this field, you have worked with big names in Hollywood. You speak five languages and that’s another big plus. We have this meeting just so we can sign the contract and agreement. I believe Mitch already gave you the details of Do’s and Don'ts and our expectation specially from Lizzie here.” Jane explained while she was looking at your resume then slid some papers in front of you on the table for you to take a look at it.

“Well, to be honest what I wanted was actually simple, I don’t want any new personal assistant but Jane insisted on giving it a try, so here I am. So, I hope you are as great as your resume Y/n to make my try worth it.” Lizzie said it in a quite firm tone with the best pretend smile she can do. Deep down she hoped what she just said would’ve just made you change your mind.

“Ha Ha Lizzie was just joking. Isn’t she funny?” Jane laughed awkwardly and tried to give Lizzie a look about what she said.

“Is that so, Ms.Olsen? Don’t you worry about it. I hope the way I work and the way I do my job suits you.” You gazed at her eyes before you gave a fake smile. You tried to remind yourself in your mind that you respect Mitch and don’t want to put him in a hard time with his client even though Jane is a good friend of his otherwise your reaction would be different.

“This is the contract, it will be only for two years but it might be for less than that. If it does change to less than two years, there will be a notice in advance. It can also be terminated early if there is a mutual decision by both parties. All of this is written in it. It says you acknowledged and agreed with what I just informed you. You can sign on every section that’s marked X” Jane explained all the details while she showed each point. You read everything, gazed at Lizzie’s mesmerizing green eyes and gave a little smirk to her then signed each section. As you can see, this clearly upset Lizzie.

“Okay, everything is good. In this envelope, there are all Lizzie’s schedules, addresses and numbers. Plus all lists what she likes and dislikes. Sometimes you need to drive with her, sometimes you don't have to. I’m sure you know the drill, but just a friendly reminder that everything is confidential, especially all Marvel related. You can start on Friday. I guessed that’s all. Welcome to our family Y/n. We are thrilled that you joined us here, right Lizzie?” Jane finalized everything with another handshake with you and Mitchel. “Yeah, sure. Now if you guys excuse me, I gotta go right now. Sorry.” Lizzie put a tiny smile in the corner of her lips, waved goodbye then left in a rush and looked upset.”

As soon as Lizzie left and the door was closed, Jane apologized. “Ummm, Mitchel, Y/n I’m truly sorry for how Lizzie acted earlier. Trust me, she is actually a very sweet, genuine and friendly person. That’s the reason I have been her manager and agent for years, she’s like a sister to me. It’s just that she sometimes can be very determined or stubborn with what she wants or what she doesn't want and not afraid to show it but I’m sure she will slowly understand why I need to have Y/n’s help. She just has anxiety when she has to adjust or deal with new people. I hope you guys can understand.”

“Don’t worry about that Jane. I have met Lizzie and I know how sweet she is. Like I told you before, Y/n has her own way of working and don't be surprised with how straight forward she is plus she doesn't sugar coat things. She is eccentric in a good way. Right Y/n?” He nudged your arm and smiled.

“Haha. yeah sure Mitch.” You answered jokingly. “I guess we better get going. Thank you Jane. Nice seeing you as always.” You and Mitch bid farewell to Jane and left. “Bye guys. See you again.” Jane walked back to her office room.

“Mitchel, what the hell was that? Why did she act like that? On top of all, why didn’t you tell me that she actually didn’t want an assistant?!” You tried to whisper so nobody at the office heard as you both were walking out of the office.

“Yeah about that, I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry. “ Mitch squinted his eyes waiting because he was worried how your reaction was gonna be.

“You are lucky we are best friends otherwise I wouldn’t sign that contract and would’ve said NO on the spot after what she said. I already don’t like her. This is not gonna be easy.” You said it jokingly but it has a little bit of truth in it.

“Haha. I love you too!” Mitch replied happily, knowing you would help him no matter what. Both of you parted, continue with your days.

Ch. 5

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen fluff #lizzie olsen fluff #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #scarlet witch x reader #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn

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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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The Only Place I Can Hold You by snapdragonpop007 [words: 27,865]

“Hello, Jack.” These past two years had not been kind to Will Graham-Lecter. The solitary confinement that Chilton had promised would help had only seemed to make the omega worse. “I was wondering when you were gonna come talk to me.” Will hadn’t looked up from the book in his hands. He was running his fingertips across the pages, and when Jack looked a little closer he could see that it was full of photographs.

Friends To Lovers by Sirenja, TigerPrawn [words: 8,008]

When Harry Met Sally AU

Consortio by kelex [words: 23,088]

Every Omega in the land is brought to the lord on the evening of their first heat. Lord Hannibal usually doesn't choose to exercise that right, but this night's offering is too much for him to pass up. A virgin Omega in his first heat, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a spirit that can't be broken.

Sharing A Bed by TigerPrawn [words: 4,150]

Will, Hannibal, Jimmy and Zeller are sent to Butfuck Nowhere on a case and the small hotel has messed up the booking leaving them with only 2 rooms between the 4 of them. And specifically Omega Will having to share with Hannibal, the only Alpha on the trip.

Stormchaser by YouAreMyDesign [words: 6,465]

One thing, Hannibal knows absolutely; Will is empty, all the time. He aches to be filled.

Pathology by YouAreMyDesign [words: 14,129]

In his periphery, Hannibal's head tilts. "Tell me," he purrs, "how exactly does one your age come to enroll in an FBI training facility?"

There Will Be Bells by Entropyrose [words: 36,639]

In Georgian England, male omegas are very rare diamonds. Baron and Baroness Graham have a plan to build their wealth and social status by offering their son Will's hand in marriage to a mysterious older Duke, an Alpha named Lord Hannibal Lecter. Will's personal feelings need not apply.

Alpha Mart by slashyrogue [words: 63,164]

Will needs an alpha. After years of fake knots, half-assed suppressants, and his own damn hand during heats he’s reached the end of his rope. He doesn’t do dating so he decides to waste his life savings and hype with the current trend. Alpha Mart.

Enchanted By Your Name by CarnivalMirai [words: 9,207]

“Now, my husband would prefer it if I got the job done quickly.” He says, slashing down the back of each gag as he passes each man, watching as the silk falls gracefully to the floor. “However, I want to have some fun. Considering you’ve troubled my husband so much… it’s only fair, right?” One of the men whimpered fearfully. Or: The name "Will Graham" is a name you'll only ever hear once.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116]

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379]

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.

We All Have a Hunger by 1ntothew1ld [words: 12,260]

Hannibal will ensure a properly slow and painful death for an alpha who allowed a beautiful young omega to go to waste as this one has. Too skinny for his own good, a stuttering and humble mess. The likes of the omega in front of him belonged at Opera houses and in million-dollar mansions, not scrounging for his next meal. Meek and afraid in some disheveled row house. When he finally looked back up the alpha had to conceal the utter punch to the stomach that meager glance was, blue eyes full of innocence but also hunger.

The Doctor Is In by Kummerspeck7

Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims." "Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?" "My Alpha's discretion." Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."

Sugar by Sweaty_dogman [words: 12,659]

Hannibal finds himself hung up on his friends mother, desperate to find ways to spend time with the omega. Will Graham is a beautiful, kind and single omega. The young alpha finds himself struggling to keep his emotions hidden.

No One Falls the Way We Fell by HigherMagic [words: 9,206]

Five years ago, Hannibal's mate died, leaving him with their young daughter. He's tried to move on, but Abigail keeps interrupting his sleep and insisting that she can see her mother in her room at night. Hannibal turns to Alana for help, and Alana gives Abigail a doll, someone to talk to and help her accept her mother's passing. Once the doll arrives, though, strange things start happening in Hannibal's house. It's impossible to consider, of course, but if anyone could defy death and return to them from beyond the grave, it would be Will.

Proud of You by CarnivalMirai [words: 11,748]

Will worked right up until labour to make money, through all the sickness and fatigue and swollen ankles, he worked to bring his little boy the best life. And it has paid off. As of last week, Hannibal has sent off his university applications. Medicine at Johns Hopkins, Harvard Medical School, Stanford University, and the University of Pennsylvania. He’s applied for a scholarship at all of them, and Will desperately hopes he gets it. He knows he will. He’s Hannibal, after all. His baby can do anything.

Venus Is Bright by wolfgraham [words: 7,237]

Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he'll set new rules, boundaries. He'll tidy up Hannibal's room and give him the talk, and download Matefinder on his phone. But is it so bad? So bad to wish that the world outside the two of them would just disappear and leave them be?

Creator by Caidepgun, wolfgraham [words: 5,589]

Will and his son, Hannibal, have an unusual relationship.

My First, My Last, My Everything by TheBl00dyFl0wer [words: 14,930]

Will Graham's encephalitis gets out of control and messes with his hormones, mutates him. May I present: Will Graham, the first known Omega.

Room 205 by HotMolasses [words: 9,220]

Will is an Alpha, but in name only. He's a hotel maid at the Graham Bed & Breakfast. He considers himself a freak; an Alpha with no knot, who dreams of a powerful Omega to dominate him. He's pretty certain that because of this, he'll be alone for the rest of his life. Then he meets Hannibal Lecter.

Howl by multifandom_fanfic_writer [words: 7,083]

When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is a worthy mate. Will Graham has never found anyone worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will plans to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

Careful, He Bites by maxxeoff [words: 10,328]

Will Graham is a feral child. His dad died when he was five, and he lives with a wolf pack until he has his first heat. He's found, brought to Baltimore. Dr. Lecter takes an interest in him.

Predator by eijirouN_17 [words: 7,619]

Will hasn't presented, he doesn't give off any scent at all so everyone, including himself, assumes he's a beta. Then Will goes into heat. At a crime scene. In front of everyone. And Hannibal tries so hard not to go feral.

#abo

101 notes · View notes

hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

Jerseys and Dumplings

a/n: some good old friends to lovers Tkachuk for your Thursday!

warnings: swearing

word count: 6.3K

You yanked the restaurant door open harder than you’d meant to, but you were in a rush. A last minute assignment had kept you at work later than you’d planned, much later than you’d planned, and you were running later than would ever be considered fashionably late by anyone who made insane amounts of money to recite a bunch of shitty dialogue to a camera. You pulled at the bottom of your skirt to adjust it as you walked through the door before giving up. Your skirt was definitely crooked, your hair was definitely a mess, but your mother’s words played over in your head, “It’s never the job of a successful, powerful to look a particular way. Success is messy. Own the messy.”

“Hi, sorry,” you whisper-yelled to the hostess. “Uh, Hanifin? Pretty sure everyone else is already here.”

“Right this way.”

She was clearly unimpressed with your disheveled appearance and your tardiness as she looked you over from top to bottom from over the top of her glasses. You pushed thoughts of her and work out of your head to focus the evening. Meeting your best friend’s boyfriend was a hit-miss experience with Tessa as your best friend. She alternated between introducing you to immature, outrageous guys who were all about having a good time who always ended up cheating on her or guys who were basically the human equivalent of a completely dried builder-grade beige wall. This one was apparently some moderately famous hockey player, which automatically had you leaning him in the first column, but she pleaded with you to reserve judgment until you met him tonight. You were desperate for her to finally date a guy that was somewhere on the middle of her two extremes. She always countered by saying she wanted you to go on a date, any date. You brushed her off every time, telling her you were focusing on your career and yourself.

“There you are!” Tessa shouted, bumping the table harshly as she stood up to great you. “I started to think you forgot about us.”

“Sorry, babes,” you sighed as you let her pull you in for a quick hug. “I-”

“Got caught up at the office.”

You pulled back from her and glared at her. Tessa saying the words that all too frequently left your lips was just a little passive aggressive, usually your specialty. You rolled your eyes at her and she giggled before reaching out to the guy next to her to pull him to his feet.

“This,” she wrapped her hands around his forearm in a sort of death grip, “is Noah. Noah, this is the ever-discussed best friend slash somehow roommate even though I see her more out to lunch than I do in our apartment.”

“Thanks, Tess,” you mumbled. Noah offered his arms out to you gingerly and you accepted a soft hug. “Nice to meet you, Noah.”

“Really nice to finally meet you,” he smiled softly as you took your seats.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind.” The sing-song tone in Tessa’s voice drew a groan from you because you knew what was going to come next. “Stop it! Anyway, Noah brought one of his teammates along, so you weren’t third wheeling.”

“Is he invisible?” you asked with a wave of your hand to the empty seat next to you.

“Just in the bathroom, actually.”

You turned your head and were greeted with a bright, toothy grin and mop of curly hair. The restaurant was dark, but you could tell he had a beautiful pair of baby blues to go with his dimples and sharp jawline. Tessa has clearly hand-picked this one out of the Flames line up for you. He was exactly your type. You watched as his light eyes broke contact with yours and gave you a quick once look over, lingering almost indiscernibly at your chest and your hips.

“I’m Matthew,” he said, his smile starting on a slippery slope to a smirk as he sat down next to you.

You debated calling him out for checking you out, but Tessa rapped her foot on your shin, letting you know she was ready and waiting to give you a swift kick if she didn’t like how you were acting. People thought Tessa was soft. You thought people shouldn’t underestimate Tessa, so you swallowed your comeback and introduced yourself instead. Matthew gave you a quick nod, his broken curls bouncing with the sudden movement. A smile began to pull at the corners of your lips against your will and something in your chest told you he was going to be trouble if you let him be, so you resolved not to let him be. You watched his attention shift to the couple across the table and his face scrunch up in disgust. Noah and Tessa were seeming trying to figure out if it was possible for two people to become one via their open mouths pressed against each other.

“Come on, guys,” Matthew whined as one of his hands came down roughly on the tabletop, causing the silverware to click together loudly. Noah and Tessa separated at the sound, not at Matthew’s words. “The single folks don’t even have drinks yet. Can you save the foreplay until we at least have some alcohol in us?”

“Seriously,” you joined in. If Tessa was going to set you up against your will, at least it was with someone that hated Tessa’s fondness for wild amounts of PDA as much as you did. “Please keep all tongues, hands, and arms in your own seats tonight.”

“Genitals should remain their not upright and locked positions” Matthew added. Tess blushed at his words, causing Matthew to turn his head towards you. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Too much?”

You answered by continuing, “Excellent addition, fellow date attendant. Fasten your seatbelts as we expect there might be some turbulence on tonight’s date.”

“Turbulence?” Tessa asked, her voice a solid octave and a half higher than normal and her eyebrows raised, daring you to continue.

“Oh yes, turbulence,” Matthew cut in. “So, Tessa, where did you grow up?”

“I’m sorry, I’m back on turbulence,” Noah jumped in verbally and physically, a hand raised across the table.

“We,” you informed him, gesturing between Matthew and yourself, “are the turbulence.”

“Yes, thank you, good blind date I didn’t ask for,” Matthew nodded to you, curling bouncing again in a way that made you have to bite your lip to avoid smiling like a schoolgirl with a new crush. “You both worked together to set us up tonight, unasked for based on just how fed up my fellow date attendant seemed by my very presence. Esteemed co-worker, can you confirm, for the record, that you did not ask for this set up and that you’re just as tired as I am of your friends across the table setting you up with people?”

Matthew grabbed a breadstick from the basket in one fist and presented it to you like a microphone. You laughed softly, making an out of character smile crack across Matthew’s face before you both pulled yourself back into the accidental routine you’d created.

“Yes, yes, Matthew. I can confirm I was not made aware of your presence tonight and I have not asked Tessa to set me up with anyone at this time,” you replied seriously, putting on your best politician impression.

“You sounded like you were doing an impression of Tina Fey doing her Sarah Palin impression from SNL,” Matthew laughed at you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he turned his attention to your friends who had no idea what monster they’d created tonight. “As my good colleague Sarah Palin just said, neither one of us asked to be here. So now, we’re teaming up to see if we really approve of this union or not. So, I repeat. Tessa, where are you from?”

The evening was filled with you and Matthew teaming up to flip the script on your friends. You grilled Noah, with Matt’s support, and you offered some direction to his probing questions for Tessa. They took in stride though and you realized somehow, some way beyond your understanding, Tessa had fallen into a good relationship for the first time since you knew her.

Just after making a two-bite dent into your incredible dessert, Tessa pulled you to the bathroom with her, the classic story of girls never being able to pee alone floating at the excuse. When you left the stall, you were greeted by Tessa, arms across her chest, one foot tapping on the ground, and wry smile on her face.

“So, things seem to be going well with Matthew,” she said with a smirk and a soft nod. “Figured it would be sink or swim but didn’t think it would go quite this.”

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned as you turned on the water for the sink to start scrubbing your hands, “we’re just being friendly.”

“Are you kidding me?” she practically shouts at you. “He literally has not taken his eyes off you once all night. He’s so into you!”

“Tess, stop,” you told her with a sigh as you shut off the water. You grabbed a couple of paper towels before spinning on your heels to face her. “Seriously, Tess, he’s not into me. We’re just getting along as friends, okay? Be happy this didn’t blow up in your face for the first time.”

“You cannot be serious right now,” Tessa whined. She reached for your arm as you tossed the paper towels away, pulling your attention back to her. She bounced on her heels a little and gave you the most frustrated look she could muster. “He is into you. Noah thinks so too. Just, can you just try? For me?”

“I don’t want a relationship, Tess,” you replied curtly. “Why can’t you just accept that?”

“He’s perfect for you!” Her frustration with you was growing with each word that she had to say as she tried to spell it out for you. “He’s your type. I know I nailed that one. I know you have to think he’s attractive, so you can’t lie to me. You have really similar senses of humor. He totally thinks you’re hot, which you are. Don’t you dare, that’s not up for debate. Come on, babes. Give Chucky a chance.”

“Chucky is a murderous doll,” you retorted, skipping over everything else she’d said. “Look, Tess, can’t you just be happy I might have made a friend tonight? That’s growth for me right there.”

“But he wants to be your special friend!” she insisted, bouncing on her heels again.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image presented by her bouncing and her words. She was channeling herself at age six for sure, an age you didn’t know Tessa at, but from the stories her brothers and mother told you, you were kind of happy you didn’t know her at.

“Jesus, did you just say that?” you got out between laughs. You sighed as you pulled yourself together. It was time you both escaped the bathroom as the boys were bound to get suspicious soon. “Look, I’m just not really in the sort of place to put myself out there at all right now. If Matthew really does want this and he really does try, I’ll think about it for real, okay? Does that work for you?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes before saying, “I mean, no, it doesn’t because he would totally give you the good dick right here in this bathroom and probably buy you brunch tomorrow if you actually showed the tiniest bit of actual interest in him, but, it’s the best you’re going to give me, so it’s fine.”

Your desire to leave the bathroom and get back to your chocolate cake overwhelmed the desire to correct Tess. You pulled her back to the table with you, collapsing into your seat and immediately diving back into the dessert you’d been hearing call your name since you’d left the table five minutes ago.

“You’re murdering that cake,” Matthew noted. “It’s impressive, honestly. Where does the cake go?”

“Hopefully out my pores tomorrow in the stupid hot yoga class Tess is dragging me too,” you replied, halting another bite on its way to your mouth just to answer. “I wanted to watch Love is Blind and Too Hot to Handle as our new best friend activity for the month. Tessa wants to do hot yoga, so we’re doing hot yoga.”

“So, you’re the boyfriend in this relationship?” Matthew joked, gesturing between you.

You dropped your fork to your plate and reached for your almost empty drink instead before replying, “Gender roles are a completely unnecessary societal standard, Matthew, and they do not need to be enforced by heteronormative men who play an incredibly heteronormative sport. Who is the boyfriend and who is the girlfriend is unnecessarily gendered, especially considering I’m clearly the left chopstick and Tessa is the right. ”

Matthew’s nose scrunched up when he laughed, a sight you were quickly growing used to over the evening, maybe even starting to like. He shook his head softly at you as he took a sip from his glass.

“Says the girl who pitched to watch a bunch of trash Netflix dating reality shows that are all pretty heteronormative, right?” Matthew countered with a nod of his glass to you.

“Garbage is not heteronormative,” you replied. “Trash TV is just trash TV, Matthew. Don’t read too much into it. I still haven’t gotten to watch any of it though.”

“If you need someone to watch with, hit me up,” he told you. “I need an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday night and sounds like it I would need to be incredibly drunk to watch any of that.”

“So, this Wednesday then?”

—————

Standing in front of Matthew’s apartment door with a wide variety from your favorite Chinese takeout place in one hand and a six-pack from your favorite local brewery five days later, you were beginning to regret the life choices that led you to this particular moment. You didn’t have much time for the regret to sink in though before Matthew opened the door.

“If there is something the resembles a dumpling in that bag, I will be your servant for the rest of your life,” was Matthew’s verbal greeting.

“You’re about to be my servant then, but it’ll be worth it. These are the best dumplings I’ve ever had,” you informed him as you pushed past him into his apartment to drop the bags and beer on the counter. You started pulling containers out of the bags as you continued, “I will say you should never Google this place. I’ve only ever ordered via Grubhub delivery before today. I did pick up and this place honestly looks like the architect was drunk and the builders forgot their glasses for the entire build and I’ve never been more horrified, but the dumplings are killer, so I’ve just decided to put it in a box and try to forget I ever saw where they originated.”

You heard a beer crack open beside you and Matthew’s large hand came into view as he set it in front of you. He was close to you, closer than you had thought he would be. You could feel his tall frame behind you, his loose t-shirt brushing against you as he set the beer by your hand. His arms brushed your softly, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Good brewery pick,” he complimented you, his lips near your ear as he spoke. “Also, if you give me food poisoning from your weird Chinese food place, I’m released from my servitude.”

“You know the word servitude?” you countered, trying to pull your mind out of the gutter it was sliding headfirst down with sarcasm and chirping him.

Matthew laughed lightly and shifted himself closer to you. He leaned into you, his chest gentling coming into contact with your back with each breath you took. His large hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you. He towered over you and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to let him bend you over this counter right here and now.

“Mm, I know a lot of things that might surprise you,” Matthew laughed in your ear.

He pulled back without warning and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Matthew shifted over to the opposite side of the counter, grabbing a beer and popping it open on his journey. He didn’t say another word before turning on his heels and heading toward the couch. Your brows furrowed as thoughts began to swirl and bleed together in your mind. Was that just all in your mind or was that nothing that your mind turned into something? You didn’t have time for something like this. The fact that you’d found time to have dinner with Matthew within two weeks of meeting him astounding given your inconsistent hours and his season. No, you didn’t want him to be flirting with you, you decided, so he wasn’t. You came over looking for a friend, so that’s what you were here for, the only thing you were here for.

“Hope you can use chopsticks,” you told him as you sat an overly full plate of food in front of him a few minutes later.

“I play hockey. I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he threw back at you, a joking smile on his lips.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed with a roll of your eyes.

Matthew tossed the remote as you with his free hand as he brought a dumpling to his mouth with the other, dropping the entire thing into his mouth in one go. You watched his eyes go wide as he bit down for the first time. He looked at you in disbelief as he chewed.

“Holy fuck me,” he told you through a full mouth. “I want to marry whoever made this.”

“Now,” you open Netflix on his TV, “you get me, Tkachuk.”

Matthew had already shoved another one in his mouth by the time Netflix loaded the first episode. Matthew was in food heaven, shoving dumpling after dumpling into his mouth. You laughed a little as his stuffed cheeks. He looked like a curly-headed chipmunk and you told him just that as you grabbed another container of dumplings out of the bag on the counter. He almost chirped you back, but when you dropped a full container in his lap, the chirp died before it had even fully formed.

“I think you’ve ruined dumplings for me from everywhere else in the world. Also, is that guy hot? I feel like they’re just trying to convince us he’s hot when he’s not.”

You were amazed he was able to pay any attention to the show with the speed at which he was consuming food. It was equal parts impressive and disgusting.

“He’s alright,” you shrugged as you reached for your beer. “Not my type. You’d be better off asking Tessa.”

Something you’d said finally beat out the interest of the dumplings. Matthew dropped the container to the table and skewered a dumpling with his chopsticks in exchange for a beer and turning his attention to him. He raised an eyebrow at you before he spoke.

“A type, huh? I wouldn’t happened to fit that type, would I?”

He took a sip as he watched you roll your eyes at him. He chuckled a little against the edge of his bottle at your response.

“Why would you think you would?” you countered, barely pulling yourself together in time to say something within an acceptable response time.

Matthew shrugged casually before replying, “Noah asked me specifically to come the other night and after meeting Tessa, I have a hard time believing she let Noah pick whoever he wanted since that was definitely a set up and blah, blah, blah, so I’m definitely your type, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed as you took a sip of your beer to try and disguise the anxiety his question had brought on. “My type is definitely guys who are obsessed with trying to be my type. It’s so sexy how much you need my validation right now.”

Matthew’s head fell back as he laughed, curls shifting back in tandem. His mouth opened wide as he laughed a full belly laugh at your words. One of his hands came to his stomach as his laughs became breathier and he slowly brought himself back down.

“You’re something else,” Matthew mumbled through a smile, beer on its way back to his lips and soft shake of his head with his words.

“I’m a goddamn goddess and you know it,” was all you had to say to get him laughing again.

—————

“Let’s fucking go, Calgary!” Tessa screamed next to you out of the blue, jumping to her feet as she shouted, making you and several other people around you jump a little in their seats.

“Jesus,” you sighed. “Tess, can you take it down a notch or eighteen, please?”

“It’s the Battle of Alberta, baby!” she shouted in response, a wide drunken grin on her face as she retook her seat next to you with a flop.

The referee blew the whistle, stopping play, and you pulled your attention back to the game with a soft smile on your face. You looked down the ice to see someone wearing a red and black jersey tangled up with a white and blue one. You craned you’re neck to try and see who it was, your breath catching in your throat at the idea it as Matthew. Your eyes were flying back and forth between the ice and the screen, trying to see a number or part of name to figure out if it was him or not. Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the glass in front of you. You were greeted with a smile that was slowly becoming more and more familiar, just with a mouth guard hanging between his teeth, and some curls peeking out from under a helmet.

Matthew waved at you with two gloved hands, his light blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You were relieved he was standing in front of you, a goofy smile on his face, rather than down the ice in that fight. At least the linesman has managed to break it up by now. Matthew’s eyes broke contact from you to give you a once over. He pinched his jersey between his gloved fingers and his eyebrows furrowed down as he looked at you

“Where’s your jersey?” he shouted, though you had to read his lips to actually understand him

You just put your hands out next to you, palms up, and shrugged with a slight pout sticking out your bottom lip. You didn’t own any Flames gear of any kind, certainly not the Tkachuk jersey he was probably looking for. He shook his head at you and glared a little, just to get a small laugh out of you, before he turned his attention back to the game.

“Look at your guy!” Tessa said way too loudly for how tender she’d said it, hands stacked over her heart. “He likes you so much.”

“We are just friends,” you countered firmly, which made Tessa frown.

“He likes you! Aren’t you going over to his place after the game? You should make a move,” she nudged you in the ribs with her elbow.

“I’m picking up exactly four containers of dumplings and we’re watching exactly two episodes of Love is Blind because we’re going to finish up the episodes before they go on vacation with their new fiancés, okay?” you told her. “That’s not exactly a hot date. Besides, I don’t want to make a move. I like him, as a friend.”

“Okay, whatever,” Tessa rolled her eyes at you. “You keep denying that I set you up with a good one until you can’t anymore. Chucky is so smitten with you, he’ll probably wait for you for a ridiculously long time, like rom-com style long time, babes.”

—————

It was your new routine. Well, it wasn’t regular enough to really be a routine. Matthew would text you when he felt like he hadn’t seen you recently enough and demand you show up that same day with dumplings and your sparkling personality. You had tried to deny him, push him off a day or two due to work, but he might be the only person you’d ever met more stubborn that you were. Over garbage television shows and Chinese food, you’d made an actual friend out of him and despite Tessa’s insisting that both of you wanted more.

“Oh, suck it!” Tessa shouted as the Bruins pulled out a last-minute OT goal against Edmonton. She hated the Bruins, but you were pretty sure the only thing Tessa hated more than your insistence that you didn’t want to date Matthew was Edmonton.

You sighed, realizing you’d lost the bet you’d made with her, even though you picked that Edmonton would win to piss her off. She was shouting and jumping up and down, trying to rub her win in your face, but a text cropping up on your phone was pulling your attention.

Tkachuk: pls get five orders of dumplings and bring them right over

You: worked hard today huh?

Tkachuk: you know I fucking did. See you in 30?

You smiled softly, catching Tessa’s attention in the middle of her winning tirade.

“Is that Chucky?” She was already leaning over you, trying to get a glimpse of your phone screen. “Are you ditching me for him again this evening?”

You glared up at her and tilted your phone back, hiding the screen from her view. She stated to glare back, but then her face softened as the corners of her mouth started to pull up. You caught a mischievous glint in her eyes start to form she spoke.

“Hey, the bet was that I get to pick your outfit next time you go out, right?” Tessa asked hesitantly.

“I mean, yeah, but your face is scaring me a little bit here,” you replied, concern for yourself dripping off each word.

“And out could just mean when you go to see Chucky in a few minutes, right?” Her excitement was beginning to leak out, but you couldn’t understand why. “Because since you’re leaving, that’s going out, right?”

“I mean, I guess- Tess, what are you getting at here?”

Tessa didn’t reply. She ran out of the living room, cursing as she banged her elbow on the corner as she turned into the hallway. You heard some rustling in her room, followed by another curse, before she came bounding back into the living room. She tossed something red at you, a borderline evil smile on her face as she did so. You grabbed the red garment. As soon as your fingers touched it, you had an idea of what it was based on the fabric and you groaned as you flipped the garment in your hands. You were greeted with Tkachuk in large bold letters when you looked at the back of the jersey.

“I’m not wearing that to Matthew’s apartment,” you whined, letting the jersey fall into your lap.

“Ah, yes you are. You lost the bet. You wear what I let you to wear,” she told you, waving off your complaints. “Besides, Chucky gave it to Noah to give to me to make sure you wore it to next game anyway. We’re just getting you in it earlier than he had in mind, that’s all.”

You sighed as you stood up to head to your room where you exchanged your comfortable, worn in sweatshirt for the new, crisp jersey. When the red fabric finally hung off your body, you turned and let out a groan when you saw his last name on your back. You knew he wasn’t going to let you live it down the entire time you were with him, but Tessa’s wrath was worse than Matthew’s chirping would ever be.

Tessa was laughing as soon as she caught site of the red fabric, but you didn’t give her much time to feel satisfied with her handiwork. You grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone and headed out the front door. You paused as you sat in the driver’s seat of your car. Tessa had said Matthew wanted you to have the jersey to wear to the next game you went to, but why was he insistent enough to get Noah to give Tessa one of his jerseys? Why didn’t he just give it to you himself?

You tried to analyze the gesture as you waited in line at the restaurant. You’d taken to just coming in for pick up since you’d been unsuccessful in forgetting just how terrifying seeing this place for the first time was. You never called ahead anymore. You just showed up and the chef knew to start making dumplings for you. They were ready when you got to the counter to order, so you paid, grabbed your food, and returned to your car quickly. You decided the gesture was probably nothing, just Matthew being odd per usual, and tried to force the thought out of your mind as you drove over to his place.

The thought hung around as you parked in his spare parking spot. The parking pass had gone from being loaned out to every guest to living in your car after the fifth dumpling and trash television visit. He said you were his most regular visitor and he was tired of having to leave to put it in your car for you since you always argued that you’d brought him food, so it was the least he could do. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out if all of it added up to something, or if you were adding up things that didn’t really exist to get to an answer that definitely didn’t.

You only got one knock in before Matthew opened the door. He moaned when he saw the bag in your arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, his eyes trained on the brown paper bag his hands were reaching for the entire time he spoke like a prayer had been answered.

You laughed at him and let him take the bag from your arms before following him inside. He dropped the bag on the counter and began grabbing containers and chopsticks while you kicked off your shoes. You let out a long sigh as you prepared yourself for the chirps that were bound to come when you took your coat off and the jersey was finally in his line of site. You chewed your bottom lip between your teeth as you spun around to face him.

Matthew was frozen in place, a partially opened to-go container on the counter in front of him and chopsticks about to be ripped apart in his hands. His eyes were trained on the flaming logo on the front.

“Tessa made me wear it,” you admitted quickly. “I lost a bet and she made me wear it.”

Matthew slowly put the chopsticks down and one of his hands came up to his mouth. His hand was on his chin, thumb crossing his lips as he shifted his weight to his other hand braced against the counter’s edge. His light eyes were darker than you were used to as they scanned up and down your body. They came to rest on the number partially visible on the shoulder. He moved his hand from his face to hovering in front of him with his index finger outstretched. Slowly, his index finger began to make small circles as he looked at you.

“Oh, you’re rubbing this in now,” you huffed, hands going to your hips.

Matthew just shook his head softly before he swallowed hard, then said one word, “Spin.”

You sighed, knowing he wanted the full picture for future ammunition, but you wouldn’t get to enjoy your food until you gave him what he asked you. You slowly let your feet shift across the floor, moving you in a gentle circle, giving Matthew a perfect view of his last name across your back. You closed your eyes as you reached the point in your circling where you’d have to see him again. You didn’t need to see the smug look on his face.

You heard Matthew sigh and you knew whatever he was about to say next was going to be brutal. Instead, all you heard was his feet shuffling quickly across the floor before you felt his hands on you, pressing you back against the nearest wall. Your eyes flung open when you made rough contact with the wall. Before you could fully process it, Matthew’s head dipped down and his mouth was on yours. You almost pulled back, but he was kissing you in a way that took your breath away. You couldn’t not fall into the moment with your palms coming to rest on his chest, but you needed some sort of explanation and you weren’t even sure if this was really what you wanted, so you pushed gently on his chest and he instantly separated from you.

“What the fuck?” you breathed out at him as you lifted your eyes to look at him.

He was towering over you, his arms boxing you in on either side of your head. His eyes were even darker than they had been and while you could usually read Matthew like open book, you couldn’t recognize the expression on his face.

“I can’t be your friend if you’re going to look this fucking good with my last name on your back,” he told you. His words were so matter of fact, as if it was the most obvious thing the world. “You have absolutely no idea how bad I want you right now.”

“Matthew,” you said between deep breaths, “I don’t know.”

“You know,” he said, his baby blue eyes locking your gaze on him. “You know you know. You’ve known since that first dinner. Tessa knew too. Hell, even Noah knew, and you know how fucking thick he is. We’re not supposed to be just friends. You,” he sucked in a breath through his teeth when he broke eye contact to look down at the jersey while balling some of the red fabric in his hands, “you are too perfect for me to be my friend. God, it’s like someone took everything I ever wanted and put it all in one perfect, stupidly sexy girl, except that someone made her fucking oblivious to her own feelings.”

Matthew let out a soft laugh and shook his head as he released the fabric from his hands. His eyes rolled up to lock with yours again.

“You can’t stand her and tell me that kiss wasn’t different,” he continued. “stop being so fucking thick for two seconds and you’ll really feel it. I know you feel it. Because if somehow, I feel this goddamn strongly about someone, and they don’t feel a single ounce of something for me, then I must have really fucked up in my past life and deserve to have the perfect girl right between my fingers and feel her break my heart instead. Like, fuck, you know this is different, that this is something that stupid kinds of special. Just let yourself feel it. Let me in, baby. I’m right here. You’re not gonna fall. Nothing is going to break. I’m right here. I’ve got you, if you want me to.”

Matthew was wrong. You felt the walls you built to keep you from having to put yourself out there, from having to risk anything, start to crack under Matthew’s gaze. His eyes started bouncing from feature to feature on your face, trying to figure out what was going on in your mind since you hadn’t said a word yet. When his baby blues met yours again, the walls broke, and you felt everything. You felt everything he said and somehow, so much more. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked his mouth down to yours. He kissed you back instantly, his hands reaching down to the backs of your thighs to pull you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands moved to your torso, yanking at his new favorite piece of clothing you owned to get under it and feel your skin under his palms.

You broke the kiss to breathe. His mouth moved to your neck as you tangled your fingers in his curls.

“I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to wear this while I do it,” Matthew breathed out against your neck with a faint tug of the jersey, “if that’s alright with you.”

“Little aggressive,” you told him with a tug of his curls. Matthew pulled you away from the wall, switching to support your weight so he could start walking you towards his room.

“Oh, shut up, would you?” Matthew laughed against your skin. “If you actually have objections, fine, but the peanut gallery is closed for anything other than curse words and my name for the next few hours, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Tkachuk.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction

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crookedmusician · 3 years

Text

Once Again

A/N:- This is just a drabble that popped up in my head and is based on "The Amazing Spider-Man" universe, NOT based on the Marvel mcu. If you haven't watched the movies then pls read this with an open mind. The drabble is also fixed in a time that is five years after Gwen dies and is completely based on my thought and universe. Please don't read it if you're not comfortable.

Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Genre : Slight Angst, Comfort, Slice of Life

Warnings : Very Slight and descriptive mentions of wounds and death, the characters are all adults, Y/N has a defined profession for the sake of the plot

*This is also not proof read so please bare with any errors if there are any*

It's been Five years.

Five years since Gwen's funeral. Five years since New York city was almost destroyed. Five Years since an innocent boy lost his sanity to death. Five Years since Peter Parker was too late to save his love, his best friend and his emotions to grief.

It had been Five years since that faithful day that still seemed to haunt Peter from time to time.

After the......incident happened, five years ago, Peter had shut off. He didn't talk, eat or even go to work. His job was willing to let him off that time, but the mental pressure that had bundled up inside Peter's head had refused to go. As a result, even after Peter came back, he was only a shell of himself, an empty treasure from which the gold had been stolen - just like how life was stolen from the eyes of so many he failed to save on that one dreadful day.

But If anything broke Peter more than his incompetency to save the lives of those millions he failed, it was the death of Gwen. Death of the only person Peter beleived to have given him a purpose to be Spiderman and save the city and it's residents. His reason to survive every battle he fought. His best friends, girlfriend and his reason, to just live.

Peter still remembers that day, that moment as clear as day. He still remembers the catastrophe that was caused that day, the destruction, the smell of death and spilled blood that matted the air in a heavy silence. He still remembers how the life wilted out from Gwen's eyes as she fell from the tower, as he held her afterwards; he still remembers how her once warm body turned deadly pale, her cheeks stopped sport the regular blush - and they all haunted him. They Traumatized Peter through his day, haunted his nightmares and swam in front of his mind each and every moment he lived. So Peter did the only thing he thought might help, he shut off everyone out of his life, he shut off the flow of emotions in his being, & he swore to never let anyone in, he vowed to not care about anything except defending NYC against the new villains attacking everyday.

Cause Peter Parker may have been a hero, but his emotions flowed through his veins as thickly as the spider's venom in his blood. So promised, to shut out and never let anyone in. That became his coping mechanism.

Yet again, five years later that same spider-boy found himself in the exact position he had been in, five years prior - sitting on the bed of a rooftop apartment while the huge scratches on his chest were being cleaned by the slender hands of a young woman sitting in front of him. It was an awkward kind of deja vu for Peter - Both hurting and comforting to know that someone - other than May cared for him still, however the recollection couldn't help but bring those ugly thoughts back into the forefront of Peter's mind. The same thoughts that occupied his mind in the waking hours.

The scratches burned and sizzled under the alcohol, even though it was applied with softness and expertise; but Peter didn't Flinch. Yes, there was a slight wince here and there, but no reaction revealed was too strong. Years of constant battle against the seemingly never-ending villains of New York happened to make Peter a bit more cautions and tolerating of his injuries - something that seemed to work greatly in favour of Peter at the moment - so as to not make the budding doctor in front overthink her capabilities.

Was New York always so needy and loud for the Spider-Man? This was something that occupied Peter's head often.

However, when he thought back on it, perhaps it was better for him to put his life on the line than have someone innocent or desiderate to live to fight the devils.

I mean, he did fit all the requirements for this job didn't he?

He was young, had the abilities, tolerant of the aftermaths of the fights he carried carved in his skin, bones and blood. Moreover he didn't have anyone to rely on or care for - May would be able to live with him, his job wasn't so special to him if he didn't require the money either. On the contrary Peter thought it to be a blessing to die - to forget all the turmoils, catastrophes of the world; to forget how many villains needed to be fought or how many people needed to be saved - to just forget.

Peter always thought, that maybe he wasn't made for love. That maybe he didn't deserve it. He thought about how everyone he loved left him, deserted him and thinking back on them, he just wondered how much love favoured him in this life. Maybe love didn't favour him at all, maybe love hated him, maybe that's why death always won in each of his chapters. Maybe that's why, Peter had become a void - because love refused to favour the life of this boy. He never really understood why lover never looked upon him with a smile. But guess there was never really an explanation for some grudges.

But if love never favoured him, Then what was this sudden weird electric sparks coursing through his body? This weird fluttering that seemed to keep him up at nights thinking about this one person that flew in his life and and broke past all his resolves to nestle herself comfortably inside the confines of the walls surrounding his heart?

And Peter really never could understand what was happening in his body. At first he thought that perhaps it was his spidey senses. But after a while, when he actually came to a conclusion, he was dumbfounded. Being deprived of love and refusing the comfort of any other hands rather than his own for such a long time - the revelation - was actually quite unexpected by him.

But to say that Peter didn't see all of the unfolding and development of feelings, would be a mistake. Mayhaps, Peter did knew what was happening, did knew that he was falling in a bottomless hole; but the feeling of letting go, the feeling that encompassed the journey was so blissfull it was hard to deny himself the pleasure after denying it for such a long while.

So we recount to a faithful afternoon, two years prior, to an empty & silent alley in one of the bustling streets of NYC.

XXX ♤♡◇♧ XXX

It was just another day in the life of Peter Parker - waking up, packing his suit, taking an early leave or going on a feild trip for his job only to fight the villains and end up all bloody. The only difference was the gushing wound on one of Peter's upper legs that seemed way worse than his regular wounds.

Peter seeked sanctum in one of the empty alleys of the New York Streets to treat the wound only to find himself looking sideways at a young bespectacled woman with curious eyes, hair in a messy bun, clutching one strap of a heavy-looking backpack with some folders and pages in the other - she was staring at him with worry in her orbs.

Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, he'd hit up some pick up lines and flee as far as possible with his wounded leg and never meet the girl again - it was simple and easy without any damage to either his social or personal life. And it would've been easy and simple - Only if Peter had been wearing his mask. But he sadly wasn't, and now he gazed back like a deer caught in the headlights as the figure approached him slowly and cautiously and stopped a few feet away.

"Can you walk?" The words were almost whispered with caution.

"Excuse me?" Peter said in a breathless voice; swinging through the city with an almost torn-off leg does hurt more than Peter imagined, after all.

"Can You walk? With that leg of yours?"

"Yes, I suppose. But why?" Peter asked with confusion and weariness.

"Then please come to the top floor. I can treat your wound."

The clutch of the strap got a bit tighter as the words tumbled out of her lips in the hushed silence of the alley. To say Peter was surprised would be an understatement; it had been a while since someone willingly wanted to help him. But then again, Peyer wasn't weak, was he? He surely could handle that little much laceration wound on his own, right? So just like Peter have always done, to all his colleagues, his neighbours, supposed friends, associates and May, he declined.

"Thank you for the offer but I can Handle this on my own," Peter uttered in the same dazed voice, opting to turn his head down as if signalling the end of the conversation.

"I'm sure you can," the voice chirped again to fill the whispery silence, "to the best of your abilities, but It would be better if I had a look at it. I'm a medical student so I'll be able to ptch it up reall quick too. Besides to treat you'd have to either swing or walk back to your home, and you really can't do either with that deep of a cut anyways. So let me have a look at it, please."

"I said I you do-"

"No you can't, you may clean it or patch it up until you can do it up but the slash is huge, don't you see? If you don't treat it immediately, your whole leg would either get infected or you'll bleed to raw. And I don't think you'l be able to swing your way around the city with a half infected leg anyways. So Please for your leg's sake enter the third window from the right on the top floor of this building so I can nurse the damage. I'll try to get there ASAP," and with that the girl hurried inside a door on the side of the monument on right.

Peter however, was still failing to recover from his daze, and by the time her words actually registered in his head the wound had started to sizzle with wind. He gathered his own stuffed backpack and as slowly and painlessly he can, followed the instructions.

Peter swung to top of the building & crept insided the bedroom of a rooftop apartment that looked very comfy despite being a complete definition catastrophe to found himself in a pair of freshly washed shirt and jogging shorts half an hour later - the girl said they belonged to her father and brother previously.

Peter stared at the unknown woman as she wrapped up the incision in a white cloth. Her fingers were skilled & worked in a quick yet sure manner.

"You can handle pain very well you know?" The woman broke the awkward silence with a glance at Peter's face only find him staring back at her with a monotone face, "the area around the gash had already started getting infected, if I found you a bit later your leg might've fallen off. Still you're very lucky. Thankfuy no valuable nerve was heavily dama-"

"Why are you helping me?" The rambling was interupted by the strict and straight voice of the spidey

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I can? Am I not allowed to help you? You looked like you needed some serious help though," The woman asked tilting her head slightly.

"Is it a plot?" Years of practice had certainly helped Peter maintain a Poker face, which came in handy as he stared at the confused eyes of the woman in front of him - his heart deeming the expression to be cute.

"A plot?" The woman repeated as she looked at him in disbelief, "You think l'm helping you because l'm involved in a...a...a stupid gang or something that wants to murder you?"

"Or it could be an individual plan," Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he dared not remove his eyes from his supposed - captor.

"An individual pl-?"

"Why else would you help me? If not for your own benefit?"

At this The woman seemed to become a little pissed at Peter's words as she sputtered with her next sentences before finally giving a coherent reply, "Maybe fighting with evel people all your life makes you heroes feel as if good people don't exist but trust me, they do. And quite contrary to your assumptions I just so happen to be one of them."

The woman tied the cloth around Peter's leg in a tight knot & rose from her seat collecting the equipments back in her first aid box, opting to leave the room, offended - instead finding herself halting mid-step at peter's voice calling out to her.

"I'm Peter," Peter gazed at her retreating figure and as she turned around to look at him with judging eyes, "Peter Parker."

The words were uttered into the sunset in a softer tone - as if the speaker was almost shy, which - looking back at the circumstances - Peter probably was. And as the dying rays of the sun filtered through the drawn back curtain of the only window in the room - the one Peter had entered through - encasing the room in all it's ethereal glow, Peter was able to finally get a glimpse of his healer, clearly.

The rays fell on the bed and on womanly figure, bathing her in the delicate glow of dusk, highlighting her dainty features. She was handsome, very much so in the afyernoon light; and despite being pissed and offended a few mintues prior, she took her time in tilting the corners of her lips into a soft amd pleasant smile as the injured man stared at her in awe - that was perfectly hidden beneath his Poker Face.

"I'm Y/N L/N." The names etched itself in Peter's brain ringing sweet bells everytime, serenading him into calmness.

And so since that fateful day, it became a regular event. Whenevr Peter would get hurt - no matter how small or big the wound, he'd always find himself on the doorstep (or window sill), of the tenth floor building on the same street he never remembered the name of. And slowly as the days swept by, the visits weren't just limited to treating wounds. Infact, contary to either of their professions, Peter found both of them had quite a lot in common, and their opinions generally matched - and for the ones that didn't, both of their adjustable manners suited the situations. And as the days brew into nights, Peter found a companion in Y/N - one that Peter hoped lasted for life.

Peter found a best friend to look after him and talk with on rainy days and summer evenings.

××× ♤♡◇♧ ×××

Now, two years later as Peter sat on the same bed he had so many times before, he thought back on all the bitter and sweet memories Life gifted him, and perhaps they were needed for Peter to bring him to this point in life - and Peter never wanted to go back.

It was late. The sun had gone down a few hours prior and the moon glowed brightly in the sky, peeking in through the windows as Peter observed the familliar figure beside him - nursing another one of Peter's daily unwanted gifts.

She looked dainty, almost unreal as the moonlight illuminated the room casting it in the soft glow of night time. As Peter gazed at her, he started carving out all the plains and roughs of her faces, the shape of her eyes, lips and nose, the way her lithe fingers glided across Peter's skin - and Peter couldn't find it in himself to intrupt the dance her fingers were engaged in on his chest. A light breeze swept in through the wind making rounds of the room and messing with the strands hanging around Y/N's face as Peter gazed at the seemingly engaging spiral of movements infront of him.

"Staring is rude, you know?"

The peaceful silence occupying the room was suddenly broken, giving Peter a small start, as Y/N lifted her head barely so as to glance up at Peter's face, her lips curving into a small smirk at the look of slight surprise on his face, before her skilled hands resumed their work.

After a breif moment of comprehension - and more staring as Y/N wrapped up the gashes and stood up to starighten the sheets on the bed as much she could with the tall figure lying on top, Peter finally found his voice strong enough to utter the two words - that he hoped would convey all that was unsaid and all that he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Thank You."

Y/N looked up once again at Peter with a teasing yet soft grin and breathy chuckle, "Pete, don't be so modest about yourself. Patching up your wounds provide me an excuse to practise my skills on a regular basis. And as a junior doc, It's more benifitting to me that it is to you."

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as Y/N turned around to put the first aid box at the top of one of her bedroom shelves, "Still thank you, for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it."

And this time as Y/N turned around to look at her best friend, she paused for a second, taking in the scene before her. The moon casted the same glow on Peter's form as it had on her back - except this time, the star gazed one was Y/N.

She had always wondered how she never once felt awkward with the close proximity, she always seemed to share with Peter. Her heart once whispered because they were menat to be; but the rational part of her brain was quick to shut down the irrational daydream before it could flourish. However the warmth of her cheeks when Peter looked at her, the tiny fluttering in her stomach whenever he'd smile, the warmth in her being when they hugged couldn't be stopped from spreading all through her body.

There were nights, when she wondered how it would be if she was brave enough to turn the page to the next chapter and just ask her best friend out. But then again, even though happiness was granted if the proposal was accepted - the pain, heartbreak and loss of warmth in their friendship, at the refusal was granted in a much greater probability. And thus Y/N drifted off to sleep every night thinking of all the 'ifs' of the world.

But this wasn't the world of dreams, it was the waking world, and as Y/N realised the soft glow in Peter's eyes when he looked at her, she wondered - no, hoped that her feeling might probably be reciprocated.

"It's honestly no biggie Pete. It really isn't," She neared the bed as she said the words, finally sitting upon it with one leg folded on the matress and the othe rdangling down the side, her eyes searched Peter's face carefully noticing the genuine-ness behind Peter's words, "however what is a problem is that you've hadn't had a single mouthful since the meager breakfast this morning. Honestly dude, don't you ever get hungry? If I wa sin your place I'd be starving! Heck, I'm starving even now!"

Peter let out a small breathy laugh at Y/N's dramatics. She always tended to be the more dramatic one, especially regarding matters of food. So sporting a soft smile he looked up Y/N.

"No I'm fine, I'd just have something to eat when i get home."

"Home? Do you even know how late it is?! It's," she hekd up the digital clock on the side of her bed, "9.15 already! You literally live on the other side of the city! By the time you reach your home it would be way past 10! I ain't letting you starve till then boy!"

By now, Y/n had stood up on her feet in front of the bed with her hands on her hips - and Peter found it to be way too cute for her, "Call up Aunt May and tell her that you'll be eating here today. I'll go and start whipping something up in the kitchen, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good," Y/N turned around & exited the room heading down the halls to the kitchen, to scour how much she can that would fill both her and Peter up, while Peter rested on her bed.

Ever since that incident five years ago, Peter had always wondered that maybe love wasn't really meant for him, that maybe love didn't favour him. But now, as he stared at the moonlit retreating figure of Y/N L/N, he prayed to all the love gods in existence, to favour him just this once as he drafted up the same confession, he had been drafting for the past years, to finally come out of his heart and in to minds of the beauty he called his bestfriend.

A/N : Pls tell me how you like it in the comments this is my first story and I would really appreciate the feedback!

Please don't repost or rwupload my work anywhere apart from here.

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michellejackson · 3 years

Link

Prompt by @xphrnzrjh 💞

Fandom: Druck

Pairing: Fatou Jallow/Kieu My Vu

Wordcount: 2434

Acquaintances to study partners to friends to lovers AU

Chapter one

So, Kieu My never meant to go this far. Too bad she was a hopeless slash desperate romantic with horrible, horrible ideas which she just happens to be stupid enough to follow through with.

Being at school after hours wasn’t unusual, many would use the library and study rooms for homework or to work on group projects. So no, that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual however, was stealing keys from the teachers’ lounge, sneaking into the classroom reserved for the English class, finding the paper where the English teacher has partnered up the students for a future team project, stealing it, sneaking out, copying it, swapping around the names in a way that won’t be noticeable, sneaking back in and leaving the altered paper.

Kieu My could admit that that was an out-of-character move for her, but hey, it worked didn’t it? You might think, that’s kind of drastic, don’t you think? Well, yes, but also… let’s just start from the beginning.

Kieu My was about a week into the school year when she noticed her. She was skating around the schoolyard in khakis, a thin purple see-through sweater and a yellow and purple Hawaiian shirt, looking like she owned the place. The look really shouldn’t have worked, but it did, and she looked so damn good. The sight of her had stopped Kieu My in her tracks, forcing her to pay attention as she swiftly skated through the crowds of students until she stopped before a familiar blonde. Nora. Zoe’s sister. Interesting…

Later that day, during lunch, Kieu My tried her best to subtly ask Zoe about her sister’s friend, but she didn’t seem to catch on. Like at all.

“So... how’s Nora? She settling in okay? Got some new friends?” subtle, Kieu My, real subtle.

“Oh, she’s great! She got this new boyfriend, have you seen him? His name is Josh, and he is hot, seriously, wait let me show you a picture.” Turned out it was subtle. Too subtle.

“Oh, good for her, uhm, how about-”

“He’s just the sweetest guy, she’s really happy-” so she spent the next ten minutes looking at pictures of Nora’s boyfriend and listening to her best friend talk him up. Not the way she planned this lunch to go. Before she knew it, they parted ways and she was none the wiser.

She did contemplate asking Nora personally, but decided it would be weird considering she didn’t know her that well. So instead, she spent the rest of that day daydreaming. None of her classes got as much of attention as the skater did. How had she never seen here before? School had been in full motion for a week, and she hadn’t seen any traces of the girl before today, which would mean that they had zero classes together. Sigh.

The weekend was spent trying to find her on Instagram, which was a tedious job. First, she went to Zoe’s account to find Nora’s, which was easy enough, but as it turns out, Nora has a private profile, so she had to improvise further. She spent half an hour trying to remember her boyfriend’s name, and when she remembered that his name was Josh, she looked through the people Zoe follows to find him.

Bad news: Zoe doesn’t follow him.

Good news: Zoe did show her his photos on Instagram, which means he has an open profile.

Bad news: She had to actually find that profile.

Initially, she was going to just write in the name Josh and look through every profile Instagram recommended, but then she came to her senses and realized that that’s a shit idea. So, she logged into the school’s website and looked up the list of current students to go through until she found every single person named Josh.

And bingo. Josh Zimmermann.

Kieu My let out a cry of happiness when she finally found his profile but was again let down when she didn’t see any pictures of the girl. She knew this had been a longshot, but she was still disappointed.

So yeah, she gave up. She took her defeat with stride, and started look through Josh’s pictures, because let’s face it, she had nothing else to do. Maybe she’d find a comment left by the girl or something. Josh was cute, she’d admit. If she wasn’t so hung up on a girl she saw once for five minutes, maybe she’d spent more time admiring, but she was, so she didn’t.

She stopped scrolling when she landed on about the fifth picture Josh had posted of this one girl, a pretty brunette woman. The curiosity got the best of her, so she clicked on her tag. Her name was Yara, and her profile was filled with pictures of her with Josh, and some other girls. Her heart skipped a beat. She had a picture with Nora and another brunette. She was friends with Nora.

She quickly scrolled down her profile, continuously looking for the skater girl. She found it almost at the bottom. The picture was taken from the side, but it was without a doubt her. She was wearing glasses and had white locks in her hair, and she was holding a tortoise in her hands. The caption read “meet Maike” . It took an embarrassingly long time before Kieu My realized that Maike was the name of the turtle, and not the skater girl, but let’s not dwell on that.

Yara, bless her soul, had tagged the girl. Kieu My was in such a rush to click on the tag, she accidentally liked the picture. A picture from four months ago. The only picture of Fatou on Yara’s profile that was posted four months ago. She’d liked it. She wished she could say that she unliked it right away, but she was frozen for so long she was sure Yara had gotten the notification. Well, better late than never, right?

She unliked the picture as she cursed herself, and proceeded to click onto Fatou’s profile, which of course, was private. But she wasn’t mad, nor that disappointed, because she had a name now. Her name was Fatou. She’d found her! Fatou. Fatou.

She went back to the list of students.

Fatou Jallow. She continuously spun the name around in her head in English class the following Monday, she’d chosen a window seat this time, which she looked out of while daydreaming yet again.

So when someone sat down next to her, with a quick hello, she was startled to say the least. She was even more startled when she looked up to see the girl. The skater girl. Girl of her daydreams. Fatou. Fatou Jallow.

She just looked at her, in shock mostly, did she just manifest this? Is she starting to have visions now? Is she going crazy? And while Kieu My came up with a hundred reasons to how this could’ve happened, Fatou seemed to shrink under her gaze, seemingly backing off. Wait, no, no, no, no. Goddamn resting bitch face.

She was just about to speak up when the teacher clapped his hands, demanding attention as he started the class, and she was left looking like an asshole. She would’ve physically banged her head into the table if that wouldn’t turn Fatou even more off her.

“And you must be Fatou, nice of you to finally show up-”

Five seconds ago, Kieu My wouldn’t be so sure that Fatou could get any smaller, but the teachers comment seemed to make her especially uncomfortable, and Kieu My found herself wanting to chop his head off. Respectfully.

But Kieu My didn’t say anything, she never did, and she always cursed herself for it. Instead, she found herself looking at Fatou’s hands, placed on the desk next to her. She was fumbling with her thumb ring, which was yellow, and while focusing longer on it, Kieu My realized it was a mood ring. She had half a mind to whip out her phone right then and there to look up the different colors and their meanings, but instead made a mental note to do that later.

“Kieu My? Are you paying attention?”

Her head whipped up as the teacher said her name, and she blushed as she looked to Fatou who had clearly noticed where her focus was as the teacher called her name. The girl displayed a knowing smile, and instead of looking bashful as she did before, she almost looked a little smug. Her ring had turned into a blue-green color and Kieu My’s blush deepened as she caught herself looking at her hands once again.

She just nodded to the teacher, willing him to move on.

“So, as I was saying, I’m pairing you up to work on a project that’s due at the end of the month. You and your partner will be tasked to pick a classic work, rewrite it, and then perform it in front of the class. Got it? Great. Before anyone asks, you will not get to pick your partner, I have already paired everyone up randomly-” he pulled out a paper from under the desk, quickly displaying it before putting it back into the drawer. Fatou groaned and Kieu My rubbed her forehead, already hating this assignment.

“You’ll get more info on Wednesday, but if you go onto page 16-”

Kieu My made sure to pay extra attention to the rest of the class and when it was over, she had almost forgotten about the girl next to her.

That was a lie, she didn’t forget, quite the opposite actually, but she wasn’t about to flaunt that. She took her time packing up her stuff, seeing if Fatou would try to talk to her. She couldn’t be sure if Fatou had left yet, seeing that Kieu My had used up all of her will power to not look her way, but when she’d finished packing up all of her stuff and went to leave, she could see Fatou spending even more time than her to pack her bag.

Fatou looked up from her bag when she finished, smiling at Kieu My. God, she had a beautiful smile. As she stood up to leave, she looked into her eyes and said, “too bad we can’t pick our own partners” . Kieu My doesn’t remember how she reacted, all she remembers is the heat taking over. However, the way she’d reacted had seemed to delight Fatou though, who grinned at her as she left the classroom.

At lunch she sat with Ismail, Zoe being off somewhere with Finn. Kieu My didn’t say much, her mind somewhere else, but that didn’t stop Ismail from talking their head off. As they were talking, Kieu My was only half listening while looking up mood rings on her phone. She looked through different type of mood rings until she found one that looked like Fatou’s, and quickly found the color chart.

So, it seemed like her mood ring consisted of seven main colors, black, gray, yellow, green, blue-green, blue and violet. She thought back to this morning, and what colors Fatou’s ring had been.

At first it had been yellowish, when Kieu My had accidentally blown her off with her deadpan. Okay, yellow; “nervous, mixed emotions, unsettled”. Great. She had unsettled her. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she reminded herself that mood rings weren’t necessary correct. She’d get a chance to fix it, it was fine. It’s fine.

“and you have English with Mr. Strauss, too right? That paired up assignment is already enough for him to be my least favorite person in the world-”

“yeah, and we can’t even pick partners…” Kieu My adds absentmindedly, just to keep them going. She thinks about what Fatou had said, and her smile.

The second color she’d seen on her finger was blue-green, after she’d caught her staring at her hands. Kieu My cringed at herself just thinking about it. Blue-green; “inner emotions, charged, somewhat relaxed” hmm…

“Right?! What an idiot. God, I swear, we should break into the classroom and swap the papers or something…” Ismail joked with a laugh. This got her attention though. She looked up from her phone as Ismail just kept on rambling, further joking about hacking into the school system or something, but she again wasn’t paying attention, because now she was stupid enough to form an even stupider plan.

And that’s how she ended up here. Broken into the classroom, swapping the papers. It seemed like a bad idea when she thought about it after Ismail had said it, and now that she’s doing it, she knows it’s an even worse one than previously imagined.

Kieu My wasn’t one to speak up when she wasn’t called for, or to do anything that would incriminate her, so to say that her hands were shaking and that she was freezing cold out of her own skin was an understatement. She cannot afford to be expelled. But the worst was over now. On the way out she didn’t even bother to drop the keys off where she found them, she was too scared to, so she simply dropped them right outside of the teachers’ lounge and didn’t stop running before the school was too far away to see.

That following Wednesday Kieu My was so paranoid and so sure that she would be found out. When the time for English class came around, she seriously contemplated skipping class for the first time ever. She didn’t though, but she purposefully came just a little late so that the teacher wouldn’t have time to speak to her before class. She was freezing and her hands were shaking.

When she entered the class, the only seat available was the same she sat in last, and she was confused at first, because Fatou sat at the same place at last too. Not the window seat, but the one next to it. She hesitated towards the seat, not sure if it was held off for someone or something, but when Fatou saw her she smiled. And Kieu My melted onto her seat.

The class was surprisingly uneventful, and towards the end she found herself relaxing. Or that was until the teacher decided to announce the partners. As he went through the list, she didn’t blink once.

“Kiey My and Fatou-” …he didn’t even flinch. Kieu My waited just a little longer before letting out a huge breath. Oh my god. He didn’t even notice.

She looked to Fatou, who was already looking at her, smiling.

This time Kieu My smiled back.

#druck #please this is so chaotic idek #read this with a grain of salt #or like a lot of it #kieutou #fatou x kieu my #druck fic #kieutou fic #druck fanfic

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

After the War

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Pureblood!Reader

Summary: Where you see the complications that they go through being raised as pureblood traditionalists during a time of war, friends to lovers

Requested: Nah

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of torture, pureblood ideals, bad parenting (maybe hints at abuse?)

A/N: I’m posting this verrrryyyyy late at night (for me, it might actually be prime time for the rest of y’all) but I’ve been working hard on this for about two weeks and I’m actually kinda like really proud of it so I hope you guys also enjoy! Please remember to let me know what you think - reblog, comment, send asks! I love hearing what you guys have to say, it honestly makes my day :) it’s also like 6k long and I could have easily gone on writing it forever - spin-off blurbs maybe?? If you fancy it??

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS BUT THE FORMATTING MIGHT BE FUCKED ON MOBILE SO THE SLASHES INDICATE FLASHBACKS AS WELL

Draco’s hand was holding tightly onto the glass he had been given by his friend.

Pansy had neglected to mention just how many people were attending Y/N’s homecoming party - of course, he was aware that Y/N had always been far more popular than him, but he and his fellow Slytherins had never bothered themselves with attempting to integrate themselves with any of the other groups that Y/N had befriended at Hogwarts.

And when Pansy had decided that it would be her, with the help of Daphne, of course, who would be organising the party for one of their oldest friends, Draco had never imagined that Potter, Granger and the Weasley’s would be on the invite list.

It was beyond strange to have them in his house. There was a time not so long ago that he would never have even dreamed of allowing them to enter beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor.

But that was before the war.

Naturally when Pansy had mentioned throwing a party for Y/N’s return into society, Draco had been the first to offer Malfoy Manor up as the venue.

Privately he admitted to himself that it was because he felt so awful about having been unable to visit Y/N in the hospital, but he would never confess that to his friends, he already knew what they were more than likely to tell him - it wasn’t his fault.

But it was, he knew it was. If he had just listened to her.

“Where is she?” Pansy huffed, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and glaring at the door, as though by simply willing it enough her friend would appear.

“She doesn’t go anywhere very fast anymore, Pansy, calm down - she’ll be here soon,” Theo laughed a little, rolling his eyes at Pansy’s impatience.

“I thought she had recovered?” Draco asked immediately, concern flaring up for his friend at once.

“I keep forgetting that you haven’t seen her,” Daphne said, her voice quiet and sadness hung over the group at those words.

“I thought you said she was better?” Draco questioned hoarsely.

“She is - but she’s… more subdued than before,” Blaise confirmed, a troubled expression clouding his ever-handsome features.

“Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if she just decided not to turn up,” Theo mentioned conversationally, evidently trying to break the harsh silence that had fallen between the friends. There was a small grin trying to break across his face. “I mean, she’s never exactly enjoyed parties all that much before, and now she has a reason to skive off of them.”

Blaise and Daphne both laughed at that and even Draco indulged himself with a smile, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a sip.

Pansy on the other hand scowled and rolled her eyes.

“Please - we all know she’ll make an appearance to keep everyone here happy and also to see Draco.”

Colour rose in Draco’s cheeks at the knowing looks shot at him by his closest friends and he was suddenly acutely aware of just how long he had known them and of how long they had known Y/N, of how well they all knew each other.

“You’re thinking rather loudly, Draco,” Daphne informed him, but the gentle smile on her face was enough to relax him into understanding that she was merely teasing.

“I met Y/N here,” he told them. “At that gala - or it might have been a dinner party… I don’t… I don’t quite remember.”

Draco recognised the family.

They were always invited to the galas and the adults always showed up and for as long as he could remember, the eldest daughter had as well. The son had been a recent addition to their permanent entourage.

But the young girl was new.

She was clutching onto her sister's hand, hidden slightly behind her, practically cowering away from Draco and his parents when they greeted her as part of the welcome committee.

“This must be your other daughter?” Narcissa’s smile was gentle, kind as her eyes fell onto the shy-looking girl. The eldest daughter nudged Y/N out from behind her, giving a reassuring smile and Draco could see the dangerous glare being directed to the young girl by her father.

“Hi,” she mumbled out, still staring at the ground.

“Y/N is rather shy,” her mother butted in and Draco could see the annoyance in her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Lucius stated, giving his best attempt at a warm smile towards her, but his eyes quickly moved off of the young girl and looked behind the family to see if any other guests were making their way up.

“This is our son, Draco,” Narcissa told the girl, crouching down in front of her. “I’m sure your siblings have told you about him,” her eyes flicked up to Y/N’s brother and sister who gave nods. “He’s your age as well,” Draco was pulled to stand in front of the girl.

“Hi,” Y/N mumbled out again and Draco looked at his mother unsurely.

“How about you take Y/N through to the lounge with the other kids? Introduce her to everyone?” Narcissa suggested.

“Okay,” Draco agreed easily, and Y/N and her two older siblings followed him through to where the other young people were waiting.

“I’m going to go say hi to my friends, okay?” Y/N’s sister said to her, her brother having already moved over to stand with the other older children. A look of terror replaced Y/N’s nervous expression and she tried to move to stand a little closer to her sister, who laughed quietly and shook her head. “There are plenty of kids your age here, Y/N.”

“Come on - I already know them all,” Draco added, grinning at the girl who still looked unsure but finally nodded.

“Make way! Make way! Invalid coming through!”

“You’re such a twat, Ernie!” Her voice was unmistakable, tinted with laughter and mild annoyance and Draco perked up immediately, craning his neck, desperate to catch a glance of her.

“Subtle,” Pansy muttered, grinning and not waiting for a response from any of her friends before pushing her way through the crowds of people towards the source of Y/N’s laughter, which filled the room.

Draco didn’t hesitate before following her.

The crowds of people parted for Draco, many of them still wary of him, still angry and scared of him after the war and Draco couldn’t blame them.

He, too, was still angry and scared of himself.

Ignoring the glares of the guests who were still less than keen on him, Draco could finally see her and stopped in his tracks, unable to stop himself from beaming.

Normally it was so easy to tell the difference between the pureblood traditionalists and the rest of the Wizarding community. Especially at parties.

Draco and his other Slytherin pureblood friends had all come dressed in suits and posh dresses fit for a proper ball or gala, as had a couple of the other purebloods not in their group - Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, housemates of Y/N who were also a part of the sacred 28 were dressed in similar attire. Even Neville Longbottom who, as far as Draco was aware, had not been invited to galas or dinners of other purebloods, was dressed nicer than most of the other guests.

Most of the others had just turned up in jeans and t-shirts, dressed for a casual occasion, a kind of gathering that the children of Slytherin Purebloods weren’t accustomed to.

Y/N, however, fit perfectly into that group.

She wore a pair of black jeans and trainers with a grey Hufflepuff sweater that Draco knew was her favourite to wear on lazy days.

Draco did a double take when he entered into the dungeon common room with the Quidditch team to see Y/N lounging on one of the green sofas reading a book and surrounded by her other Slytherin friends.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and her Hufflepuff sweater, looking completely at ease in the Common Room that wasn’t hers. Her head was resting in Theo’s lap as he played a game of Wizards Chess with Blaise. Daphne and Pansy were doing homework near to them.

Crabbe and Goyle left Draco’s sides and fell onto the sofas beside their friends, all of home gave a semblance of a welcome to them.

Other than Y/N, who perked up, sitting up from being sprawled across Theo’s lap and turning to look at the entrance where Draco was still standing, observing the scene with a softness in his heart that he was unaccustomed to.

“Draco!” Y/N beamed, opening her arms out for a hug, snapping the blond boy out of his trance-like state to cross the room and seat himself beside Y/N, allowing her to hug him tightly.

“What’re you doing down here?” He asked her as Y/N settled herself into his embrace, already beginning to open her book and Draco, as always, found himself desperate to keep her attention fixed on him.

“I wanted to see you - I’ve missed you lately, you’ve been practicing so much,” Y/N responded and Draco buried his face in her hair to hide his stupidly wide grin.

“Well it’s nearing curfew - we were training so late I’m sorry, I would’ve tried to get off earlier if I knew,” he responded, heart thudding his chest.

“I don’t wanna walk back to my dorms,” Y/N whined and Draco laughed at the childish tone, ignoring the knowing looks being thrown at him by their friends.

“Stay here, then,” Draco suggested. “I mean your parents did always want you to be in Slytherin,” he added, raising a sardonic eyebrow that had Y/N hitting his chest, laughing.

“I’m sure it would go down really well if I stayed in your dorms with you when my brothers are right over there, ready to tell my parents all about it,” Y/N agreed, pointing to the other side of the room where, sure enough, Y/N’s younger brother was sat with some friends, with one eye on the fifth years. Draco could feel Y/N’s older brother watching them as well and when he looked at the seventh year he saw a mild curiosity in his eyes.

Upon meeting Draco’s eyes, the seventh year gave a slight smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I never said that you’d be sharing my dorm with me - you just assumed that much,” Draco corrected. “I just said that you could stay here,” he gestured to the common room that they were sitting in with a mischievous grin that had Y/N rolling her eyes.

“So you’d let me sleep down here - alone - in the cold common room, and you’d be able to sleep soundly in your bed with the knowledge that I was shivering down here?”

“We’d all definitely sleep sounder if you and Draco weren’t in the dorm with us,” Blaise piped up, winking cheekily at the two friends. Draco felt the colour rising in his cheeks as Y/N chuckled and flipped him off.

Draco knew that he had a point, though. Him and Y/N had been dancing around one another for the past year. Ever since the Yule Ball which Y/N had attended with a Hufflepuff boy that she was friends with and Draco had found himself jealous and unable to hide it, he had been waiting for the right time to possibly make a move on her.

According to his friends, he was just oblivious to Y/N’s feelings towards him and that they were more than certain that she returned his affection.

“You really went all out today, huh?” Pansy teased, interrupting the conversation Y/N was having with Hermione Granger, who stiffened upon noticing Draco and Pansy’s presence.

“I wasn’t expecting this many people,” Y/N laughed and immediately Draco could see what Blaise meant. Her voice was softer than before, an exhaustion in her tone that he himself had had during his sixth year. “Figured I’d get away just wearing some lazy clothes, you know?”

Pansy hugged her tightly and Draco wondered if she had noticed how Y/N tensed up just a little before relaxing into the embrace and returning it.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about how many friends you have before you ended up in Saint Mungos.”

Draco saw Y/N’s face brighten as she pulled away from Pansy and laid her eyes upon him.

“You’re here!” Pansy moved out of her way just before Y/N could push her away and she rushed towards Draco, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

“It is my house,” he reminded her in a quiet murmur.

“I know I just… I missed you, Draco,” he was surprised to feel tears wetting his neck.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t visit you in hospital,” he whispered, holding her even closer and shutting his eyes tight.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Y/N scolded, her voice hoarse with her tears.

“Well I didn’t get to repay the favour, did I?”

“What favour?” She finally pulled away, still smiling despite the glassiness of her eyes. Draco pressed his lips to her forehead, the action familiar and comforting to both of them after their many years of friendship.

“Sixth year?” His voice was dropped to a whisper, painfully aware of the presence of Potter and Weasley standing nearby, having approached after catching wind of Y/N’s arrival and wishing to say their hellos.

Potter may have vouched for Draco after the war, but they were nowhere near being friends and Draco certainly didn’t want to remind him of the mission he had been given during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

Draco, to put it mildly, felt awful.

He ached all over and could only dimly recollect the previous day. He remembered the bathroom. He remembered Potter. He remembered pain. He remembered blood - lots of it.

His brow scrunched up as a fresh wave of pain washed over him in his semi-conscious state.

“Hey - it’s okay,” he knew he’d recognise her voice anywhere.

Fingers gently touched his cheek, moving down to carefully cup his jaw and he felt her press her lips to his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re awake - I was so worried,” she whispered.

Draco forced his eyes open, desperately wanting to comfort her, hating that he was the cause of the sadness in her voice but secretly he revelled in the care and worry that laced her words.

Not that he deserved her care, of course.

Not after what he had been spending his year doing, after what he had been keeping from her even now that they were in a state of semi-dating.

“Hey.”

His voice was croaky, he was clearly dehydrated and yet the word brought a beautiful smile to her face that made the pain of speaking worth it to him.

“I was so worried,” she repeated, settling back down into the seat beside him and taking his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Draco replied, squeezing her hand back, though the action was weak, he possessed little strength after the ordeal.

“I don’t think you can exactly be blamed for this, Draco.”

Draco’s heart broke at her words and he found himself unable to meet her eyes.

If only she knew.

Y/N lifted his hand and pressed her lips against it, her eyes falling tightly closed.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died.”

Pain swam in Y/N’s eyes at Draco’s reminder and his heart dropped in his chest when he saw it.

But before he could say anything else, Y/N was tugged out of his grasp by one of her friends and Draco was pushed to the side of the room again, left to watch as Y/N was passed around the groups gathered to welcome her home.

It wasn’t long before Draco had been found by his Slytherin fellows and the group of five retreated back to the walls, observing the party that they had organised for their friend, but not truly feeling a part of it.

“It’s weird seeing all of them here,” Blaise voiced at last, his tone somewhat dark, his expression brooding, lost in thought. “Don’t you think?” He added after getting no response from the others.

“So weird,” Daphne agreed quietly while Theodore gave a muted nod of his head. “Surely especially for you, Draco?”

Draco let out a long sigh and nodded his head.

“I wonder what my father would have to say about it.”

“Doubtlessly nothing good,” Pansy said and when Draco looked at her, it seemed as though there was a smile threatening to tug at her lips. “But I mean, this-” Pansy gestured around them at the classily decorated room, prepared as though it was for another one of the pureblood galas that were so often held there. “This was our childhood, wasn’t it? Here - learning to dance, having those dumb dinners… never would’ve thought I’d see muggleborns in Malfoy Mannor.”

Draco couldn’t help but wince just a little when he thought of the last time that there had been someone of muggle descent in this very room. He wasn’t blind to the way that Hermione had kept away from that room as much as she could.

“In a way,” Theo said, saving Draco from having to add anything himself. “It’s almost weirder to see Y/N back here, isn’t it?”

“It’s weird to see her willingly be here,” Blaise corrected, smirking just a little. “Weird for her to look happy here.”

There was another pang to Draco’s heart at Blaise’s painfully honest words and he took another drink to hide the effect that they had on him.

Draco didn’t want to be there - most of his friends had already arrived, he could hear them talking and laughing amongst one another in the sitting room, while the adults milled around with their drinks.

But, as was always the case when the galas were hosted at Malfoy Manor, he had to stay with his parents and welcome the other purebloods as they arrived.

Though, this made for certain that Draco wouldn’t miss Y/N’s arrival.

The previous dinner had been at the Y/L/N household and it didn’t go unnoticed how Y/N was not included in the welcome party.

It hadn’t been hard for Draco and his friends to figure out that they had had another row. It was far from uncommon.

Y/N had turned up for the meal, dressed as she normally would be but far more subdued, and Draco wasn’t blind to the glares that she was receiving from her family. And they had all seen how she was ordered to help tidy up - an especially humiliating feat considering the presence of both houselves and guests.

Draco hadn’t been offered the chance to question his friend, however, as she didn’t come to join them after she had finished helping to clear up and when he asked her sister about it, she told him that Y/N had likely hidden herself away from their parents.

No matter the bad blood between Y/N and her parents, Draco knew that Y/N remained close with her siblings.

He had been eternally thankful when his mother had asked, as they left, whether Y/N’s parents thought that their daughter would feel up for attending the dinner at the Malfoy house in a few days.

Y/N trailed behind her family as they approached Malfoy Manor, and Draco felt a stab of pride when he saw that she had chosen to wear a yellow dress, her expression somewhat defiant and refusing to look at her Slytherin relatives.

It was only as she drew nearer that Draco could see the sadness that her eyes held. The pain that she was enduring, and he wondered what horrors her home life was holding, what her parents could be putting her through, just because she wasn’t like them. Didn’t hold the same ideals - at least not anymore, not since she was sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin, the one act that had segregated her so entirely from the whole of her family and friends.

“Draco, you can go and join your friends - I’m sure we can handle it from here,” it wasn’t exactly subtle, but Draco beamed at his mother, falling into step beside Y/N, who offered him a tired smile in response as they walked the familiar route towards the sitting room.

Draco caught hold of her arm, pulling her to the side, ignoring the curious look of her younger brother as he entered in before them, her older siblings having turned of age and so deemed old enough to join the adults instead.

“Is everything okay?” He asked in a low voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t see you at all at yours,” he responded, brow pinched in concern.

Y/N sighed and glanced over at where her parents still stood talking with the Malfoys, and it was then that Draco noticed that her father was still keeping a close eye on her.

“Come on - I’ll tell you inside,” she whispered, evidently wanting to get away from the keen observation of her family.

The relief of their other friend was evident once Y/N entered the room, it flooded all of their expressions and Daphne stood to embrace her in a tight hug.

“We were so worried about you,” she told her. “Is everything okay?”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing new - just that I’m a disappointment to the family.” Y/N hesitated before looking to the ground and adding: “My Grandma’s looking for someone for me to marry.”

“What? You’re not even of age!” Theo protested, Pansy was staring at Y/N wide-eyed and Blaise’s expression was clouded with sympathy.

“She wants me to enter into an arranged marriage to someone of pureblood status so I no longer bring dishonour to the family,” Y/N recited, a wry smile on her face. “I think it’s because You Know Who is back - she doesn’t want us all to be seen as blood traitors or something.”

“Are her family coming?” Draco asked, frowning a little as he glanced around the crowded party for any sign of Y/N’s family members.

“Her sister said that she’d try and come after she’s finished work, her younger brother said he’d think about it - he said that he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be. And her other brother…” Pansy trailed off, looking a little awkward when she shared a knowing look with Draco.

“Are we discussing my dear old family?” Y/N asked, joining them, a glass in her hand and a slightly dark smile on her face.

Perhaps Draco was imagining it, but he thought it may have softened just a little when she made eye contact with him.

“I was asking if they were planning on coming today - my mum is arriving later, by the way,” Draco explained.

“She’s with my mum - who also said she’d come along,” Blaise inputted.

“No chance of my parents turning up,” Y/N snorted. “They’d much rather I died, why would they celebrate that I got discharged from St Mungos?” Draco wondered if he was the only one that picked up on the underlying sadness in her voice, masked by the spite and bitterness. It was on instinct that he placed his arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side, but before he could start to feel embarrassed by it, she beamed prettily up at him.

“They don’t want you dead,” Theo said kindly and Draco could see how desperately Y/N wished that to be true.

“Blood traitor, remember? I got disowned, or didn’t you hear?” Y/N looked up at Draco curiously, the only one who she knew for certain was aware that her family had disinherited her as a result of her involvement protecting both muggles and muggleborns during the war.

He gave a tiny nod of his head, confirming that he had indeed informed their friend.

“We just figured that… with You Know Who gone…”

“That they’d admit that they were wrong?” Y/N questioned, her jaw clenching. “Surely you know my parents better than that.”

“Don’t react,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear.

“What?”

But he got a response to his question from someone else.

His aunt’s gleeful cackle rang out and the door swung open. A body was thrown to the floor.

“We got her!” Bellatrix trilled. “We got that little mudblood loving blood traitor!”

Selfishly, oh so selfishly, Draco wished that his aunt was referring to Ron Weasley. But his heart sunk in his chest, his brain already knowing who had really been caught.

Sure enough, the body on the ground groaned, a slight whimper leaving her lips and Bellatrix kicked her in the side, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her face visible to the surrounding Death Eaters.

Narcissa’s long fingers closed tightly around Draco’s arm and it was only then that he noticed how he had instinctively moved forwards, desiring nothing more than to help Y/N who was clearly in so much pain as she lay on the floor.

“It will be worse for both of you if you try to help her,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear as she pulled him back.

Draco tried to steady his breathing, trying his best to hide his wince as he was forced to hear her condemnation, instead he looked across the room to where Y/N’s family were, her parents standing with a clear view of their youngest daughter, Y/N’s brother standing behind them, shrouded in shadows, but Draco could see his expression of horror.

There was a shift in the atmosphere of the room, a coldness that overtook them all when Voldemort entered. Silence fell amongst the Death Eaters and almost all eyes turned to him. Draco, however, remained watching her brother, watching him watch her.

“For any of you who are unaware,” Voldemort’s high-pitched voice rang out loud and clear as he glided through the room to stop just short of Y/N’s body huddled on the floor. “This,” he pointed a long, white finger at the girl. “Is Y/N Y/L/N,” some people’s eyes glanced over towards the other members of the Y/L/N’s family, but most remained on Voldemort. “She is pureblood.”

Everyone in the room already knew this. Almost all of them had to be aware of who Y/N was, why she was labelled as an undesirable, why she was deemed worthy of being dealt with by Lord Voldemort himself.

“In fact, some of her family even reside in our ranks,” his red eyes looked over to Y/N’s family. “And yet she has betrayed our kind - she is of the belief that her blood status doesn’t matter, that she is equal with the mudbloods and muggles,” he spat the words at her and it caused mutterings amongst the Death Eaters, who all glared at Y/N.

Draco’s heart broke.

Narcissa’s hand tightened even more on his arm.

“In fact,” Voldemort continued, raising his voice just slightly to be heard clearly over the mutterings. “She even went so far as to protect them - Y/N is the Secret Keeper for a house in which mudbloods and their muggle relatives can hide and be safe from us,” Voldemort’s tone was mocking as he referenced the safety of the people Y/N had been trying so hard to forget. “What do you have to say about this, Y/L/N?”

Y/N’s father’s jaw was clenched tightly as he stepped just a little further into the light.

“We had no part in it - she has been a disappointment since she was sorted into Hufflepuff,” he spat, though Draco noticed that he didn’t seem able to bring himself to look at his daughter.

“And you?” Voldemort’s cold eyes were focused on Y/N’s brother, who swallowed thickly and looked helplessly at his mother.

Y/N’s mother stepped to stand in line with her husband and she looked at Y/N’s crumpled form as she spoke:

“She’s no daughter of ours.”

A slow song started to play through the room and Y/N looked up at Draco from where she was still tucked under his arm.

“Dance with me?” She requested.

Draco could never deny her, and so he passed his glass to Pansy, Y/N giving hers to Theo, and he led her through to a space in the dancers.

“They’re all rather clumsy, aren’t they?” Y/N mused, looking around at the couples attempting to dance in the middle of Malfoy Manor.

Draco laughed and nodded his agreement, though barely glanced at them, too focused on Y/N.

“Not all of us had dancing lessons growing up, Y/L/N!” Complained one of the Weasley twins, who was doing his best to dance with who Draco recognised to be Angelina Johnson, one of the old Gryffindor chasers, though he looked rather unsteady on his feet.

“Shove it, Fred!” Y/N retorted, removing one of her hands from Draco and flipping him off.

“You’re acting as though you weren’t an awful dancer yourself, once,” he was surprised by the teasing tone of voice.

“Merlin, do you remember? I was so bad that Blaise’s mum told me I wasn’t allowed to practise with him because I made him look shit as well.”

“And Theo gave up practicing with you too-”

“Because I kept stepping on his toes,” Y/N finished and the two of them laughed again.

“You got stuck with me,” Draco said and normally he would have been embarrassed by the affection that rang so clearly in his voice, but a little of the sadness seemed to leave her eyes at it.

“You were a pretty good teacher.”

Draco froze. He had forgotten about the stair that squeaked on the way downstairs.

He looked around cautiously, there was no way that he could risk getting caught.

Y/N had been here for a week, and it was taking all of his willpower and his mother’s convincing to stop him from lashing out at his aunt, at Voldemort, at the other Death Eaters, at Y/N’s family everytime she was brought out for questioning.

He knew that he would be haunted by her screams of agony for the rest of his life.

“Draco?”

It was just his mother, and Draco thanked every God and deity there was for that. She knew what he was doing, she understood why he was doing it.

His mother had always known Draco better than anyone else, even himself sometimes. More than that, though, she had always loved Y/N. And she knew that Draco had always loved her too.

Her eyes were so sad, so understanding when they met his.

She gave a small nod of her head.

“Make it look like an accident?”

Draco released the breath he had been holding.

“I promise.”

He snuck the rest of the way towards the cellar with no more distractions, his heart thumping hard and loud in his chest as he unlocked the door and made his way carefully down the stairs.

“Draco?”

It hurt him so much to hear how broken her voice was and he rushed over to her, not missing how she cowered away from him just a little at first until he came to a stop, crouching down in front of her and scanning every inch of her.

“Fuck - I’m so sorry, Y/N - I’m so, so sorry,” he wasn’t even embarrassed by the tears that were streaming down his face.

Tentative shaking hands reached out and brushed them away and then they were hugging, their arms tight around each other as they buried their faces into each other’s shoulders to mask their sobs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop them,” his breath hitched with the words as he desperately tried to regain control of himself. Y/N was shaking her head though.

“No, Draco - you’ve got to stay safe, if you’d done anything… they would’ve done the same to you. They might’ve… made you do it to me,” Draco’s eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it was the truth.

If Voldemort had any idea how much Y/N meant to him, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be made to torture her.

“I’m going to get you out,” he told her in a strained whisper.

“You can’t!”

“I’m going to - I’ve got a plan. I’m going to say that I thought I heard something, so I came down to check what was going on. You attacked me and got out. I’ll chase after you only once you’re in the garden, call for help. Once you get beyond the path you’re outside of the protections around the Manor and you can apparate away.” He was clutching onto her hand so hard that he was briefly worried that she would lose feeling in it until she squeezed his hand back.

“But what if it goes wrong? If they find you out?”

Draco drew a shaky breath and pressed his lips to her hand.

“Then at least you’ll be safe.”

“I really am sorry for not visiting you,” Draco murmured. Y/N rolled her eyes, allowing herself a slight laugh.

“I mean, as excuses go, yours was pretty good.”

“What? That I was in Azkaban?”

“I’m sorry, Draco - was it really awful there?” He gave her a sad smile.

“Probably no worse than your recovery at St Mungo’s.”

“I was pretty fucked after the war,” Y/N agreed and the laughter they shared at that comment was dak. “I’m so sorry you had to go there, though, even just for a little while.”

“It was my fault, Y/N - I was on the wrong side of the war. You were on the right one - you always were.”

“You did it for your family, Draco - I don’t for a second think that you would’ve joined if it weren’t for your parents. Same with my brother.”

Y/N swallowed thickly at the mention of her family and Draco’s heart swelled with affection for the girl he had been in love with for as long as he could remember.

“But hey, you’re a war hero now,” he said and Y/N gave a tired laugh.

“Ron recon’s I’m gonna get a letter about being on a chocolate frog card now that I’m out of St Mungos, apparently him, Harry and Hermione have already got theirs.”

“Well getting put on a chocolate frog card is definitely something to tick off the bucket list, isn’t it?”

It was strange for Draco to be with Y/N. It was strange because of how natural it felt, how right he felt it was to be with her again, to laugh with her, to talk with her. So much of the time following the war had been spent forcing himself to go through the usual motions, his every interaction felt unnatural and uncomfortable.

But dancing with Y/N, talking to her again, it felt just like it did when they were kids being forced to endure ballroom dancing lessons - it felt right.

“Draco?” Her voice was slightly shyer than before, more tentative.

“Yeah, love?”

“Can I… can I maybe stay here tonight?”

By the time that they were old enough to truly understand what it would mean to be in a relationship, to completely understand both their own feelings and one anothers, it was too late to start anything real. With the war approaching, both of them had been so reluctant to be with each other officially.

Their sixth year had been spent in a state of limbo - they were together, they kissed, they hugged, she would sometimes share his bed, they loved each other, but they weren’t official.

They couldn’t afford it with so much uncertainty hanging over them.

Their seventh year - or the first term of it, at least - they were both too distracted for it to matter. She was trying to help as many muggleborns as possible, he was trying to stay alive and protect his parents as best he could.

But now it was over.

She had recovered from her injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts.

He had been pardoned from Azkaban.

Voldemort was dead.

Maybe now it was their chance to be happy?

Draco chanced it and lent down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and pulling away to watch the endearing shy smile that curled her lips.

“Of course you can.”

“You’ll have to help me up the stairs.”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, feeling Y/N pressing herself just a little closer to him, no trace other previous sadness in her eyes as she grinned up at him - the same wide, welcoming smile that he remembered so well from his childhood.

“And I’ll probably wake up in the night because I’m in pain,” she warned and Draco felt himself flush red as he realised that she appeared to be suggesting that they shared a bed again. A soft giggle escaped her at that and she reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I can take care of you.”

Draco thought his heart would burst at the adoration he thought that he would never see again, shining at him through her eyes.

“I know you will.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #courts writings

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faetxlity · 3 years

Text

Here’s A Health To The Company

@save-a-witcher-bingo Prompt: At Sea Characters: Witcher Gerd, Togeir the Red, Jerome Moreau

Torgeir was looking up at the ruins of what had once been his home. What was his home. Is. The flames were spreading quickly, Fort Tuirseach was all but destroyed. Like the Jarl who had filled its halls with laughter and mead- ruined.

At his side, stained in blood, sat the Witcher Gerd. His jaw was tight, his hands were fisted in the fabric of his own filthy shirt, but his eyes were clear. He did not watch the ruin of his adopted home, rather he watched the blood seep from the bandages that he had wrapped around Torgeir’s leg. Already they were in need of changing but they had no fabric with which to do so, his original job had been so hasty... Unless they ripped apart the sails there was nothing to be done. But to do such a thing as that was a death warrant.

The little ship they had taken was not meant to go much further than around the cape but they had set out for sea with no choice. They had with them five men and a woman, of whom only two were well enough to take up oar, not counting the Witcher who had rowed them the first half hour from shore nearly on his own with eyes blacker than coal.

The Witcher rested now though, so much as he could with his life burning on the shore.

“We will die out here.” The Jarl said, voice was devoid of emotion. Gerd looked to his friend’s face then, to his lover’s eyes. The anger, the grief , all the emotions he had expected were nowhere to be found.

“No.” Gerd replied, “we will live. We will see them pay for this and you will see it rebuilt.” He received no answer, no acknowledgement as the jarl’s hand did not return the gentle pressure that he put upon it. Gerd looked at the island they were sailing from, the land they may never get to set foot on again.

They would live; he would accept no other outcome.

~seven days~

For seven days the ship rocked, sailing for some imagined safe haven on the mainland but without hope or half a crew. One man had succumbed to his wounds on the first dawn and another had followed two evenings after. Torgeir had said nary a word since his ominous assertion of their fate, his leg had steadily grown worse over the days and it left him with little ability to do more than lay down and sleep. When awake he stared across the sea as if expecting death to appear to him with an outstretched hand.

Gerd had taken over easily enough, tucked Torgeir into the captain's quarters and spent both days and nights looking for either a miracle or their end.

On the seventh day it came to them in the form of a ship thrice their size. No man aboard their own was fit to fight but still Gerd drew his steel and braced himself. The dark hull of the incoming vessel felt like an omen and he was flanked by Andrea and Koll, the only two who remained in good health- though weak from hunger they would die on their feet. Of that they were sure.

A figure leaned over the edge of the ship above, their back was to the sun and so Gerd could not discern any features. “Are you in need of assistance?” The voice was, clearly, not Nilfgardian and that alone was enough for the man on Gerd’s left to sag. Andrea looked to the Witcher, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Please, let this be a mercy.

“Yes!” He called up. “We are!”

The ship called itself a merchant’s vessel though a pirate’s den is what it looked. They had been pulled aboard with canvas and rope, the men of the ship quick to provide them with fresh water and food while their medic checked each refugee for wounds. If the crew were upset to have a witcher in their midst they did not voice it. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh dear.” The medic said, in his hands were the bandages that Gerd had re-applied to Torgeir’s leg on the third day of their voyage, made from scraps of a shirt found in the captain’s chest.. The odor once they were removed turned even the Witcher’s stomach. “I need a knife.” Gerd tensed but produced his own blade, edging closer to see what was going on.

Torgeir was sweating, his skin deathly pale and feverish as he had been for the last day. In that moment though the jarl’s eyes were wide open- “Where’s Gerd?” It was slow and slurred but clear enough.

“I’m here, Torgeir.” He sank to his knees and took one scarred hand in his own. With his other hand he brushed the tangled mess of the jarl’s hair back from his forehead. The infection was nasty, but it hadn’t spread far. He smiled though surely it was more of a grimace, “Just here.” It took all his strength not to snatch the medic by his throat when the knife began to cut away flesh. It took nothing at all to blame himself for the state of the wound. He was a witcher, he should have known better.

You had nothing on hand to help. You did what you could. He reminded himself. It could have been much worse, the beam that had splintered and slashed the jarl’s thigh had nearly taken his head instead.

Green eyes rolled back and the man’s labored breathing evened. “Witcher?” The medic hedged, “I’ve patched what I can but he will need someone to keep an eye on the wound. We’re still some ways away from the next port but we’ll find a proper healer there.”

“I’ll look after him. Thank you…” he pushed himself to his feet. “Where is your captain?” The men pointed him across the deck to where a slight man was coiling rope, seemingly unconcerned with the new arrivals. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of garish calico pants.

“Cap’n.”

The supposed captain turned and Gerd’s first impression of the man was ‘pretty’. He had light brown hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was handsome in a plain sort of way, surely a charmer in any tavern he wished. The bear’s second impression was Witcher. Which couldn’t have been right.

There was no such thing as a blue eyed Witcher.

“Jerome Moreau.” The man-maybe witcher introduced himself as he passed the rope off to a deckhand. At the silence he continued, “Maybe we should speak somewhere private.” Gerd followed him across deck, listening to the slow beat of his heart. The captain’s quarters were decently large and Gerd had the ability to put space between himself and ‘Jerome’ once the door was closed and the lantern lit.

“As I said, I’m Jerome School of the Griffin.”

He wasn’t sure why he snapped. Perhaps it was the time at sea, trying to hold together men on the brink of death while the only one who he could have turned to for help laid on a cot in pain. Perhaps it was how long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Perhaps he simply needed to hit something to keep his meager sanity. Perhaps, it was because there were no witchers with blue eyes.

It was a laughably short fight. An embarrassingly short fight that Arnaghaf himself would have thrown Gerd from the highest mountain peak should he have witnessed it in his youth. Seven days at sea with limited water and only small bites of food to stop the hunger pains had done him no favors: against a man he would have been fine, perhaps even against two or three by sheer luck of size. But against a witcher? He hadn’t stood a chance. The Griffin-turned-pirate ducked his blow and tripped him backwards, before he could hit the floor a strong hand pushed against his chest and slammed him against the wall, pinned him there on the floor while the stranger watched him with those blue eyes. Jerome bared his teeth and Gerd found himself far too close to fangs unlike any he’d seen before, a feral snarl tore from the other’s chest like a beast. It was a sound that the bear could do without hearing ever again. But, just as quickly as the anger came, it left and the Griffin spoke softly,

“I am not your enemy. Do not bring such strife onto my ship or I will not hesitate to feed you to the first kraken that threatens us. You and your men have been through a lot; I can see that.” Jerome shifted back on his heels and eased the pressure on Gerd’s chest. “If I cared about having another Witcher on board I would have left you to die. We Griffins are not quite as fickle as your lot.” he smiled as if sharing a joke. “Well, you are here, so tell me your name.”

“Gerd.”

“And your friend is Torgeir the Red then.” The Griffin moved away so that they were both sitting on the floor, Jerome with crossed legs and Gerd with legs akimbo from his fall. “Don’t worry, your safety on this ship is assured so long as I’m alive. We’ll reach a port in a week’s time, you’re welcome to go ashore and we won’t expect any payment for our help; though we’ll discuss other options later. For now, I think it best if you have a meal and rest. You can answer my questions once things have settled.” It was a very one sided conversation but Gerd had both too many questions to begin with and not near enough energy to ask them. If most of them were about the captain himself? Well,

He was a strange thing, even for a witcher.

Gerd was given a water skin for himself and Torgeir and the captain put them in a private room that was used to store trade cargo. It was empty for the next weeks, as had been explained to him by a young lad, and therefore made for a good place to rest. An extra cot had been dragged within. Torgeir’s fever broke after some hours and in the darkness Gerd watched him crawl from his heavy slumber. He hadn’t allowed him to get a word out before pressing the water skin to his lips.

“Drink.” He urged and the skin was nearly empty by the time Torgeir pushed his hand away.

“Where are we?” The room was black as pitch once the sun went down. “A ship came through to help us. We’re a week from port. Your leg… we’ll get you medicine for it soon.” “What?” Torgeir asked. “Fucking thing got infected. They’ve got a decent healer on board though. Stitched it up fairly nice.”

“Fucking great-” the red head pushed himself up and Gerd was quick to move closer and support him. “The others?” “We lost Ragnar and Beorn. The others are having dinner and resting. No sign of Nilfgaard chasing us so far.” With his lover awake and clear eyed Gerd felt the weight of the last week and a half hit him in full force. His eyes drooped and he began to list to the side like a sinking ship.

Torgeir shifted and pressed their shoulders together more firmly. “Come on, y’ bastard. Lay down.” “Can’t.” “You said we’re as safe as we can get. When’s the last time you slept?” Torgeir’s hand squeezed his thigh, kitten weak compared to what it should have been. When Gerd didn’t have an answer for him the jarl sighed. “Tha’s what I thought.” Gerd let himself be poked and prodded until he was reclined against the hull of the ship with rags and old feed bags piled behind him as a comfort. One leg stretched out in front of his while the other hung over the side of the cot, Torgeir laid between them. It was a familiar enough position even if the environment around them was not. He had planned to meditate again, afraid that if he slept then he would not wake for quite some time, but the moment that he had Torgeir’s weight against his chest his eyes closed and sleep dragged him under.

He woke when light spilled across his face, feeling only half as rested as he should have and mortified that he hadn’t been able to fight off the slumber.

Jerome was standing in the doorway, a white shirt half open across his chest and a look on his face that was far too soft. “Your crew demanded that I bring you something to break fast with. Andrea, I believe? She said that if you didn’t take it, I should send her in here in my place.” Again, that smile graced his lips. “I can leave it here and let you sleep.” It sounded good, to be able to close his eyes once more and sink into slumber. Perhaps to wake only when they were docked. He extended a hand instead.

“I’ll take it.” They were hunted men for all he knew. They would need their strength.

“Good,” as witchers they did not need to light an oil lantern and Jerome closed the door behind himself, some sunlight crept in from above. “While none here should voice any judgement, I would advise you to keep any overtly forward displays within this room or in my study should you need it. My men are good but they have loose lips in port, drunkards are not half as lovely.”

Gerd was handed bread and a bowl of thin porridge. It was meager for a man his size and even more so for two. But, they were a week from port and The Hawksea, as the Griffin’s ship was called, had not been prepared for five more bodies on board. Particularly not those of warriors and witchers.

“Thank you.” The words were rough.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be putting you to work before long. Lots of things to do here that could use a witcher’s strength.” Jerome sat on a crate, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arm draped over it. “Can’t have any freeloading going on, might start talk of mutiny.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as if he’d spent a lifetime laughing rather than fighting monsters. Maybe he had, with a face like that.

“I thought you Griffins were supposed to be chivalrous bastards.” Gerd grunted.

“Chivalrous? Yes. Bastard? Most certainly.” Those fangs were flashed at him again. “I was under the impression you bears were the loner sorts.”

“We are.” Gerd didn’t miss the way Jerome’s eyes lingered on the redhead asleep on his chest. Caught even longer on the scarred arm wrapped around the human like a shield.

The Griffin hummed, “I see.”

The witcher left them alone with their breakfast and somewhere above them a man began to sing.

#witcher #witcher gerd #fic #my writing #sawb

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bymoonchild · 5 years

Text

Get You The Moon (M)

Pairing | Taehyung x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, football!AU, jock!Taehyung x student reporter!OC Warnings | Explicit language, sarcastic banter, dirty talk, blowjob, facefucking, eating out, cumplay, cum-dumpster, fingering, rough sex, slight dom!tae, spanking, degradation, unprotected sex, ass-pining, tae has the phattest ass and dick but wbk Summary | Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate. Word count | 19.6k

“What a surprise, you’re alive.”

It is exactly that fake enthusiasm and subtle mirthful nuance that’s too familiar to your liking that gives rise to the arch of your eyebrow. You don’t even need to look up at the owner of the voice to picture the shit-eating smirk that belongs to none other than your editor-in-chief-slash-best-friend, Min Yoongi. Such morbid greetings have been long established as an inside joke between the two of you due to the peculiar sense of humour that you two share.

This is just how he likes to start his mornings. Being the systematic person he is, he has his own morning routine in the newsroom. Regardless of the pile of work on his desk, he’ll first make a beeline for his first cup of coffee of the day, after which he will come sauntering your way to provoke you with his laundry list of snarky remarks – about work, being tired, being alive and dead, about how bureaucracy sucks, the negative sides of capitalism and what not. Well, you two share a deep-seated sense of misanthropy so albeit provocative, his laments are refreshing in the morning – a literal morning boost of positivity from negativity.

“Not for long buddy,” you shrug, looking up from your laptop and your eyes land on Yoongi, who looks just as dead.

“I barely slept last night – was busy rushing my essays. Essays, might I repeat. So it would be great if you don’t have much for me today, although I know you have a kink for torturing me.”

At this, the edges of his lips curl up and you instantly register the meaning behind the sinister smile: your impending doom.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do have something for my most talented and gung-ho reporter and best friend.”

“Kindly elaborate,” you smile back acrimoniously, squinting your eyes in distrust.

“It involves a profile feature of a popular varsity athlete.”

An involuntary groan escapes your lips almost instantly. Athletes are the worst people to interview.

“That’s not even the worst part yet. As we’re celebrating the 50th anniversary of our publication this year, we’ll be doing a special spread on honorary members of the school, including club presidents, captains and valedictorians. Oh, which reminds me – maybe I should feature myself for being the most overworked Editor-In-Chief because this publication is sucking my entire soul, but anyway, I digress.”

He brings up his mug to his lips. It’s only 10am, but you wonder how many cups he has had, eyeing the pallor of his face.

“I’ve already assigned the other reporters their respective targets for the lack of a better word, and left the toughest nut for you to crack,” he grins smugly and that’s when it hits you.

Clocking you square in the face.

“Yoongi, no you didn—”

“Yoongi, yes,” his smirk widens at your aghast expression, “A profile feature on Kim Taehyung, for my most talented and hardworking reporter.”

Kim Taehyung.

Your biggest nemesis.

The boy who lives to torment you.

Literally everyone in school and their mother (or their dog) knows him because 1) he’s quite a looker (he’s known for having a god damn symmetrical face and you’re honestly baffled and amazed at how people even took the time to check the degree of symmetry), 2) he’s the captain of the varsity football team (cue the huge hoo-ha about varsity captains), 3) he’s probably slept with everyone in school and their mother (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but he is a dumb fuckboy to the bone), and 4) he’s also the poster boy for the department of narcissistic and annoying fuckboys, star football player and all that jazz.

“What the fuck?”

You challenge the carefully hidden astonishment reflected in Yoongi’s eyes, disregarding how the other reporters in the newsroom have jumped in their seats at your abrupt outburst.

“You know I fucking hate him!”

Yoongi, per contra, does absolutely nothing to show the slightest of empathy, simply because he has none, and even finds the scowl on your face hilarious, “Which is exactly why you’re the perfect person for this story.”

“There must be someone else whom I can cover. Please, Yoongi – I really, really don’t want to take this up.”

“Listen,” he sighs, running his hand through his fingers and you know that signifies that his sigh is genuine, “As your friend, I’m really sorry that you’ve been assigned to this story, but there’s no one more suitable than you. No one does profiles as incredible as you. Look, you just need to follow him around for a week – observe how he is in class, what he does after class and how he performs on the field. I can promise that it won’t be that bad.”

You frown, “As my friend? Then… what about–”

You don’t miss the 180 change from his previous expression, the soft in his comforting smile replaced with a sneer that is all malign in a blink of an eye.

Panic starts to form a thick film in your throat.

Lowering his voice by two tones, he snarls, “As your Editor-In-Chief, I only have three words for you: suck it up. The journalism world is a dog-eat-dog world. You don’t and can’t choose your beats. What you can do is to go out there and come back with a story, or this newspaper is going to flop at your hands, along with your GPA.”

Such audacity.

You glare at him in disbelief, squinting your eyes at the sneer that’s still plastered on his face.

“As my friend,” you mimic, dragging each word, “Fuck you bitch.”

Sighing out loud with absolute disregard, you clench your fists to tamper down the vexation that threatens to escape your throat, “But for the sake of my GPA and this publication that is my precious baby, I’ll take this up. Very unwillingly though, I must add. But if he refuses to cooperate, he can suck my ass.”

“You have my seal of approval if you meant that literally.”

“Fuck off—”

“Anyways, you won’t need to worry about Tae. I contacted him just now – he’ll be expecting you at practice on Monday.”

You roll your eyes, “Tae? I can never understand how you two are close.”

He inches closer to taunt you further, “May I remind you that Tae and I literally grew up together in Daegu, so he’s like my little bro. Anyways, he also told me to tell you that he cannot wait to see you.”

Nose scrunched up in disgust, you groan out loud at the duality before you, before flipping your friend off and burying your head in your palms.

But as much as you hate to admit it, Yoongi’s right. You have to suck it up.

If doing this profile is the only way to save your GPA and the publication, to hell with your pride and Kim Taehyung. You’re going to do this story well and you’re going to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing – including Kim Taehyung and his fuckboy antics – is going to fuck that up.

Not in this economy.

Building up to Monday aka the Big Day as what Yoongi calls it, while you refer to it as the Day You Die), Yoongi has left you very specific instructions for the profile feature, expecting you to find some easy way out of this. He normally leaves you on your own, knowing that you’d always return with a solid piece that he won’t be able to find anything to nit-pick on. But for this task, he has ordered you to follow the boy around for a whole damn week and expects you to submit your voice recordings for accurate transcription.

Right from the get-go, you can already deem this profile to be the most stressful and frustrating piece in your entire journalism career. In other words, it’s a sham. A popularity stunt. A hoax. An opportunity to give Kim Taehyung even more clout and undeserving commendation than what the resident fuckboy deserves.

The day you finish your story will the best day of your life because you won’t ever need to interact with the said boy ever again.

To say that you hate him would be an understatement – sure, hate is a strong emotion, yadda yadda yadda, but the cacophony of arrogance and smugness that radiates off him makes your face scrunch up in disdain whenever he’s around. Though you would never allow him to have such power over you, he has tormented you countless of times with his shameless flirting whenever he has the chance to, and by simply existing and being his annoying, putrid self. You really don’t know why Taehyung has taken a liking to teasing you and pushing your buttons, ever since Yoongi introduced the two of you two years ago.

The sun is dripping down on the soccer field with delicacy, casting its golden light on the grass patch when Coach blows the whistle from the sidelines. Right in the heart of the field, Number 6 springs into action on the field, shouting commands at his teammates who listen to him intently.

Indeed, there are many other guys running all over the field, decked in the same jersey, but you could instantly recognise the outline of Taehyung’s ass, your eyes fixated on how the fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin. Much to your dismay, one of your thirsty friends had hooked up with Taehyung last Christmas and didn’t allow you to forget the details of his bomb dick game and the thickness of his ass, so it’s fair to say that you have a good gauge of how his ass looks like. Not that you take pride in that knowledge though.

A smug smirk plays on his lips when he scores another goal as he instinctively pumps his fist to the air. You observe how he proceeds to run around the field, high-fiving and patting his teammates to spur them on.

Being the captain of the precious varsity football team, Kim Taehyung naturally carries an aura of confidence, which easily moulds into palpable cockiness. He’s infuriatingly talented and thus, his big ego sadly, and he also doesn’t have much of a filter and says anything that comes to mind. You’ve come to a conclusion that his language is an unfortunate concatenation of sexual jokes, sarcastic taunts and indolent mischief.

As if having sensed your gaze, he cranes his neck in the midst of practice and shoots you a seemingly innocent grin when he spots you standing awkwardly at the sidelines, hugging your notebook like they’re a piece of armour shield. But you know that there is more to his smile than just innocence. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he grabs the hem of his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead and smirks in satisfaction when your face drops disgruntledly.

After calling for a five, he jogs up to you, his smile unwavering. Behind him, his teammates have all huddled together, pretending to drink up and talk amongst each other, but their eyes are all glued on the interaction between you and their captain.

“My my, look who we have here. Isn’t it my favourite girl cheering me on during practice?”

Taehyung’s awful voice pierces your eardrums, thick with honey and mixed with some other cloyingly sweet substances.

Your annoyance reaches its peak level as your eyes narrow to slits when he stops right in front of you.

You could leave right this instance. In fact, you very much want to, but your conscience is holding you back. While you’ve contemplated smoking your way for the profile one too many times, you know that Yoongi, being the smart shit he is, would be able to see through it (and also, Taehyung might just snitch on you) and the mere thought of a disappointed Yoongi just bites you.

“Look,” you spit, facing him properly for the first time, “I’m here against my own will because I have a story to write and that’s the only reason why I am even here. So I would very much appreciate it if you could quit acting like a jerk and let me do my job so I can leave ASAP.”

You’ve never been this up-close with Taehyung before, not when all you ever focus on around him is putting on your bitchiest expression, coming up with spiteful retorts, or pretending that you didn’t see him in the hallway which is actually impossible because he comes for you like a plague.

“Sssh, did you hear that?”

“Huh—”

“That’s the sound of you begging for my help.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Taehyung’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe it off his lips. Your glare seems to only spur it to grow wider, as if somehow your clear distaste for him is amusing to him.

“Going to fake a quote for me again?” He continues, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“If you continue pissing me off, I just might.”

For your previous article which involved having to interact with Taehyung, he had refused to answer your questions properly, spouting nonsense and idiotic pickup lines that served of no value to your article. You just needed a one-liner from the egotistical football captain, but all he did was obliterate your gossamer thin patience and last few braincells. Given his insistent reluctance to cooperate, you eventually made up a quote for him – something along the lines of “I don’t really think much about life – I just YOLO it because you know, YOLO” – and made sure that it reflected him badly.

The quote eventually became the unofficial quote of the year and it gives you so much satisfaction, knowing that it made a small dent on Taehyung’s reputation. On bad days, you’d think of the fake quote and laugh to yourself. Needless to say, he was enraged and even sent complaint emails to Yoongi for false reporting. Journalism ethics? You don’t know her.

“Oh yes, where were we?” He draws out each word with a smooth tone, unfazed, “We were talking about how I hold your fate in the palm of my hands, Princess.”

You hate that nickname he has for you. You don’t even remember when and how it started or what led to the nickname. Grunting out loud in abhorrence, you stop to contemplate kicking him in the shin and running away, but you lack the courage to carry out the former because if you’re to ever hurt the precious varsity captain, you can jolly well bid farewell to your collegiate life.

But before you can even take a step away, he stops you by blocking your passage with an even wider smirk. If he is fucking ecstatic at your rage, he’s determined on making sure that you’re well aware of it.

“Seriously, if you don’t want to do this, let me know right now so we don’t waste each other’s time.”

“Oh Y/N,” he calls out dramatically and you cringe at how your name rolls off his tongue, “I did promise Yoongi-hyung about that profile, but I didn’t promise him that I won’t make your life a living hell.”

If it’s possible for your eyeballs to roll out of the socket, you’re pretty sure it would have already happened by now because Kim Taehyung is impossible.

“Okay,” you exhale, gathering your thoughts, “Then I will, for the better of mankind, start this civilly. But let me just say that I’ll take the mantle of being the bigger person here, which isn’t hard because you’re technically not a person.”

“Of course, I’m more than just a person,” he laughs and a devilish smirk, way too familiar against your own will, tugs at his lips, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Did I ask? Can we just get this over and done with so that I can stop being around your despicable presence, stat.”

“Now, that’s not the way to treat your interviewee. Also, Yoongi said you’ll be following me around for a week. You’ll be around my ‘despicable presence’,” he holds up his fingers in the air to quote, “For an entire week. You think up for it, babe?”

He waggles his eyebrows with a mischievous glint blazing in his eyes, enjoying the scowl on your face.

“Fuck off, Kim.”

His eyes light up when he realises that he’s hit a nerve.

“Every breath you draw in my presence annoys the heck of me,” you edge, words slowing down to a pace that’s normally used on children.

His large, almond eyes continue to regard you with keen interest.

“That’s funny. I thought that after all this while, you would be used to me scoring right into your goal.”

“Get your head out your ass.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know that I have a bomb ass. 10 out of 10 would tap.”

He laughs with an amused grin on his face, the same one he always has whenever he riles you up, finding entertainment in your fury. You hate his laughter. He’s always laughing, his smile huge and genuine and his out of this world personality knocking girls off-kilter. You hate it. Everything about it.

“What the fuck,” you spit scathingly, mouth agape in utter disbelief at the boy in front of you, or Satan himself wearing the flesh of a human.

You end up only asking two questions from your entire list of 15 questions, but it’s as though you’re stuck at square one because his answers are either half-assed or pure nonsense, and boy are you pissed.

“Hey, you’re alive.”

You look up from your misery and see the very cause of the said misery, standing at the door with an eyebrow raised. You don’t miss the extra sarcastic bite to his voice and the irritating smirk on his face, but you’d like to believe that he’s actually impressed by your unyielding resilience.

“Highly arguable. Mentally, no, but physically, yes I am. Not for long though,” you grunt, tone imbued in sarcasm because you are seriously done with this profile feature and you can’t wait for this torture to end.

Lifting your tumbler, you suck on the dregs of your coffee and groan louder at how it’s no longer hot. Lukewarm coffee is like torture to the tongue, much more than burning your tongue. You’re one of the annoying customers who would request for extra hot coffee, because you simply can, and you’re used to them faking a smile and then rolling their eyes when they’ve turned on their backs.

“I take it that something happened?”

“Oh nothing,” you shoot him a sarcastic grin, “Except for the fact that the bastard just toyed with me and wasted my Monday evening. If this is how it’s going to be, I say that we stop immediately.”

“Oh come on, it’s just the first day! I get that Tae can be playful and says a lot of stupid things, but he’s actually a really nice dude.”

“I just don’t like him,” you mumble and your voice trails off upon realising that you sound like a bratty preschool kid who can’t get along with the others.

Yoongi scoffs at your remark to correct you, “You don’t like anybody.”

“As if you’re not the most misanthropic person I know.”

“Wow, this ain’t about me,” Yoongi throws his hands up in the air in faux-defeat, “This is about you and Taehyung. Can you at least tell me why you hate his guts?”

The empty remark that brews on the tip of your tongue dies instantly and all you can lamely mutter is, “Over my dead body.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.”

“Wait, what? Did you embarrass yourself in front of him?” Yoongi urges with a confused frown, but your lips are still sealed.

“Something like that.”

“Would you be so kind as to elaborate on that?”

“Nope, continue suffering.”

He rolls his eyes in disbelief, before flipping you the bird.

The next two mornings, you find yourself dragging yourself across the campus and past the newsroom, just to show up at the football field. Upon your arrival, the entire team ditches their warmup session and falls into a collective silence, openly gawking at you and your every movement. The sudden change in the atmosphere elicits an uncomfortable shiver to crawl up your spine. Looks like your social anxiety is about to have a field day.

“Captain, you have a visitor!”

One of the boys hollers with a playful glint in his voice, breaking the silence. At that, some teammates instantly gather in their own circles to whisper to one another, while some discuss your presence without bothering to be discrete. Is this… a jock version of Mean Girls?

“Tae! Your girl is here again!” Another dude shouts and you turn around to shoot a glare at the owner of the voice, eyebrows furrowed.

“Call me his girl one more time and I’ll make sure your legs won’t make it to finals.”

“Damn, a feisty babe. Noice.”

Another guy comes up to you – Jungkook, you recognise him because he’s in one of your classes. His build towers over you, while he flashes you a small, shy smile and you can’t deny that he is pretty cute with his dimples and doe eyes, which makes him look like a little bunny, but all hope is irrevocably lost when he opens his mouth.

“Hey, I think I lost my number. Can I get yours?”

“Seriously?”

The earlier guy who calls you feisty butts in, “If Taehyung isn’t fucking you right, call me yeah? I’ll make you feel real goo—”

“Minjae, leave her alone.”

You hear a displeased grunt from behind you and turn around to an annoyed Taehyung. His grip on the football in his hand tightens, before he shoves it roughly at Minjae, throwing his teammate off completely.

“Guys, please leave Y/N alone. She’s here to interview me, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep it in your pants and have some decency or respect for yourself.”

The boys instantly mutter a sorry, the peculiar sharp undercurrent of their captain’s voice has them heaving themselves upright in alarm.

You turn your head slightly to look at Taehyung, who’s wearing a vexed frown on his face – well that’s a first for someone who is joking around and laughing. Seeing his strong side profile irks the fuck out of you because someone this attractive shouldn’t be such a big nuisance. What an unfortunate waste. Of course, you would rather be impaled than admit this.

“If you don’t go back to warmups, you’re getting another 5 more laps around the field!” He raises his voice to the entire team and they scramble back to their warmup positions like ants.

After making sure that the team is back on the grind, he spares you another look and leads you to an empty bench away from the warmup area.

“Pretty sure you could have handled it yourself, but you looked uncomfortable,” he smiles apologetically, resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, if you didn’t make me wait, I wouldn’t have needed to go through that.”

“I was helping this freshman who needed extra help with his dribbling. It’s a one-on-one thing so we were in the clubroom.”

“Whatever, it’s cool.”

“Anyways… I got an earful from Yoongi-hyung this morning. He said that I was being too annoying yesterday, so yeah, sorry about that…” His voice trails off and for once, the smile playing on his lips is sheepish, instead of a cocky one.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry. And also for my teammates’ behaviour. Don’t know why they act like this every time they see a girl on the field.”

“D-Did you just apologise to me? Is everything okay, like you know, with your brain?”

“What?” He scoffs, but the smile on his face still remains, “I’m not an asshole. I will apologise if I crossed the line.”

“Kim, not to burst your bubble, but you’ve crossed the line with your annoying and rude ass self since the beginning of time.”

And there it is again. That little grin tugging softly at his lips as his eyes lock themselves on yours.

“Not going to lie, that’s part of my charm.”

You hastily ignore the stirrings of intrigue in your chest, deciding to stop with the chit-chat, “Yeah sure. Let’s just start with the interview. I’ve got a class in an hour.”

He extends an arm to gesture you to sit down on the bench, while he settles down beside you and leans back in an elegant slouch, one ankle crossed over a knee.

“So, let’s talk about the freshmen players this year. Anyone potential successors yet? Do you have a lot of one-on-one trainings?”

“Wow, we playing 20 questions now?”

“Kim,” you sigh loudly with every intention of making sure that he knows how done you are, “I’m literally here to interview you. If I don’t ask questions, then what’s the point.”

“I was just kidding!” He throws his head back with a chuckle, “All right, shoot me with your best shot.”

“Okay,” you clear your throat, “You’re called the dark horse of the school. How do you feel about that?

“Do you like horses?”

“What?”

“Bet you’ll like mine.”

You cup your face in your palm, as your heaving suspire lowers into an interminable groan, “Kim Taehyung. Before I—”

“Hmmm, so a dark horse…” he begins slowly, “I think it’s a respectable and fulfilling title. It’s when you amaze them with how unexpectedly good you are. It’s about really proving your competence to everyone who didn’t think highly of you before, so I’ll take it with pride and satisfaction.”

You nod your head as he speaks and when he finishes his sentence, you ask with a raised eyebrow, “Practiced that much?”

“Every day before I go to bed.”

“Clearly.”

“Well, I can show you first-hand.”

“You fucking wish.”

Thankfully, Taehyung gradually stops playing around and actually starts answering your questions properly without giving bullshit answers or making suggestive remarks.

At your last question about his legacy in school, he even elaborates without any prompters and you gratefully take everything down, nodding once in a while when he brings up a good point.

“Wow, you’re writing all these down while I’m talking? Can I see?”

You casually hand him your notebook and he gapes dramatically at the notes you’ve taken.

“These are just scribbles, but they’ll help with transcribing later on.”

“Wow I have to say, I’m impressed and also a little turned on right now.”

Rolling your eyes for the nth time in disbelief, you grunt, “Kim, you do know that you’re still being recorded, right?”

“Of course,” he smirks, raising instant flags for mischief etched across his lips, “Here’s a little note for Y/N who will listen to this when she gets home – I think she’s hot as fuck.”

“You’re shameless.”

Laughter bellows from his lungs, “That I am. I’m not going to deny it.”

Afterwards, he offers to take you for a tour around the clubroom, showing you the medals and trophies that the team has snagged over the years. As he elaborates on the trajectory of the varsity team, the noisy chatter of other students outside fades into background noise like timing in your ears.

He shows you a picture of the team taken from two years ago and your eyes nearly pop out at how small and out of place freshman Taehyung looks. He’s grinning widely at the camera, surrounded by his poker-faced burly seniors, painfully sticking out like a sore tongue, even more so with his scrawny build.

“You look way too happy in the picture that I actually have second-hand embarrassment,” you mutter, but Taehyung manages to catch it.

“Hey! I was an excited freshie and they didn’t tell me it was a formal picture.”

When you leave the clubroom that day, you take along with you new knowledge about Kim Taehyung. Firstly, you learn that he has only been playing football for two years, which comes off as a shock and almost a form of embarrassment when compared to the other guys with at least a decade of football experience, thus deserving the title of a dark horse. He’s always been more of an arts dude, but he got sucked into the sport when he and his best friend from high school Jimin walked past the football tryouts during orientation.

Secondly, either his cologne or shampoo has a fruity undertone and this is derived from the fact that he is suddenly standing so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath and see each glimmer of darkness that surfaces in his orbs, alongside the humming warmth radiating off of his body.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart starts slamming against your chest out of nowhere at the proximity. You’re not used to being so physically close to him and you try not to think about how his alluring scent has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Taehyung seems to know his effect on you because his lips start to spread into a wolfish grin, inching closer to you.

“Your fuckboy antics won’t work on me, Kim.”

Your voice doesn’t come off as strong as you wanted it to, but you hope that he doesn’t catch on.

“You sure about that, princess?” His breath fans out across your cheeks when he speaks, causing instant warmth to scatter over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh.

Irritation bubbles like a brook throughout your entire body.

It’s taking every single willpower of yours not to headbutt him in the face. You desperately want to, but because you’re obviously the bigger person here and you need to prevent yourself from being expelled from school, you could only jab your finger harshly at his chest.

“Try it on another chick, yeah?”

He uncoils from his slouch and rises to his full height, exuding a smug superiority.

“What if you’re the only one I want to try it on?” He teases, his voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

You shoot him a leer, accompanied with the imaginary daggers to his face, trying to ignore the steadfast flutter in your belly. By the anger that undulates from your pinched features, he knows he’s left you tongue-tied, and this only spurs his grin to widen, your clear distaste for him a pure entertainment and amusement to him.

“I hate you.”

You grit, but your voice comes out as a mere squeak. You feel like burying yourself from the weight of his longing gaze. Clearing your throat, you push the strange flutter that’s settling in your belly as you hoist your bag over your shoulder and speed-walk away from him, missing the way he smiles at your departing silhouette.

The shift in Taehyung’s demeanour on the field is beyond commendable, almost palpable to everyone who has their eyes on him. When he’s on the field, there is no fooling around, only the giving of his one hundred and one percent to the game.

Moving agilely with astounding precision, you observe how his sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his eyes sparkle with intensity.

All right. There is some truth that Taehyung looks kind of cool (do people still use that word to describe someone?) and charismatic like this, all serious and immersed in the game. You just wonder if he could be the same when answering your questions.

His brown mop of tousled locks is damp, parted haphazardly, while his jersey clings onto his frame, drenched with perspiration. His biceps strain against the fabric and the veins on his exposed forearms are given prominence when he grabs onto the ball with his fingers effortlessly. Taehyung’s not the buffest, but he is lean with just a nice amount of toned muscles.

When your eyes trail further south for an infinitesimal moment, his tight football pants accentuating the swell of his thighs and the curve of his ass on full display come into view.

Fuck. Your eyes divert back up to his face when you realise what you’ve been gawking at. As the sun hikes up in the sky, it casts a pretty golden glow on his profile, highlighting his sun-kissed skin. You push away the sensation of a small bud blooming in your chest when you meet his gaze, especially when he shoots you his signature boyish smile, a foil to your frown.

Well, looks like someone is happy to see you.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach when Taehyung approaches you without wiping that smile off his face.

“Good job for surviving two and a half days with me. You ready for today?”

“Replying yes or no literally won’t make a difference at all.”

Shrugging, you lift your tumbler to sip on your coffee before pulling a face.

“Fuck,” you curse quietly under your breath, unexpecting Taehyung to catch it but he does.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… My coffee isn’t hot anymore.”

“Oh—”

“I bought this tumbler not long ago and it’s supposed to be good at trapping heat, but it just sucks and it was kind of expensive? I’m so angry I need to get another one—”

You stop your rant abruptly when you realise that Taehyung’s been staring at you quietly. He even urges you to continue with a nod of his head.

“Sorry, I’m oversharing.”

It’s not your fault that you tend to get too passionate when talking about your distaste for lukewarm coffee. For something that’s your bloodline, it has to be the right temperature, or else.

“Is that your pet peeve?”

You nod, “You can’t judge me though, or I’ll punch you.”

“It’s cool. If your greatest nemesis is lukewarm coffee—”

“Wrong. My greatest nemesis is the boy who’s currently talking to me right now.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance, “I absolutely detest coffee, big ass pills that I can’t swallow, and bread crusts.”

“Wait,” you stare at him pointedly in a cursory silence. “You don’t like coffee?”

“Nah, never liked the bitter taste.”

“Okay…” You drag your word out, “But you can just add sugar? Not that I do, I like it bitter. But please elaborate on the big ass pills and bread crusts. For a big boy like you, I have to say that this is pretty amusing.”

Laughter rises in Taehyung’s lungs at the pure confusion on your face, “I can’t swallow pills. Used to always puke them out. I usually crush them and yes, I know it tastes even worse but really, how else can I take my medicine? And bread crusts? Incardinate of evil. I’m really picky when it comes to bread.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatic expression. You don’t think you’ve ever had a proper chat with Taehyung that didn’t include insults, remarks, or retorts of any kind.

“You’re one weird boy, Kim.”

The conversation carries on smoothly, tucking itself into every available space, and you’ve got to admit that not only is Taehyung not bad at holding a conversation, he’s also a decent listener and listens quietly when necessary. This really piques your curiosity – maybe Yoongi’s right about him, maybe there is indeed a decent side to him. You’re just not sure why Taehyung loves to push your buttons. It’s as if he wants you to give him the time of day.

From your periphery, you realise that Taehyung’s looking straight at you and you freeze at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs.

After mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes to reciprocate his actions, but your gaze diverts to the ground when you realise that his eyes are piercing right into your soul, like they’re searching or yearning for something.

“Kim,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” he replies matter-of-factly, his intense gaze never leaving your face. You want to bury yourself alive when you feel a persistent heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink.

“And may I know why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The right corner of his lips curls up into a smirk. He’s raising a challenge.

“Spit it out.”

“Do I say the truth or?”

“Not that bold after all, huh?”

“Well,” he opens his mouth again with a devious little gleam in his eyes, “I was thinking about kissing you.”

You don’t miss how he is openly gawking at your lips and your eyes instinctively rest on his as well, which are somewhere between the colour of peaches and cherries. You’re not sure of what washes over you, but your mouth takes the better of you. And for the first time, your words aren’t clogged in your throat.

“Do it then.”

You look at him through your lashes, dark and coy, eyebrow raised, testing the very limits of Taehyung’s restraint.

The erratic beating of his heart is in sync with yours, but it increases within a second when you notice his gaze fall back on your lips from your eyes. Suddenly, this sparks your curiosity and all you can think about is how good Taehyung’s would feel on yours.

“W-What?”

“Do it, Taehyun—”

Before you could even mutter his name, his lips are suddenly smashed against yours.

Goosebumps rise on your skin in its wake when his tongue grazes along the flesh of your lower lip, and you, suddenly so enthralled by the boy in front of you, part your mouth to meet him halfway.

You don’t know how long it has been. With his lips pressed against yours, you lose track of time, watch it fly away in the form of the licks on your mouth. Taehyung slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, cupping your face with his hands to bring you closer to him. His tongue brushes against the underside of yours and then he recedes slightly before tangling for dominance.

Your name leaves his swollen lips in a dulcet whisper, causing your heart to spike in your chest and your stomach to unravel and knot again. You press your palm over your chest to calm the injured patter of your heart against the depths of your stomach.

The way his eyelashes that are almost impossibly thick and dark flutter just a fraction with each breath, brushing slightly against your nose and you squirm at the intimacy of the moment.

When he finally parts away, you feel like you’ve been electrocuted. But your stomach drops again when a pretty blush blooms over Taehyung’s face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. His hands continue to rest on your shoulders, but his touch is so hot and tantalising that it makes you want to melt.

Taehyung has always called bullshit on all those romance novels that rave about how lips can taste as sweet as strawberries. But you taste like the strawberries from his grandparents’ farm – sweet and delectable.

When he licks his lips again, he shudders when his senses register the honey musk of you and the ghost of your afternoon coffee. He hates bitter coffee with a passion, but you taste so fucking sweet. Overly saccharine that he feels dizzy.

You don’t talk about the incident the previous night and you’re grateful that Taehyung doesn’t act any differently. It was most probably the adrenaline that took over you and also perhaps your curiosity because you’re a reporter and reporters are supposed to be nosey, curious and also dreaming about kissing the varsity soccer team’s captain. Yep, absolutely.

Your pride be damned. While it kills you to admit it, it’s common knowledge to everyone in the fucking school that Taehyung is just really nice to look at, be it when he dons his jersey, a button up or his colourful printed clothes. There is no doubting his ravishing features – his sharp nose, big almond eyes, long eyelashes, perky lips and the little moles that adorn his face.

Unbeknownst to you, you cross paths with Taehyung in a day more often than you think you do. Too often for your own good. Most of the time, you can hear him before he comes into view. His boisterous laughter that highlights a lilting charm to his low voice fills your ears like a plague. It is as though he has intended to haunt you with his loud presence. And though you’ve already made up your mind to avoid him unless it’s necessary to spare him a glance, it’s quite impossible. After all, you have one job – and that is to follow Taehyung for a week.

“Hey Princess!”

You could almost hear the sneer hidden in his coo and envision it with perfect clarity, that infuriating spark in his eye whenever he manages to rile you up. You don’t turn around, your feet bringing you further away from him, but eventually come to a halt when he jogs up to you, blocking your way of passage.

“Princess!”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And you still ignored me? I’m hurt.”

“What do you want?” You grunt loudly, having absolutely no qualms about showing your displeasure.

He slings his football bag over his right shoulder and smiles, “You know, you shouldn’t be mean to a person who just bought you coffee.”

“Wha—”

With a goofy smile pulling at his lips, he pushes a tumbler towards you that was initially hidden behind his back.

“You said you don’t like lukewarm coffee and a styrofoam cup wouldn’t keep it warm by the time I pass it to you, so I got you a tumbler… Besides, you said yours wasn’t good so I figured that I’ll just get you a new one.”

Warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink at his words. You try not to let the fact that he remembers get to you, but he fucking remembers.

You are a college student to the bone. Turning your back on coffee would be a sin. But coffee from Taehyung? In a tumbler that he purposely bought because he fucking remembers what you said?

“How—”

He beams, simpering at your speechless self. He thinks your shocked expression is adorable, doing nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of his chest.

“Did you, like, stalk me or something?”

“Pfft. Maybe?” He runs a hand through his hair with a lopsided smile, eyes filled with mirth.

“You’re so weird.”

Despite being surrounded by the steaming, teeming mass of students in the crowded hallway, the moment you two share is as private and as comforting as sitting on the sideline bench alone.

“Enjoy your coffee! This tumbler has very good reviews, I checked! So your coffee should be still hot. If not, text me and I’ll give them a bad review.”

“W-What? Tae—”

Before you could call out for him, he has already scrambled away and blended in with the crowd. You deadpan mentally when you realise that the entire hallway is gawking at you and the tumbler around your hand. But what’s more alarming is the strange tightness in your chest and the warm, tingling feeling coursing through your fingertips that you can’t get rid of.

You start learning random things about Taehyung beyond just football and general facts that everyone knows about him. It’s surreal how drastically your relationship with Taehyung has changed over the past few days. While snarky ripostes and greasy comments (from Taehyung, of course) are still exchanged, talking and listening to each other, or just being with each other, feels almost natural to you. But you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased.

The daily meetings bring the two of you into line: by tacit and unconscious consent, you two have begun to weave a space for each other in your lives, forming a joint narrative like a breeze in the boughs, hanging in the spaces in between the two of you.

He was telling you about how he likes comparing his cheeks to bread buns, and he likes to stuff his cheeks when he eats, and that his grandparents would get upset if he returns to his hometown with sunken cheeks. You don’t realise that you’ve been grinning this entire time listening to him ramble on about his cheeks, but your smile grows even wider at Taehyung’s lock screen when his phone lights up from a notification.

“Oh my god, is that a dog?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, a little too loudly and shoves his phone in your face, “Say hi to Yeontan! Isn’t he just adorable?”

Your heart jumps at his excited smile and the tinges of pure adoration dancing in his orbs.

“Aww, he looks like a little ball of fluff.”

“He is! But he can also be very grumpy. Like you.”

“Did you just compare me to a dog?” You fold your arms fold over your chest in faux-rage.

“Such audacity!” He raises his palm to his chest with a gasp, feigning indignation. “He’s not just a dog. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me ever since I saw him at the shelter.”

“Shelter?”

“Oh, I volunteer at a shelter for abandoned and stray pets every month. You know, Yeontan was actually abandoned by his previous owner and I don’t know, I just had to take him in? I would take all the animals at the shelter if I could, to be honest. Maybe next time. Anyways, let me show you more pictures! I have an album full of his pictures.”

“Dude…”

“Don’t be like that. I already have a Yeontan who gets super unenthusiastic whenever I show him pictures of other dogs. I think he’s jealous.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well.

“Well, Yeontannie sure is one lucky dog.”

“More like I am one lucky boy,” he beams, flashing his honey bread cheeks in all their glory.

There’s no denying the sweet quiet of Taehyung’s presence when he’s not making stupid remarks, and this is expounded by how time seems to forget about its own existence these few days. Before you know it, it’s already dark and you’re soon packing up to head back home.

“I’ll need you to go through some fact-checking with you tomorrow. You free around 6pm?”

“Shit, I think I have something on,” Taehyung pouts, fishing out his phone from his pocket, “Let me check.”

“Oh, then it’s fine—”

“Do you want me to cancel it?”

“No! No, it’s fine!”

“It’s okay, I can just postpone it—”

“That’ll mean that you’re cancelling for me.... and you know, you don’t have to.”

“It’s just dinner with Jimin. Fact-checking is important for your article, right?” He says quietly, while his eyes come slowly round and rivet themselves upon your face.

You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes, igniting a blaze deep in your bones and washing your senses away. All of a sudden, your throat feels constricted, breaths coming out short. You’re hyperaware of how close he is and to be honest, you feel like you’re standing in a room that’s on fire, too hot for the chilly evening which has a very high chance of rain.

Even if you continue to insist that you despise him, you can’t help but admit that somewhere deep down, something between the two of you is now different.

Exhaustion creeps up onto Taehyung, the pain in his arms manifested in his back as well, gradually sneaking into his legs until all his limbs are aching and stiff. Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth in frustration, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill.

On Friday, you’ve walked into the team huddled in a circle, frowns all over their faces, a congealing tension evident in the air. From the clamour, it seems that one of the boys have gotten injured during practice and the team was split into two on who to be held responsible and whether there was any foul play involved.

From the sidelines, you watch Taehyung order everyone to shush and makes everyone sit down for a deconflict session. He appears surprisingly calm and addresses the issue in a collected manner. Afterwards, he invites the team to share about how they feel, allowing the conflict to openly spoken about and viewed from different perspectives. He listens attentively, like he always does with you, and speaks clearly and practically, easing the tension in the air till their teammates start coming to a consensus.

When he sees you standing at the sidelines, he gives you a small smile that you easily see through and approaches you after making sure that his teammates are cool with one another and reminds them that whatever happens on the field stays in the field.

“So um,” you begin quietly, treading carefully around his feelings, “Are fights like that common?”

You already know the answer from looking at the size of the dark bags under his eyes. He is slowly breaking down, but still holding tightly onto the carefree façade that he puts on for show, for the team. It’s also mid-terms period and from the earlier interviews, you remember that he is on a scholarship that he cannot afford to lose because his parents are struggling to send his other siblings to school as well.

Contrary to popular belief, Taehyung isn’t an open book. He’s more of a sealed book, covered in dust and trapped in a forgotten corner of a bookstore. He has his own elusive way of dealing with ways, befriending people, treasuring the people and things around him, but he has also his own way of hiding his feelings. He hates the idea of being vulnerable with people.

He is a combination of hot and cold – sometimes you feel like he’s an old friend because of the emotional compatibility and his comfortable presence, but sometimes, he just goes back to being the cocky fuckboy he is. Maybe that’s just part of the jock persona – to deceive people into thinking that he’s more than that. But in all honesty, that’s not Taehyung and you wouldn’t compartmentalise him like that or homogenise him as just another fuckboy no matter how much you dislike him.

You think you’d know him quite well from having shadowed him the past week. It has come to your realisation that you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased, but you’re not sure whether it’s because he’s just tired from everything to go out of his way to be annoying. But you don’t have any complaints.

He lets out a dry chuckle at your question, his words sounding sugar crystalised and rough in his throat, “Are you asking this as a friend or as a reporter?”

“We’re friends?”

“We–”

Some threads of a biting remark begin to sew themselves together in his mind, but he stops instantly, too tired to really fabricate anything, much less bother to speak.

“Taehyung,” you call out after drawing a furtive breath, “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re a great friend and captain.”

Your soft and sincere tone permeates through Taehyung’s every last prickle of frustration, especially when you offer him a reassuring smile, “What you did out there was one of the selfless acts I’ve ever seen in a leader. And this should mean something, you know, considering that it’s coming from me.”

“Of course I am, I’m actually nicer than I look.”

“I know you’re kidding, but I’m trying to be serious here and on the off chance you’re not, fuck off.”

He remains quiet.

“I’m serious though. It’s obviously not easy being the captain, but it’s clear that you have rightfully earned the respect from all your teammates. You handled it quite well without being biased or losing your cool.”

“I did?” His tone, deep in timbre, is so quietly surprised that it gnaws at your heart.

“Yeah.”

“Conflicts like that are a daily occurrence,” he mumbles, “But they can really break or make our teamwork and… the momentum for me as their captain, so I have to try? I have to be responsible for my guys.”

You watch how a cocky smirk instantly settles itself on his lips right after you think that he has opened up, “But I might be just great at forming relationships and team-bonding.”

“Judging from how you treat the girls around you, I don’t think that’s completely true.”

“Girls around me?”

“You’re a fuckboy. I don’t think it’s safe to say that your relationships with girls are great.”

“It’s just sex, no big deal.”

“And that gives you the right to play with their feelings?”

“Of course not, we just hook up that’s all. No hard feelings. It’s just sex with no strings attached and they all know it. Before I hook up with someone, I make it very clear that I’m not looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun.”

“Okay, but let’s say for example, a girl does end up falling for you. Is that solely her fault?”

He stops to think.

“For now, I just don’t wish to get involved in anything serious. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with feelings.”

You scrunch your nose up in distaste when Taehyung shrugs his shoulders casually, dismissing the conversation.

You’re not someone who is easily lost for words, always quick to retort with a witty comeback, especially when it’s with Taehyung. But this time, all you could mutter is an “I see”, before pretending to focus on writing on your notepad. For some reason, you feel like your heart just took a dip. The thought of him playing around with girls leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you can’t comprehend why. Since when did you care what Taehyung does with his life? You never did before.

Maybe it’s because at the back of your mind, you know that your said example might not exactly be one. Maybe.

Sunday arrives quicker than ever. In retrospect, you know this day would come – in fact, you’ve been waiting for this day ever since Yoongi assigned you the profile. But there’s just something – sort of a difference in the air surrounding you and Taehyung – that kneads at your heart about this coming to an end. Whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word when you take a sip from the tumbler that he gave you, but you’re pretty sure that the way his eyes instantly lit up with a smile to match says it all.

“Oh right! Have you eaten breakfast? I, um,” he coughs awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his hand with a nervous smile, “made some sandwiches this morning.”

He turns around to his sports bag and fishes out a lunchbox, “Strawberry cream sandwiches!”

“My grandparents own a strawberry farm, so I get all the best strawberries!” He beams, and his eyes turn into little sparkly crescents. At that, your heart skips in two, one half in your throat and the other down in your gut.

“Not to be biased, but these are the tastiest and sweetest strawberries ever. Oh! After Japanese strawberries, but don’t tell my grandparents. They’ll be sad.”

“Anyways, try it,” he hands you a sandwich and you take a moment to observe how it screams Kim Taehyung at his finest. He has trimmed the bread crusts (his nemesis) and added a shit ton of cream cheese.

Taehyung’s crescent-like eyes are now staring straight into you as he watches you bite into the sandwich, anticipating for your reaction. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting.

You smile at the sweet and sour taste and he literally jumps with joy, flashing his honeyed cheeks.

“It’s good, right?” He chirps, beckoning you to eat more and you ignore how Taehyung’s cheeks are fully stuffed and how he chews with a natural pout on his lips.

For a moment, the world seems to be out of space and time as you sit on the bench, savouring the sweetness of everything. Taehyung is looking at you and the moment is lengthening. He becomes severely tongue-tied, no longer knowing what to say, but yearns for this moment to stay the way it is.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Talking about the weather now?” You ask in a bemused tone and he puffs, rolling his eyes playfully, but the growing tingle of pink on his cheeks doesn’t escape your notice.

“I-I mean... It’s nice.”

A softness settles into the lines of Taehyung’s face, and you can’t bring yourself to look away when his eyes land on yours, “It’s nice being here with you.”

And he means it. He generally feels good around you. He isn’t an anxious or socially awkward person, and he’s got tons of friends, but he still finds himself putting on a mask with most of them. A slightly louder, a more playful and enthusiastic version of himself. He almost always becomes the life of the party, the person who makes things easier and more comfortable for everyone else – breaking the silence, making jokes, drawing people out of their shells and easing them into conversations. He likes being that kind of person.

But it does get tiring, sometimes.

He likes being quiet, sometimes.

Sometimes, he just likes to curl up on the couch in his PJs and not feel like he has to be Funny! Loud! And gregarious! All at once. On some days, he just wants to laze around and watch anime till his eyes bleed. On some days, he just wants to be a normal college student without a team to manage and reputation to uphold.

You roll your eyes at his sudden confession, hoping that the warmth that sits high on your cheeks isn’t that obvious, but it probably is, from the way your heart ensnares at how Taehyung’s lips are stretched so widely across his face, his crescent eyes crinkling so adorably that you find yourself smiling too.

“You’re a loser,” you tease, shoving him lightly.

Then Taehyung is laughing, highlighting the undertones of oak and berries. He is laughing so hard that his stomach hurts and his chest aches with a drumming sound against his ribcage. Soon, laughter pokes its way across your glassy eyes, with tinges of amusement waltzing in your orbs, and pink cheeks and you’re doubling over him, with tears in your eyes and nose all scrunched up. Taehyung is holding onto you and the moment is lovely, everything is lovely.

You’re lovely.

Taehyung raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you and chuckles again when you jump slightly.

“Gotta say that I’d miss having you around. You and your pesky presence. Can’t believe a week just went by just like that.”

“Rude,” you half-heartedly taunt, pushing his hand away, while a corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation.

“It was fun being your side hoe though. Do you know how many glares I’ve received by strangers, literally girls I’ve never seen before in my entire life, in the hallway? Imagine the power I have.”

“What side hoe?” He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, “You’re as good as my main.”

Your heart pulses erratically in your chest, cheeks flushed with a warmth that matches the one that blooms in your heart. The way he makes your heart soar terrifies the fuck out of you.

“Not sure if I should feel honoured.”

“You know, I actually don’t know how we ended up like this. You hated me for the longest time and now we’re sitting here.”

“I did hate you, all right.”

“You have such a personality.”

“That’s another way of calling me a bitch.”

“As in… vibrant, colourful, I don’t know how else to describe you. You’re rude and endearing at the same time – it’s weird.”

The most adorable of smiles form on his face as he lets out a wholehearted laugh, it makes your insides melt.

A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own, “And you’re still a huge pain in the ass.”

“Still a bomb ass that I’ll tap.”

Later in the day, you receive a text from Taehyung. It’s not the first time that he has texted you. But little did you know that he would be a freaking double texter.

[from annoying ass jock] [18:49] hey you [18:49] do you want to grab dinner [18:49] i am very hungry right now lol [18:49] i mean you’re probably hungry unless you’ve eaten? [18:49] take this as a goodbye dinner, celebratory dinner wtv [18:51] feel free to say no tho HAHAHAHA

[you] [18:53] stfu I wasn’t going to say no [18:53] clam down [18:54] i’m kinda craving for a good burger and cheese fries

The night passes by smoother and faster than expected. Maybe it’s because you don’t realise the possibility of it being a date. The way Taehyung has asked you for dinner seems rather impromptu, so you’ve completely eliminated the idea of it being a date.

On the other hand, Taehyung himself knows that this is a date. While you’re cutting into your burger, he is furiously chewing on his fries, struggling to believe that you had even taken up his absurd offer of eating dinner together. On a Friday evening. With him. Is it a sign of peace? Or even something more?

He offers to walk you back to your dorm after that, telling you that he needs to walk off his burger. When he walks side-by-side with you, you focus at how he is so tall, how his height literally hovers over you, doing nothing but darkening the pink high on your cheeks.

When he stops in his track abruptly, you have to tilt your head upwards to look at his face, and each passing streetlamp casts his already golden skin in an orange glow, throwing tiny suns in his eyes into orbit.

Tonight is a little different.

The way he’s looking at you is a little different.

He takes your palms into his and starts playing with your fingers, allowing the two of you to stew and bask in the quiet contentment of the night.

His other hand rests gingerly on your waist, before bringing you closer to him. Then you find his lips graze the shell of your ear and shudder at his warm breath on your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your body.

Your mind goes blank. All you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face, and how there are little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours. How he’s so gentle with you as if you’re a delicate piece of art.

How much you want him to kiss you.

Honestly, it takes you by surprise how much you actually want him to do just that, how much you’ve unconsciously thought about this so often that you can already imagine the ghost of his fingers down the cleft of your chin.

A fizzle of electricity runs down your spine when he brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to each finger, before he brushes over your knuckles to intertwine his fingers with yours.

He’s looking at you with as much certainty as you know that he’s going to sweep in and kiss you. You offer him a smile, and it is all the reassurance Taehyung needs before he leans in to press his lips against yours. Something akin to fireworks explodes inside you, colouring your insides and nerves with rainbow sparks. It makes you feel so alive.

The gentle brush of skin becomes static charge. He takes his time with you and kisses you like he’s always had the intention of doing so, like this isn't a spur of the moment catastrophe. Like he wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for the longest time.

You are abstrusely drawn to Taehyung. Like planets condemned by gravity to collide, you two have become yoked as one. It’s the headiness of his scent, the taste of his lips, his tongue that carefully darts over your bottom lip and seeks entrance. It’s the way he’s kissing you, so different, so soft and gentle, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place, compared to the first kiss.

Taehyung’s lips are soft like the cup of his hands around your face, but it is the settling of the repeated brush of his mouth against yours that makes you almost melt into the ground.

Nipping lightly at your lower lip, his lips curl up into a smirk when he hears a gasp escape from your mouth, your heart ricocheting in your chest.

It’s an amalgamation of teeth, hidden feelings and pure adoration that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you wanted and more. But even when your tongues tangle with one another, it is more sensual and romantic than hasty and lustful.

The night is upon you when he parts from you moments later, allowing you to catch the breaths that have escaped from your now swollen-red lips and come down from your highs. You’re staring at him with eyes laced with fondness, before he leans in to meet your forehead and chuckles to himself at how surreal everything is.

You shouldn’t be feeling so happy, so satisfied, but you feel like you’ve been moon-struck. God, you can’t even figure it out yourself. Not when you’re tucked into his broad sturdy chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head and hand resting gently around your waist. Listening to his heartbeat. Though you’re aware that he isn’t looking for anything serious, you want to believe that maybe, just maybe his heart is beating as thunderously as yours because he’s serious this time.

“Not about to feint surprise at how you’re still alive because I’m going to need that profile from you, but I have to ask. Did you not sleep last night?” You look up to see Yoongi raising his eyebrow at you with suspicion.

“Ah, the appearance of negation in a question – my cup of tea. Do I reply yes or no to your pervasive question?”

“Very snarky today, I see. You look like melted ice cream, topped with tasteless sprinkles.”

“And you look like a boiled dumpling.”

“Thanks.”

“I was up doing work last night.”

“You’ve already handed up all your submissions,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I know… I just… was,” you shoot Yoongi a pointed look, “thinking about stuff.”

The change in his expression lets you in that he knows exactly about what’s up, “Thinking about stuff, huh?”

“I’m just so—”

“Whipped for Kim Taehyung and I want to tap that ass. South Korea’s ass, yeah?”

“Disoriented. The word I was going for was disoriented, thank you very much. But also, what the fuck?”

“I said what I said.”

“I also said what I said. Don’t be gross.”

“Look,” Yoongi clears his throat, as if to brace himself for his forthcoming words, “I don’t really want to be involved in whatever feud or relationship you have – look how I didn’t overgeneralise because I’m generally confused. But one thing’s for sure. You clearly have feelings for him.”

“Yeah, of course I do. Anger, impatience and animosity.”

“You know what I mean,” he sighs in incredulity and gives you a look like he can look through your soul and tell that you’re lying through your teeth.

“What the fuck, dude? Kim Taehyung is just urgh. There is nothing good about that jock – all he knows is fucking around and getting onto my nerves. Seriously—"

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that? Don’t think I didn’t notice you smiling at your laptop while working on that profile? Or how you’re glued to your phone because he’s texting you or sending you memes?”

“What?” You blurt out in disbelief.

“Don’t fight me on that – you hate texting. I’m not blind, Y/N. He obviously ignited something in you.”

“What the fuck,” you snarl, “That’s disgusting. I don’t even know what’s so interesting about him, like why the heck are people so smitten by him. They must be blind or something. I swear that I’ve lost at least 10 years of my life from spending an entire week with him. Don’t know how I’m still alive.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t fucking understand why people put him on a pedestal. He’s really your typical jock? Another egotistical fuckboy. An airhead with no personality. I don’t understand why people like him so much—"

“Um… Taehyung…”

“What?” You flare up impatiently, acrimonious at how Yoongi keeps interrupting your hate speech, totally missing the grimace on his face.

“Y/N, Taehyung… He’s behind you.”

You spin around and your heart drowns in your chest.

The sight of Taehyung’s face of reticence at the door punches you straight in the gut. He shakes his head with a forlorn smile that you can easily see through and turns on his heels, walking away quickly.

Without hesitation, you run after him, your chest tightening with a disconsolate, stifling feeling, as if you’ve just swallowed a hard lump of cloud.

“Tae! I can explain–”

He turns around, maintaining his distance from you, “Gee Y/N, I didn’t know you hated me that much. I thought… thought that after spending all this time with me, your feelings might have changed. But you still… you still hate me, don’t you?”

“Taehyung, listen – I didn’t mean it. I j-just–”

His brows crinkled together in a tight wedge, eyes pressed shut.

“You meant it.”

“I–”

Your tongue feels heavy, like it’s made of iron.

“You meant it,” he repeats, shoulders sunken low, crestfallen, and you swear, you see hurt in his eyes.

Your heart immediately falls with it, knowing that you’re the cause of his sadness. It feels like there’s a fist seizing your heart and squeezing it until it bursts and splatters all over the walls. When he walks away from you, the pain remains, unabated.

Only heaven and you yourself know how much you did not mean it.

When you wake up the next few mornings, it’s as if a shadow is lurking at the back of your mind.

There is a tirade running on loop in the back of your mind, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. But anger is merely a convenient emotion that easily covered up for sorrow. You are angry at yourself for hurting Taehyung.

You’d never say it, but in between glances, hazy mornings at the field and the exchange of witty ripostes, your feelings for Taehyung have changed, unbeknownst to the world. You have no idea when it happened. When the lines that so clearly distinguished you from Taehyung became so blurred. When he stopped being irritating, an obstacle, an enemy and became something else entirely.

You don’t exactly know when you started to thaw and let your guard down to let him in, but you know that you… like seeing Taehyung smile. And you also know that you want to be one of the reasons for his smile.

Despite the overwhelming amount of work you need to attend to, these few days, you spend a lot less time working on your assignments like you should be and a lot more daydreaming about twinkling eyes and a distinctive laughter from a boxy smile. It doesn’t go past your notice – how your heart goes all erratic when a particular football player is around, his sunshine smile radiating the darkest part of your mind and threatening to break your steely, collected demeanour into bits.

You have been so scared to let him in, so afraid to let yourself fully submerge in the comfort of his touches, in the calm that envelops you when Taehyung is beside you, listening to you ramble, or when he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

You tell yourself that you’d be fine. That life goes on. That Taehyung is just another almost and you can live without talking to him again like how your life was before this whole shit-show. But you remember the current that zaps you whenever he brushes his hand against yours, the ricocheting of your heart whenever you find him staring at you. You also think about the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes whenever he laughs and the music of his laughter that you’ve grown to adore. Little did you know, the warmth at the pit of your stomach has long built a house to reside in and it’s yearning for its owner to come home.

It hurts.

It hurts because Taehyung has the prettiest, purest and brightest of all souls. He views the world in a different light with all his little quirks. You adore his ardent love for classical jazz (he accidentally played his music out loud when you were with him and gave you a whole lecture on and you didn’t stop him for he spoke so animatedly with stars in his eyes), for strawberries and his family that he would have been a farmer with his grandparents if he didn’t attend college.

Because when he loves, he loves so fiercely, softly and dearly, like the first snow, like the fresh dew on a perfectly bloomed rose. Soon, the gentle heat of the morning will send him back to the clouds and the bloom will raise her head, calling to the summer bees. Taehyung flows like honey in your soul and makes you feel so whole, but vulnerable at the same time.

He’s a dream come true, a daydream, a part of the labyrinth where reveries rest. He’s just so wonderfully and ethereally endearing.

The ache in your chest throbs especially when you spot a cute dog on the way to the café downtown and whip out your phone to snap a picture to tell Taehyung that it’s one of Yeontan’s little friends. You almost hit the send button, but your thumb freezes into place when you remember.

Right.

He’s never going to talk to you again.

It also hurts extra bad when you’re glued to your laptop, fingers hacking away to finish up the feature article on the said boy, writing about the true Kim Taehyung that currently, only you know of. But he probably hates your face right now.

“Hey, you’re—”

“Yoongi, no. I’m not alive. I’ve never felt more dead before.”

“I was going to commend you for being here today after you know, yesterday’s incident.”

He grabs a chair and sits by you and a dreadful sigh escapes from your lips because you’re well-aware that Yoongi is going to make you talk. He isn’t the type to let you ignore your feelings, preferring in honest and open communication even if it pains you to talk about your feelings because you’re so emotionally constipated.

“How are you?”

Burying your face in your hands, you somehow manage to choke out the words lodged deep in your throat, “Feel like shit. I thought I hit rock bottom. But now it’s rock bottom, 50 feet of crap and then me.”

If Yoongi notices the tremble of your fingers, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.

“Tell me more.”

It’s not a question.

God, you hate it when he presses. Fuck journalists and their persistence of sticking their noses into other people’s business. You want to laugh at how ironic this is.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you laugh dryly and cringe at how fake it sounds.

You have your usual self-defensive answer rolling off the tip of your tongue, “I am just another dumb bitch who fell for him.”

“You know, if you’re going to continue being like this, I don’t really know how to help you.”

“I’m not kidding. I feel so dumb for liking him. In fact, one part of me is fucking furious that I’m so vulnerable right now. I hate feelings.”

“First of all, you’re not dumb for liking him. And second of all, human beings are vulnerable and all feelings, no matter how small or insignificant or cliché they are, are all valid. That’s how we grow.”

He continues sagely, “Look, whatever happened between you two is a mess. So you hated him last time, but you’ve developed feelings for him, and that’s all that should matter, no? Don’t refuse your feelings just because you know, you’re too ashamed or scared to acknowledge them.”

Your mouth opens and then snaps close. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything that has occurred.

“Does it matter if I acknowledge my feelings?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He told me that he isn’t looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun. I literally just played myself.”

“I don’t exactly know what Taehyung feels about this. But what I know is that they have their first game in a few days and he hasn’t been doing well. Coach has been going really hard on him. You should go talk to him, yeah?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper helplessly, “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

He puts his hand atop yours as a form of comfort and suddenly, everything seems okay. Even if it is just in that moment.

Before you clock out of the editorial room, Yoongi sends you back with your article to vet through before giving the green light to the designers. Scrolling all the way to the bottom of the document, you realise that Yoongi hasn’t fixed anything at all to the point that you wonder if he has accidentally sent the wrong version. Until you spot his message at the bottom in really tiny font because you know, Yoongi.

I said that you’re the only person who could cover this feature article and I wasn’t wrong. Well done. Hope you know that I’ll always have your back, alive or dead.

You decide to drop by football practice the next day. Lurking near the bleachers, you jump in horror when Jungkook spots you being suspicious. From the way his eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights upon the sight of you, you know that he’s aware of the recent happenings.

“Hey,” he offers you a small smile, but you could tell from the size of the dark bags under his eyes that he is shagged to the bone.

“Hi.”

“Y/N, right? You okay?”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Cap is a mess?”

“Is he really?”

He laughs dryly, “Aren’t you here to confirm that?”

“Um—”

“Sorry, I just… the stress is getting to all of us. But especially to hyung. He’s being really grilled by Coach for the sudden dip in performance.”

“Right… I’m sorry… If I caused this. I just—”

Across the field, Coach’s whistle shrills through the air and you realise that it’s directed at Taehyung. From where you’re standing, his grunts are almost inaudible, but the sound of his voice still traverses the darkness of your mind.

“You know, this is the first thing hyung is being grilled by Coach. He’s always been Coach’s favourite, even right from the very start, so Coach doesn’t really know how to deal with him either. Hyung’s even worse than his freshman self. You know, hyung didn’t know shit about football when he first joined? It was a joke. He really worked his way up, even though all he wanted was just to play on the field.”

A sudden prick of guilt pinches at your chest.

“Hey Jungkook, could you do me a favour? Could you pass this to him? You can just leave it on top of his bag? I think he’ll know.”

When Taehyung hobbles into the locker room feeling like death after a vigorous grilling session, his legs almost collapse on the floor. But then he sees a lunch box atop his bag and runs towards it, huffing louder than usual, so hard that he feels like his lungs might collapse like his legs. And when he opens it, only to see a nicely packed strawberry sandwich with a little post-it note on top of it, he lets out a huge breath and for the first time in years after his grandmother’s passing, Taehyung cries.

Don’t tell your grandparents (sorry!) but these are Japanese strawberries. Good luck for Sat, Yeontannie and I believe in your galaxy 💜

A big commotion startles Taehyung from his mandatory quiet time that he sets aside before each game. He’ll put on his headphones and play his jazz playlist to meditate for at least a good 10 minutes, allowing both his muscles and mind to rest. But even his noise-cancelling headphones can do so much in blocking out his rambunctious and adrenaline-filled teammates.

“Captain! Your girlfriend’s here!”

“Captain!”

“Tae!”

“Wha—”

Before Taehyung could even remove his headphones to bark at his teammates for disturbing his peace, the door that swings open reveals his very confusion, rendering him utterly speechless.

He sees you standing there with an apprehensive expression, looking out of place as fuck, and if it’s possible, Taehyung can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically from here.

When your eyes land on Taehyung sitting across the room, the first thought that pops into your mind is that it feels like eons since you’ve last seen his face. It’s only been a few days, but you miss seeing him. You miss him so fucking badly.

He looks tired. There are dark circles painting his under-eyes and frown lines on his forehead and that doesn’t sit well with you, because there’s always either an annoying smirk or a bright smile plastered on his face.

For moments and moments, your eyes rest on the boy in front of you, drinking in his presence – the coruscating eyes and pretty lips behind his inspired, untiring voice.

“Hi,” he breathes with an indifferent expression, removing his headphones hastily before he stands up to close the gap between the two of you. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice.

“Hey,” you whisper back, lips quivering. There are many more words on the tip of your tongue, but the prevailing fear that catches in your throat freezes your lungs.

The boys have filed out of the locker room to give you two some privacy and now the world is basking in their awkward, ricocheting off the window in a quiet plea for noise. It is so quiet that if you focus more, you could hear the erratic thumping of your heart.

“How’s your article?” Taehyung asks and silence comes to splinter like a stone thrown at a wall, colliding with it and shattering like lightning bolts.

A frown settles itself on your temple at how he is trying to make everything seem all right. How the first thing he does is ask you about your article when you’re the one clearly at fault and he isn’t even showing signs of anger towards you. How could he be so selfless?

“It’s fine,” you mumble, “But I’m not here to…. I’m…”

Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for the rosy flesh on his mouth. At your touch, his entire body softens. It feels like there’s a cavernous hole in his aching heart.

“I’m sorry, Tae.”

Taehyung gives you a little nod, his way of saying it’s okay, before closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his long black lashes.

You kiss him with profound earnestness that had been missing during the first kiss, dusting kisses over every inch of his blushing features, until you’re breathless, dizzy with want. There’s this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from inside out. Your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Gosh, you’ve missed this so much.

Taehyung’s hands find your face, cradling your cheeks as if you’re the most delicate flower he has ever encountered, as if your petals would tear apart if he wasn’t gentle with you. He doesn’t look away from your eyes, searching your gaze silently. Now that you’re here, standing right in front of his very eyes, it makes everything all the more painful.

You move your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into another gentle kiss, falling onto him like moonlight on a window seat.

“Princess…” He calls for you, voice deep and huskier than you’d ever heard it, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine, “You know that I’m physically incapable of being angry or upset with you.”

The two of you move silently in each other's orbits, solitary planets in a lonely galaxy.

“I’m sorry for everything,” you whisper against his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, love. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

More words are lost on his tongue as he seizes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his eyes trace the outline of your visage, from the curve of your nose to the arch of your philtrum and down to the soft of your lips.

“Are we just going to stare at each other until the buzzer rings?” You joke.

“Can I? I haven’t looked at your face enough lately,” he laughs, “Missed your face. A lot.”

His eyelashes brush against his cheeks, following the stare of your eyes into deep brown irises. When he leans a fraction of a space closer, his bangs brush softly against your forehead.

“Taehyung…” You breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing away his bangs from his eyes, “Can I ask you something?”

“As a friend or a reporter?”

“Neither,” you reply, “I just wanted to know… Since when?”

“Since when?” He tilts his head.

“Since when did you start having feelings for me?”

He laughs like it’s an obvious question, tugging the fallen strand of your hair behind your ears. His expression is hard to decipher, it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but he is smiling so widely that it’s almost blinding.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. Remember when Yoongi-hyung introduced you to me and you were angry about something?”

“I’m always angry about something.”

“I thought you were interesting as fuck.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“Okay, but can you at least tell me why you hated me?”

“Fine. It’s because… Iwasjealousathowyou’regoodateverything.”

“W-What?”

“I was jealous… because you’re good at everything. Like without even trying. And I thought it was plain unfair, because people like me need to work so hard to do well, while there are people like you who are just… born talented.”

“I—”

“But after getting to know you, I realised that I’ve completely misunderstood you. You hide a lot of things about yourself, but you’re incredibly humble and hardworking even though you’re fucking annoying and cocky. And you’re so selfless, you offer help to your teammates when you notice them struggling. And you’re also so nice to everyone, you make them feel comfortable. Y-You kind of bring light to everyone around you. That’s just your charm, I guess.”

You reach out to hold his hand, but he beats you to it, taking your palm into his. He starts playing with your fingers, mapping every whorl of the ridges on your fingertips.

“Remember the day Yoongi introduced us to each other? It was also the day I failed my scholarship interview. I was up against you and there was only one slot left. You got it, so when you were teasing me for being grumpy, I kind of took my anger out on you. Felt like you were making fun of me.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, “I was smiling at you because I found you cute, dumbass. I kept pestering Yoongi-hyung to introduce me to you so when he finally, I was so nervous and didn’t know how to behave in front of you. I didn’t even know that I was up against you for the scholarship.”

When Yoongi first introduced you to Taehyung, he thought that you two would hit off long. But he didn’t take into account the fact that Taehyung and you are polar opposites – your petulance and Taehyung’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a stark juxtaposition. So when Taehyung opened his mouth and told Yoongi (right in front of you, bitch) that you looked like you were about to cry, his chin tilted up slightly, one eyebrow cocked, right after you found out that you failed your scholarship, so it was a straight-up no for Kim.

“Well, we’re both dumb.”

You look away in faux-annoyance, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. “Long story short: I’m mean and I don’t deserve you.”

He cups your face with a smile so bright that his nose scrunches up adorable, “What are you on about? We were made to complete the living hell of each other.”

This prompts another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks.

When you realise that time’s running out, you tip-toe to press another kiss on his cheek, “For good luck. Go out there and get the trophy for me, bitch.”

The smile you give is soft and pink-cheeked, but familiar in every kind of way and for the umpteenth time, Taehyung gets the fucking air truly knocked out of his lungs. He’s a goner.

“You know,” his eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his rosy lips, “I’ll get you the moon if you asked. But you deserve so much more than just the moon, Princess.”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you have almost always wanted to kiss Kim Taehyung. From the very start. And if there’s one thing that you don’t, it’s that the same boy will almost always kiss you back until you’re drowning in honey.

After Taehyung receives the trophy and lifts it high in the air for everyone to see with his teammates cheering around him, the entire ordeal almost has you in tears and you run to him, pressing kisses and bites down necks and collarbones. The ministrations don’t stop even when the two of you waltz-dance and skip all the way to his apartment, never getting enough of each other’s touches.

Taehyung’s fingers knot in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand finding purchase on the curve of your waist and teeth digging into the swell of your lower lip. You let out a whine that only encourages Taehyung to press against you closer and kiss you harder, in such a primal way that has heat swirling in your belly and wetness to pool between your thighs.

Your fire to him is the most peerless of lights.

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like fireworks as he removes your shirt and openly soaks in the sight of your body, how your breasts are cupped by your lacey bra and how you’re blushing fervently.

“So pretty for me. All for me.”

You don’t miss the way he growls and licks his lips, eyes hooded as he stares at you like you’re a piece of meat that he can’t wait to devour. And his actions prove his ardent hunger when he grabs your chin and tilts it to the side, before attaching his lips greedily to the skin on your neck and licking a stripe over the flesh. He carries on nibbling on the sensitive part of your skin, sucking and biting in a way that is sure to leave you crying for more.

“Wow, and I thought you’d be tired after the game.”

He is already breathing heavily as he towers over you, biting back his moans, rocking his hips upwards for some needed friction.

“Can’t be tired when I’m just getting started with you.”

He pushes you onto the bed and comes crawling to hover over you within seconds as he connects his lips aggressively with your neck once more. While he continues to suck faint lilac bruises into your skin, you can’t help but jut your hips firmly against his, an instinctive reaction to feel more of him.

He groans loudly and this spurs you to give another experimental roll of your hips over his. This time he freezes and accidentally bites down on your neck a little harder than before which earns another sharp gasp from you, but this only douses the flames licking your abdomen. He leans back to apologise, but his words are lost at the tip of his tongue when you continue to grind against him shamelessly. His hands fall to your hips, nails digging firmly in place, and holds you down against his raging boner that now pokes at your inner thighs.

Thrashing in Taehyung’s grip, you sit up, hands finding the courage to explore the soft material of his shirt. Running your fingers over the buttons, you hastily tug it off him, lingering your fingers over his bare skin that you desperately want to kiss with your lips, lick with your tongue and mark with your teeth as yours.

You feel his hunger swallow you whole, his gaze leaving trails of fire as they run all over your body, electrifying you all over.

“Can I eat you out?” His voice is deep, much huskier than ever, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine.

“God, why did you ever think that I would say no?”

In the briefest of moments, Taehyung tugs your shorts down with a grunt. Your eyes lock briefly, heat blooming like a stove burner, flaring up with that low flickering blue when you notice the pure, unadulterated lust in his concupiscent eyes. Fizzy warmth floods your belly, the knot of lust tightening within your abdomen.

His hands rub at your thighs, spreading them widely as he moves down the expanse of your body. There’s a raw power hidden in his hands and it’s tantalisingly arousing to feel those fingertips pressing into the meat of your thighs, wandering under you to squeeze at your ass.

Leaning in, he begins to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso, before trailing lower to your inner thighs and giving them a few kitten licks. You squirm underneath him at the intimacy, while an involuntary gasp leaves your lips at the sensation of his warm breath and lips dusting across your sensitive skin. The sudden stimulation leaves you aching for his lips to be somewhere else, somewhere where it’s throbbing to be touched, to be filled.

Taehyung seems to sense exactly what you want and the next thing you know, you’re falling back onto your elbows and his nose is pressed into the cotton of your underwear. He inhales deeply and groans, eyes cloudy with lust and pleasure, relishing the unbidden scent of your arousal.

Fucking hell.

The hot of his tongue starts teasing your bud through the sheer fabric, sucking through your underwear. Timidly, you lift your lips up, seeking for friction, but Taehyung doesn’t relent, pushing you back down.

“Gotta be patient, Princess.”

When he finally, like finally, removes your soaked underwear, he dips his head between your thighs and licks a long, languid strip along your folds. This elicits a loud keen from you, hips bucking but he winds his arms under your legs and over your hips to properly restrain you. He begins slowly again, lapping up your juices like a man starved, his satisfied whimpers sending vibrations straight to your clit.

“You smell so fucking good,” he continues on to wrap his plush lips around your clit, growling against your pussy and you feel it vibrate deep in your core, “But taste even fucking better.”

Ecstasy washes over you and you cry out, pleasure hot and sharp shooting through your veins to feed the tightening coil in your abdomen as you writhe in his iron grasp, fingers grasping for purchase at his hair.

“Can fucking eat you out all day, want to bet?”

His teeth scrape lightly against the nub when he speaks, and your back arches at the pleasure. He continues to slurp up whatever you offer him, before giving in to your unspoken request, trailing a finger up your folds and sliding it in.

You’ve always known that Taehyung has long, slender fingers – you’ve noticed how long and pretty they are when they’re wrapped around the football, when he waves to you and when he plays with your fingers. And perhaps, you’ve thought about him doing things to you with those fingers before, but now that he has his finger in you, you cannot emphasise how otherworldly it feels. Fucking delirious.

His long digit meets no resistance, instantly enveloped in the tight, slick heat of your core as he goes in knuckle-deep and adds another finger, and it makes you feel so full that you’re losing your mind. You scream even more when he fucks you deep with both his knuckles and the flat of his hot tongue, bringing the inklings of stars behind your eyes.

His fingers continue to pump into you in a quicker succession that has you trembling and keening. Your pussy gushes at his merciless, erratic flicks and pokes at your hot spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking them in your intoxicating sweetness. Shockwaves begin to tear through you and you’re coming too hard and too fast. But Taehyung doesn’t stop and continues to suck harder to help you ride out the pleasure, the squelch of his tongue lapping at your juices filling the entire room in their entirety.

“Please, Tae, please I’m c-close. Your fingers… Fuck. Feel so good. Fuck, fuck!”

You’re dripping, leaking even by now and when he detaches away from your clit to look at you, you can see your own juices glisten on his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. The throb in your core has never been more torturous.

He leans in to give your clit another chaste kiss and your hips buck up instantly into his face as he gathers the arousal onto his tongue, tasting the heavenly mix of your juices and his saliva.

“Does Princess want to taste how sweet she is? Princess likes my fingers, doesn’t she?” He purrs, coating your juices with his fingers and holding them up so you can see how they coruscate in the dim light.

Nodding hazily, you open your mouth and he doesn’t hesitate to slide three of his digits in and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin, enjoying your own taste and the weight and fit of his slender fingers in your mouth. Taehyung swallows in satisfaction and fervour at how dirty you look.

“Fuck, Y/N. Can’t wait to fuck you. Going to fuck you so good you can’t walk for days.”

A spark of a fire in the very core of your being, beginning to fizzle outward at his words.

Without warning, he pounces onto you, planting kisses on your jawline and down your neck again. When you crane your neck to give him more space, he takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a bruise begins to bloom.

“So fucking beautiful, God,” he croons, threading his fingers through your hair as he groans at how hot this is.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, looking up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust, “Want your fat cock in my fucking mouth. Please?”

Taehyung grunts loudly at your crude request, rolling his eyes in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. He wants your words, this exact memory, to be burned into the very cells of his brain.

“Yeah? Princess wants my dick?”

Pushing his sweats and underwear down with swift fingers, you watch how his dick slaps hard against his stomach. It is searing red at the tip, the head thicker than the shaft, begging to be touched.

You want to fucking sit on it, suck him till you’ve milked him of all his cum. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before, not when his long fingers are wrapped around his fat cock, giving it a couple of quick strokes. Fuck, his fingers can barely wrap around his dick and that itself makes you dizzy with arousal.

“Open wide, sweetie.”

You throw yourself in front of his thighs, mouth wide, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. You can’t help but moan out loud when Taehyung slaps the head of his dick against your cheek, spreading precum all over, and then on your tongue, before slowly feeding you his cock. Fuck, you feel so dirty.

Taehyung’s cock rests heavy on your tongue, throbbing in the wet heat of your mouth. You lick a long stripe with your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the very veins that have popped out.

He doesn’t believe that it’s happening. He can’t, not at how he has dreamt about this more times than he can count with both hands, and now it is actually fucking happening.

He grunts, “Dreamt about this so many times. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off to this.”

“Jerked off to what?” You tease as your fingers wrap themselves around the base of Taehyung’s dick to keep it steady, massaging his balls every now and then, as you suck noisily around the tip. Running your tongue along the side of his shaft and then back up to swirl your tongue at his slit to lick at his precum, you rejoice in the almost pained whine he lets out.

“Jerked off to you on your knees, looking pretty as fuck, while sucking my fat cock,” he smirks, without blinking an eye at the announcement of his fantasy.

Shuddering at his words, you start to bob your head, taking a little more of him every time you go down until you’re choking and your eyes are watering.

“Fuck yeah, just like that. Does Princess want me to fuck her throat? Feel so full and good?”

A low groan rumbles from deep within his throat, bordering on animalistic, which sends tremors of desire to thrum through your veins.

Peering up through fluttering lashes at Taehyung with your plush lips stretched wide around him, you smile at his fucked-out expression and proceed to alternate licking between his balls and his hard shaft.

When you take his cock into your mouth again, you purr at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until he’s fucked himself to the hilt of your throat, your nose buried in the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel.

“Not so snarky anymore now with my cock in your mouth, huh?”

You don’t reply. The darkness in your eyes is enough to send a punch of heat straight into the pit of Taehyung’s gut and he can’t help but buck his hips forward, sliding right into the wet, hot vice of your throat, fucking right into your throat ruthlessly, leaving you a whimpering, writhing mess.

You don’t stop suckling with your lips, coating his length in saliva and then pull off with a little 'pop’, your hands still working at the base of Taehyung’s cock, fondling his balls.

“C-Cum,” your lips gleam in saliva and precum, “Please… Cum on my face.”

“Want me to come all over your face, doll? You’re so fucking dirty.”

Taehyung grips at his cock, stroking it a few times, before he taps his cock against your cheek again. His mind is sent in turmoil when you stick your tongue out and before he knows it, he’s ejaculating in thick spurts all over your face.

You look so fucking pretty with globs of white all over your chin and cheek and Taehyung shivers in ecstasy, a growl ready at the back of his throat, “Y-You really have no idea what you do to me.”

You lick off what he can, relishing in the taste of Taehyung as you swipe your thumb over your mouth to coat it with his cum and suck on it, while your other hand reaches behind to squeeze his ass.

“You weren’t kidding about your ass,” you whirl, slapping his ass and loving the way it jiggles.

“Yeah? It’s all yours, Princess.”

Taehyung traces the knobs on the base of your spine with his other hand, finding warm and soft skin. You let out another desperate sound against your lips, feeling a shock of electricity zip through your back down to your very core.

Arching your back, you throw your head back and Taehyung takes this opportunity and slips his tongue in the hot wet of your mouth and licks fervently at the four corners, rougher and needier this time round.

It’s as if all at once, something connects between you two. You find it impossible to breathe properly, hands fisted in Taehyung’s locks, dizzy and lightheaded and hot all over. Taehyung’s teeth scrape over your bottom lip. It’s almost impossible to pull away, but when you finally break apart, a strand of saliva connects your mouths together and it lands on your chest.

“Fuck, so dirty,” Taehyung’s eyes are golden, blown wide, and he smiles at you so dearly that it makes your chest gnaw. It’s the littlest of moments and softest of gasps that render you breathless. Every part of your body that Taehyung has touched feels like it’s on fire, but it’s the deep timber of his voice, almost a growl, that makes you feel like he’s melting.

“So wet for me.”

He yearns to memorize the map of your body, the trenches of the grooves on your lower back, the stars living in your eyes, the parts of your body that have you shuddering from the pleasure.

You can feel it, the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness and you let out a soft plea. Your stomach ties into a knot when he slaps his dick against your clit a few times, loving how his head is already soaked by your juices. When you search for his eyes, you see that his irises are long gone, blanketed with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Want you. Want you to fuck me with your fat cock, Tae.”

He has to bite his own flesh to suppress the feral moan threatening to drip from his swollen, red lips, “Fucking hell. Can’t believe you used to hate me. Now here you are, begging me to fuck you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel him enter you, his cock pushing against your walls and stretching you out so good. He eases his cock slowly until it fills you the brim, pushing against your hot walls until he can go no further.

“You’re so tight for me. Feels fucking good,” he breathes out with a hazy smile, and your eyes flutter closed.

He doesn’t move for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch and burn, before the wriggle of your hips urges him to move and he knows that he’s about to take you higher than ever. He lifts his lips to almost pull all the way out, the tip nestling an inch within your entrance, and without warning, slams back into your cunt, drawing a choked moan from the both of you as his length drags against your walls and hits a spot deep inside you.

Your back arches off the bed at the pleasure, a sharp cry leaving your lips.

��Fuck yeah, you like that princess? Going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck Taehyung. You feel so good.”

This only prompts him to repeat the movement a few more times, until he settles on pounding into you mercilessly with a precision that he flaunts on the field. He continues fucking into that same sensitive spot over and over again with no signs of slowing down, finally able to fulfil the primal, animalistic need and urge that has accumulated ever since the day he met you.

As his hips snap into yours, his palm remains gentle on your face, his tongue hot and assimilating your own so passionately and tenderly that it makes your heart melt. There’s just something so tangibly tender and sensual about the way he’s kissing you, while fucking you senseless, as if he wants you to know how much he wants this, how much he wants to give himself to you with each stroke.

How much love he has to devote to you.

“Faster, faster, don’t stop, Taehyung. Fuck.”

You can feel every drag of Taehyung’s thick cock inside you, his ridges sliding against your walls and hitting that little bundle of nerves inside you that has got you babbling nonsense and your eyes rolled all the way up.

Screwing your eyes closed, the sparks glow brighter, and your moans heighten in pitch, while you sink your teeth into the swollen flesh of your lower lip. Above you, Taehyung learns that your mouth is sinful from the way you’re repeating curses and cries like a mantra and from the way drool is dripping down your chin. It’s just how unbelievably rough he’s fucking you, rough enough that you’re convinced there will be bruises all over your body and he’s going to rip you apart. But maybe that’s what you want, maybe that’s exactly what Taehyung intends to do to you.

“Say please.”

He then sits up and leans back to rest on his calves, before he hikes your leg up to rest over his shoulder, effectively folding you into half, and pulls you towards him roughly to fuck into you harder. You keen loudly at the new angle, how he’s able to fuck into you so much deeper, hands clawing at the sheets and dragging long, red marks on his back.

“Please, Taehyung. Please, you fuck me so fucking good.”

He smirks at how helpless you are underneath him and frees his hand from your thigh, reaching to search for yours, intertwining them tightly.

Which each thrust, the both of you grow closer to your impending orgasms, excitement curling in your abdomen along with pleasure that shoots straight to your core as Taehyung continues to pummel into your welcoming heat, strong thighs trembling against the backs of yours.

His other hand rest on your hips as his fingers squeeze and caress your skin each time you curse and whimper his name lasciviously, blending in with the symphony of skin slapping against skin, of his balls and thighs smacking against your ass that stirs the silence.

“I’m on the pill. Cum inside me, please. Want your hot cum in me.”

“Princess wants to be my personal cum-dumpster, doesn’t she?”

Taehyung dips his head over your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking it lavishly as if the taste of you is suddenly too much to bear. You wail in pleasure, back arched all the way up, the grip on his hand tightening as your hips rise to meet the brutal thrusts of his hips, pleasure shooting white hot to join the heated desire in your core.

That’s all you need to lurch over the edge. The coil within your core suddenly snaps with the tension and then comes the onslaught of immense white-hot pleasure, curling and roaring like a beast in your stomach, the pressure between your legs immeasurably high. You clamp around him one last time, galaxies firing in the murky red of your eyelids as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You know Taehyung’s close too – now faster, more erratic, as he chases his release relentlessly. For a moment, all you can see is glorious light, blinding your vision until it consumes you whole and you’re shaking ferociously.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Taehyung comes hard with a harsh shudder and an animalistic growl from between his clenched teeth, thrumming at his warm seed inside you. He isn’t done with you yet though. When he pulls out, the emptying sensation of his cock being drawn out of your walls gives rise to another wail from you, but you forget all over it when he rubs the swollen tip of his dick against your clit in a circular movement, playing to its sensitivity and pushing in his cum inside you again. His personal cum-dumpster.

Taehyung kisses you once more just because he can, and then lets his eyes run over the girl in front of him and his mind goes blank because wow, that actually happened – and it certainly did, evident from the mussed hair, blown hazy pupils, lovebites all over flustered skin and the soft, dreamy smile belonging to a pair of swollen-red lips.

This, Taehyung registers despite the giddy turbulence in his mind, is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. So unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful that he can feel something in his chest splinter.

There’s a passing second of staring at each other, your cheek deep in the pillow, his head lulled against the headboard.

Taehyung lets out a chuckle, airy and filled with a rasp of post-sleep that would never come. He moves slowly, creaking the mattress in droning successions as he slips his arm around your waist, dusting little kisses on your nose before bringing up your hand to his lips. You realise that he likes doing that.

He stares at you for a long while, thumb over the back of your hand in tandem with the flick of his eyes, back and forth, between yours.

Even in the dark, Taehyung’s lovely flush is brilliant, otherworldly effervescent.

“You know when you said those things to Yoongi, I knew you said it out of a fit, but I couldn’t help but be upset about it.”

“Tae—”

His lips quirk upward on the edges into something knowing, “Then I realised that this was the first time I was genuinely upset about someone’s opinion about me. I usually don’t care what people think of me. I mean I don’t live to impress them, so this made me realised that I actually care a lot about what you think about me. About how you feel about me, whether I’m just a dumb fuckboy to you or whether you see the real me.”

He presses another kiss to your knuckles and your entire body tingles with warmth, “Then it hit me. That you know, maybe I really, really do have feelings for you and I want you to like me too. Like for real. I know I said that I don’t have the time and energy to deal with feelings. But you… You drive me insane. I used to be cynical about being so vulnerable for someone, and it’s so scary how much you can yearn for someone’s attention and affection. It’s just crazy – the things you do to me.”

As his words spill into the spaces between you, you simmer in the comfortable silence, ignoring the sharp tugs at your heartstrings.

“Never thought I’d live to see this day,” he mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your forehead with an earnestness that heightens the tugs at your heartstrings.

“Talk about character development,” you joke, burying your face in his chest and finding solace in the warmth of the sweet honey gold that he possesses. His hand on your waist begins caressing the small of your back, bringing you closer to him, until his nose is settled in the crook of your neck.

“Looks like my YOLO-ing did me some good,” he whispers into your ear and there’s a resplendent lilt to his voice.

It takes you a while for you to realise that he’s referring to the fake quote you’ve assigned to him.

Taehyung smiles at your deadpan expression and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His mouth is pulled into a rectangle and his eyes are curved into crescents. You realise this a long time ago, but you will finally admit to it now – Taehyung is beautiful. He is so beautiful that he could rearrange continent with that smile of his.

When he laughs and the moonlight catches on the flecks of gold in melted brown, that’s when you know that you’re struck with a love the size of the entire galaxy for him. To hell with your past hatred and feud with him, you’re just grateful to have your entire universe lying right beside you, right in this moment, under the burning light of the great, yellow moon that hangs heavy and radiant above the two of you.

that’s it. that’s the mammoth i’ve been brewing over the past few months (and rushing it like mad over the past two weeks)! i wanted to depict tae as accurately as possible so i made sure to include the little tiny details and quirks of his ;; did you know that he was the one who coined the term bread cheeks??? there’s a video of him comparing his cheeks to bread buns and i think that started the entire trend i’m just. i never want tae to be sad he has the purest and biggest heart

thank you so much for reading this and if you enjoyed it, please please hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ i love receiving asks and messages tho sometimes ;; i just disappear from the face of the earth. i literally post a fic every 6 months sobs but next up sugarplum elegy (and i promise i won’t take another 6 months, my aim to upload it is end june!) love you guys much and remember to take care of yourself – i believe in your galaxy ☁️💫💜💞🌃✨

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egelantier · 3 years

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Yuletide Recs

Having had two days of more or less nothing but reading fics, I come bearing recs!

First of all, my amazing gifts:

The Goblin Emperor

For Thy Principles

The nohecharei of Edrehasivar VII were unparalleled in their defense of his person, but there were limits to even their prowess. When Maia first developed the fever, Cala quickly determined that it was not the end result of a magically-based assassination attempt – and from there it had to be left to the court physicians.

Maia falls ill, and Csethiro protects him as best she can.

Beautifully gentle Maia sickfic, with Csethiro holding him together. For me all for meeee.

Benjamin January Mysteries

Dry as a Bone

“Oh. Well, I’ve been better, maestro, been a hell of a lot better to tell truth.” Shaw stared at him for a long moment, and he was stunned to see honest to God grief in his eyes. Even when Shaw had just lost his brother he had been so much more himself than this lost man currently standing before him. “Not that I mean to put anything extra on your shoulders, I’m sure you’ve got enough of your own shit going on at present moment, but it seems like I’ve just lost my job.”

Shaw loses his job, and finally confronts Ben about trust (and lack thereof) between them. It’s GREAT.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

A Distraction Worth Losing

They may never be together, but the gods would have to move heaven and earth to split Rune and Brand apart.

Brand, Rune and The Kiss incident. (Poor messed up babies, somebody save them.)

And fics of the collection:

17776, Astreiant, Raksura, Frederica, The Gentlemen, The Goblin Emperor, Hades, Innkeeper Chronicles, Jeeves, Kate Daniels, King Arthur the movie, My Next Life as a Villainess, Nirvana in Fire, No. 6, Psmith, The Secret Garden, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Swordspoint, The Tarot Sequence, Teixcalaan Series, The Temple of the White Rat verse

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future

so far, so fast

When Manny gets a craving for some fancy meal he had once, over ten thousand years ago, Nick decides he’s gonna fulfill that craving, no matter how hard it is. Because real romance is about making the impossible happen for his husband.

Goddamn transcendental.

Go Get It

Sometimes you start out just planning to get some groceries with your husband, and next thing you know, you’re committing to join the most hopeless team in college football.

Nick and Manny decide to play. It’s perfect.

Afterlife

A young man dies six months before the end of human death; his loss saves five lives, which end up much longer than anyone expects. (A series of worldbuilding vignettes about original characters in the 17776 setting.)

Made me cry, in a very cathartic way.

Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett

April dressed in all his trim

A quiet evening in spring.

Sweet little slice-of-life with lovely sensory details.

Books of the Raksura

The Second Consort

“When Glow arrives, be friendly and welcoming,” Ember said. “Not scary.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to scare him?”

Chime said, “They can see your face when you look at him.” He paused, glancing over at Moon. “That face, that’s the one.”

Ember sighed. “I remember being in his position. It’s pretty nerve-wracking coming to a new court and not knowing what’s going to happen to you there - whether they’re going to welcome you or shun you, whether you’ll make new friends, whether a queen is going to claim you…” He came and put a sympathetic hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Glow is probably worried about all of those things, and missing his home and clutchmates, and it’s our job to try and help him relax.” For a moment Moon thought he was just being soft-hearted, until Ember added, “He won’t open up and tell us what’s really going on unless he’s relaxed.”

Jade takes in a new consort, on Moon’s permission, and everybody is delightfully adult about it.

Frederica

Lady Alverstoke

Frederica commences her first Season as a married woman by planning a ball, promising most straitly that her husband will have nothing whatsoever to do …

Sweet and funny slice-of-life post-happy-ending for canon.

**The Gentlemen (2019) **

Even

The week after he intercepts Fletcher, that squirrelly little cunt, outside the London Miramax office, Raymond reluctantly ventures down to Brixton.

Under normal circumstances, Raymond tends to give this part of Brixton a wide berth, but he has unfinished business that needs attending to. Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to like being accosted by the overwhelming smell of greasy fish and chips when he pushes the car door open, doesn’t mean he has to be pleased about stepping into a piece of chewed-up gum the moment he sets a foot on the kerb.

But then, he can always take a shower after an errand in Brixton. The deep-seated discomfort of unfinished business doesn’t wash off that easily.

Raymond tries to pay Coach back for saving his life, and it doesn’t quite go as planned :D

The Goblin Emperor

The Archduke’s Discovery

Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.

Really great point of canon divergence, and true and precise character voices.

Hades

all the spaces between us

For a place full of the dead, crammed with ghostly shades and nothing but the endless lull of eternity unchanging, gossip sure travelled fast in the Underworld.

Or, Zagreus mulls over his relationship with Thanatos while the rest of the Underworld get overly invested.

Slow, slow, slowest of burns.

Innkeeper Chronicles - Ilona Andrews

A Quick Trip

“It’ll be a quick trip,” Maud said, more to herself than to Arland. “No one will even notice we’re gone.”

Pirates are plaguing an ally, just outside of vampire space. Maud and Arland don some aesthetically beat-up armor and try to get more information from the pirates themselves. Of course, plans only last until you meet your enemy. Or your enemy’s giant alien attack boar.

Excellent canon voice, action/adventure sprinkled with badassery and hilarity.

Jeeves & Wooster

August Thirteenth

Discovering that this is not the first August thirteenth that he’s lived through, that certainly was a head scratcher. Luckily Bertie has the stalwart presence of his man’s man, Jeeves.

Very, very great and satisfying use of the time loop.

Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews

lookin’ like a snack (cake)

It took Barabas a while to figure it out, because he wasn’t used to not being taken seriously.

Barabas considered several ways to phrase it, and finally settled upon, “Do you have a thing for twinks?” Christopher knocked his head back against the headrest: once, then again. “Is that a yes?”

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

When Goosefat Bill finds himself in a difficult situation, the last thing he wants is the King to show up and “help”, in his own unique and unexpected way.

Goosefat Bill does not need to be rescued by his King. But he might just enjoy it a little.

My Next Life as a Villainess (Anime)

All I Have To Bring Today

Catarina and Sophia had been discussing the latest in the Devilish Count series, and Sophia had mentioned how romantic the surprise picnic the count had planned for his lover was and how she wished for someone to surprise her like that.

“What about you, Catarina? Have you ever wished for someone to sweep you off your feet?” Sophia had asked.

Catarina makes a choice! As sweet and as hilarious as the canon.

Nirvana in Fire

Adverse Event

What a pitiful man must he have become, if the only thing he could provoke in bed was a monologue on his character flaws.

: or, the famous strategist mei changsu plays xanatos speed chess against truth serum: the fic.

Mei Changsu gets hit with an accidental truth serum; it doesn’t stop him from lying to himself, but it does buy Jingyan a clue.

Records of the Land of Xiang

There was something of Xiao Jingyan there, in the firmness of his jaw, the unforgiving slash of his brows, and most clearly in the eyes that neither saw nor conveyed deception. But Long Zhan was not Jingyan, could never be, no matter how much Changsu might wish otherwise, because Jingyan was dead.

In service to a very-much-alive Prince Qi, Jingyan dons a Jianghu-typical disguise and infiltrates the Jiangzuo Alliance to suss out this Mei Changsu fellow and see if he might be useful in helping them re-open the Chiyan conspiracy case. Basically, a slightly ridiculous premise where everyone is running around the Jianghu with masks, multiple identities, and secret agendas.

Fascinating and fun AU scenario that delves, among other things, into Mei Changsu the jianghu chef, not Sir Su the court schemer.

suffering as I suffer you

The first time Jingyan stays the night at Su Manor, he discovers an uncomfortable truth about Mei Changsu.

Excellent extrapolation of Mei Changsu’s illness into his nightly routine - with Jingyan watching…

Here, In Our Arms

With the world put to rights, however briefly, Xiao Jingyan and Mu Nihuang take the opportunity to make a fuss over their beloved Lin Shu, and will not take no for an answer.

Sweet moment of comfort.

Find the Coals Amid the Ashes

Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name.

Lin Chen crashes a party and makes a new friend.

The best team up ever :D

Dead Letters

Mei Changsu isn’t the only schemer in Da Liang.

Fei Liu fixes things, in the most Fei Liu way imaginable, and it’s great.

No. 6

All Good Things

In the midst of a crisis for No. 6, Nezumi returns to Shion’s side.

A reunion! And cuddling.

Psmith

The Psky Is The Limit

“As this ship’s Orator, my mission is still as it was in the beginning and shall ever be, world without end. It is to hail any message sent by comrades from outer space and pass it on to you verbatim. Well! The hour, I say, has come. The Word has come into being. Here comes Psmith, bearing news of great mirth: the intercom has spoken.”

(A Mike and Psmith Space AU)

Psmith in space! Hysterically funny Psmith in Pspace, at that.

Psmith Pops In

Psmith reached over and solicitously loosened Mike’s scarf, his fingers brushing the skin of Mike’s neck, and that young man, to his horror, felt heat creeping up from where gloved fingers brushed his bare skin. Really, this blushing nonsense was getting out of hand. Ever since Psmith had tried to take the blame in the case of the painted dog, Mike had developed an inexplicable habit of turning hot and cold around him, and these odd responses had become more and more frequent.

Very funny! And then very tragique! And then jussssst right.

The Secret Garden

The Space Garden

When Meri La Nix was sent from the Mars colony to live with her aunt at Missiles Wait Manor, nobody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. But some of them thought it.

Beautifully inventive space retelling - with gardens, still.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

The sky spinning above him

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Frothy, sweet, well-grounded and hot. Also hilarious (check the end note!)

truth in fiction

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou’s house.

Sui Zhou is really committed to research and accuracy in Tang Fan’s porn. It’s delightful.

Time don’t fool me no more

“The electrician is a Tang dynasty spy,” he says, dumping some of his eggs in Tang Fan’s bowl.

Tang Fan nods, shovels more food in his mouth, and starts talking again.

Past or future, Tang Fan has Priorities. And Sui Zhou is weak.

Meeting at the End

Sui Zhou knew he never should have let Tang Fan go alone. He knew he should have gone with him.

Really, really great and desperate whump. Super satisfying.

clever boy

Tang Fan never spares a smile for any of the girls at Wang Zhi’s establishment, he’s noticed. That’s alright, though. It means Wang Zhi gets his attention for himself.

Wang Zhi falling, falling hard; it’s delightful.

a bold and brilliant sun

“You’re sure you didn’t do something to it? They don’t usually stall out,” Sui Zhou says. He looks away from Tang Fan, out the windshield at the endless rust-red of the planet.

Tang Fan pouts at this, and slumps down on the edge of the console, feet propped up at an absurd angle against the pilot’s seat. “You think I’d fake a mechanical issue just so that they’d send a sexy Fleet crewman out here to rescue me?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he giggles. “Okay, I would do that, but I promise that this time the problem is real.”

Space AU! Most excellent space AU condensing all there is to love about the canon in one perfect package.

Blind Taste Test

Wang Zhi invites Tang Fan to evaluate Joyous Brothel’s chefs — but it’s Tang Fan and Sui Zhou who are really being tested.

Wang Zhi, ever helpful :)

Authorial Intent

Sui Zhou and Tang Fan end up in hot water yet again. Kinky sex ensues.

Hilarious, kinky, heartfelt, and in character.

Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner

Chrysopoeia

It struck Alec that this would have been much easier if their positions were reversed. Richard would have known what to do if he’d been dragged back here with a hole in his gut. He was quite simply not supposed to be the one on this end of the equation. In fact, it was possible he had done something very bad to deserve this.

Richard is wounded, and Alex is coping. Excellent h/c and excellent bloodplay and sharp, painful slice of Alex’ POV, excellently rendered.

At first — this was just like him — he thought he was hearing god. But it was only the man in the bed, whose face had turned toward him on the ragged pillow.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

Third’s a Charm

Addam asks a favor of Brand.

Addam asks Brand for help, which ends up being exactly what Brand and Rune need.

Pretty good

Five times Brand crawls into Rune’s bed and one time Rune crawls into Brand’s.

Brand and Rune, through the years.

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine

Also in the Act of Reaching

When Three Seagrass arrived at Lsel Station, she was, officially at least, traveling as a private personage. She had missed Mahit and the possibilities they’d both chosen to turn away from. She also had– would always have– a gaping hole in her life where Petal had once stood.

It was simply that, left on her own, Three Seagrass wouldn’t have let either absence drag her to the ass-end of beyond.

Reunion, metaphors and realigment. Subtle and clever and just right.

The (concept of the) World Was Wide Enough

Yskandr Aghavn comes to the world like a drowning man comes to shore, but he is living on borrowed time. Teixcalaan has so many wonderful things to choke on.

Teixcalaan has had his heart for all of his life, has elevated him, corrupted him, and discarded him.

It is Lsel that he thinks of as he dies.

Temple of the White Rat Universe - T. Kingfisher

If Grace Is Too Much

Zale is given a case by Bishop Beartongue which turns out to be more complicated and personal than a holy advocate-priest would prefer.

Clever and sweet and carefully shocking, but in a very right way.

Outreach

“We don’t generally assess the… cursédness… of objects, trees or otherwise,” Beartongue said.

Utterly delightful.

#17776 #astreiant #books of the raksura #sleuth of the ming dynasty #nirvana in fire #white rat universe #telxcalaan series #the tarot sequence #swordspoint #the goblin emperor #psmith #the secret garden #benjamin january mysteries #yuletide recs

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demivampirew · 4 years

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Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 44

Previous Chapters in the masterlist

Triggers: (fluff overload (?) ); crying (happy tears, though), talking about work related long distance relationship; talking about drug abuse and alcoholism and murder (related to a movie role); anxiety and talking about past break up.

Tag list: @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @constip8merm8 @iloveyouyen @wondersofdreaming @alyxkbrl @solariumss @sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185 @madbaddic7ed @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @ivvitm1109 @the-soot-sprite @whyyoudothistomecavill @thevelvetseries @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella @darkbooksarwin

Ticking tocking like a bomb Throws me back to when I had you closer Skin to skin we get it on Without the love I feel you going bolder You can promise castle, treasures, babies I don't care 'Cause right now you're just enough for me I want you near Like a fairytale to feel your breath right on my neck You remember what I love so baby take me back Turn down the lights down low and kiss me in the dark 'Cause when you're touching me baby I see sparks You make my heart go You You, you make my heart go You You, you make my heart go

To the rhythm of Hillary Duff's Sparks, you dance around the Airbnb as you cleaned the place. It was your free day from the set, so you decided to spent it the best way you could. Time truly flies in an incredible speed, at a moment you and Henry were kissing when the clock hit midnight and it was officially the new year and next you were back on London; he went back to The Witcher set and you soon got into another plane going to Washington when your next project was set to film.

Not only a month had passed since the last time you were together in the same place, but also Valentine's Day was around the corner. This was going to be your first celebration together as a couple, but unfortunately, you would have to settle for a zoom celebration. So you needed some cheerful music to lift your mood.

On the bright side, you finally got what you've always wanted since you started to act: be in a movie with Meryl Streep. She was beyond lovely and she was mentoring you a lot about acting and the film industry. You had a vast experience when it came to the music industry, but film was still quite new to you even if you have acquired a reputation there as well - all those big awards you got from your previous roles and a big fanbase was a powerful combination for success when it came to movies. As for music, you were a great musician with lots of fans but it wasn't that what made you a force to be reckoned with; it was the fact that the songs and albums you wrote and produced were all complete successes; you 'discover' some of the biggest selling artists and you made a lot of money for the rich bastards that control the industry which made you irreplaceable for them.

Another thing that you loved about this project, besides working with Meryl and the script that was quite interesting and gave you a lot of space to grow as an actor, was the fact that you got to work again with your friend Anne Hathaway.

She was a big part of your rise to success. She was your co-star on your first movie role that you seek even in you had no previous experience in acting, but thankfully the director saw something in you, especially good chemistry between the two of you since her character and yours were lovers caught in a toxic relationship due to your character's drug abuse and alcoholism which ended up with your character in jail for killing her lover. That role landed you your first big award which got you quite a prestige: your first role and you won an Oscar for it.

You were preparing lunch while dancing to Blackpink's DDU-DU DDU-DU when the doorbell rang. It was Anne who arrived to have lunch with you.

- Hi, babe! How are you?- you greeted her. Even if you were in the same movie, you did not share many scenes, so you mostly hang out outside the set. - Hi, sweetie! I'm great, you? I brought your favourite dessert! -she replied handing you a bag with pastries.

- Good. Thank you so much, you shouldn't have bothered!- you told her as you closed the door and walked to the living room.

Hanging out with her was as easy as breathing. When you're famous, more often than not you have to be careful with the things you shared about your life because you never knew who could be trusted to keep information private. It would often happen the someone, even if doing it unconsciously, they could share personal information that you did not want out there. With Anne, that wasn't an issue. She could be trusted and she was a loving friend who would listen and give great advice.

After a long conversation about work and her family, you shared with her that you were missing Henry more than you should. That in the past weeks you were experiencing a lot of anxiety because you feared that this time apart would Henry decide on ending things with you like he did a few months before, because he thought it was the best and because he couldn't handle the distance between you two and that was hard for you too. Anne shared her own struggles with being apart from her husband and her child for work. "It's never going to be easy to be apart, but it gets bearable with time," she told you, "if your love is pure, nothing will stand in the way of you two," she assured you.

Anne was one of the few friends who know about your struggle with coming with a decision about having children. What you liked about talking with her about that subject, was that she did not try to sugarcoat the struggles of being a mother. She opened her heart and talked freely about the issues she would have sometimes, but at the end of the day, her son meant the world to her.

During and after dinner you continue the chat, laughing as if you were two teenagers. Friendship is a powerful antidote for heartache and being homesick.

After she left, you picked up the phone and realized that you missed the chance to have your good night call with Henry, because of the time difference and the fact that he went earlier to bed because he needed to be up at 3 am for work. He had not called because when you didn't reply to his texts he realized that you still were busy hanging out with Anne. He promised that you would talk the next day, leaving you his wishes for you to have fun and assuring you that he loved you deeply. You sighed, sad to know that you would have to wait to talk to him and to be honest, anxious that he might have thoughts again that you should be apart because of the lack of time to be together.

You sat on the couch and opened your Instagram account to see what was going on with your friends. As soon as you opened the app, you saw that Henry had shared something on his stories. You clicked on the icon of his profile picture to see it: he shared four photos of you and every single picture was accompanied by the lyrics of a fragment of a song.

In the first photo, in which you were kissing his cheek and he was laughing because of the tingles, he chose the song Die A Happy Man by Thomas Rhett " You're a saint, you're a goddess, the cutest, the hottest, a masterpiece. It's too good to be true, nothing better than you. In my wildest dreams. And I know that I can't ever tell you enough. That all I need in this life is your crazy love. If I never get to see the Northern lights. Or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night. Oh if all I got is your hand in my hand. Baby I could die a happy man yeah".

In the next one, he was the one kissing your cheek while your hand touched his face. The song he selected for this was She's Everything to Me by Bradley Presley "She's the voice I love to hear. Someday when I'm ninety. She's that wooden rocking chair. I want rocking right beside me. Every day that passes. I only love her more. Yeah, she's the one. That I'd lay down my own life for. And she's everything I ever wanted. And everything I need. She's everything to me. Yeah, she's everything to me. Everything I ever wanted. And everything I need. She's everything to me."

The third one was one of you hugging Kal and the chosen song was In Case You Didn't Know by Brett Young "In case you didn't know, Baby I'm crazy 'bout you. And I would be lying if I said, that I could live this life without you. Even though I don't tell you all the time. You had my heart a long, long time ago. In case you didn't know, you've got all of me, I belong to you. Yeah you're my everything".

The final photo was the one of your New Year's kiss, taken by his nephew Thomas - of course, as most teenage boys he reacted like it was too cheesy, but he took it in exchange of your promise that you'll reward him with an autograph of one of his favourite musicians, Slash, who you knew. The song he paired it with was You Make It Easy by Jason Aldean. "Yeah I'm down for life, you got me wrapped around your finger. And I like it just in case you can't tell. You make it easy. Lovin' up on you. Make it easy. With every little thing you do. You're my sunshine in the darkest days. My better half, my saving grace. You make me who I wanna be. You make it easy. Stealin' kisses undercover babe. I see forever when I see your face. And I swear God made you for me".

You were on tears and with a huge smile that made your face hurt. Anne was right, your love was pure and there was nothing it could destroy it, not even distance.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #demivampirew

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voidselfshipp · 3 years

Text

Some things never change

Crowley x jerico

Ok to rb

Cw: food,injury mention, protesting mention.

Summary: crowley made deal with a mayor from a small town,in exchange for his soul crowley would make the mayor win against the prostestants,however an old lover makes him have a change of heart

(Pics arent mine but moodboard is)

Jerico had come back from a very bad day of protesting against the major of her town she left her medical bag on the side of her bed, collapsing on it as the tiredness finally catched up to her.

The Next day she had to go to work.

She hid her scratch marks and bruises with a long sleeved shirt under her work attire.

Shes Serving coffee as a Man, in a black suit comes in, it makes her hairs stand up as there was something clearly sketchy.

She shivers,hoping to stay where she was, preparing drinks instead of asking his order.

No-one dared to come close to him,so she took a deep breath and Walked towards him, hiding as much as she could behind the register.

--Hello welcome to strawberry café,how May I help you?--She asked swearing she could hear all her co-workers exhaling at the same time behind her.

--Well, hello darling, havent seen you in a while...-the Man said leaning in.

Where does she remember him from?, she took one good look at him toying with her wristband.

--Wait crowley?!

What was he doing here?.

--Ah glad to see the terran goddess of willpower is still alive and kickin, been a while luv...--he said--be a dear and bring me a black coffee, no sugar

Jeri scowled--I remembered why I forgot you

Besides the banter, she still had fond memories of him, Back when things were easier, she took his order and went to the backroom to take a break.

She gripped her fists trying to control the flashbacks from her past life, these things just kept on coming.

Images of them dancing togheter, eating togheter, being Friends and something else?...

She shook her head , a mewl distracted her looking up.

--void?how did you get here?--She picked up her black cat, petting them--you always seem to arrive at the best time possible--the cat looked at her.

--i know that look very well--they said in a thick british accent-- you and him had a thing aye?

She rolled her eyes,leaving the cat on her shoulder as she Walked back into the kitchen.

It was true, they had a thing, but those embers Turned to ashes a long time ago.

She grabbed the cardboard Cup and wrote down his name,it felt weird after centuries.

She made his drink and left it for another poor sucker to deliver it to him, she kept on working minding her own bussiness.

She thought crowley had left as she closed the café.

Oh how wrong she was.

--havin a hard time with the keys luv?-Jerico Turned around almost slashing half of his face off as her clawy hands barely missed his face.

--Jesus christ! You scared me crowley!

--yeah well you almost ripped me a New one! --She huffed Rolling her eyes closing the shop and walking home--hey! Where are you going?

--home--she Walked past Him as the street lights flickered whenever crowley Walked under them.

--i saw you at the protest you know?--she stopped dead on her tracks-- I wasnt surprised, I could feel your energy from miles away, you just cant stay away from revolutions can you, after all it is said that the beating of your heart could make whole battalions Rise up to fight again,even if grately injured

She Turned around to be met by him--what do you want crowley?

--Catch up with an old friend

She raised a brow-- excuse me? We were more than that and you know it!

--oh yes we were lovers I remember it quite well--She grunted walking faster just hoping for this damn day to be over--hey come back here!its dangerous!

--I can handle myself crowley! Now go bother someone else!

He sighed holding the bridge of his nose, not even sure why he was still following her in the first place,their affairs ended a long time ago.

Besides he had to make sure his client asked him to do in exchange of his soul.

Jerico finally got home walking upstairs to her room, a box barely stuck out from under her desk.

She sighed opening it and sitting on the floor.

"My dear draco, as I write this, im getting near your home on a boat.

Mother has been very annoying this week, but I cant wait to bathe on terras seas with you, my love by my side.

Take these flowers as a gift.

Yours, crowley"

She sighed putting the letter away, it was almost milennias old.

Why was she even thinking of him? Whats done is done...

She puts the box back where it was and passes out on the bed, uniform still on.

Its early morning as she marches to the majors Office with hundreds of people besides her.

The thing got ugly quick as she came back home with a nasty burn that she got as night sets in.

She hisses as the bandage makes contact with her skin.

--Need help luv?

--im seriously not in the mood now....

Crowley sat there on her window, he sighs entering her house and sitting besides her--let me help you with that.

He softly took care of her burns, wrapping the bandages carefully--there we are...

She looked away and smiled softly--thanks..

A silence Fell as they both look away, yet the demon notices the box under her desk-- I never threw them away you know?

-- what?

--The letters you sent me-- he said playing with his fingers -- I couldnt get rid of them even If I wanted to,you meant...--he made a pause-- you mean so much to me still, sweetheart..

Jerico looked at him pressing her head on his shoulder not sure of what to say.

That seemed enough as crowley hugged her,Sighing, why cant they stay like this a bit longer?.

--You have to be more carefull..I dont want you to get hurt--he said.

--i cant help it--she answered--im drawn to it, the desperation, the hearts full of sorrow and frustration pull to me like a tidal wave...its the very thing I am made of crowley, desire,desire to change,desire to follow it until the bitter end.

He exhaled heavily--I knew you would say that...can I...can I just stay here?...for the night?

She nodded and he whispered a soft " thank god"

They spent the night cuddling in bed,even if he didnt need to sleep.

He held her hand as if it was made of glass,she hugged him tightly,missing him.

Their energies seemed to compliment eachother, one dark, one light.

The desire of power and the desire of change.

The Next day, crowley sat there with the major, not sure of what to do.

--These rioters think they can stop me?!, how dare they?!, ill be staying in power!

The demon stood up from the leather chair--I quit

-- wait what?!

--I quit, you can have your soul back

The major screamed curses at him as he left ,but once he left that building the resistance against the protestants stopped,passing out.

The Next day he was happy to see that the corrupt governor had been fired.

--That was your doing?--Jerico said sitting with him as she handed him his drink, and fixed hers.

--Howd you know?

--the Office was full of your energy-- she said--what made you change your mind?

He looked away--you, my love

She giggled taking his hand, his was so cold and hers so warm...

--a little miracle then?

--a little miracle from hell,yes

Both enjoyed their drinks, and he Walked her home as her shift ended.

--Hey crowley?--jer asked him as he stands near the door sill.

--Hmm?

--you can come in,stay the night --He takes a few steps inside the house closing the door behind him-- and have this... and the dinner as a thank you gift

She kisses him for a brief moment and speeds to the kitchen.

"Cheeky" he thinks with a huge smile on his face chasing her to the kitchen.

He stayed the night, and the Next one.

Some things never change.

#f/o fic #food tw #tw food #protesting mention #protesting ment #tw//protesting mention #tw:protesting mention #injury mention #tw injury mention #crowley #☀️a f*cking ray of sunshine☀️#👿🖤👑the owner of my dark heart👑🖤👿

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

hi could you rec some gen fics

Hi Nonny!!

I’ve a tonne of G and T rated fics, and I’m using this opportunity to clear another list off my Check-List, T-Rated Part 3! It’s a nice long list, so hope you enjoy!

As per usual, friends, the third reblog will be the mobile post (I do that to generate the “full post”, and then “read more” the original post), so I am sorry :P

T-RATED FICS Pt. 3