#so i was just a wee bit sleep deprived | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchywcmans · 6 days

Text

NEEDY. | AKI HAYAKAWA

synopsis ━━ you were in need of a roommate, and aki hayakawa needed a place that wouldn't ask any questions. you went to work during the day, while aki worked late nights. you basically had the apartment to yourself. it was honestly a match made in heaven. but then, you just had to come home one day and catch your roommate in a precarious situation. (aki x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ voyeurism (just a wee bit), sex-deprived aki 🫶, but also possessive + jealous aki, masturbation, dirty thoughts + wet dreams, fingering, praise, multiple orgasms, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, kinda au (we're not mentioning the gun devil arc), aki has lived to see 26 + reader being a similar age, some religious imagery. (nfsw + ageless blogs dni.)

word count ━━ 5.1k

song inspiration ━━ dealer, lana del rey / friends, chase atlantic / double fantasy, the weeknd

author's note ━━ hi.....hello.........so this idea has been in my head for a little bit, and I realize roommate aus like this are simply not that original, but god dammit I just needed to get this out of my head. anyway, I lurrrrrv sex deprived aki. shout out to my friend hollis for screaming about this with me hehe 💓

The most words you had ever said to your roommate were on the day you interviewed him before he moved in. You immediately noticed that he was strange, but also shy and seemingly harmless. When you had asked why he needed to move in so quickly, he had said something along the lines of a “toxic environment” with his previous roommates: “Denji and Power are just too noisy and reckless. They’re four years younger than me. I need a place less chaotic.” You had been interested in getting to know more – you were curious, after all, about your potential roomie – but once he mentioned that you’d probably never see him because he worked nights, you were sold.

Aki Hayakawa was your new roommate.

He had never been more excited to finally get away from Denji and Power and the tumultuous mess they had turned his apartment into. He was older now; he needed something for himself, even if it was with a roommate. Being a Public Safety Devil Hunter, he needed a place that didn’t think twice about him, a roommate who didn’t ask questions. That’s what he liked about you: your place was on the right side of the city, and you looked at him like he was normal. The Fox Devil said you weren’t going to be good for him, but Aki tended to ignore them anyway.

You had helped him move into your second bedroom just a week later and he hardly said a word, except to ask you who had formerly occupied this space. You were hesitant to talk about it at first, but you cracked soon enough: “My old best friend lived in here. We had rented this place together, but we … aren’t exactly speaking anymore,” you admitted, setting a box down at his feet. “I came home from work one evening and found my boyfriend cheating on me with her. It had been going on for months, right under my nose.” You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting with tears, sniffling them away. “Friends come and go, I guess. But I’m thankful you, at least, worked out to rent this space.”

“Well,” he sighed, opening up the box as you turned back to him. He smirked. “I promise I won’t sleep with your boyfriend.”

You had laughed, and what a pretty sound it was. After move-in day, Aki was true to his word that you almost never saw him. You worked a normal 9 to 5, while Aki … well, you had no idea what Aki did. You assumed he was a security guard or something with the hours he worked and how he was always wearing a suit and tie. He was working all the time, even weekends. Sometimes, you would catch him coming home as you were leaving for work, or on Sunday morning as you ate breakfast in the kitchen. He would be too tired to talk, simply waving at you before retiring to his room.

It was almost like living alone … except for notes he’d sometimes leave you on the stove or the bathroom. Or the weekend mornings, when he’d get you a coffee and leave it out for you before going to his room. Or the once-in-a-blue-moon nights when you’d stumble in the early hours of the morning after drinking in the city with some friends, standing out on the deck with Aki as he smoked a cigarette. Nights like those, you could’ve sworn Fate was trying to get you two to see each other, because you would be arriving home at just the right hour and Aki would be getting off work early. And you would find him on the deck in his suit and tie, cigarette hanging from his lips, hair pulled up in his classic topknot. He would find you leaning against the railing in nothing but a short dress, the glitter on your lids making your eyes sparkle even more, and – god, you were just so pretty.

After that night, he started dreaming about you. He dreamed about how your lips would feel against his, what it would be like to have you sleep next to him and rest your head on his chest. He was consumed by thoughts of you under him, how you tasted, the way you’d tremble if he kissed that sensitive part of your neck you told him about one late night on the deck. His need for you was insatiable. In his line of work, there wasn’t much time for dating, let alone sex. He hadn’t been thinking about it that much, especially when he’d been housing Denji and Power, but now … he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Naked. Underneath him. On top. God dammit, he’d have you any way you wanted.

It made him wish he had acted on his instincts that night on the deck: pushing you against the sliding door, his lips crashing onto yours, hiking your skirt up that just barely covered your thighs and using his non-dominant hand (the one that didn’t shake) to feel how wet you were. But alas, Aki Hayakawa was a gentleman.

You two had been living together for a year. He hardly knew you, but also knew you like nobody else did. He knew how you took your coffee – black with two sugars. He knew the brand of toilet paper you liked. He knew that you liked to hang your coats in the closet on the right side. He knew you drooled in your sleep, and what TV shows made you laugh, and how much your water bill was each month.

He was acting out in ways that were unlike him. If he came home from work and saw you had a guy over, he made his presence known. When you were at the office, sometimes he would go to your room just to smell your perfume, and other times he would steal your panties. (He always gave them back, feeling too shameful. But he did keep one underneath his pillow.) Some nights, he would pretend to leave for work early and you would retire to your room for the night, and then he would hear the familiar sound of your vibrator and – fuck, he had to go to work hard. Again.

You were taking up too much space in his head. He was becoming distracted at work, thinking about what you were doing during these late hours. Maybe the Fox Devil was right: you weren’t good for him.

But he wasn’t moving out any time soon.

It was a Thursday after work and you were completely exhausted. After attending endless meetings and having to argue with coworkers all day, you left work early and were grateful to have a night alone with some leftovers from the night before. You had completely forgotten Aki telling you earlier in the week that he had this Thursday and Friday off, your mind preoccupied with work responsibilities. Sighing as soon as you walked through the door, you set your bag down and shuffled out of your shoes. You shut the door softly, at peace with the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of your work clothes; you simply padded your feet to the fridge, plucking your leftovers out. It was only when you reached up to the microwave that you noticed the apartment wasn’t as silent as you assumed.

Sounds emanated from another room.

You got on your tip-toes, not wanting to make much noise if there was an intruder, and felt for the pocket knife you always kept on your person. Passing by your bedroom first, you popped your head inside. Empty. Hadn’t been touched since you left this morning. The bathroom was next, and you held your breath as the sounds got even more noticeable. You peeked into the bathroom and … clear. Linen closet: clear. Coat closet: clear. But the sounds only became more clear as you got closer to the end of the hall, Aki’s room, and –

You stopped in front of Aki’s bedroom, the door cracked just enough that you didn’t need to pop your head in to see what was happening. Aki was home, for once, and you … you were watching him through the crack in the door. But how could you not? You knew where the sounds were coming from now, because Aki was the one making them.

His dark hair swept in front of his eyes as he sat back against his pillows. He wore a white t-shirt, while his boxers bagged around his ankles. Grunts slipped from his mouth – that pretty, pretty mouth you'd seen wrapped around a cigarette. And his hand … his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously – desperately – with a pair of your panties enveloping the head. The same red lace panties you thought you’d lost months ago.

You almost considered walking away, making noise in the kitchen so he would know you were home, but then –

Then, your name left his mouth in a whimper.

He was stroking himself even faster, muttering your name into the silent room with your panties wrapped so nicely around his cock. He was thinking about you, wanting so desperately cum in your panties, wondering if you thought about him when you used your vibrator. You were frozen in place, completely fixated on him as he leaned back against his headboard, his face finally exposed so you could see the way his jaw went slack, the way he moaned out your name. And – oh my god, you should leave –

But you couldn’t. And deep down, you knew there was a dirty part of you that always wanted to see this. Ever since that night on the deck, when you were wearing your favorite dress and all that glitter, and you noticed that he was looking at you in a way a platonic roommate definitely shouldn’t. You had started to think about him late nights when you were alone with your toy. You brought home dates, wanting him to see, giggling when you recognized his jealous expression. You tried to wake up earlier, just to see him when he stumbled through the door. Once, you even did his laundry to smell the nicotine on his jacket.

The two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves.

And when you watched him finally reach his peak, spilling into your forgotten red lace panties, you realized just how wet the ones you were wearing had become. You watched him grunt as he came, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. And when he muttered under his breath a soft, “Fuck,” you couldn’t help the short gasp that left your lips.

Aki stalled. Oh, shit. You hadn’t been quiet enough. He sat up more in his bed, pulling his boxers up, and you whipped your back against the wall. You cupped your hand over your mouth, praying he wouldn’t come out and see. But he was whispering, “Who’s there?” And you only had enough time to move ten feet down the hall before you heard the creak of his soles on the old floorboards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder this time.

Your back went straight, and after what felt like an eternity, you slowly turned to face him. “Aki,” you put your hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see anything –”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he shook his head at himself, quickly walking back into his bedroom. You were stunned, not knowing what to do, as he continued talking to himself in the room: “Stupid fucking idiot not closing the fucking door. What the fuck? What the fuck? My worst fucking nightmare. Fuck, why do these pants always get caught around my ankles? I need to get out of here. Stay at Denji’s for the night. Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

He emerged from his bedroom, now wearing jeans, his favorite Converse, and a leather jacket. He tried to pass you without looking, whispering obscenities under his breath, but then you were tugging on his jacket, lips pressed together.

Aki paused, cheeks red with both embarrassment and anger at himself, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve. He noticed the redness of your face as well, the black of your pupils almost covering your entire eye, and were you … were you aroused?

Swallowing hard, your voice was but a mere whisper when you asked, “How long have you had those?”

He knew what you were referring to. It didn’t take an idiot. Your stares were locked, and despite his shame, he wouldn’t turn away. “A while,” he mumbled.

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Months, okay?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a new tone. “Now, can you let go of my jacket so I can leave and save us both the embarrassment –”

“Months,” you repeated, licking the corners of your lips. His eyes were made of blue fire as he stared down at you, and even with your office attire on, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. “I’ve … I’ve been thinking about you for months too.”

Aki took a moment to process your words, and your grip hesitantly released on his sleeve. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t – let you get away so easily. His breath was shaky as he placed both of his hands on the wall behind you, pinning you to it. So many times had you two passed each other in this hallway, so many words left unsaid. And now, he was pressing you against it.

“You’ve been thinking about me … for months,” he thought out loud, leaning in a little and nosing your hair. Your scent was intoxicating. That perfume … he could cum in his pants just from smelling it. “For months, you’ve been bringing guys to the apartment to … to what? Make me jealous?” He chuckled under his breath. It took him so long to put it together. “For months, you’ve been touching yourself right before I leave so I go to work fucking hard.” His nose traveled down to your neck, grazing that spot you told him about, and you shuddered. “You’ve been putting me through the wringer and I didn’t even have a clue.”

“You’re … you’re not so innocent.” You tried to keep yourself together, but it was difficult with him pinning you to the wall and – oh, he was already hard in his pants, pressing into you. “You’ve been stealing my panties so you can masturbate with them.”

Aki hummed quietly, pressing his lips so delicately to your neck, as if his cock wasn’t completely strained in his jeans. “I supposed I have,” he whispered against your skin, “for months.”

“Since that night on the deck,” you croaked out, hands balling into fists as he licked a stripe up your neck. If he didn’t stop, you’d surely moan. “But I didn’t say anything – didn’t think about saying anything – because … because we’re roommates.”

“We are roommates,” he said, lifting his head from your neck, his lips hovering so close to yours. “And if we’re just stating facts here, I’ve needed to kiss you since that night.”

You didn’t wait for him. Immediately leaning in, your lips pressed onto his in a hungry kiss. His mouth molded to yours, and he tasted exactly like you thought: like black coffee, cigarettes, those raspberry pastries he always kept in the kitchen. His tongue, slipping into your mouth, tangled with yours in a way that you had only dreamed about. Your hands released from their fists, instead reaching up to twist in his t-shirt, bringing him even closer to you. He’d hardly touched you and you were completely, utterly soaked.

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips broke from yours for just a moment to beg, “I need to touch you.”

“Please,” you whispered back, and his mouth was back on yours.

He dragged one hand down from the wall (his shaky hand, believe it or not), still pressing you against it, and worked on unzipping your trousers. You nuzzled your nose against his as he kissed you deeply, slipping his hand in your pants, past the waistband of your panties and – you were exactly as he dreamed you’d be. Absolutely wet. Just as needy for him as he was for you. “Fuck,” he muttered into the kiss, spreading your soaked folds with two long fingers.

Your lips tore away from his, a trail of spit following, because you simply had to release the moan you’d been holding in for so long. Despite loving the way your mouth fitted against his, he was glad for it, wanting to see your face when he started rubbing your sensitive clit. And fuck, was it the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your fists on his t-shirt went loose as your body felt like it was made of liquid, angling into his. Your lips pursed, soft whimpers filtering out as he rubbed you in those tight circles.

“So fucking wet f’me,” he mumbled, grazing his lips over yours. “Dreamed about this for months. Fuck, I’ve gotten hard just thinking about this pussy.”

He finally dipped a single finger inside you, and your hips immediately jerked against his hand. Aki let out a shuddering breath when he felt how much you were squeezing just one finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly. “Please,” you whispered, despite his thoughts, “I can take more. I promise.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He shoved two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that had your hips instantly bucking. “Fuck, Aki,” you whined as he plunged those fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to rub your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed.

“Kiss me.”

Aki moaned from your words alone, kissing you hard while fucking you with his long fingers. He was practically drunk on you: your scent wrapped around him, you tasted like citrus, and the way bucked into his hand … god, he needed to fuck you. So bad. And if you didn’t want that, then he needed to jerk himself off immediately or else he was going to explode in his pants. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment tonight.

It only took seconds to have you sighing into the kiss, squeezing his fingers like a vice as you came. His thumb on your clit was relentless, taking you over that lovely peak, as you mewled and cried into his mouth. It was almost religious, the way you moaned, and Aki had never felt closer to God than in this moment.

When the adrenaline subsided, he slowly removed his fingers from you and broke the kiss. You watched him intensely as he brought the fingers covered in your slick to his mouth, tasting you. Your lips fell open slightly, eyes going wide while his own closed, savoring the taste. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself. How the fuck have we been living under the same roof and it took this long for me to see that?

Without missing a beat, you pushed yourself off the wall, winding your arms around his neck and latching your legs to his waist. He lifted you as if you were made of air, kissing you so that you could taste yourself. Before you could even perceive how much time had passed, you were on his bed, blouse disheveled and trousers undone. Even your hair hadn’t left the updo you put it in every weekday. Your eyes flickered to the right and you giggled to yourself. He had finally shut the door.

His eyes remained on you as he shrugged off his jacket, and then his pants. He was back in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, when your panties had been wrapped around his cock like a birthday present. He hesitated before finally pulling off his shirt, and you saw the scars lining parts of his chest. Definitely not a security guard, you thought to yourself but decided not to ask about it now. You reached up as he stood between your legs, brushing your fingers over the scars, and then dragged them down his abdomen. His frame was thin, but he was more built than you believed, always hiding himself under those oversized button-ups.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist as you touched him so gracefully. “Do you want to …?” His voice was so soft, the question hanging off the edge of his tongue.

And then, you smiled up at him, looking like an angel. “Yes, Aki,” you whispered.

He felt like a kid in a candy store. The only thing – the one person – he’d been dreaming about and looked at him as if he weren’t a machine, or a gun with the trigger pulled, was lying before him and liked him. For months, they’d both said. His dominant hand was shaking as he started unbuttoning your blouse, and when you noticed (though you had observed this the day he moved in), you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek. With his left hand and your right, you worked together to undo the buttons until your chest was exposed for him.

Moonlight streamed through his bedroom, the only light source in a seemingly dark area. City lights reflected on you as you pulled your hair free from the updo, those pretty strands fanning on his sheets. His sheets. Because you were in his bed. The blinking lights from corporate buildings outside your little apartment created a halo around your head and – fuck, you really were something religious. For so long, Aki thought only hell existed. I mean, all the Devils were here, contracted to them. But seeing you splayed out so heavenly for him on his bed, he knew then that Angels had to exist too.

He took his time taking your pants off, watching the way you bit your lip when the cold air of his room hit your soaked panties. Your eyes glanced up to his boxers, seeing the indent of his long, thick cock, and your mouth went dry. His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging down and throwing them off to the side, hoping you’d forget about them so he could pocket another pair. With you exposed and bare on his bed, he really took a moment to admire you: the way your cheeks flushed, how the halo around your head flickered, the way your arousal seeped out of your pretty pussy and your nipples peaked. He just had to touch you; it would kill him if he didn’t. Leaning down, he began peppering kisses on your neck, your collarbone, before finally latching his lips around one of those sensitive nipples. Your breath stuttered at the sensation, and he used his left hand to palm your other breast, twisting the nipple between two fingers. You writhed under him, and he couldn’t help but grind his clothed cock against you, groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipple in tandem. Locking your legs around his waist, you held him to you so he was forced to keep grinding against you. It felt too good, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He tugged on your nipple and released it, breathing heavily as his eyes met yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’m definitely going to cum before I’m even inside you.”

“Poor Aki,” you giggled, letting your legs fall back on the bed. “Would that really be so bad?”

His eyes were burning into yours, serious as a heart attack. “I’ve been fucking my hand to the thought of you for what feels like forever,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

Aki moved up so that his lips were hovering over yours again, and he could really see the sparkle of your irises in the moonlight. You reached in between your bodies and gingerly massaged his bulge, feeling how much he’d already soaked his boxers with precum. “You couldn’t ruin anything even if you tried,” you replied, your voice light and airy. “I’m on the pill. I’m ready when you are.”

“Shit,” he groaned at your mention of being on the pill, trembling as you massaged him. This had to be another one of his dreams. Just the thought of being inside you without the barrier of a condom … he was so close to completely exploding. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you, after all the hell he’d witnessed and brought forth into this world. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to have you, roommates be damned.

He stood up, needing to get away from your gentle hand. You sat up a little to help him tug down his boxers, careful of that shaky hand of his, and his cock sprang free, dripping precum on the floor. Aki, ever the gentleman, laid you back down on his bed with ease, holding your stare as he spread your legs wide for him. He breathed, praying to whatever god placed you in front of him that he wouldn’t cum prematurely. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, but he was so desperate for you that all he cared about was not tainting this moment, this dream.

Aki grasped his cock, giving it a few hard pumps and grunting, before positioning himself at your entrance. You both seemed to hold your breath as he finally slid in, just an inch at first, and the two of you seemed to release that shaky, nervous breath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, burying himself further in your tight warmth, bracing his elbows beside your head.

“Keep going,” you begged. “It’ll fit, Aki. Promise.”

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. Aki had felt the way you squeezed his fingers, but it was nothing compared to pleasure of being inside you, feeling how tight you really were. So much better than his hand. Once he was fully seated inside you, he opened his eyes just to look into yours. Your lips pursed, legs wrapping around his waist once again, and you slowly nodded for him to continue. His cock twitched.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, sliding out of you before slamming back in. You cried out, carding your fingers in his hair, and he molded his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own whimpers. You just felt so, so good – so good that he could cry. To think that his bed had once been so cold, so lonely, but now you were occupying the space, trembling underneath him as his cock slipped in and out of you.

Your moans were like gospel. For so long, Aki had been used to loud noise: to Denji’s complaints, to Power’s shouting, to the Devils’ in his ear. But now, it was just you two on the altar of your apartment, silent except for your heavy breaths mingling and the sound of car horns outside. You were wet and slick like holy water, taking him so nicely despite his size, and god – it was like you were made for him and he was made for you.

You tugged on his hair, needing him so badly even though he was already yours to begin with. He really would have you any way you wanted. All you had to do was ask.

Aki was already so close to release, but he needed you to cum with him. As he fucked into you harder, deeper, his cock curving against that spot that made your eyes roll back, he reached in between you two and found that swollen bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs. “Aki,” you whined, tears pricking at your eyes as he rubbed your clit. He could die happily now that he heard your voice like that in his ear, knowing it was him that made it happen.

“Yes?” He said, breathless, placing sloppy kisses on your jaw. You clung to him, melting into him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “I’m so close. Are you close, angel?”

You whimpered at the nickname. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He fingers went a little faster. “Let’s get you there.”

As his two fingers rubbed tight, small circles on your clit, he angled his cock inside of you so that he could brush your G-spot with every thrust. You were now clutching onto him with all the strength you had left, entwining your body with his and feeling his muscles flex against your stomach. He was so deep now and you were so close and oh my god, Aki Hayakawa had you like putty in his hands.

And it was like he knew it without you even saying it. Because as your walls started to clench around him, he whispered into your ear. “Cum for me, angel. Please, please, need to cum with you.”

Your body convulsed, going tight around his cock as you came. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you called out his name, spurring him to fuck into you faster, reaching his own peak in the middle of yours. He groaned deep into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. You kept your legs around his waist, not wanting to miss a drop, and arched yourself against him, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. Aki was still rubbing your clit slowly, whispering praises into your skin like, “Did so good me … So pretty … Could listen to you cum for hours.”

You two laid like that for a while, feeling his cock soften inside you, panting heavily against each other. Once he finally pulled out of you, your combined releases dripping down your thighs, you laid beside each other on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, until he whispered, “Please, tell me that wasn’t all a dream.”

Turning your head, you smiled at him. “Do you feel this?” You pinched his arm.

Aki flinched. “Ow.”

“Definitely not a dream,” you chuckled.

175 notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 1 year

Note

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other.

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training.

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore.

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock.

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening.

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds.

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows.

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast!

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now.

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type.

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first.

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad.

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table.

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks.

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold.

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can.

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner.

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie.

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them.

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping.

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away.

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

—

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight.

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked.

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too.

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea.

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission.

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying.

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter.

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!”

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller.

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine.

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt.

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening.

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close.

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply.

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours.

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other.

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice.

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively.

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other.

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning.

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back.

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy.

“You know what that means,” you say.

“Sex,” he replies immediately.

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm.

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies.

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say.

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

917 notes · View notes

danaewrites · 4 months

Text

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.”

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?”

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about.

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.”

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?”

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.”

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.”

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile.

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly.

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression.

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.”

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone.

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you.

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently.

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation.

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?”

He thought your eyes were pretty?

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out.

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @lilly-aliyah @milivanili99 @stars-havefallen @spidergwnn @prongs-moon @joeytribbiani18 @yeahright0h @ronancebot @ropickle @regulusblacksposts @lovelywritersgarden @helloitsmeeeeeee @xobridgertonblues @azuredgalaxies

please comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

#james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #sirius black #bisexual sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #fem reader #fem!reader #best friends to lovers #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders x y/n #lily evans #harry potter #hp fandom

355 notes · View notes

goofalicousgooberface · 5 months

Text

Thinking about Farleigh and Oliver. About how Farleigh was the only one who could see through most of Oliver’s tricks because he’s the same kind of animal. They’re both the people pleasers of Saltburn. They’re the only ones who have to put on a show to be allowed to stay. But Oliver doesn’t confide in him for that. Because at his core I think he’s scared of genuine human connection. I think he’s afraid that if he acts like himself, people will leave. He’s always putting on an act, he’s been doing it for as long as he can remember. Because he never wants to disappoint. Maybe if Farleigh woke up while Oliver was making that text, they could’ve had a moment that was real. Farleigh waking to the blueish illumination of a phone screen, asking ‘what are you doing’. Oliver doesn’t have an answer. But Farleigh keeps pressing, until he gets one (or rather assumes one). It’s instant, his reaction. A barrage of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ and ‘why do they make Olivers so psychotic in that fucking factory’. But everyone is sleeping, and he has to keep his words hushed to keep it that way. Oliver’s only reply is ‘I don’t know’. It’s frustrating, but eventually Farleigh just turns over and tries to sleep with his phone clutched tightly. It’s too late for this bullshit. Oliver just stares with his eyes wide. Farleigh cracks one of his own open, asking (less angrily after he’s had a chance to cool down) ‘why’. And again, Oliver doesn’t have an answer to give. He’s just ‘I needed to’. And then something something Oliver tells Farleigh about his lack of identity in a moment of sleep deprived weakness and Farleigh sees himself in Oliver’s story yada yada and then they cuddle

A wee bit gay I believe (just one chance 4 either of them JUST ONE CHANCE PLEASE.)

#they make me crazy #should I write a fic abt them #DAMN THIS IS LONG WTF I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE #farleigh start #oliver quick #quickstart #saltburn #goober post

244 notes · View notes

aethelwyneleigh27 · 7 months

Note

Fancy seeing you here😳 (in the COD simping club)

I was thinking(horrible desicion but hear me out)

(maskedFem!reader with Simon Ghost Riley, sort of a 'enemies to lovers' but not really cause they are platonics that love-hate each other and they do get along just with a larger vocabulary.

BUt Ghost is kind of swooning over her? a wee bit?(respectfully, in the corner of the room with his arms crossed,silently and lethally tho)

With cero awareness of his feelings, how he enjoys speaking with her and finds her precense borderline rehabilitating, perhaps he thinks his amazement is normal cause she's once in a lifetime of a unit and; she's also a woman and he almost forgets they exist sometimes so he's just a bit taken back, perhaps his brain rebooting the info. That makes sense.

But it's been almost a year so why is her voice such a melody still? Why does he seem to search for her eyes during sunny days the most searching for the color of them? He's too attentive with her, always getting sucked into the banter far easier than he should when she's involved in it. Can he even blame it on men's hormones when he barely feels anything, much less in that department? Do the rest of the 141 feel that too? Should he feel bothered or at ease?

Like some juicy slowburn 😈. During a mission they're bantering about Gaz being bitchless or her drinking coffee with enough sugar to send Price into cardiac arrest, and she's ambushed out of nowhere on her sniping point, taken for interrogation swiftly after being knocked out.

Angsty sht of her informing the ordeal before never responding to her callsign again, Soap mumbling a curse and Ghost entering autopilot to prioritize efficiency and the guys are a bit amazed by how swift he was wiping out everyone on sight.(Jhon Wick looking ass)

Finding her on a table with her hands and arms tightly bound and being held still by two men as another one had already used a scaple to cut through the middle of her torso almost like he intended to perform a surgery on her whilst she was conscious and aware. Simon shooting the two men right between the eyes but for some reason shooting the guy with the scaple on both of his legs and planting a knife on his eye whilst Soap cuts the rope, she barely gets a word out when Simon cradles her shoulders with one hand, his touch careful. And his voice a lot more soft than he anticipated it to be."Are you alright?"

Evac comes, she gets stitched back together at the hospital and needs to rest till it heals over, everyone cheers and hugs, and Ghost comes to acknowledge his feelings(as much as he can) when he closes the door of his bedroom and the emotions finally hit him, autopilot is turned off and he stares at a wall for almost an hour.

She becomes subject of his nightmares for a little while, he's outside clearing his head when she walks in with insomnia, he's troubled by the relief of the sight of her alive and his solitude being interrupted by the cause of his troubles, nevertheless she's still a welcomed sight, always a welcomed sight. "Oh, fancy seeing you here" "Shouldn't you be resting" "You need the beauty sleep more than me tho, Lt." "*Scoffs*" ..... "Wanna see it?(the scar)" "I knew you were a man(your dickl?)" "Is that why you've been up my ass all the time?" .... "Alright show me" she lifts her sweater up, a barely closed scar from bellow her ribs to bellow her belly button, he doesn't mean to but he flinches at the sight, tensed shoulders and furrowed brows the sleep deprivation has him in less control than usual and she notices. Still, he's fine cause he's Ghost and casually comments "It's healing rather quickly" he looks away unable to stand the memory of it just yet, she pulls it back down leaning her elbows over the window, just two feet away from each other. She takes the thin black mask off from around her ears letting the cold night hit her face properly, he looks away instantly. "It's fine, nothing you haven't seen" he very reluctantly glances back "So, they said y'all only found me in record time cause of you Lt." she glances at him and he glances out of the window, if he looks at her now he's afraid he won't be able to look away, "Just didn't want you spilling your guts to em" she snorts and her small laugh fills the silence of the night, perhaps the one in his heart aswell

"Your savior privileges have been revoked" "Too soon?" "....Just in time Ghost" she tilts her head to look at him, he makes the mistake of staring back out of reflex and thank fucking god for the balaclava he's wearing, he keeps his eyes from widening this time, but not from softening,cautiously mapping her face with her explicit permission trying so fucking hard to not make it obvious "Could convince me im the one with the skull balaclava with how avoidant you are" "Who knows maybe you scare more without the mask" she yawns and into her palm eyes getting heavier quickly, he's really fucking trying to unglue his eyes from her, a silence ensues, she looks at him again and "Thank you, Simon" she smiles gratefully, her gaze anchored on his and- isnt she a bit embarrassed to be this outright? He certainly is, his face burns, his heart skips a beat, seems getting flustered does the trick cause he finally rips his eyes from hers she chuckles at his expense and before he can reply she's standing up slipping her mask back on "Sweet dreams lieutenant"

Enemies(frienemies) to lovers(but not really cause Ghost just realizes he's fucked up™) with maskedfem¡reader. Ghost begins to question the nature of his feelings towards her and realizing he's in fact a bit too fond of her. Im not quite good of height differences so if you'll be using height as a factor to describe, can she be atleast as tall as Soap? The whole 'petite' or 'chubby' Isn't my thing at all aswell, i need this woman to be a ball of muscle hitting her chest like a gorilla lmao. That weird drabble i put there is just to give kind of an idea but honestly do whatever you'd like, the way he realizes can be through some jealousy, some kidnapping, her getting drunk and soap putting her on his back or whatever i just wanna see him getting the hibbie jibbies, the toe curler hair twirling disease 💀

Feel free to ignore me i know it can be annoying to get a whole ass fanfic in your asks, have a wonderful day i love your writing💕

If anyone is looking for that whole ass fic this anon sent me then here it is, a fucking masterpiece I tell you <333

Like I can definitely see an enemies to friends to lovers situation with Ghost and of course there's gonna be jealousy because what better way than to push someone's buttons with tension??

#aethelwyne lia answers #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

104 notes · View notes

pixeechix21 · 6 months

Text

Theo nott x reader

Academic rivals and you really need to de-stress good thing great minds think alike 😋✌️

Ps im a wee bit tipsy n idk how to think rn so let use our ✨imagination✨ I love yall xxox

You're in the Hogwarts library and you're super stressed. So stressed you can't focus and this isn't the moment for you to get side tracked especially when he's studying as hard as you if not harder than you.

In a corner nearby you hear a frustrated shout and the thudding of books being thrown. Getting up I cautiously look around the corner. By a set of empty tables is a hunched over figure running his hands through his hair. “Hey everything okay?” You ask shyly to walk up to them.

“No.” his voice is all too familiar. The voice that haunts my dreams and fuels my fantasies. I pick up the books, setting them on the table. “I keep on getting distracted,” he admits. I can see the bags under his eyes, probably reflecting those under my eyes. In the low light of the library and the dark outside he looks like a ghost from the ancient times we study about. His skin glows warmly and his eyes are shadowed. I find my breath hitching in my throat as he looks up at me with a certain look in his eyes.

“If it helps I'm stressed I can't focus either,” you say helplessly. He pushes his chair back, his usually neat clothes are wrinkled, shirt pulled out and tie slightly undone. There's a sudden urge to fix it for him. Without a second thought my hand reaches out and pulls on his tie lightly loosening it. His deep eyes look at mine, surprised at me cold hands working his tie. Lowly I whisper to him, “I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He chuckles lightly, amused his hand rests on my waist. His tie finally undone and I keep hold of him. His proximity is electrifying. In the quiet of the library I can't seem to keep my thoughts from him.

As if he has read my mind he starts, “there's this. This. This thing, person, that I can't keep off my mind. Wherever I go, whenever I try to not to think about them they just Weaste their way into the very crevasse of my deepest-” his fingers dig in a little tighter, “-depraved parts of me.” I bite my bottom lip. “Your turn,” he says, eyes looking at my lips then back to my hooded eyes.

“Hmmm.” I hum, sleep deprived and drunk on the feeling of his possessive hold snaking its way under my shirt. His fingers holding on to my bare skin, burning that spot deliciously with his touch. “I feel, I don't know.. I feel tense and stressed. You see there's this guy,” his eyebrows prick up interested, “he consumes my thoughts to the point where I can't focus,” I aggressively plant my hand on his chest, smiling as I slip into his lap as he pulls me closer.

“Tell me who this guy is?” It's barely audible with the pulsing of blood in my ears.

“If I tell you you have to promise not to tell anyone, He's the only one that can help my dire situation,” I mockingly plead, a dark look comes over him. Underneath me he shifts himself holding me down to feel him securely.

“I can't promise anything,” his hot breath tickles my neck. Asmall kiss marks where his lips were. I try so hard not to moan in relife at the feeling of him. “But I can promise i can relive some of that… stress,” hes mi.iteres away from my lips. Our breaths are one and the same. I didn't have a single helpful thought before and I don't have one now. I kiss him. Our lips meet in a tangled mess of need and desperation. I needed this. His hands pushing me into him forcing all coherent thoughts of the test out of my kind for good.

#fem!reader #smut #matteo riddle #theo nott #x reader #dark academia #books & libraries #enimies to lovers #need you #hogwarts houses #library sex #slow burn #angst #kiss #draco malfoy #call of duty #simon ghost riley

78 notes · View notes

serendertothesquad · 3 months

Text

"Wordsville" and the Problem with Cash-Cow Copies

[note original day of creation was February 15, 2024. just...just for reference. trust me bro.]

Hello.

Tonight I am in a silly mood fueled by sleep deprivation.

That means you all get an introspective blog that I will complete within a week and then ask "why'd I write that?"

So here's what's on Seren's lovely table of discussion tonight...

Put...put away the glasses. You don't need your glasses. This is the highest-quality thing I can get.

But et voila. A little project in the works called Wordsville.

Now, at this point you might be asking why I'm referencing "cash-cow copies" in the title. And whoo-hoo...oooooh...well, I don't want to make this some kind of clickbait blog, so I might as well perfect the atomic bomb in five minutes and land it on you folks.

What if I were to tell you that this is a blatant, shameless, slap-a-digital-coat-on-it-and-call-it-a-day copy of Odd Squad?

Ahhh, see, now I have you intrigued. Hopefully. If you are, then peep down below and let me discuss things a little more in-depth for you non-believing hacks asking me if I'm borderline insane.

So to put things in perspective, allow me to explain what Wordsville is, starting with my own personal summary.

Wordsville is an up-and-coming episodic (not to be confused with serialized, that's a whole 'nother ballgame) TV series that is produced (and will later be distributed) by Sinking Ship Entertainment and is made with assistance from WNET, a PBS station located in New Jersey, and TVO Kids, PBS Kids's girlfriend from Canada that's definitely real.

It was announced back in October of last year with a press release from Kidscreen, which didn't give much info aside from the following blurb:

Wordsville stars two child detectives on the hunt for missing words that are causing chaos in their town.

Sounds a little familiar, don'tcha think? Two kid detectives, finding something missing...and that "something missing" is causing chaos where they live?

Oh, but if you think the similarities end there, then no. No the absolute fuck they do not. I've got my bathing suit on and God damn it if I'm not gonna jump all the way in the pool instead of dippin' my little toes in there.

Doing a little bit of digging reveals more tidbits from a casting call for the series. It's rather wordy (ayyyyyy I did a funy), so let's take it piece by piece and discuss accordingly.

Wordsville is a town populated entirely by kids

A town that is populated entirely by children? Now c'mon, surely that doesn't ring a be-

...Ah. Whaddya know. Yes it does.

And with the adults as useless and idiotic as they are, it might as well be a town full of solely children. Next question.

and it’s a place where words matter. A lot. Every kid citizen has a special connection to words. And that means that if something happens to a word, there are far-reaching consequences.

A special connection to words? Like how there are children who have a special connection to normalcy? Stopping, oh, I dunno, hypothetically speaking...

...oddness?

Okay okay, I'm reaching just a wee bit here, but you can't read this and not tell me it echoes the funny kids math show to some degree or another. If an odd thing happens to a person, the whole town suffers. You've seen it. I've seen it. It's been the basis for many an A and B-plot. Must I elaborate? Good, because I don't plan on it. Continuing.

If the Main Street Baker bakes delicious donuts and they all mysteriously disappear, nothing else in Wordsville can taste good until they are returned.

Town Baker walked so Main Street Baker can sprint while blowing their lungs out.

If the Town Doctor’s soothing medication gets swiped, the whole town gets uncontrollably itchy until the medicine-napper is uncovered.

Ignoring the incredibly dark implications of this as well as the implications of this shoddy knockoff town having only one single doctor...

Dr. O walked so the Town Doctor can sprint while blowing their lungs out...over their massive paycheck.

(I technically could have also put New Dr. O too, but I'd like to spring for iconic OG's here. New Dr. O is neither iconic nor an OG.)

And let me remind you that "Torontonians get uncontrollably itchy due to something odd" would, by technicality, classify as an odd problem. Because...I mean, y'know...the cause is something odd happening. Doing shit with words is odd. This needs absolutely no explaining.

If the Local Scientist does an experiment with electricity and all the lights in town go out, they won’t come back on until the experiment wrecker is revealed.

Yep, I've taken shots of every IPA I can. We nearly hit the main character quadfecta, if you discount Dr. "bro thinks she's part of the team" O. All they needed was a bit about a high governing body and we'd round out the quad squad in proper with Oprah!

There's also a sneaky lil' crumb in the form of that blurb relating to Oona, who did, indeed, experiment with electricity in one episode and wound up proving why she can never take up Crossfit.

Hmmmnnnnext!

In each crime, the episodic word disappears and can’t return until the mystery is solved. The impact of the missing word is felt all over town.

This is another one of those things that I gotta wrench a hammy for in terms of comparisons, because about the only thing I can reasonably compare Odd Squad to is the second sentence.

See, here's the thing. You get oddness that happens to a person. Oftentimes, that oddness spreads to other people, whether directly (in the form of diseases and disorders) or indirectly (like the Town Baker's cakes being split in half, which wouldn't please Torontonians poppin' in for a whole cake and eyeing the display to get a feel for one). In a sense, normalcy disappears and, well, it can't return until [insert partner pair here] solve the case. It's kinda the entire schtick of Odd Squad as a franchise. It's formulaic, just like how Wordsville's "words disappear and nothing can be normal until the word returns" schtick is formulaic.

Is it a stretch? Perhaps. Mileage may vary. I think it's a bit of a stretch, personally. But hey, I'm a grown adult critiquing a ripoff of a kids STEM show. I shouldn't be talking. But I didn't start this fandom nearly 10 years ago just to let Sinking Ship's piss-poor attempt at really capitalizing on one of their biggest franchises sliiiiiide right by me on a floor smooth enough where I'm falling on my ass every 10 seconds.

Luckily, best friends and partners Sage and Chase are on the case and run the only detective agency in town. These tech-savvy sleuths solve mysteries entirely virtually because their reading, listening and digital literacy skills are their greatest strengths. Sage and Chase always catch their culprit and make sure everything is right with the word.

Now where in the McFuck do I start with this one? The PAW Patrol catchphrase thrown in complete with shared name? The fact that there is only one detective agency in the entire town? The fact that Sage and Chase are best friends as well as work partners? Or the pun that made me actively cringe in a way I haven't felt since Whitney told James she wanted to go on the lake?

I mean...this is about Odd Squad, so...I guess the second one sounds most plausible.

But that doesn't need explaining either. There is only one detective agency in town. There is one Odd Squad precinct per city or per state.

No, neither does the third bit. I already referenced Olive and Otto above. You should know what's up.

(I've also read that blurb five times now and...well...we'll get to the digital stuff in a bit. That just needs a whole side-set of word vomit.)

-------------------------------

In my digging of this series -- which, well, wasn't all that much -- I managed to find a few blurbs on our two main characters. The casting call for them, funny enough, called for, and I will quote this exactly, "talent to look 9."

As in, they want the actors to physically look 9 years old.

Which puts that qualifier in the same ballpark as Odd Squad UK's "talent must be Canadian but live in the UK". But at least that prerequisite actually had a legitimate earnest reason behind it, which is that the production needed to be Canadian in a lot more than just the "Canadian prodco works on a British series" sense. Hiring kids who have to physically look 9 years old and will probably be yoted onto the street the second puberty hits them like a truck is a practice not even the most egregious bosses of family-owned-and-operated businesses could pull off.

But enough about the qualifiers. Let's get started on our character comparisons and civil cidiscussion! (Oh the irony...)

And remember this: the casting call was handled by Larissa Mair Casting, who previously did casting for Odd Squad. So that means there will be tinny lil' crumbs of bonus material for me to dissect and discuss! Huzzah! Aw God why can't this happen for Odd Squad UK...man, I'm gonna have to go into my sobbing corner...

First up, we have Sly Sleuth, originally referred to as "Sage" here. I'll also be referring to him as "Sage" in this blog.

Sage is a great detective; thoughtful, extremely logical, and talented at getting information out of people.

Thoughtful of others. Logical. And can wrench information out of suspects like a badass.

Yep, we got an Olive that got hit with an Olando-fied beam. (And because half of you don't know who Olando is: Sage is meant to be a male Olive. I hope that clears things up for you.)

What else?

Nothing related to vocabulary or literacy gets by this investigator. Suspects can underestimate Sage but that is always a mistake. Sage doesn’t scare easily and won’t take no for an answer, traits that make an excellent detective.

You could tell me this was how Olive was meant to be written in "My Better Half", word for word, and I would honestly believe you. Right down to asking, "Her name was Sage in pre-production?"

About the only place I can draw the line here is at Olive not scaring easily. We don't know Sage's backstory -- and once again, this is an episodic series, so don't expect much in the way of plot, backstory included -- but Olive, at least, has a legitimate reason for all the times she covers her ears at loud noises or sharply reacts to something startling.

The former is because of The Censor-Friendly Bullet Massacre of '15.

The latter is because Dalila Bela marched straight out of a viewing of Who Framed Roger Rabbit and never looked back.

I...can't really say either applies to Sage. At least not yet. We'll have to see if Sinking Ship decides to bring Wordsville into its lil' multiverse that Odd Squad and Dino Dana and Endlings and Playdate already share.

Sage is also wise, which is why the name “Sage” is completely appropriate.

Sooooo does that mean his name is Sly because he's cunning like a fox?

Well then in other news, Olive is named such because she was inspired by the famous Law and Order character Olivia Benson. I have fifteen folders that back me right the hell up. Also I contacted Sinking Ship the other day, they explicitly told me.

No, no, but in all seriousness. Olive, too, is very wise. Historian buff, knows her shit about Odd Squad, doo-dah, doo-dah.

Anyway, next up we have Chase, who was renamed to "Gabby Gumshoe". (I'll be referring to her as Chase in this blog, as well.) Let's see what's on the chopping block for her in terms of our favorite food-loving, hella tall, crazy silly blorbo.

Chase is a fantastic detective, but is also goofy[,] funny, visually oriented, and, like the name suggests, loves the “chase”.

Now there's a man who got hit with a yassified beam, right there.

I'll leave it up to you folks whether you consider Otto to be "visually oriented". But in terms of "loving the chase"...yeah, I'd say that fits.

To lay it down: Otto is a rookie agent. Common sense would lead anyone to assume that he has an absolute blast solving odd cases and absorbing every bit of knowledge about Odd Squad that he possibly can. He finds out a villain's on the loose? He's right there, by Olive's side, workin' to catch 'em. He finds out oddness has run rampant throughout the town? He's right on that shit.

Chase, on the other hand, is someone I wouldn't call a rookie. It's made quite evident that she is, for all intents and purposes, seasoned. Seasoned enough that she manages to keep the detective agency she works for afloat and get approval from the others in Wordsville, Sage included. This, perhaps, is because she's not really meant to be an audience surrogate in the same way Otto is. Otto, at least for the first few episodes, serves as a way to ease the audience into Odd Squad and show them what the organization is and what they do without yoting them into it and leaving them asking "Where am I?" more times than a drunkard. Chase doesn't fill that role, because it could be argued that such a show like Wordsville doesn't really need an audience surrogate. Whether that's true, though, remains to be seen.

People tend to underestimate this investigator, but Chase often notices things like a chocolate stain when someone said they didn’t like chocolate or a squiggle of icing that turns out to be the antonym of the word they’re tracking.

Y' take Otto's...Otto's love of food...and y' put it in a gorl...and BAM you got a character.

...

That isn't a joke. It's dead-on serious. Even the casting call script pins Chase as a kid with a sweet tooth! It's just Otto but with a less diverse palate! Otto eats everything! This kid eats sweets! God sakes, give her some juice, make her Oprah, I don't give a shit, fucking hell I'm driving 50 minutes to Burger Ki-

Chase is also great with computers and incredibly artistic. A graphic note taker[,] Chase loves to draw, has a great eye for details, is a big fan of the “zoom in” function, and really enjoys creating animated re-enactments of Word Mysteries.

All right, we finally have somewhere we can draw the line.

No, not at being tech-literate. With being artistic.

Otto's artistic talent kind of varies throughout the franchise. In drawing on paper, he's pretty solid for an I-just-recently-turned-10-please-praise-me-year-old. In making paper airplanes, he's solid enough to take down a grown-ass man and rock his sunglasses when he's done for.

In computer drawing...well...if you can believe it, concepts like Ibispaint and Photoshop don't exist in the world of Odd Squad. (Okay, maaaaybe Photoshop does. I don't think it does. But it could be a good in-universe justification for it.)

We don't know Otto's digital artist merit because we never see him make any digital art. All of his art is solely non-digital. On Chase's side of things, she lives in an era where digital drawing is, like in real life, the norm. It's a contrast that might be one of the more glaring ones when it comes to comparing these two shows.

Now, as for the "creating animated re-enactments" schtick...if that isn't an excuse for Sinking Ship to work their animation magic after the Sandy Cheeks movie, then I honestly don't know what is. If you wanted to make the show animated, you could have made it animated. Would've been cheaper, too!

(And "Word Mysteries"...it's not as grating as Wild Kratts's "Wow Fact", but it's edging pretty close. I blame WNET. That's solely a PBS thing right there. TVO Kids would never.)

----------------

So we've gotten the discussion about the two main characters out of the way. Now we can dive into the heartier meat. The kind where's it's purple on the inside but you still digest it anyway.

I'm talking, of course, about the sample scripts- script. Singular. There is one script. Uno.

Now, lemme give you a bit of a rundown: casting calls for Odd Squad -- really, most shows, but this is a blog about Odd Squad -- often come with sample scripts. This is so talents can read their parts aloud for the camera and have the tape submitted to the casting agency for consideration. Odd Squad in particular has had quite an interesting ride with sample scripts, from entire episode plots being adapted into final products (with a bit of tweaking) to characters having names different than what they're named in the final product (which is the case with both Sly and Gabby). They're nothing on the scale of ABC Me dropping episodes earlier than PBS or shorts getting dropped as an alleged April Fools prank, but they're pretty damn good crumbs to chew on.

The sample script starts out with Sage and Chase on, of course, a video call. (Sinking Ship made a Zoom reference once. Pray they do not make another by the name of a friendly drug called "Speed" or that term for peeing known as a "Whiz".) Chase explains that she just gave her office chair's wheels a tune-up, which, of course, makes her hungry. Hungry enough that she declares a "cookie break" and immediately takes out a ginormous cookie from hammerspace that just made the European bakery down the street from me start sobbing. (Look, they make good cookies. Giant cookies. Cookies I need two hands just to hold properly. Trust me, it's- it's massive.)

However, when she bites into the cookie, she finds that it tastes absolutely gross -- "not sweet, not even sour". While she ponders if her body has forcefully rejected one of the best sweet treats known to humankind, Sage begins to grow suspicious and asks if it's a Word Mystery they need to solve.

Which is, coincidentally enough, when the Main Street Baker calls in a fit of hysteria, explaining that their "delicious donuts" are gone. And because we can't take enough from Odd Squad, we get a bit of "literal humor" in the form of the donuts both being delicious (probably) and them spelling the word "delicious" prior to their disappearance. After Sage explains what "delicious" means as well as what synonyms are, it's shown that the culprit also struck other pastries, up to and including gingerbread people, which Sage absolutely takes personally because he's a kid of pure culture who gives a big "fuck you" to holiday-specific treats being enjoyed only during said holidays.

Chase, in true Otto fashion, decides to take more bites of her cookie and instantly regrets it. Sage, in true...well...Clint Eastwood fashion (I shit you not, that's literally what it says in the script), declares that they need to find the word "delicious" and fix the pastries.

And...yeah, that's about it. Like I said, there's really not much to go on with casting call sample scripts. Especially not ones from Larissa Mair.

My conclusive thoughts on it, you ask? Well...they can try to hide it, but all it's doing is enforcing my point. From the Main Street Baker having donuts missing similar to how the Town Baker had bagels missing in "Soundcheck", to Chase being an idiot who is obsessed with food the same way Otto is (right down to his willingness to drink Odd Todd's pickle juice when it tasted gross in "Bad Lemonade"!), even down to the "literal metaphor" kind of humor as it applies to singular words. Am I stretching? Perhaps. But these supposedly insignificant pieces are just part of the bigger picture, the larger issue at hand in this long-winded piece.

------------------

The digital aspect of Wordsville is one of the ways they decided to put a twist on the precedent that Odd Squad set. And it's so blatant and in-your-face that it's on par with shoving a red flag in someone's eyes to blind them.

But here's the thing. The digital aspect been done. Amusingly enough, by the same company.

Lockdown is a show that fits right in with the others at the Shows-Made-During-the-COVID-Pandemic-About-the-COVID-Pandemic club. It was a way to capitalize on something in society that probably will never be relevant again until around 2050. Maybe even earlier than that, at the rate we're going.

I haven't seen it, so I can't speak much about it, but from my side of things it looks a lot like Unfriended if it took place during the pandemic and wasn't a horror movie and involved teens and not young adults/adults/I haven't seen the movie in many years bite me.

But the main difference between Lockdown and Wordsville, relevant to this editorial, is that Lockdown has a legitimate reason to be shot entirely on electronic devices. It's part of the plot. It works, I'm sure. For Wordsville, it makes no sense for the outline and isn't just limiting, but is downright insulting for something "rooted in the 21st century". It's good to be unique when making a show, but there's such a thing as trying too hard to be unique to the point where it's detrimental to your show's quality. Making the show be a digital-only angle isn't a smart move, especially for a detective procedural.

And if it's trying to differentiate itself from Odd Squad...well, do I got some bad news for you.

The show already did an entire Zoom parody in the span of an 11-minute episode.

And I still hate it with all the vitriol of an old woman who hates kids playing with beach balls in the yard pool. It sucks ass. It's entirely unneeded when you have three children sitting around the same table. I could vomit on you all day about it. But at least it's far more justified than Wordsville having its entire formula based on it. You can rip off a show without being limiting.

(don't. seriously. don't.)

------------------

Before we get to the conclusion, I need to dive deep into Odd Squad's own popularity and explain it a little more beyond just little "trust me bro" tidbits.

If you've been following it for as long as I have, then it's no secret that Odd Squad is one of Sinking Ship's cash-cow franchises. You've got the main series, six different spinoffs, a live show, a book...and I didn't even provide a whole damn list! Point being, it's huge. It doesn't have many roots in pop culture, but from a certain angle, it is an absolutely massive franchise that continues to grow, even in spite of its controversies.

Unlike works such as SpongeBob or Bluey, Odd Squad isn't popular enough to get bonafide ripoffs. The formula is relatively easy to copy, and if anything there are shows that have a similar premise but aren't even close to ripoff territory (K.C. Undercover, for example). It's just that, for all the ripoffs people have done of shows and movies over the years, the motivation for industry bigwigs in taking Odd Squad and running with it just...isn't there. I can connect it to Disney or Dreamworks or Viacom all I want, but at best they have a vague awareness of it that only goes as far as "oh, that's a thing, I guess". At worst, they see it as a pile of shit that would never turn a decent profit.

It could be argued that Sinking Ship wasn't all too well-known in the entertainment sphere up until Odd Squad came around. Looking at their resume doesn't show all too much in the way of what's popular. This is Daniel Cook, Roll Play, Playdate...they don't stick in your head, right? Yeah, none of them stick in my head either. Odd Squad was their first big hit for them, something that really helped them gain ground as a company. It's the one that's pretty much linked with Sinking Ship in news articles. Like husband and wife, but for the TV industry.

But to Hollywood bigwigs, that means about as much as finding a stick on the ground. I guaran-goddamn-tee Bob Iger is not going to put his grubby little hands on the funny kids math franchise and twist the hell out of it. The only way that's happening is if you run "Odd Squad, but make it Disney" through an AI generator. (Which, for the record, I have not done. You can't really replicate Odd Squad characters in animation without making them look like they walked out of yet another Law and Order spinoff that's far more kid-friendly.)

However, even with Odd Squad's varying popularity, there are shows that go just a little beyond having a similar premise to it but don't dive into ripoff territory. Sort of like a next step up.

A long time ago, a few friends and I in an Odd Squad Discord server were discussing the show Numberjacks. You know, that show that Jacknjellify may or may not have used as inspiration for Four's design? Yeah, that's the bitch.

The show has a few similarities to Odd Squad. You've got the focus on math, a system for exiting the couch headquarters that's similar to the tube system, and even the existence of kid agents and incredibly odd villains, one of which, need I remind you, Twitter tried to make into a sexyman for all of two days to varying degrees of success.

I will admit, I haven't seen Numberjacks in several years. In fact, the last time I saw it was when it was brought up as an Odd Squad ripoff. If I recall correctly, the episode that I picked to watch on a whim was "Seaside Adventure", wherein a few numbers take a vacation and trouble occurs. Or something like that. I really can't remember many details.

One thing I do remember, though, is distinctly thinking that I could see the Odd Squad similarities, but...it's not a ripoff. The series premiered in 2006. By that point, Tim McKeon and Adam Peltzman were off on their own ventures as they wrote for cartoons and other things. Thus, Odd Squad hadn't been birthed yet. If anything, Odd Squad took cues from Numberjacks, not the other way around -- but even with the existence of Odd Squad UK, we don't know that for sure. I don't even know how popular Numberjacks was in the UK. I'm a dumb lil' American, not a Daphne-Moon-esque English woman.

Since then, I haven't found anything that has come close to what Wordsville aims to accomplish. Granted, though, I have not looked very hard. I'm moreso keeping an eye on PBS to see if they're going to try and rip off Odd Squad rather than keeping an eye on any random B-lister studio. (And no, I'm not talking about WNET. They are a PBS station, but I'm referring to PBS as a whole entire network, not a sole affiliate.)

------------------------

So the question remains: is Wordsville an Odd Squad ripoff?

Yes. On multiple counts. Right down to the name inspo. Guilty as charged. Right to jail.

From it being for the 4-7 demo not unlike Odd Squad's own 4-8 demo, to Sage and Chase being referred to as "Word Detectives" in lieu of "agents", to it being a detective procedural not unlike Odd Squad and its spinoffs, to the synopsis of the show being described as having "a case rooted in a vocabulary lesson" similar to Odd Squad having episodes rooted in STEM lessons, to it actively encouraging the audience to solve mysteries along with Sage and Chase...to Sage and Chase having alliterative theme naming...

Yeah, safe to say, we've got ourselves a ripoff.

There's no denying that Odd Squad is a fantastic franchise. Even through all of its issues, including financial controversies, heavy criticism, and mistreatment from PBS, it has remained strong for nearly 10 years, and will stay strong for many more. Maybe one of these days, it will plant roots deeper into pop culture and become one hell of a phenomenon. We'll have to see.

But the fact that Sinking Ship Entertainment has to resort to borrowing a concept that is unique in its nature, a concept that has already been done, a concept that has been given life and creativity by the people who birthed it, and then try to pass it off as its own original IP is not a good look on them. It's been done similarly before with their other big franchise, Dino Dan -- key word being "similarly" because it's one show and three spinoffs focusing on different characters. That isn't the case with Wordsville, though.

Put it this way: it's a company ripping off not someone else's IP, like many other companies have done and continue to do. It's a company ripping off their own IP.

And really, it doesn't matter how it's done. Stealing is stealing. At the end of the day, all it shows is a complete lack of creativity and a complete craving for the almighty dollar. More so if it's a company stealing from themselves and passing it along as okay.

In spite of this, however, I am perfectly willing to give Wordsville a shot when it comes out. Not so much to see if it's good (though my curiosity is piqued), and definitely not to hate-watch (which has the opposite intended effect on a show or movie), but to see just how far Sinking Ship is willing to push the envelope in affirming viewers and industry buddies alike that this is not, by any and all accounts, a copy of Odd Squad. I want to spot similarities. I want to take whiskey shots until I can do a zoom-zoom to a hospital and then ask if they've got a bottle on board the rig. I want to give a full, I-watched-this-show-now-here-are-my-overall-final-thoughts addendum on the entire issue.

As of now, Wordsville has no narrow timeframe. All I know is that it's releasing this year, likely on TVO Kids in Canada. Whether PBS as a whole will adopt it into its roster -- and if anything, it'll be WNET-exclusive, otherwise we would've heard something about it at the TCA Winter Press Tour a few days back -- for American audiences remains yet to be seen. Rest assured, though, that I'll be keeping an eye on it and rushing to it as soon as the first episode drops. After that, I'll give a proper addendum so I can finally put this issue to bed. Along with myself. Revenge bedtime procrastination is a bitch.

Thanks for reading. This honestly started out as something silly, but then I became analytical. So you got a mix of both in this one. This may or may not be the norm. Day-by-day, y'know?

Seren out.

#seren speaks #odd squad pbs kids #odd squad #wordsville #sinking ship entertainment

28 notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 2 years

Text

The Light of Dead Stars (12.1) | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x (f.) Reader; side Seokjin x (f.) OC; side Reader x Namjoon

Genre/Tags: arranged marriage, fake romance, boss/workmate aus; angst, drama, fluff, smut; slow burn

Chapter Warnings: Foul language; alcohol consumption; suggestive themes, non-explicity sex (18+)

Chapter Word count: 9.5k

A/N: Part 12.2 will be posted on 05 Sept., 11AM KST. I had to cut it in half because it was too long so savor this chill first part. I projected here because I've been missing travelling so that's all these 2 lovebirds will do! 💕

Series Masterlist | Muse Moodboard | Setting Moodboard

Status: Complete

Series summary: Your unconventional arranged marriage with your company’s President, Kim Seokjin, is necessary, practical, and simple - both your families benefit, and he minds his own business and so do you. But when a slip-up causes his parents to believe that you and he are in love, you have no choice but to pretend you are, especially with the trip to France for his brother’s wedding coming up. When you get back to Seoul, things start to change, and Seokjin is faced with the most difficult decision he has to make.

Jin presses a soft kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, lingering there to nudge you awake. “Good morning, love. I made us breakfast,” he whispers in your ear.

You stretch then open your eyes, blinking repeatedly to try to get used to the brightness from outside. You usually wake up much earlier than this, when the sun’s just barely risen and isn’t as blinding as it is right now, then head to a cafe most mornings for your coffee fill, but not today.

After your fight with your husband last night - which saw you finally expressing your frustration at him and him, finally opening up about his pains and worries - you made up and well, made each other come multiple times until the wee hours of the morning. All the stress and tension from the past weeks have deprived you of each other, and you just wanted to feel close, to feel loved, to feel safe in each other’s arms again.

Between tangled limbs and sweaty bodies, you convinced Jin that he needed to regroup, so he decided to take the day off with you just to be together, knowing that you help him feel like himself again. He knows there’s still much to make up for with you, and making you breakfast always does the trick.

“This is my thing,” you say, turning to him as he picks up the tray from the desk and places it over your lap.

Your smile brightens as you eye the spread - salmon eggs benedict on croissant loaf, dried fruit and nuts, cheese, and chocolate-covered strawberries, as well as juice and coffee.

“You went all out today, huh?” You smirk at him as he takes his tray and sits across from you. “This looks delicious, love. I’m starving from last night.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off me, that’s why.”

“Excuse me, mister. You were the one with the wandering hands. Every time I was dozing off, you wanted another go.”

His ears turn red as you remind him of last night and how he just found ways to keep touching you, kissing you, grinding against you.

“Couldn’t help it. It’s been a while and I missed you. You liked it, though,” he smirks this time.

“Hmm, I did!” You wink, as you take a bite of your dish, which obviously tastes amazing. “Is that why you wanted us to take a leave today? To get some rest after last night?”

“Well, I thought of taking a day off so we could sleep in and spend time together after the weeks we had. And then I decided to make it a worthwhile night,” he chuckles. “And I still feel a bit bad for all the things I said and I wanted to make you something you like. You were reminiscing about France and the things we ate, so I whipped up something to remind you of that.”

“Aww, you’re sweet to me again,” you tease. “I missed being spoiled.”

“Shut up, you hate it,” he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I do,” you chuckle. “But seriously, do you have anything in mind today?”

“I was watching TV while cooking and saw this news clip about Namhae; I haven’t been there and it looks nice,” he says. “It’s a long drive but it’s got great views, and I could fish and golf and you could read your books? I just feel like I need to be away from here first, you know? I need to strategize and plan my next steps and I can’t do it here. Maybe if I get things back on track, my parents will speak to me again.”

“Of course, love,” you smile, knowing that deep down, it’s what he really wants. “We can spend the weekend there and do our usual things like go to markets and eat and just explore. And you do your other rich boy hobbies and stuff.”

He pinches your leg at your teasing but is happy that you’re joining him. He does need the time to unwind and plan but he also definitely wants to spend it with you.

And so after cleaning up, you make the 4-hour drive to Namhae in Gyeonsang where you take the wheel so he could just look at the views and let his mind wander wherever it needs to go. You tell him that you could both talk about work any time, so randomly during the trip, he brings something up and runs it by you.

It’s peaceful. Both of you hum to the soft music of your playlist, wind against your hair when it’s cool enough to open the windows. He’d take your hand sometimes, caress it, then give it a kiss.

You arrive at your destination in the late afternoon and drive through the little streets to find a cozy restaurant. After your early dinner, you check in your place that overlooks the ocean, and then spend the rest of the evening just talking and cuddling on the balcony as you gaze at the starry sky.

You end the night hovered over Jin, rocking against him and making him feel good, telling him over and over again how great he feels, wanting nothing more than to relieve his stress and know you’ll love him in whatever way you need him to.

Your husband goes fishing at dawn the next day and makes sashimi out of his catch, which you eat along with the takeout food he bought on the way back. You go to the rice fields later in the morning and find a restaurant for lunch, then spend the afternoon lazing at the beach, reminiscing about your time in the French Riviera where he tells you that his throat dried up upon seeing you in your bathing suit that first time. You watch the sunset from one of the many areas with a view later on, and then find a place with the best abalone you’ve ever had.

While in the hot tub that second night, he details his upcoming trips, running through his plans and objectives with you.

As was advised by his siblings, he’ll meet with some of the Board members and shareholders to strengthen relationships and regain their trust. He’s also looking to revive one of his product ideas that you’ll be helping him develop. He’ll make the trip to wherever he needs to, and whatever his plans are, he’ll share them during the executive committee meeting on Monday. He needs to let people know he’s present, and you need to show them that you’re standing by his side through it all.

Seeing the vigor in his voice gives you hope, and you feel that slowly, Jin is finding himself again; slowly, he’s realizing that he isn’t at all alone in moving forward.

You both go to the temple the next morning and he spends the rest of it golfing while you stay at a seaside cafe to read a book, taking time to self-reflect and think of how this trip has helped you as well, regaining strength yourself so you could be what your husband needs.

It’s kind of amazing, you think. Trials like this usually spell the end for other couples, but every time you think of Jin, not an inch of you feels regret or helplessness. When you think of your husband, all you feel is love and hope, the light during the darkest nights. You’re glad you get to be his moon this time.

There’s that smile and vigor you greet him with when you meet up for lunch some time after. A few final stops later, you drive back to Seoul, exhausted but missing the comforts of home even if you were gone for just a while.

You’re greeted with Mrs. Kang’s grilled ribs and tofu stew, and it’s all you need to feel refreshed again. You spend that evening cuddled under the sheets, safe in your husband’s warm embrace, the same way he feels against your touch.

“Do you like me again?” He asks smugly as he hovers over you, his arms taut as he supports himself, his lips tracing your jaw as he awaits your response.

“Yes,” you moan as he nibbles your ear. “Thanks for apologizing to Mrs. Kang this time about our fight. I feel like her heart breaks every time that happens, like we’re her own kids and stuff.”

“You make it seem like we fight all the time. ___, we only fought twice,” he pouts.

“I know, that’s why she gets scared every time we do. Because we don’t do that,” you chuckle. “I guess we’re past the honeymoon phase now, huh? We reached the point of not being able to stand each other.”

“Hey, we fight for a day. Or like, hours!”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t stand you the whole week,” you shrug.

He gasps and almost removes himself from you, and you groan because you were just about to get in the mood.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes.

“Only for you. I get embarrassed otherwise.”

You smile at him before pulling him down for a hug, taking in his woody scent and feeling the smoothness of his skin. It’s kind of scary to think that if things didn’t turn out the way they did, you wouldn’t have this; you wouldn’t have him.

“Do you ever think about how life just takes the craziest turns and those turns sometimes end up bringing people together like this?” You wonder out loud as you comb your fingers through his hair. “Like, my dad worked as just the building security but ended up saving your grandmother’s life, and so when my family needed help, they offered me as tribute to their supposed bachelor grandson and now you’re here - insatiably in love with me.”

“That started really great and then just fizzled. You could do better at narrating our love story than that, ___,” he says, and you can’t help your giggle.

“What! I really was tribute and you really were supposedly single!”

“But you’re also insatiably in love with me, let’s be honest here,” he faces you now.

His eyes are deep and dark and hypnotizing, but maybe not as much as his lips are. It’s insane that you get to call this beautiful specimen, who’s all things charming and playful and flawed and brilliant and incredibly loving, your husband.

“I am,” you smile. “And I thank the stars every night for that.”

Jin enters the conference room 15 minutes before the executive committee meeting is scheduled to start. He would do this as his chance to check on the directors and ask them how their weekend was - a way to nurture relationships, his father had told him. It’s been weeks since the last time he did given all that’s happened, and he’s met with genuine smiles and stories of what they did the last few days.

You enter the room and his smile brightens. He looks so much better and lighter, like he was able to pull from inside of him that drive to continue working, one which withered away for a bit. He just needed time, he’d told you this morning in the car; he just needed to be reminded of what he’ll lose if he doesn’t get himself together. And he doesn’t know what would scare him more than losing you.

He starts the meeting and engages each presenter with their reports, something he also used to do but fell short of doing recently.

As expected, the company’s numbers haven’t been great; not terrible, but definitely needs a lot of work. Brand perception has been low, too, and Jin knows that’s on him. Market engagement skyrocketed but for the wrong reasons, and it was a tense moment for a while when it was brought up, but it’s what he uses as a segue to say that he’ll be taking various trips in the next couple of weeks to regain trust and reestablish the company and himself. He says he’ll mention developing a new product, which is really one of his ideas from before that he didn’t get back to.

“Why not develop it already?” Their PR director asks. “You and Mrs. Kim and her team can work on it together to have something more than an idea to present to the Board and the shareholders, maybe meet with new distributors in the conferences you’ll attend. I know it seems trivial to them but it’ll show that the work doesn’t stop, and well, having your wife there might also be good. To, uh…” she trails, looking away.

“Show that those rumors aren’t true, of course,” Jin finishes for her, catching you off guard because it’s the first time he addressed the issue directly. “___ and I work well together and they’ll see that. Maybe they’ll see how in love she is with me, too.”

Laughter echoes in the room, as Jin only occasionally engages in jokes and teasing, but never directly at you. He’s definitely being bold, and you fake gag at him before laughing along.

“Please observe him the next time I speak; you’ll see who’s head over heels for who,” you counter, but eventually apologize for that unprofessional back and forth with your husband in front of the executives.

“Ah, not a problem at all. We need all the laughter we can get at times like this,” someone pipes in. “I’m just glad everything is okay.”

You smile at her and continue with the meeting, presenting your report with ease, and you notice a few of them glance at your husband and then giggle after. You pitch in a few ideas to add to the new product, and you get the consensus to focus on this first.

“You’re embarrassing,” you mumble as you and Jin both walk out the room and decide on the spot to have lunch out. “I was so caught off guard! But isn’t that you overcompensating? You’re rarely ever sweet to me.”

“___, they know how I look every time you report or even show up in the room,” he says. “I’ve been heart eyes for you for months. That wasn’t me overcompensating.”

You smile sweetly at his admission, kissing his nose right as the elevator doors open where a few employees witness the intimate moment and giggle themselves. You bow and let them in, apologizing for what they saw.

“Imagine if they looked at me while you were presenting and I looked bored,” he chuckles. “That would’ve been so embarrassing for you.”

“Yeah, do that and you’re sleeping in the guest room,” you warn.

He laughs and takes your hand as you both walk out the elevator. He takes advantage of the few people in the lobby to whisper to you. “Seriously though, you’re so good when you present. And you looked so hot earlier, I almost got a boner.”

You gasp as he chuckles, enjoying how he's making you feel flustered. “Kim Seokjin! You’re gonna be the death of me!”

Aside from meetings you need to attend, you spend most of your week in the food lab, working with a team to develop the new product.

Creating the perfect recipe for fish cake crackers is not easy, despite the simplicity of its core ingredient. Jin always insisted that it’s distinct from the classic and well-loved fish crackers - there’s a certain tastiness and depth of flavor of the former that he wants so badly to capture. There was a time when he had it every single day and so the taste lives in him, he said once, and you understand him; that’s how you feel about your mother’s vegetable mandu, too.

You and your team add to the research and try the variations that Jin had experimented on before. There’s already a working recipe that you just have to improve on, so coming up with the proposal for its production in a week isn’t entirely impossible. Still, it doesn’t mean it’s not pressure-packed and stressful.

You and Jin eat different types of fish cake all week, from family-run restaurants to those being sold by street-side vendors. It’s fun, working and discovering more about food in this way. You always said that Jin is inspiring like this, even more now when he has something to prove.

Back home, you talk about it some more and bounce off ideas - not just with the product but his meetings, too. You plan the trips you’ll accompany him to, and thinking about all the places you’ll go to in a matter of weeks is already tiring you. The schedule is tight and it’s not something you’re used to.

Since becoming director, your regular trips are always in the Southeast Asia office in Singapore. Occasionally, there’s the Food Expo in another Asian city, but that’s really it. Your work is behind-the-scenes, in the lab. You breathe food in there and you love it. You’re not made for the busy, jet setting life of your husband who sometimes takes helicopters for a lunch meeting in Tokyo.

“It’s gonna be fine, love,” he comforts you that Saturday before your late evening flight to Dubai. “There’s lots to do there. And you already know we’re gonna eat the best food and I’m gonna give you a massage every night.”

There’s a business summit where he’ll be meeting important people and he wants you by his side. But there’s also a food expo happening in the complex across the street and you say that’s where you’ll spend most of your time.

“And what if there’s nothing to amuse me when you have another event to attend?” You cross your arms.

“Then you take Yoongi with you and go shopping,” Jin hums, earning him a groan from the man in question from the passenger seat.

“He’ll hate you,” you reply, as if he isn’t there.

“Nah. Just say you’ll take him to where there’s booze or jewelry and he’ll be sold; he’ll buy Dara something from there for sure and then he’ll be happy.”

“Can those two just get together? They’ve been skirting around each other for months,” you giggle, completely ignoring the fact that he’s in the car with you. Even Mr. Lim can’t hold his laughter.

“Yoongi is just taking his time since he wants to be sure and doesn't wanna get hurt. My best friend’s a softie deep inside, you know?”

“Wow, he’s finally upgraded to best friend?” You tease. “Since when?”

“Since I lost myself back there and he didn’t let me slide further down,” Jin responds. “You know he attended a meeting on my behalf because I wasn’t prepared and he was?”

“You should promote him,” you suggest.

“He doesn’t want to accept it, says it’s easier to take orders from me because he can disobey them if he thinks they’re shit.”

“Makes a lot of sense. Yoongi is a keeper, though. Gotta tell my best friend,” you quip.

“You two are insufferable sometimes,” the man groans again. “I can’t believe I have to babysit you both during all these trips.”

“It’s gonna be so fun, Yoongs! We’ll behave, we promise,” you wink, as you exit the car.

“You better or else I’ll quit,” he says, unable to hide the smile that creeps up his face.

Dubai is a lot warmer than you expected, but even though you’re tempted to stay indoors during the day, there’s just so much to explore that you can’t help but wander around the city.

When you arrived last Sunday morning, you checked in your hotel and then had lunch with one of the Board members based there. It was less tense than you expected, and he merely asked how sales are going and other general updates. You barely spoke and it was fine; the food was good and you were enjoying analyzing the tastes by yourself. You spent the afternoon eating and shopping, and though he didn’t know, you saw Yoongi eye a necklace that had a “D” pendant, and you gushed internally at the smile he had.

The next day, you joined your husband in the business summit and watched him meet and converse with other wealthy people, introducing you and making sure you didn’t feel too bored. You still felt it, though, that’s why you skipped it the next day and went to the food expo across the street with Yoongi. You did it again the next day, and you enjoyed just eating and making notes, so that evening, you nursed a stomach ache while Jin simultaneously laughed and cuddled with you until you fell asleep.

It’s your last day today and Jin is off to another meeting while you pack up for your mid-afternoon flight to London. He calls to say that you’ll have lunch at this spot recommended by the cab driver he met, so you meet him and Yoongi there before heading to the airport.

“I’m already exhausted and it’s just our first city,” you pout at him while waiting in the lounge to board. “How do you do this?”

Dressed in his immaculate suit, your husband smiles at you adoringly and places his tablet on the table. “Well, I just keep working so when I get to the hotel, I pass out, and I always end up sleeping well and feeling rejuvenated the next day.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It was,” he chuckles. “I mean, I’d work out or swim or sometimes head to the hotel bar to drink but that’s also to tire myself out. It’s not so fun when you’re not with me.”

“I tire you out, too,” you smirk, earning you a playful shake of his head.

“You do; it’s my favorite type of physical activity.”

You gush internally.

Thinking about the long-haul flights and busy days makes you tired. You’re used to the kind of work that’s a lot more stable in a sense that there’s a routine you follow, a fixed plan for the week that you’re faithful to, and so on trips like this where you’re rushing out the airport to a meeting and where your body clock gets completely messed up, you’re a lot more needy and clingy than usual, something you just realized.

Jin makes you feel stable in a lot of ways. He makes you feel calm and safe, too. He’s so used to this life that being on-the-go is his default - constantly moving, constantly thinking. You haven’t been in the lab for days and the work mode version of you isn’t fully functioning when you aren’t there.

And so you yearn for him, a lot more than usual. You cling to him at night and search for him in the morning, your hands wandering around his naked body, prompting him to pull you into the shower where you touch him some more because you know you’re gonna have to let him go again for the day. You take photos of every single dish you eat without him and then spend the entire dinner and your joint bath at night talking about it.

“I like it when you’re clingy,” he says, taking your hand as you start to board.

“I was just thinking about how much I wanna smack myself for being exactly that! It’s like… who am I? Why am I like this? Don’t take me on trips anymore, Jin. I become so… needy.”

“Now you’re being dramatic,” he chuckles. “I actually like this version of you. It’s very affirming. Plus, we get to be the super good-looking power couple!”

“Love, the super good-looking part is like, 75-25. You carry the weight there,” you correct him.

“More like, 85-15,” he responds.

You smack his arm and glare at him, and he finds you too adorable so he kisses your forehead. “You’re the 85, love.”

“Now you’re just mocking me,” you frown.

“I’m kidding! We’re both 100, what are you talking about! You’re literally the sexiest person I know!”

You merely groan as you enter the plane and settle in your seat.

Later in the evening some time after your inflight dinner, you receive a slice of cheesecake with “100” written in icing. You glance at a sleeping Jin and laugh to yourself.

He’s insufferable sometimes, but you can’t imagine another version of life without him.

London welcomes you with a drizzle. It’s a cuddle weather but you’re spending it in the Europe head office of Kim Foods, Inc., where Jin introduces you to the staff and asks you to sit in the meeting all throughout the morning.

There’s a team lunch that gets you excited, and while Jin goes to another meeting at a nearby hotel, you make yourself comfortable in his room to get work done this time. You're so engrossed in reading the reports and watching your team’s demonstrations that you don’t notice Jin coming in to respond to emails and sign documents.

“Ready for a night out?” He leans against the small desk where you are.

“Since when do we do nights out?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Every once in a while,” he shrugs. “But it’s London. Let’s go to my favorite pub. I’ll let you be big spoon tonight, just drink with me.”

“Wow, what a bribe,” you chuckle. It’s not his favorite since he likes hugging you more, but you like hugging him from behind, too, and he rarely indulges you. “So tempting. I’m sold.”

So you both drag Yoongi again to end the evening, teasing him about Dara the entire night, but he merely flips you off and doesn’t respond much.

You end up a tiny bit drunk, but not enough to forget that Jin is the little spoon tonight, and so you pepper kisses on his back and fall asleep with his woody scent invading your senses.

The next work day is pretty much the same. You spend the weekend meeting a few shareholders and Board members in hotels and in their homes, barely having alone time with Jin that isn’t in the shower or on the bed. You go to the office again on Monday and it’s later in the evening when he says that you’ll be flying back to Seoul a few days earlier than planned to attend the Fellowship Dinner that his father called for with the affiliates.

It was supposed to be next week when you’re both back, and you have a feeling that his father had moved it to align it with your trip so you both wouldn’t be there. Jin was informed on such a short notice, and he made the decision to hold his last meeting in the evening so you could both make it to a red eye, non-stop flight to Seoul in time for the dinner the next day.

You’re tired and sleep much of the flight, and the few times you glance at your husband, he’s awake and on his tablet. You only talk during meal times, and he’s preoccupied once more when you land and rush back home to dress up for the event.

“You’ll be fine. Just take it easy, okay? But don’t expect too much,” you tell him as you near the hotel.

He squeezes your hand that’s enveloped in his, and he gives you that sad, almost dejected look that you wish you could do more to help melt away. But you also know there isn’t much you can do.

Of course you know why he’s been so jittery and detached again; of course you know why it’s so important for both of you to be here. His parents still haven’t reached out or responded even if he’s sent several work-related emails as well as text messages informing them of your trips. It’s merely silence on their end. You hope it just means they’re not yet ready or even that they’re still mad or hurt. You suppose that’s better than them being indifferent; that’s something difficult to get over.

Dressed in an immaculate black suit, Jin looks handsome like he always does. He kisses your forehead before you both head out the car, making sure he gets to tell you that you look great in your blush tea-length dress and that he wishes he had more time to ogle you instead of worrying about tonight.

It’s the first big event since the scandal, and you could tell the initial hesitation and tense look of the guests as you both greet them. You tighten your grip on Jin’s hand, as if to tell him that he just has to ride through it. One good conversation is all he needs, and people will soon warm up to him.

He finds it in one of the affiliates who approaches both of you. You know him to be blunt, but he surprises you tonight with his tact and engaging conversation that doesn’t skirt around the issue. You’re thankful for that, as it lets Jin breathe a little.

Both of you laugh, hold hands, and toast your flutes of champagne, and you could only hope that this comfort that you’re showing, that you’re letting others witness as they peek into your little world, will show them that things are okay, that you’re both in this together, and that the scandal didn’t ruin your relationship. Hopefully it will imply that it wasn’t true, and maybe they’d see that you were merely victims of some ploy and did their best to not make a big deal out of things.

Jin spots his parents with his siblings and you both head to where they are. You see his elders’ faces fall as you approach them, and your heart sinks at the sight. They obviously look disappointed that you’re here.

“Oh, we didn’t think you’d make it,” his father says dryly, looking at his drink.

“We took the earliest flight after I learned the Dinner was moved,” Jin responds, trying to act unaffected by the passiveness. “I think it’s important for me—for us—to be here and show a strong front.”

“Show?” His father scoffs. “Are we looking at the real thing or another one of your cover ups?”

You see your husband’s jaw clench so hard, you’re afraid it’ll break. He’s trying his best to keep his composure and you’re amazed at how he’s able to recover quickly.

“There’s nothing to cover up this time, Father,” is all he says.

“So, hyung, since you’re here, can you be the one to address the guests?” Taehyung asks, to the visible disappointment of their father.

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Taehyung.”

Your parents walk away without any word, and Jin’s siblings offer sympathetic looks.

“Just give them more time,” Sejeong advises. “You know how they are - they take things so personally sometimes because they have such high expectations of us. But they can’t resist us, either. They’ll come around, okay?”

“It’s been weeks and that’s the most he’s said to me since he stormed out of our house,” Jin shares.

“At least he acknowledged you,” she sighs. “But I’ll talk to them again, okay? Things have died down a bit but they’re still pretty upset. We got the scandal off the internet and they managed to not have the news reach our grandparents. Just keep doing what you’re doing while we hold the fort out here. Our parents will give in, eventually.”

Jin nods, thanks his siblings again, and orders all of you to head to your seats. The program begins with him welcoming everyone, charming them with his witty remarks that has the guests giggling and reacting. He has that ability to make people feel at ease in such a formal setting, and you’re glad that he at least hasn’t lost that part of him.

He continues with sharing a bit about the past week, the trends in the food industry, the increasing rise of South Korean soft power and global interest in its culture, and what the company is doing to continuously capitalize on that. You’re amazed with how he’s subtly saying that he’s doing a lot, while also acknowledging the efforts of all the people responsible for it.

You always knew he was good at these things. It’s one of the reasons why he stands out - he has an amazing grasp of the work and his people and the market. And he knows how to communicate it well in a way that makes you believe him, that makes you want to trust him, and given everything that’s happened, that means a lot.

He’s given a loud round of applause, and you squeeze his hand under the table when he returns to your side. You know that the guests’ warm reception of him will at least uplift his spirits despite his parents’ indifference.

The dinner proceeds without a hitch. It’s really just a time to acknowledge the other companies and socialize, and the latter is what you do individually and together.

You’re exhausted by the time you get back home, and after getting ready for bed, you’re laying down and finally getting a breather after that tense evening.

Jin is quiet but you know his mind is racing. You want to know what he’s thinking but you doubt he’d tell you unless he’s close to losing it again. He promised you, after your fight, that he’ll do his best to resolve the things that bother him in a healthy way, but when it gets too hard or he doesn’t know what to do, he’ll talk to you. And you trust him that he will. He doesn’t want to lose himself in his fears anymore, he’d told you.

Tonight, it seems like he can manage, but he tells you, in his own ways, that things are difficult and he needs you.

“___? Can you hug me tonight, please?”

“Of course,” you say, shifting so his back would face you, and you wrap your arms around him with your fingers intertwined with his.

“I love you. Thank you for being with me,” he utters.

The words are simple, but you know they hold more meaning than you’d ever understand, so you offer him as much comfort and affirmation as you can.

You pepper his shoulder with kisses until you reach his ears. Tenderly, you whisper, “I love you, Jin. And I told you, I’m never leaving your side.”

You both decide to finish the week in Seoul to get through other meetings and important matters before you continue your work trips. You host Jin’s siblings for lunch that Saturday and then your friends for dinner since you’ll both be gone for a few weeks.

It’s early on Sunday when you fly out to San Francisco where you’ll stay for a week. As President, Jin regularly visits the country offices of the company’s branches, and just like London, this is the first time you’re visiting the North America office.

It’s late in the afternoon when you arrive, and he immediately takes you to Fisherman’s Wharf for your mandatory seafood fill and then to a strip for your second dinner and then ice cream for dessert. You buy Yoongi, who opted to go straight to the hotel to sleep, a meal and then spend the evening watching TV shows because you’re so full and jet lag sucks.

You wake up the next morning with Jin dressing up for work, and you’re definitely awake enough to watch him fix his tie and put on his suit.

He sees you from the mirror and smirks. “I thought you were sleepy.”

“I am. I’m exhausted. I finally dozed off at like, 4AM or something.”

“___, it’s 7AM. Go back to sleep.”

“I have to go to work.”

“It’s late in the evening in Seoul,” he points out.

“But we’re not in Seoul,” you counter.

“Yeah, but what can you accomplish when you’re not fully functioning, hmm? Come on,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I ordered for your room service to arrive in 2 hours so sleep until then. I asked Yoongi to stay behind and go with you to the office once you’re ready. We’re meeting another Board member in the evening so you need to get some rest. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Fine,” you hum, feeling his soft lips against yours that you just want to melt into.

But he ends it too soon and he chuckles when you pout at him.

“Getting needy again, I see. Rest, that’s an order from your boss. Your husband will make sure you’ll have a good night tonight, okay?”

He’s a tease and a naughty man sometimes and you hate him.

“I hate you. Now I’ll keep thinking about that.”

“Good. I’ll go now, Mrs. Kim. Duty calls.”

You groan as you tuck yourself under the covers again and easily fall asleep. You wake up in time for breakfast, and you gush at the bouquet made of truffle chocolates that Jin had bought for you.

He’s a charmer and irresistible and now you can’t wait to be with him tonight.

You’re welcomed warmly by the staff when you arrive close to lunch time, and after having a meal and bonding with them after, you join one of their meetings and get some work done before you and Jin head to a fancy restaurant for that dinner with one of the Board members.

It’s an enjoyable meal, as her wife is a fashion designer, so you talk about Hoseok and his work at the fashion magazine in Japan, and it turns out that they’ve met at fashion shows a few times; you even video call him to inform him.

You head back to the hotel right after despite your husband’s insistence to have another round of dessert, promising your own treat if you indulged him. You do, and he does make good with what he said - you come 3 times without doing much, and you’re rewarded further with a back massage and a very comfortable slumber.

The week passes by in roughly the same way, just in different variations. Jin goes to meetings and takes conference calls while you work in his designated room. You join him when you’re needed to provide updates about the new products you’re developing, and you even provide information about the marketing plans and sales figures that you really just get from speaking with Jimin.

But every night, you have dinner with a new person, and then Jin takes you to a cafe or a park to talk about it, and though all you want is to have a hot bath or lay in bed, you listen and give him support, knowing it’s what he needs more than anything.

You finally get a bit of a break during the weekend, as you and Jin drag Yoongi once more to a Napa Valley wine tour during the day and then a cruise down the bay to watch the sunset. You explore more of the city on Sunday and then thankfully get enough rest for your mid-morning flight to Lima the next day.

The city is gorgeous and you immediately feel disappointed that you aren’t here for leisure because you definitely want to spend more time here to get to know the city. But you’re only here for a few days. There’s a conference that Jin was invited to as a panelist; it fortunately aligns with the Street Food Expo that you’ve always wanted to attend.

So while he’s doing what company presidents do, you’re off on your own to eat, analyze the dishes, and make notes to keep you inspired. Jin asked you to be more familiar with the South American food culture and cuisine, after all, in hopes that you could learn about the market and see how your different worlds could fuse together in some way.

You could say you have the most fun role in the company, as you’re pretty much tasked to eat, even if you need to be extra careful after that bacterial infection you had not long ago. On that first day, your husband makes sure you remember how bad you felt when you got sick, just so you wouldn’t go overboard and overeat and be careless about what you consume.

You meet him and Yoongi at a nearby park and buy them your favorites for dinner while you merely watch, knowing you can’t take any more. Jin is basically unable to speak as he won’t stop eating himself, and you’re tempted to bite his adorable cheeks but you know that Yoongi will scold you if you try.

You explore the city on your own the next day, finding eateries and kiosks to add to your long list of places that serve food you want to eat again, something you show Jin that night to his amusement. You join him in the summit the next morning for his panel speaking duties, and you go around the city once more to spend time for yourself that you didn’t realize you also needed.

On your final night, Jin takes you to a fancy restaurant and you both walk around the city and take in what you can - the scent of street food, the buzz from the tourists, and the energy of the street performers.

It’s almost surreal, being able to experience this with him, as you get to discover new places and new food while being able to appreciate more what he does - the burdens of pressure, the demand for excellence, the need to constantly deliver, and the tiny room for error he’s afforded.

He’s that charismatic leader when he’s out there. But in your room when it’s just the two of you, he’s an absolute sweetheart half the time and a menace during the other half.

You don’t know which bits of him you like the most, though when you spend the evening scouring through aisles at a sex toy shop but then make love with lit candles and rose petals in the bathtub as his surprise, you realize you don’t have to pick a favorite. He’s truly everything you never expected you’d ever want, and you love all parts of him equally.

You head to Brazil the next day. The only distributor of Kim Foods in South America is in Rio, so your 2.5 days in the city is focused on meeting them and discussing new deals. You float the idea of your new products, though, and you end up discussing the new food items popping up on their side of the world, and you appreciate the fact that you’re gaining so much during this trip. You’re excited to get back home and run ideas with your teams, especially as you give the research unit assignments on what to look into to help with your recipes.

By the time you settle on your business class seat on the way to Toronto during your last day, you start to doze off.

“Careful with the snoring, love. It’s a full flight,” he nudges you.

“Now I’m scared to sleep,” you pout.

He smiles at you tenderly. “I’m sorry I’m dragging you around. I just realized that you might not be used to all the odd-hour flying and stuff.”

“I’m not used to flying, period,” you correct. “But it’s been fun, I’m not gonna lie. It’s like an excursion trip. I know we do that for the food development team around South Korea and some Asian countries but I’m thinking of having them go to other continents, too. Even the research unit. We could do collaborations or product lines depending on what we could fuse with.”

He smiles satisfyingly at you, thankful that you don't hate him yet for all that he’s putting you through just because he doesn’t think he could survive these trips on his own. He’s been on edge lately, needing to be at his best all the time and being more present to get the trust of people back, whether they’ve heard about the scandal or not. He wants things moving, and he wants them moving fast.

And while he’s been busy throughout the trips, too, he’s glad that there’s you next to him - every morning when he wakes up and every night before he falls asleep.

“Great idea. You should work on those proposals,” he smiles. “Also, I love hearing you talk work and food to me, but I expect full written reports when we get back, okay?”

Your glare could cut through glass if you wanted. “Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I unmarry you?”

The mansion of the Ahn family in Bayview Ridge, which isn’t far from downtown Toronto, is stunning.

It’s French-inspired, reminiscent of the Kims’ holiday chateau in Mountaroux, and the home’s traditional and classic yet modern design is quite breathtaking. It’s unfortunate that due to a health concern, Jin’s grandparents are unable to attend tonight’s event - the 80th birthday of the Ahn patriarch, who also happens to be the elder Mr. Kim’s childhood friend. It’s an important celebration that's hard to miss, so he sent your husband to attend on his behalf instead.

It’s why you’re here, dressed in an emerald green lace dress, next to your husband who’s in a simple ivory ensemble. In hindsight, you suppose it’s a good thing it’s both of you and not his grandparents; you can’t risk the scandal being brought up.

You join Jin as he goes around, greeting people you’ve never heard of before, and neither has he. Well, most of them.

The Ahns are ecstatic to see him, though, even more to meet you. They know your father, too, as the man who saved the elder Mrs. Kim’s life, and it’s heartwarming to hear their gratitude that they still feel towards your family. Somehow, though, it reminds you of how you and Jin started - an offering of gratitude, a debt to be paid.

But if months ago, the thought would’ve sunk your heart, today, you’re just in quiet disbelief at how the universe works sometimes, and then you smile. Because if at the end of it, you get to be with a man you never thought you’d love as much as you do, then it was all worth it.

The night flies by fast. There’s so much interior and exterior ground to explore in the 3-hectare property, so you and Jin go off on your own and eat and drink as you go. You excuse yourselves early and, taking Yoongi, you all go to a bar after to drink some more and prepare for the long week ahead.

The board meeting is set in 3 days. Given the scandal, which a few of the older Board members directly messaged Jin about with regards to their disappointment, there’s much pressure to ease their worries and show to them that under his leadership, they can weather such storms and move forward. Despite having met some of them already these past weeks, it’s the less forgiving ones he has to assure.

Taehyung and the 2 senior directors will be arriving tomorrow afternoon, and so the days leading up to the meeting will just be more meetings, which is why you wanted your husband to let loose a little and get some laughs in before he stresses himself out again.

The next morning, you wake up next to an empty bed. You could hear your husband’s voice from outside your room; perhaps he’s already working in the large desk situated in the nook by the living area. You walk out and look around the large suite where you’ll be staying in the next few days and indeed, you find him typing away on his laptop and speaking with someone on the phone.

You call room service and ask if any orders have been made, and when you’re told that there haven’t been any, you make the order yourself. While waiting, you take the time to retrieve his suits from his suitcase and arrange for them to be steamed in time for the Board meeting. You fix some of his clothes and yours, and by the time you finish, the doorbell is ringing and food is served.

You place the cup of coffee on Jin’s desk and kiss his cheek, and his face softens at the feel of your lips, and he wishes for nothing more than this phone call to end. Setting the dining table for your meal, you turn to him and instruct him to eat, and your furrowed brows do the trick, as he hangs up and heads over to you for a kiss on your lips.

“Which department?” You ask, knowing it’s his senior director clarifying some things in the Board and business review reports.

“Not yours,” he assures. “Production. Some numbers didn’t make sense but it’s all good now.”

“Good. The reports I submit are always good. I was never asked for some clarifications,” you brag.

“They are, I think. They’re always the longest so I usually just browse through them.”

You smack his arm in annoyance. “Are you serious! I work my ass off on those reports and you don’t even read them?!”

“I do! I mean, thoroughly after the meeting. As long as Director Oh approves it, then I know you’ve met her standards, which are pretty much as good as mine. The Board just rarely asks about how we develop the products; they like knowing how they sell. So they rarely have questions about your department; you don’t spend as much, either.”

“Ugh, all my hard work for nothing,” you angrily eat your breakfast.

“Hey! I read them! I just don’t absorb them as much. Director Oh usually answers product development questions since—”

“Since she actually reads my reports,” you interject.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he merely chuckles, but he stands up to hug you when you’re still pouting, and when he whispers that he just knows your reports are good because your performance ratings have always been highly satisfactory, you start to smile.

He returns to his desk after breakfast, and you look out to the pretty view of the city from your hotel window, prompting him to turn to you.

“Why don’t you go out? The weather’s pretty nice for a walk. I heard they have daily markets; you can check them out,” he says.

“Hmm, I’ll probably just walk around a bit and then head back. I don’t really want to explore without you. I’ve been doing that and I end up eating everything by myself.”

He walks over to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and settles his head on the crook of your neck. Soft kisses pepper your face, and he mumbles he’s sorry for leaving you on your own.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We’re on a work trip, Jin. We’re not here for leisure. Spending evenings going around is fine,” you say.

“Yeah, but it’s your first time going to these cities. It just sucks that you can’t go around as you like,” he sighs.

“We can go back. I have my favorites, and a few more places I want to visit.”

“Okay, we’ll go to them, then,” he says, smiling into the kiss on your lips he gives. “Good thing you’re married to the President.”

You go around a few blocks from your hotel and grab some coffee and pastries from a strip of cafes you pass by. You get back to your suite to find Yoongi already in the living room, working on some documents while Jin prepares his presentation. You stay in your room and work in peace, until you hear familiar voices some time in the late afternoon.

Taehyung and the two senior directors arrive straight from the airport. You all go to the hotel restaurant for dinner and then head back to your suite where they start with their discussions for the Board meeting in 2 days. You join in for a while, and it’s during a quick break when you’re preparing some iced drinks in the kitchen that you get to catch up with Taehyung.

“How were your parents after the Fellowship Dinner,” you ask, as you glance at your husband sharing his presentation with Director Oh. “I doubt they expected us to be there.”

“Yeah. Sejeong and I think that Father planned it,” he sighs. “But our parents haven’t mentioned hyung, nor any of your trips. We always bring you both up and Mother at least asks when you two are returning, but our old man doesn’t. He’s just so stubborn.”

“I know it’s a silly question but… why are they still so angry? It’s as if Jin had done a crime or caused the company to go bankrupt.”

Taehyung looks at his older brother fondly, as if recalling their years of growing up together.

“My parents never had a problem with him,” Taehyung shares. “All 3 of us are pretty intelligent but I wanted to become an actor and Sejeong wanted to become a lawyer. Hyung was the one who followed everything they wanted without complaints, and he really enjoyed it, you know? Like, you could tell he likes it. He genuinely loves food. He likes leading, managing people; challenges excite him and he always gets through them. That’s how my parents are. And that’s how they raised him. He took after them, basically. And so that’s why I think they’re as affected as they are - it hit them at their core, like they failed as parents because they realized their perfect child isn’t actually so perfect.”

“But that’s not fair to Jin. I mean, in the grander scheme of things, it’s not that bad, and Sejeong’s strategies worked. It’s hurting him so much that they don’t seem to care about him.”

“They do. They’re just having a hard time accepting that their son is human,” Taehyung offers. “After his ex left, he got back on his feet quickly and they thought that was him being him, you know? Sadness for a while, dust it off, then get back on his feet. But he was just detaching himself from his emotions all that time and then Seri happened. And they just can’t accept that he needed that - that care, that warm body, that relief from his responsibilities. Add the fake romance and deceit on top of that - which I admitted was my idea - and they’re just hurt and angry and being stubborn. They’re having a hard time processing.”

“Yeah, but he needs them. For all the times that Jin was the perfect son, this is the time when they need to be his parents,” you huff, feeling the anger build up again, one that you try hard to keep at bay. “He’s… he’s trying his best, and I just feel like all his work won’t matter much unless they forgive him.”

“They will, eventually,” Taehyung comforts. “When, I’m not sure. So, uh, can you keep holding the fort until then? I don’t want this to be the thing that completely breaks him.”

You nod, thinking that’s at least something you can do.

Some time later, you’re finally in bed with Jin. He turns to you and asks, “were you talking with my brother about my parents?”

There’s softness in his voice, almost like fear, and this breaks your heart, too.

“I was, and it’s still the same. He says that he still believes that they’ll eventually speak with you. You’re still their son, Jin. They won’t be able to resist you,” you say.

“Isn’t it that it hurts the most when the pain comes from the person you least expect? That you trust would never let you down?” He responds. He knows you know. “I got my second chance with you, ___. Maybe I’m not that lucky.”

“It wasn’t because of luck, Jin. It was because of trust. And despite everything, I know your parents still trust you. Thinking otherwise is just you giving up that things will be okay again. You have to believe that they will,” you urge him.

“Maybe, but it’s also taking away from who I am. I’ve been working hard for their forgiveness, for their acceptance, not anymore because I like what I’m doing,” he sighs, the reality hitting him this morning after you left the suite. “Maybe I just have to accept that things won’t be the same again. They haven’t disowned me so that’s good. But I can’t expect the same respect as before. I can’t expect the same love.”

You want nothing more than to take his pain away, to feel it yourself so he won’t have to. Or even just to take a bit of it so he doesn’t feel too burdened by everything. You hug him tightly to let him know all that you feel, and he sighs in your hold, as if telling you that for tonight, this is all he needs.

“Then let me love you until it’s enough,” you tell him. “Let me love you until it’s all that you need.”

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @investedreader

Series Taglist: @iwishselena @neverthefirstchoice @jungoomoles @yoontaethings @scuzmunkie @aerastus @seanachais @rjsmochii @xiaonismo @petalsofink @bastard--bunny @little-dark-empress

177 notes · View notes