#I have barely any time to myself on weekends GIVE ME A BREAK!!

[blu3-ast3ri4]

Right so next part will be delayed since my laptop has decided to do THIS…

I mainly use it for proofreading and listening to music while I’m writing so this will obviously slow that process down, but I also use it a lot for school work as it’s easier on there rather than on my phone but NOW I’ll have to use my phone for school work until I get it fixed (hopefully?? We definitely cannot afford a new laptop rn this one already cost my mum almost £500)

So unfortunately I’ll have to move EVERYTHING over to my phone, which will certainly be a struggle with how small the screen is compared to my laptop and how much homework I actually need my laptop to be able to do💔💔 there will, again, be a slight delay in part 2 because of this

Sorry guys☹️☹️

[littlexdeaths]

she fuckin’ hates me - e.m.

enemy eddie munson x fem reader x crush steve harrington

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: hate fucking, semi-public sex, mean!dom eddie (he’s secretly down so bad), fingering, they both call each names (slut, brat, asshole, dickhead), big dick eddie, unprotected piv sex (the condom breaks oops), unintentional cream pie, little sprinkle of angst

a/n: this is entirely inspired by that one audio by eyesofsuggestion (getting hate fucked on your crushes bed by his best friend).

word count: 3.5k

also huge shoutout to both @strangerstilinski and @uglypastels for helping me so much. i appreciate the hell out of you both. and also to @lesservillain for giving me the condom idea. enjoy my lil freaks xx.

“Looks like someone’s not enjoying the party…”

You barely register his deep voice over the thumping bass from inside the house when you stomp out onto the patio.

The night air feels nearly as sticky as inside the house, the amount of bodies pressing together causing the temperature to skyrocket.

But the moment you see his lanky figure leaning against the side of Steve’s house and the burning cherry of his cigarette in the dark— you’re half tempted to turn around.

You were already having a terrible night to begin with but you weren’t about to let Eddie Munson make it any worse for you. Knowing this was partially his fault to begin with. 

“What‘s it to you, Munson?” you spit.

His answering chuckle has you gritting your teeth, tucking your skirt under yourself as you sit on the patio steps.

“Oh nothing…” he hums, taking another long drag from his cigarette. “It’s just hard not to notice how you’ve been throwing yourself at Steve all night.”

While you hate to admit it, and you wouldn’t out loud— Eddie was right.

You’d gone out of your way to pretty yourself up for him, wearing your lowest cut blouse and your shortest skirt in hopes of getting his attention. You stayed by his side, laughed at all his jokes. Despite all the effort you put in, Steve barely spared you a passing glance.

It was such a total switch from how he was acting towards you the previous weekend. Steve had barely got you in his bedroom before his hands were in your pants. But now he was too busy shoving his tongue down a pretty blonde’s throat to even notice your absence.

“I haven’t been throwing myself at anyone, dickhead,” you roll your eyes with a scoff.

Eddie just laughs again, leaning his head back against the siding. “I wouldn’t have assumed  Steve’s dick game was so good that you’d be crawling back for sloppy seconds.” 

And when you turn to glare at him, you can’t help but admire the way the smoke unfurls from his plump lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, prick.” 

“— Hey now,” he mocked you with a slight pout, “Don’t take your sexual frustration out on me, princess. I was just stating the obvious.”

You avert your eyes before he catches you staring, but that frustration mixed with unkindled desire continues to mount between you with each passing second. 

So when your eyes are drawn back to him, you aren’t entirely sure why. 

As annoying as Eddie could be, you can’t deny that he was attractive. And if his shitty attitude towards you wasn’t the reason that Steve kept blowing you off, maybe you’d actually like him. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“— you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he teases.

While your face shows mock disgust, your body betrays you when you feel wetness beginning to pool in the fabric of your panties. 

“In your dreams, Munson.”

Eddie smirks a little, taking that as a challenge.

“What are you, scared?” 

Under normal circumstances, you’d tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. Perhaps it was your hormones getting the best of you. 

But there was something about the way the moonlight catches on his rings, and the pale glow that casts shadows over his handsome features— that’s making you think otherwise.

“I mean… I don’t see anyone else lining up to take that bratty ass of yours home.” Eddie takes one last, long drag but this time he notices the way your eyes linger on his lips.

You make it almost too easy.

“And it would be a damn shame to let all that hard work of yours go to waste, you know?” he continues casually while he snuffs out his cigarette. “Since Harrington, clearly isn’t appreciating it.” 

And you really can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Eddie closes the remaining distance between you, causing your head to tilt back as you look up at him in utter disbelief.

“Don’t act so coy, I saw how you were looking at me just now…”

Beneath his cocky demeanor, his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

Because unbeknownst to you, the real reason Steve was avoiding you at every turn was entirely for Eddie's benefit. He was just trying to be a good friend.

Eddie holds up his hand before you can say anything else, his lips lifting in a shit eating grin.

“Besides, we both know that if it’s not for me, you’ll be going home with an empty cunt. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Your body flushes at the vulgarity of his words, but you mull them over nonetheless. 

While you didn’t like him, despised him in fact— this could be an opportunity to get some pent up frustration out of your system. Since it was clear Steve wasn’t up for the challenge. 

So you tuck your lower lip in between your teeth and you rise to your feet.

“Fine,” you hum and there’s a sudden flash of surprise in his eyes. Like he half expected you to tell him to go fuck himself and storm off, but it’s gone just as quickly. “On one condition.”

The patio steps put you an inch or so above him, so now he has to look up to meet your gaze.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, princess?” he smirks.

You grip the fabric of his t-shirt in your fists, urging him closer. You can feel the heat radiating from him, your breasts now flush against his chest.

“You keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

And you use the advantage of your slight height difference to press your lips to his before he has a chance to respond.

Eddie all but groans into your mouth as tugs you closer, hands gripping onto your hips before splaying over the curve of your ass. When he slips his tongue in your mouth, he tastes like a dizzying combination of nicotine and cheap beer.

But the taste somehow leaves you wanting more.

So when you start to grind yourself onto his jean-clad thigh, he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. The male fully enjoys the pitiful whimper it pulls from you.

“If you think I’m fucking you out here… you’re out of your goddamn mind,” he pants into your open mouth.

“Well if you had somewhere else in mind maybe you should try taking the reins, hotshot,” you fire back.

Eddie takes a single step up the stairs to place himself at eye level with you, as if to even the playing field. 

And you just stare at each other, both your eyes are ablaze with a mixture of annoyance and lust. It's Eddie who eventually breaks your gaze to brush past you and continue on towards the house.

He dares a glance over his shoulder once he reaches the patio door, a brow rising beneath his bangs as if to give you one final chance to back out. But you don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

No one spares either of you a second glance when he leads you up the stairs and pulls you into the first bedroom on the right. 

You know upon entering that this is Steve’s room, recognizing the checkered wallpaper from the weekend prior. But you don’t have much time to dwell on it before his lips are back on yours and he’s leading you towards his best friend’s bed.

“In here?” you say between heated kisses, earning you a deep hum when he pushes you down onto the mattress.

“What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” he mused, dark eyes admiring the way your skirt has risen up your thighs. “Unless… you really wanna make him jealous.” 

Eddie crawls over you after shrugging off his leather jacket and you can already feel how hard he is through the rough denim. You tug harshly on his hair when his lips trail down across your neck, teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat.

But the ache between your thighs only becomes stronger with each press of his lips, and in turn causes your already thin patience to slip further.

“Get on with it already, I don’t have all damn night.”

You can feel his laughter vibrate against your sweaty skin but his hand dips between your thighs nonetheless. Eddie cups your clothed pussy in the palm of his hand, pulling a breathy whine from you when he presses the heel of it against your clit.

“Hmm, givin' an awful lot of attitude to someone who's just tryin’ to do you a favor, sweetheart.”

You merely roll your eyes in response, reaching between your bodies to palm over the bulge that’s straining against the fly of his jeans.

“Huh, seems to me that you like my little attitude, asshole.”

The male groans into your neck when you apply more pressure, his hand quickly gripping onto your wrist before he pins the both of them above your head.

“Ya’know I usually love a bit of a challenge, but you sweetheart, are a giant pain in the ass.”

You giggle mockingly, tilting your head at him with a slight pout, “Aww, Eddie— I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

If only you knew… 

That laughter morphs into a soft gasp when he yanks your panties down your thighs with his other hand. Those calloused fingers slipping between your slick folds to circle over your swollen bud.

His nose skims along the curve of your shoulder, greedily inhaling your perfume. Enjoying the way your body practically shudders beneath his own.

“So sensitive…” he coos mockingly, the tip of his middle finger brushing over your puckered hole. “And I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

Any snarky comment dies on your tongue when he slips the digit inside, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit. A small mewl gets caught in your throat when he slides another finger in and your body welcomes the stretch.

Eddie can only grin wider when you grind your hips down onto his fingers, his other hand releases your wrists to tug down the front of your blouse to free your breasts. He has to hold back a moan of his own when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra, his lips latching around your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, your fingers tangling themselves in his wild mane while his curl up inside you.

“If only Steve could see how much of a fucking mess you’re making for me,” he taunts, leaning his mouth down to suck on the underside of your breast. “Bet he’d be so pissed that you’re ruining his expensive sheets, sweetheart.”

Your answering whimper has him chuckling, urging him to thrust his fingers even faster inside you. Ultimately proving his point as you can feel the wetness dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. But the noisy glide of his fingers are nearly as taunting as his words.

“E-Eddie— I…” your chest heaves as you trail off, feeling that rubber band in your middle about to snap with each pump of his fingers.

He knows what that blissful look on your face means and it brings him a little too much pleasure to see it crumble when he completely removes his fingers from inside you. Your cry of frustration has his cock practically throbbing in his jeans, sticky fingers hurrying to unbuckle his belt.

“Nah uh,” he tuts. “You don’t always get what you want, brat.”

Eddie pushes his jeans and boxers far enough down his thighs to free his cock, the sight of it momentarily distracting you.

He was big, much bigger than you anticipated.

Part of you was almost worried he wasn’t going to fit. Eddie must see the mixture of surprise and awe written across your features, as he leans forward to swipe his thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“Drooling already? You flatter me, sweetheart.”

He reaches over for a condom in Steve’s bedside drawer, ripping the packet open with his teeth. But Eddie can practically see the flash of disappointment in your eyes when he rolls the latex on, which only causes him to laugh harder.

“Oh how cute, you thought I was gonna fill you up, baby?” he all but sneers as he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “A slut like you has to earn that privilege.”

He lets go of your cheeks, ringed fingers spreading your thighs apart and pulling you down toward the edge of the mattress. Positioning you in just the right spot so he can tap the head of his cock against your clit.

The wet slapping noise it makes has him grinning even wider and it takes everything in you not to slap that look right off his face.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna actually fuck me?” you huff.

He tilts his head at you, a little surprised by your sudden outburst. And to think you were being so good just a minute ago.

“See, that’s not what we’re going to do, brat.” He clicks his tongue, his other hand gripping the meat of your thighs a little harder. “Keep giving me that attitude and I’ll have no issue walking out of here and burying my cock into someone else.”

You just glare at each other, in a silent struggle for power. But this time you are the first to crack when you cast your eyes downward. That uncomfortable silence stretches on for a moment too long, which he mistakes for regret. 

He’s about to tuck himself back into his jeans when you grip onto his wrist with a soft whine.

“N-No, shit— please don’t go.”

Eddie just raises an eyebrow at you, not impressed by that meek attempt at begging. So you blow out the breath you were holding, swallowing your pride when your eyes flick up to meet his.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please.”

You feel incredibly pathetic begging Eddie Munson of all people. But you also can’t deny the way your cunt practically throbs when you feel the thick head of his cock glide against your entrance.

“See? Now was that so hard?” he snickers, giving you no warning before he’s guiding the head inside your sopping cunt.

“Jesus— fuck, you’re tight,” he blurts, marveling as your pussy practically sucks him in. 

You let out a gasp when he bottoms out with a low hiss, his own head tipping backwards when you clench harder around him. But the male doesn’t move a muscle, his hands gripping onto your hips to keep you in place.

An act of mercy really— he doesn’t want to hurt you.

While you are grateful for the reprieve, that slight sting soon fades into a dull ache and you desperately need more.

When Eddie feels you start to squirm in his grasp, he groans low in his throat. His head tips back down to meet your half lidded gaze while he carefully guides his cock out before sliding it back in.

He works up a steady rhythm, but slow enough to keep you both teetering on the edge of desperation— until you can’t take it anymore.

“God— go faster,” your attempt at a direct order comes out as more a breathy plea instead.

But he doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands coaxing your trembling legs over his shoulders before slamming his hips back into yours. An elated moan leaves your lips, fingers gripping onto the sheets as you eagerly meet each hard thrust he gives you.

“It’s too bad Harrington’s missin’ out on all this,” he grunts, his eyes darkening as he watches that creamy ring around his cock expand with each snap of his hips. “But I can put in a really good word for ya, princess.”

And when your eyes roll back, it’s not from annoyance this time— as he hits your sweet spot dead on.

“I hate you,” you huff regardless, but your words don’t hold nearly as much malice. 

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” 

You miss the smug look that crosses his features when your back arches up off the mattress and you cry out his name repeatedly.

“That’s it, brat— say my name louder. Let them know… let Steve know who’s making you feel this good.” 

Your nails dig into his forearms as he fucks you even faster, a low growl pushing past his lips with each hard thrust. The bed creaks harshly in protest but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest.

If anything— it encourages him to go harder, bucking into you like some wild animal. The little uh, uh uh’s that he pushes out of you are music to his ears, the sounds becoming higher in pitch the closer you get to the edge.

And when your eyes flutter shut, he only quickened his pace. The brunette practically bends you in half as he leans into you, this new angle forcing him even deeper.

“Look.” Grunt. “At.” Grunt. “Me.” Grunt.

In your blissed out state, you miss the hidden meaning behind his pointed words. 

When you manage to finally open them, he’s closer. A lot closer than you expected. So close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the sweat that dots his upper lip. 

Maybe you’ve never wanted to admit it to yourself before, but Eddie really was gorgeous. And from the way he’s gazing down at you, pupils blown out and glassy, you can only assume he feels the same about you. 

And that last bit of self control slips when you smash your lips together.

He kisses you back just as forcefully, effectively stealing the air from your lungs. Gasping for breath, your fingers begin to loosen their grip on his arm. Slipping them between your bodies to rub quick circles over your swollen bud. 

The sensation has your walls squeezing tighter around him, earning you another throaty moan. 

“See how much easier you are to deal with like this, baby?” He mumbles against your mouth, enjoying the small scowl that crosses over your features. “All cockdrunk and stupid… it suits you.” 

While you open your mouth to throw one last insult his way, a pointed thrust into your sweet spot has you trembling. A loud squeal leaving your lips instead when you tumble over the edge. 

And Eddie can’t take his eyes off you as you fall apart beneath him, memorizing each expression with the utmost sincerity. Even if you did hate him, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Oh, atta girl…” he praises, his hot breath fanning over your lips while he continues to bury himself inside you.

You feel the sudden snap of the latex before he does. The male blissfully unaware as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and finishes with a deep groan, unintentionally filling you up in the process.

“Hm, guess I got what I wanted after all,” you laugh a little breathlessly. 

Eddie lifts his head in confusion, the realization finally dawns on him when he feels his warmth start to trickle down your thighs. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He curses as he pulls out, making an even bigger mess of both you and the sheets in the process. 

“Stupid, fucking cheap ass condoms,” he huffs under his breath, chucking the broken rubber into the trash. 

Although his jaw is clenched in annoyance, his eyes are now transfixed on where his cum begins to leak out of your puffy pussy and onto the bedspread.

Unable to stop himself, Eddie reaches out a hand to graze along the underside of your ass. He collects some of the mess on his fingertips and guides them back inside you.

And despite the sensitivity, the possessiveness of his actions has your walls clenching around his dexterous fingers.

Everything comes to a sudden halt when the bedroom door swings open, knocking into the wall.

“Alright you horny shits, time to…” Steve trails off once he sees the two of you, honey hues widening in disbelief. “In my bed, Munson? Really?” 

Eddie doesn’t bat an eye, merely straightening up from where he was hovering over your half naked form whilst you quickly tug the sheets over yourself from sheer embarrassment.

Now all Eddie can see is the way you're looking at Steve. Something sour settles in his stomach, a tangle of jealousy and hurt. While his heart rate slows, his defenses go back up. 

That feeling prickles along his skin as he tucks himself back into his boxers and re-fastens the button on his jeans. 

"Was just warmin' her up for ya, man," Eddie says through his teeth. 

Steve's look of confusion deepens as he glances between the two of you, knowing that this is exactly what Eddie had wanted. 

But now Eddie won’t even look at you. 

He doesn't see the conflicted emotions swimming in your eyes when he speaks again. Throwing the words over his shoulder without a second glance as he grabs his jacket and turns to leave. 

"She's all yours, Harrington." 

That lie burns on his tongue like acid, but he doesn't look back.

taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @bimbotrashcan @popbangcrash @corrodedcorpses @demibats @hellfire--cult @calumfmu @bastardstevie @emmypoisonedqueen @probablyin-bed @luv4peterba1lard @stolen-in-moonlight @potatobeans99 @your-nightmaredoll @rebelfell @josephquinnsfreckles @chaptersleftunwritten @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @callsignmedusa @splendiferous-bitch @spenciesprincess @creepycranberry @idkwhattoputhere08 @obsessed-midwest-princess @joequiinn @celestialbat @rosekicks @not-my-lover @alba8688 @kellsck sorry if i missed anyone!

[lanroman]

Taking Care

first (and last) fic- wrote this a while ago, its been sitting in my docs for over a year and a half probably, i came upon it the other day and i figured... why not share?!

a fluffy one shot about reader taking care of lando after a race!

~1k words

WARNINGS: slight suggestive comments, nakedness but not in a sexual way

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, which was slightly out of the ordinary. Race weekends were always exhausting for Lando, but he’d somehow always find the energy to talk and laugh with you up until the very moment he drifted off to sleep. And when you couldn’t be with him in person, he’d Facetime you and give you a rundown on the race for hours. But this time, he was silent. Today the whirlwind couple of weekends seemed to finally catch up to him, as the high hopes and adrenaline started to fade; he looked exhausted. Even with the exhaustion setting in, he was still sporting the same sweet smile he always did, leaning against your chest in the car's back seat. You’ve been together for about two years, but you still feel those butterflies in your stomach you got at the beginning of your relationship when looking at him even now.

You were the first one to speak up after a few minutes as you were almost to the hotel. “Who’s showering first?” You looked down at him and spoke softly. 

He perked up a bit, sitting upright, saying, “When have we ever taken turns?” He jokes as you shoot him a look and nudged his chest. He laughs and then speaks again, but his voice is low this time. “You. I’m about to crash. I’ll take one tomorrow.” He sighs rubbing his eyes, his head now leaning against the headrest.

“Baby, you have to take one tonight,” You say, running your fingers through his hair that was slightly tangled at the ends. “you’ll sleep better all cleaned up.” 

He doesn’t offer a verbal response, just a small nod of his head as he closes his eyes.

“I’m taking that as a ‘me first’.” You whisper to him as the car pulls up to the entrance of the hotel. 

You helped with his bags and was practically carrying him into the hotel and up to the room. 

After opening the door, Lando tries to break free from you and headed straight to the bed, with no luck as you drop your bags and clung to his abdomen.

“Y/N please, I’m too tired. I’ll drown.” He says in between laughs. “Baby come on, I’ll help you. I won’t let that happen.” You say directing him to the bathroom.

He sleepily plops down on top of the toilet seat as you crouch down to untie his shoes, taking them off along with his socks. You set them aside and start the water in the shower.

“Ok, arms up.” You say, grabbing the hem of his papaya shirt. He barely reaches his hands over his head as you pull it off him. He winces slightly, putting his hands down and grabbing one of his shoulders. “Lan,” Your eyebrows knit, watching the pain show and leave his face quickly in an attempt to try to hide it. Your hand goes on top of his.

“Just sore. I’m fine.” He says plainly, rolling his shoulders back. You look up at him, unsure if he was just saying that. 

He smiles and chuckles a little bit. “Really, I’m fine.” He grabs your hand that was still on his shoulder and squeezes it. “Well, tell me if it gets any worse, okay?” You said somewhat confident that we is truly fine. He nodded in response.

“Alright. Stand up.”

“I don’t think my legs will let me.” He wines.

“Your pants Lando. Unless you’d like to keep those on?” You laugh.

“I guess not.” He lets out a big sigh, standing up. You stood up too and was about to help him but he let out a weak laugh. “I think I can manage this part myself, baby.” 

“First time for everything.” You said cheekily, going to take off your shirt. He hopped in the shower first, and you followed behind him after everything was off. 

He did not get very far into his shower routine before giving up, only had body wash done by the time you were rinsing your hair. 

“I need help.” He said handing you a bottle of shampoo. You take some and gently work the product in till it bubbled, then washed it out. He let out a soft breath as your fingers went through his hair, making sure the conditioner was thoroughly massaged in. Once you finished rinsing his hair again, you grabbed both of your towels and dried yourself off before wrapping him up and walking him to the bed. 

He sat upright until you weren’t holding onto him any more. He laid down with his legs off the bed, the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Come on, you just have to get dressed.” You say as somewhat of an encouragement, taking the opportunity to dig in your suitcase to at least put on your undergarments before helping him. 

You turn around once you were finished to see Landos eyes glued to your frame with a wide sly smile on his face.

”Please, you are wide awake, get dressed yourself.” You say, blood rushing to your cheeks, throwing some clothes at him from his suitcase. 

He lets out a chuckle and gets up from the bed walking to you. He moved your hair to the side and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck and shoulder.

“Finding some energy now, hm?” You say tilting your head to the side.

”Maybe just a little.” He lets out a big over dramatic yawn. With a shake of your head and a laugh, you continue to get dressed as he gets grabs his clothes and does the same. You pull him into the bathroom one last time to brush his teeth before he was in bed for good. You had a few more steps of your routine before you were ready for bed, so when you were finished, he was practically one breath away from being fully asleep. You crawled into bed beside him. His arms instinctively pulled you in closer and held you in a comfortable sort of hug.

He lets out a hum, “Thank you for taking care of me. And not just today.” He said barely above a whisper. 

“Of course baby. I love you.” You place a small kiss on his cheek. He smiles with his eyes still closed.

”I love you too.” 

“Goodnight sweet boy.” You said as the butterflies in your stomach flapped their wings again, lulling you to sleep.

a/n: i feel embarrassed, but thanks for reading <3 maybe throw it a like so im not so self-conscious :)

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

these fatal fantasies giving way to laboured breath... they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly... without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. (part one link)

warnings: slow burn (emphasis on slow, emphasis on burn), miscommunication, missed opportunities, missing jungkook, inappropriate mentions of masturbation between friends, frustration (sexually and emotionally!)

wordcount: 18K

note from holly: this was supposed to be a 30k chunk but the 1000 paragraph limit told me no </3 so instead, this is part 1 - part 2 will come tomorrow :)

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

When Jungkook comes to stand by your desk, his freshly pressed suit unspoiled from his morning commute and with a coffee in either hand, you know he must be up to something.

"Let me guess," you hum. "You dipped your nib in the company ink again and need me to do damage control?"

It wouldn't be the first time, and the new secretary has been ogling him ever since she started just before the Chuseok break. You've joked about it a few times, but you really wouldn't put it past him.

Popping your coffee on your desk, Jungkook toys with his tie a little, smoothing it down. "Why do you always think so little of me, you little gremlin?"

His pouty whine would be believable if you didn't know him as well as you do. Glancing up from your screen, you're greeted with a smirk. Even he can't keep up his pretence of innocence. "You know exactly why."

"I'm a good boy," he promises. "Got you coffee and everything this morning!"

"Because you want something," you laugh. "I wasn't born yesterday, Jungkook."

"Can a friend not get a friend a coffee just because?"

"Yes—but you don't."

In fact, Jungkook normally waits until midday for his first coffee. Treats it like a reward for getting through the morning without any caffeine. He's gone out of his way today—or just ordered coffee to the office to make it look like he has. Regardless, an effort has been made.

He takes a second. Purses his lips. Narrows his eyes.And then he smiles. "Fine. I need a favour."

"See, I knew it was too good to be true!"

"Oh, c'mon!" He laughs. "I'd get you coffee if you asked."

"I asked last week when I was running late, and you told me to wake up earlier and get it myself!"

"Well, it was your own fault for being out until arse o'clock in the morning!"

Your fault, you think but don't vocalise. It's not like you'd been out with him. You'd been on a date. Another with Mingyu. Hadn't stuck to your word of cooling things off. Spooked yourself with those dreams about Jungkook. Needed to bring yourself back to reality.

If he hadn't asked you to dogsit, you never would have gotten so caught in the domestication of it all. It's your biggest weakness and he damn well knows it. If anything, he should be thanking you for choosing to realign your focus instead of leaning into silly little thoughts about him. It also helps that in the cold, harsh light of Monday mornings, the thoughts just make you cringe more than anything.

"Sorry, Dad," you roll your eyes. "Didn't realise I had to ask your permission."

Jungkook's lips purse in the gentlest of ways, corners upturning ever so slightly. He shakes his head. "You're cranky this morning."

"And you're up to something," you reply. Have barely even had a chance to look over your weekend emails yet, let alone prepare yourself for Jungkook being a nuisance. His department is two floors up. There's no need for him to be here.

In the corner of your screen, an email pings through. Though your glance is quick, it connects a flurry of dots together.

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

The company you work at is the head office of a chain restaurant. Jungkook works in franchising—negotiations, specifically. Gets the restaurant placed in the best locations. Recently landed a spot in Starfield Mall. Got himself a nice little bonus.

You're over in the interior design team. It's a small cohort, just three of you, but you're responsible for ensuring cohesion amongst all the spaces. It's up to you that customers get the same feel whether they're in Seoul or Sokcho.

Both starting the job at the same time, directly after graduation, Jungkook had approached you with a strategy in mind. Roped you into creating the interior mood boards and mapping out the spaces before they'd even been acquired. Gave life to them that made it so much easier for investors to imagine.

It had been seen by management as a waste of resources before then—why waste time creating hypotheticals?

They just hadn't yet experienced Jungkook, and all of his charm, pitching for them, using your content to tip negotiations in his favour. It's a partnership that works. Is a practice now adopted by the company across the board, thanks to the pair of you. It's why you work together so often, even if you're on completely different floors and dealing with such vastly different tasks.

"I've been asked to go along," he says, nodding towards the screen. "Little old me is our brand ambassador for the week."

"Congrats," you beam, knowing that Jungkook is the best man for the job. He loves the company. Really believes in the restaurant. Clicking into the email, you scan the details. "A week of schmoozing, huh? However will you cope?"

He's about to joke about how tiresome it'll be, but then you hum in confusion.

"Jeju?" You question, looking at the location. You scroll, just to check you aren't imagining things—but there it is, clear as day. Location: International Conference Center, Jeju. "All the way in bloody Jeju?!"

"It's for international markets," he says, putting his best guess out there. "Seoul's been done a hundred times over for different Expos. Busan, too. I think they're trying to attract more foreign companies—and would the CEO's rather send themselves on city breaks or island getaways? Anyway, that's actually the favour I wanted to ask you..."

It all sort of clicks into place, now. "Bam?"

With a sweet nod, Jungkook offers a gentle smile. "You know there's no one I'd rather look after him. The trip is four days, Tuesday to Friday. If it's too much, I can book him into a kennel, but—"

"No," you shake your head. "Don't do that. You know I'm happy to look after him."

"Sure?"

Jungkook would rather die than leave Bam at a Kennel for the week. He doesn't trust anyone with his baby unless they've proved themselves, but the way you happily cuddle up with Bam on the floor of Jungkook's apartment on any given day of the week is proof enough to him that you love him, too.

If he's gonna trust anyone with his most prized possession, it'd be you.

"One condition," you bargain, 'cause you know that you can. Jungkook'll do anything to have you agree.

"Go on..."

"Have you replaced all the cheese I ate last time I looked after him?"

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

"Good," you beam. "And could you be a babe and make me some of your pad kee mao? The sauce at least? I can do the rest."

If there's one thing Jungkook will never fail to impress you with, it's his cooking—but your favourite of all of his dishes is his Thai drunken chicken noodles. He imports the special basil needed for it. Goes an extra mile to make sure it's just right. You haven't been to your favourite Thai place since you learned just how well he makes the dish. Will just send him a text when you fancy it, and end up at his place an hour or so later with beers from the convenience store and ice cream sandwiches to chuck in his freezer for dessert.

"That it?" He laughs. "Cheese and noodles? God, you are easily pleased."

"I'm a woman of refined tastes," you say, pompously poised.

Jungkook knows you well enough to know you're no such thing, but he needs this favour, so he doesn't bite. Just says, "And you're sure?"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Now leave me alone. I've got work to do—and thanks for the coffee."

He nods, that little smile of his affecting you far more than it really should. You can't help it. The lighting in your office is far nicer than the rest of the establishment. Makes him look... well, makes him look like himself. Like 'home' Jungkook. The same one who hangs out with you in sweats and messy hair on Sunday mornings, not the suited and clean-shaven Jungkook who swaggers through the corridors of your workplace.

Three of you work in your specific office, and you're all interior designers. Changing the bulbs was one of the first things you did. Lea, your manager, is the most senior in your team. Below you is Jiwon. A fresh graduate, she's still learning the ropes, and as much as you like her, you really wish she wouldn't go all heart-eyed over Jungkook every time he enters the room.

It's not her fault. The warm bulbs just bring out all of those terrible, intrusive little stars in his chocolatey brown eyes. They're terrible, 'cause they're stolen from other people; intrusive, 'cause as he walks away and your gaze follows him, it seems like they've landed in your eyes, too. A secret shared that neither of you even realises exists.

"How do you do it?" Jiwon sighs once Jungkook is out of earshot. "I'd melt if he looked at me like that."

"He looks at everyone like that," you deflect. "And trust me, he's just as disgusting as he is charming. Don't let the tailored suits fool you."

It's been a little while since Jungkook last used the copier room for indecent affairs that would have gotten anyone else into a meeting with HR. Workplace violations are far easier to get away with when you're doing them with someone from the HR department, after all.

Jiwon joined the team just as Jungkook was curbing his bad behaviour. Granted, you know about more of it than most, but everyone who was lucky enough to grab his attention for more than five seconds used it as bragging rights for months.

One thing that you did enjoy about Jungkook's slut era was the lack of women he ever took home. Didn't want to introduce new people to Bam, if they were only going to be fleeting endeavours.

But you're his friend, not a casual fuck. He knew that bringing you into the fold wouldn't be fast nor fleeting. It'd be a lifetime kinda thing.

Which is what makes you feel so guilty as you stand by the water cooler a little later that morning, daydreaming about being back in his space again. Silly little thoughts about facetime calls when you were wrapped up in his sheets, and he was back at his parents' place in Busan. Memories of lazing the days away with Bam, and the look on Jungkook's face as he finally arrived home after a few days away.

You've seen him at home a million times over, but there was something different about him then. Serene. At peace. You know that he was probably just happy to be back with his baby, and tired from driving, but the lazy smile that had hung off his lips, round glasses framing his equally round eyes, just seemed... new.

Your thoughts are cut off by your boss—not Lea, but your actual boss, Mr Seo—calling you into his office. A little flustered, you realise that you've been running the water for too long. Your bottle has overfilled, and the excess tray is almost full, too.

"Hi," you greet him all rather pleasantly, waiting to be told to sit before you actually do so. "What can I help you with?"

A burly man in his late 50s, he built the brand from the ground up. It's been his life's work, and so he's selective with his staff. If you aren't pulling your weight to make the company a success, then he doesn't want you tying your name to it.

When you and Jungkook started going rogue in the early days, he hadn't been happy—but Jungkook had blagged a probation extension for the pair of you. Had told Mr Seo he'd work for free, if he could just prove his strategy would work.

In the version of events Jungkook tells you, he pretends that Mr Seo agreed without docking his pay. Filed away in the back of his cabinet which houses his contracts, past and present, Jungkook has a written agreement with Mr Seo, and a month's worth of missing wages in his salary from that year.

Your pay was never docked, though. Jungkook's a damn good negotiator, and was just as competent back then, too. He was the one that got you into that damn mess in the first place, so it was only fair that he keep you as clean as he could.

What you do know is that you both cut it incredibly fine to losing your jobs before they ever really began. While Mr Seo respects you both for what you've done for the company since then, it still scares you a little bit.

"I trust you've seen the email regarding the Expo, yes?" He says, nodding towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

You take it in a hurried fashion, quickly sitting down because, quite frankly, it feels like your legs are jelly. "Yes, yes. Very exciting! I'm sure Jungkook will bring the company great results."

He nods. Agrees. "And I also trust you've been making plans for our stand?"

You learned of the expo approximately fifty minutes prior. Like fuck have you made any plans.

"Oh, of course!" You bullshit. "As long as we can work out the logistics with shipping our materials to the island in time, it should be brilliant."

How the fuck you're supposed to plan a stand at an Expo for a week's time on a different bloody island is beyond you.

You'll get it done. You always do. You'll just be incredibly stressed about it until the event begins.

"Naturally," he nods. I know the turnaround is tight, so we'd like you to go with Jungkook to oversee the preparations. He arrives on Tuesday, but the event doesn't start until Wednesday evening, so you'll have a day to finalise things."

"Oh," you say, unable to hide your surprise.

"Flight and accommodation will be covered by us, and Jungkook's getting a healthy bonus for any deals signed at the Expo—I'm sure we can make a cut for you, too. After all, you two are our very own dream team."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You want to go. Of course you want to. A trip to Jeju with one of your closest friends? Under the guise of work? All expenses paid? Who wouldn't want to go?!

But without you in the city, there's no one to look after Bam. Sure, Jungkook could take him to a kennel, but you know what he's like. He'll spend the entire time stressed. Won't be able to relax and engage with people in such a way that deals will be cut. Punters usually like him for his carefree nature. Without it? Well, you're sure they'd like him all the same, but you don't want to tempt fate.

"Mr Seo," you awkwardly begin, uncertain which answer will slip out of your mouth. "I'm afraid I already have commitments in the city that I can't cancel. I'm not available."

Silence lingers for a moment. Just a second. It feels like an eternity.

"Very well," he accepts.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, knowing that you probably look like an ungrateful employee. If there's one thing you are, it's a fixer, and so before you can even comprehend what you're saying, you're throwing solutions into the void. "But I know Jiwon is just itching to get more involved with different sides of the business. I can get her on board with my planning this week and coach her on Jungkook's strategies. I'm sure she'd be eager to work hard, if she were given the opportunity."

Mr Seo mulls over your proposition—one of you which you already regret—then nods. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement. Can you send her down to my office?"

"Sure!" You say with a little too much glee, before you retreat back to your office with your tail between your legs. Lea is at a meeting, so once Jiwon has been sent on her way, it's just you, your water bottle, and a whole lot of regret.

Laying your head on your desk, you let out a little whimper.

It's for the best. For the company, for Jungkook, for you. For the sanctity of your friendship. For your sanity.

A message dinging through on your work chat interrupts your self-pity party. Glancing up, head still on the desk, you see Jungkook's name in the corner of your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: i could have booked him into a kennel

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: it would have been fun :(

Sitting up with a sigh, you poise yourself to send a message back. Find that nothing wants to come out. Your fingers hover above your keyboard with uncertainty. Takes a full minute before you can muster anything up.

Two floors above you, Jungkook is slumped in his desk chair. Has an office of his own, 'cause it's easier for the amount of meetings he has.

In the background of his screen, an email thread with Mr Seo details how Jungkook was the one to ask Mr Seo if you could join him. Explained how it just made sense. Offered part of his bonus package up with it. Said he'd cover the extra expenses if necessary, but that he thought it would be beneficial to the company to have you there, too.

While you're the person Jungkook trusts the most with Bam, you're not the only one. He could always ask Jimin or Taehyung before resorting to a kennel.

As your reply comes through, another email from Mr Seo is delivered, too.

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

With a sigh, Jungkook shakes his head. This isn't what he wanted at all.

And when he checks your message, he only frowns even deeper. Unlike you, he's renamed your contact details on his list. Everyone else still has their work-focused username.

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

Gremlin: You get a hot young thing to keep you company instead, wooo

Gremlin: HR if you're reading this, ignore it

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

He sinks down a little further into his chair. Purses his lips. Would far rather be alone than with anyone that isn't you.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he decides that maybe this is for the best. While he does think it would be good for the company, he knows that isn't why he suggested it. He just remembers what happened last time he spent more than a weekend away from you. Is scared it'll happen again.

Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe he wants it to happen again. Just you and him, away from the confines of life as you know it.

Thing is, you'd have to return home at some point. If anything ever happened between you both, it'd change the very fabric of your friendship. He doesn't want that.

So instead, he decides to reply in the same way he would have done maybe a year or so prior.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: She'll fall in love with me

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: Don't say I didn't warn you.

In the warm lighting of Jungkook's living room, the main light is off, lamps providing you with just enough clarity to go over the files on his coffee table.

Over by the sink, Jungkook is washing up your plates from dinner, while Bam leans against his legs. Your overnight bag is still by the door, and Jungkook's glasses are in your hair, keeping it out of your eyes. Highlighter in hand, you're picking out key markets for Jungkook to make contact with over in Jeju.

"Avoid Babiyeo," you tell him, switching over to a thin red pen, putting a star next to their name.

"As in the leisure centres?" Jungkook hums, familiar with the company but not well-versed. The soft melody of his playlist carries a tune around you both, keeping your thoughts connected and in sync.

"Mhmm," you say, flicking over to the next paper. "The CEO's son is in legal trouble at the moment. They're keeping it fairly well covered up, but to do that they're making huge expansions they can't afford. Keeping the news positive, things like that. I reckon they'll go bust before the end of the year."

"Shit," Jungkook lets a breathy laugh escape his lips. Had no idea—but you've both got friends working in various industries. Have your arms dipped into numerous grapevines. Drying up the last of his bowls, he turns to face you and is unable to continue on with his words.

He gets it. Understands why domestication is your biggest vice when it comes to feeling things you shouldn't.

"Acorn Limited are also bad news," you add, putting a little star next to their name.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook puts the now-dry bowl on the counter and walks towards where you're sitting on his living room floor. He joins. Sits on the opposite side of the table. Lets Bam clamber over his legs, and encourages him to sit, too.

"Yeah," you nod, then look across at Jungkook. "They're a hot-shot protein company. Are trying to get themselves partnerships with different restaurants. The guy running it is some twat from Singles Inferno. Company'll be done by the next quarter."

"Some of them do alright, y'know. Reality stars are raking it in—"

"He's besties with the Babiyeo CEO's son," you tell him with a knowing smile. "Kept getting pictured together outside clubs. Whatever baby Babiyeo has been up to, I'm willing to bet the acorn guy has been, too."

Jungkook presses his lips together. Accepts your expertise. Nods, then sighs, "You should be coming on the trip. I can't do this without you."

Yes, he can. He's more than capable. Has closed more deals than most people have had hot dinners.

What he means is that he doesn't want to do it without you, but admitting such a thing verges on territory that Jungkook doesn't feel comfortable entering.

In the house he likes to call his mind, he's bolted the door of the annexe. Occasionally, he will sit and stare at the locks. Wonder if maybe he made a mistake locking you—or more specifically, the idea of you—away in there.

But then he watches Bam choose to shuffle around to your side of the coffee table, and watches as he rests his head on your leg. His snout is by your knee, sniffing at your bare skin with his wet nose. There's something familiar about you. Safe. You don't smell like Jungkook, but you still manage to smell like home, in a way.

"Bam would be even more lost without me," you softly say, scratching behind his ear, and it does admittedly give Jungkook a little solace.

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

It's getting late and he's got to be up early for his flight. Is leaving for his flight at just gone 3AM, so you're staying over. Crashing on the couch, 'cause having a home gym was more important than setting up a spare room. Thankfully you've never known a couch to be so cosy. Have fallen asleep on it a dozen times over, and it's yet to make you ache in the mornings.

It's all very normal, how you set into a routine. He lets you wash up first. Sorts out Bam while you sort out yourself. Doesn't need to, but writes you out a list of feeding times and emergency numbers. Grabs a spare blanket—one Bam hasn't slept on, but by the morning definitely will have—and turns the sofa into something that really does resemble a bed.

"Sure you're gonna be alright out here?" He asks when you come back through.

He ignores the teeny tiny shirt and even tinier shorts you like to call pyjamas. Or at least he does as much as he can. Doesn't mean to look at your ass. Does it regardless. Four times.

"Yeah," you promise, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge. There are containers full of his speciality noodle sauce and enough cheese to keep you very happy for the next few days. He got an extra block of the one he knows you like the most as a thank you. "Go to bed. Get your beauty sleep, uggers."

"Hey, you need it just as much as I do," he assures you, then tips his head and makes a small click with his tongue. "C'mon, Bammie, bedtime."

The sound of his paws tapping across Jungkook's hardwood floors is ever-so-soothing. It's hard to be in a house with a pet and not inherently feel like home, you think.

"Night night, Bammie," you coo after him. He turns back. Tilts his head, just like his daddy. Trots on over to you for a few more scratches behind his ears. Doesn't leave until you tell him, "Go find your daddy."

Glancing up to Jungkook with a sweet little scrunch of your nose, you hadn't called him that name to take the piss for a change. The scrunch of your nose is actually an outward display of your inward cringe. Jungkook just scrunches his up right back.

"Gross," he whispers, then holds his hand out for Bam to sniff. "Night, Gremlin."

"Night, Kook."

The sharp sound of Bam's bark snaps you awake. The room is dark, but enough light bleeds in through the blinds for you to see Jungkook awkwardly trying to shush him. Rucksack slung over one shoulder, he's holding a bag with his other hand.

"Leaving without saying bye?" You sleepily mumble, rubbing at your eyes with a yawn.

"Didn't wanna wake you," he whispers. Bam, apparently, had different ideas. "He knows I'm leaving."

"What time is it?" you ask, still totally out of it.

"Just gone three," Jungkook says. It'll take him an hour to get across to Incheon, and even though he knows it won't take him much time to get through security, he still likes to be on time. Would have been easier if he was flying from Gimpo, but he's guessing Incheon must have been cheaper.

Nodding, you adjust your body to sit up, and reach out for one of the files on the coffee table. Hold it across for him.

Popping down his bags, Jungkook takes it with great interest.

"Here. I was having a think before bed. Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him," you mumble, thoughts not really cognitive, but you've written it all down for him regardless. "Talk to him about the K-league, or something, I dunno. I reckon Mr Seo would shit his pants if we expanded into stadiums and sports venues."

Jungkook flicks over the notes. Nods. Doesn't know how the fuck you manage to find out half the shit you do, but knows you're wasted on the interior design department.

"See," he softly whines. "This is why you should be coming with me."

"You'll be fine," you promise him, then yawn a little bit all over again. You woke up at the worst possible time.

"You can take my bed, y'know," Jungkook offers. "I'll be gone in a minute or so. It's all yours."

Would be weird getting into his bed while it's still warm, you think.

Shaking your head, terribly covering a yawn, you insist it's fine. He begs to differ, so you double down—until all very suddenly, your notes are tossed onto the sofa beside you, and Jungkook is pulling you over his shoulder. Yelping from the surprise, you don't have time to cognitively respond, let alone demand to be put down.

He wouldn't listen anyways. Instead, he walks you across to his room, and tosses you down on his half-made bed. It's a little haphazard, he finds himself leaning a little too far forward. Almost ends up on there with you. Finds that his blood pumps just a little faster through his veins for a nanosecond.

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

Can't bear to tear himself away from you when you're all sleepy and sweet and—Oh get a grip, man.

"There," he says triumphantly, pushing his thoughts well out of reach. "Now, go back to sleep, alright? I'll let you know when I fly."

Sitting up on your heels, you find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye—and so you don't really say much at all. Just mumble, "Fly safe."

"Will do," he nods, then exits his room to give Bam a farewell that is just as rough and tumble as yours had been. "Be good for the gremlin, Bammie."

"Fuck off!" You call through, knowing that you'll forever be known as a gremlin, even on your deathbed, you're sure. Tucking yourself under his duvet, you're secretly comforted by how warm his bed still is. Smells just like him, too. "Bye Kook."

"Sleep tight!"

With that, the door slams shut, and everything feels a little colder. Bam whines by the door. Scratches at it a little. Begs for Jungkook to come home.

"Bammie," you call through. "C'mere!"

The way he excitedly bounds through Jungkook's apartment and jumps up onto the bed is borderline comical. He's not used to people being in the house after Jungkook goes out. Thought he was alone—but now he knows he's not, he's quite content. Nuzzles his snout into the duvet and flops his body down on yours. Doesn't realise he's not still a puppy, but you don't mind.

Moments like these make you realise that you definitely did make the right decision.

But moments that come a little later fill you with regret—like the picture that is sent to the office by Jungkook on the work messenger. Working hard or hardly working? He captions it.

The photo is of the booth that's been set up to look like a beach house version of the restaurant. The intention was for it to look like a 'Jeju' branch, of which you're yet to open— but it looks bloody fantastic. How you were able to wrangle contractors and suppliers in such a last-minute rush was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

It's that last one that really bothers you. Dream team. Exactly what you and Jungkook have always been called in the office—but you're easily replaced, apparently. It's your own fault. You're the one who said she should go instead.

It doesn't stop you from walking around with a face of thunder for the whole day. Not a scrap of work gets done. All you can do is lament your choices.

Still, you get to go home to Bam, and that does admittedly soften the blow.

"Show me him," Jungkook immediately whines when he calls later that evening.

You shake your head. "Tell me about the day first."

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

"Fine," he scowls at you, but softens his expression almost immediately. Yawns. His shoulders press up to his ears as the rest of his face scrunches up. He's lying down on his hotel bed, the crisp white sheets not too dissimilar from his ones back home that you'll be curled up in later that night. "The set up was fine. Most of the vendors are here already. I'm so mad we didn't manage to snag a slot in the catering tent, yanno? Give people a chance to try our menu, but whatever. There's always next year, right?"

"Right," you nod. Yawn, too—and then adorably so does Bam. "It's our first year there. We're just making our presence known. Bigger and better things next year."

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

His impatience makes you smile. You're just about to tap the switch camera icon, when a sweet, feminine voice echoes through your speaker.

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

He glances over the sound of the voice, and then flicks his eyes back to you. Gets a read on your face as quickly as he can before you flip the camera, 'cause you're not really sure how much your face is giving away, but you know your surprise wasn't hidden.

"Er, no," he says to the girl. "Just checking in back home—"

"Oh, is that your puppy?" the voice, of which you know all too well, squeals. There's a slight ruffle of sheets as Jiwon tucks herself beside Jungkook. Hair a little damp, the straps of her top are loose against her skin. "Oh my gosh, isn't he the sweetest."

"Isn't he just?" you reply with a smile so fucking fake that it's a good job the camera isn't on you. There's a look on Jungkook's face that you don't really understand. He almost looks guilty—but there's nothing to feel guilty about. He can do what he likes. "Gonna take him for a walk in a bit, then I'm just gonna pop out for half an hour to see Mingyu."

"Are you taking Bam with you?" Jungkook asks, brows a little hard, the ridge between them nicely defined.

"Hadn't planned on it," you chirp, your face just as hard as his. "But I can take him to meet Mingyu, if you like?"

Jungkook swallows. Tries to pretend as if his jaw isn't tense. Is incredibly stern when he says, "Rather him not meet new people when I'm not around."

"Sure," you say, then flick the camera back to you. Are pleased to see nonchalance sitting prettily on your features, no matter how perplexed you might feel."I should be off, though! Call me if you need anything."

"Wait!" Jiwon says quickly, clearly unaware of the weirdness between you and Jungkook. She sees you bickering all the time, so must just figure this is what you're like when you're not ripping each other's heads off. "Just wanted to say thank you—I'm so glad I'm here."

Jungkook's eyes focus on your face as Jiwon gives even more thanks. He doesn't understand the sudden attitude you've developed. All he wanted was to see Bam, but you've a face like a slapped arsed and are trying to hang up. It's fuckin' rude, and if Jiwon wasn't there, he'd tell you so.

He lets you hang up. Doesn't ask you to stay.

"She alright?" Jiwon innocent chirps after you go. "She seems a little..."

"Just tired," Jungkook dismisses. "I woke her up at like, three this morning when I was leaving."

"Oh? She was at your place?"

It's really none of Jiwon's business, but Jungkook chalks it up to her being young, and unaware of when to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah," he states definitively and plainly, ending the conversation. Heads to the bathroom to clear his head. Turns the shower up to just as hot as the one at his house has been ever since you left his apartment the last time.

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

There's no lock on the damn annexe. Or at least not from the outside.

The annexe has everything he needs. He's been sitting there, inside, quite comfortably with you for a little while now.

He really did think you were gonna call things off with Mingyu.

Is unaware that Mingyu got left on read four days ago after another dull, fruitless 'how was your day', 'fine thanks, and you?' conversation. As hot as he may be, he doesn't challenge you. Excite you. Anger you. Make you feel any kind of passion.

Which is funny, 'cause you find yourself reaching for a bottle of wine that you know is far too expensive for a Tuesday night glass, just to piss Jungkook off from afar and well in advance of him ever realising what you've done.

Just like you mentioned going to see Mingyu just to get a reaction out of Jungkook.

Childish as it may be, you feel threatened. People praising Jiwon in your place already made you feel insecure at work, and now she's in his hotel room in a state of near undress? Something about it just irks you.

It shouldn't.

It shouldn't, it shouldn't, it shouldn't.

But it does.

And so you spend your evening on Jungkook's couch with cheese, wine and Bam. Put Love, Rosie on, 'cause it's your favourite guilty pleasure film and you think it'll cheer you up.

Instead, you end up silently sobbing by the halfway point, Bam only snuggling into you even further. Can understand that you're upset. Comforts in the only way he knows how.

Sleep is hard to come by that evening. You're full of wine and cheese, so it should be easy. Lights out as soon as you close your eyes—but you toss and turn, and with every move, the scent of him wafts even deeper into your senses. Any further and it might just enter your bloodstream. Seep down into your heart.

By the time morning comes, you feel even more rotten than you did the night before. Have slept on it all. Know that he hasn't done anything wrong, which only makes you feel even more stupid for being so annoyed.

You've also slept on the idea he might have slept with Jiwon. It wouldn't be out of character, but it would be the first person in your department he's shagged. It's always been out of bounds. He knows this. For the same reason you wouldn't shag anyone he works closely with. It'd just be weird. Make meetings uncomfortable.

When you call on your walk that morning, you half hope he won't pick up.

But he does. He always will.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly. A towel is whipped over his shoulder, sweat dappling his skin. There's something so devastatingly beautiful about mid-workout Jungkook. "Sorry, didn't think you'd call."

Almost as if you're looking for reasons to be annoyed, you take offence to this.

"I always call?"

"Well, yeah, but you were so fuckin' weird last night," he laughs, heading out of the gym and into an empty corridor of the hotel.

"I wasn't anything," you reply back with a scowl—and realise how terribly you're hiding your annoyance. Flick the camera over so it focuses on Bam as he trots along the path. "Just tired."

It's the same excuse he bullshitted to Jiwon. Knows you're talking bollocks.

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

"Oh, well I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you, Jungkook," you snap, completely unjustified. It's too late, though. You've started. Have to see it through. "But if you don't mind, I'm responsible for your pet right now and I'd rather not be having this conversation when I need to be focusing on a million other things at once."

"Fine," Jungkook snaps right back. All he wants is to see Bam, but he doesn't want to be having this conversation either. "But you know what? Don't bother calling back until you've taken that stick out from up your arse."

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

For the second time in as many days, you find yourself crying. 

Oh, it's all so pathetic! And stupid! There's no need for it, you think.

Thankfully you're not too far from home—Jungkook's home, that is—so you can cut the walk a little short as long as you come home at lunch to check on Bam, too.

You don't even really understand why you're fighting with him. Wish you weren't.

When Jungkook zips open his suit bag as he's getting ready for the Expo opening ceremony, he finds himself wishing just the same.

Tucked on top of his blazer is a brand new tie; one of which he most definitely did not put there. 

An incredibly muted bronze and black paisley pattern swirls over the material, and on top rests a note.

Jungkook rubs his face with a flat palm. Rakes it through his hair. Swallows back the awkward heat prickling at his eyes and the tickle in his throat. Doesn't wanna bawl.

But then he reads the note, and he just can't stop himself.

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

P.S. I'm colour blind but the gremlin said this one is the same colour as me!!! Do you miss me??? I miss you!!!!!

The first time you had ever learned of Jungkook's tattoos was in a dive bar a few blocks over from work. It was just after you'd pulled off your first deal together—the one that set your working relationship in stone—and you'd both been blowing off steam.

The walls were red, and so were your cheeks, blushed from the heat of what it felt like to sit beside him in a tatty booth.

So used to sitting across from him at meeting tables, something about it changed your dynamic. Any threats of being on opposing teams were whittled down to nothing more than a life that could have been.

He had your back. You had his.

Blazer off, his sleeves were rolled up. You didn't ask him about a single one of the tattoos, like he half thought you might. 

Instead, you just accepted him as he was. Didn't stroke your index finger up his arm, tracing the lines, like most girls do as an excuse to get better acquainted with him.

That night he made a promise to himself to never ruin the working relationship you have together.

You work too well to jeopardise it. He has goals. Knew, even back then, that you'd help him achieve his aspirations, like some sort of twin flame type of shit he didn't believe in.

Didn't. Past tense.

These days, when you think of Jungkook and his tattoos, you always think of the snake. It's the one you see most frequently for it's so close to his wrist. Have always understood snakes to represent change.

Jungkook is yet to shed his skin. He's still just the same as he always was, you think, as you get in the lift and head up towards your office floor.

Just 'cause he hadn't hooked up with anyone from the office in a while didn't mean that he'd changed his ways. More fool you for thinking that he might've.

And it's not like it even matters at all. Who he lays down with is none of your concern. You've never cared before. Not really.

It's just that you've been going to sleep in his sheets. Eating dinner he prepared in advance for you. Waking up to his pup excitedly doing zoomies around the room, 'cause he's ready for his walk.

When you get home, you put Bam's leash up next to your coat, which is hung on top of Jungkook's. Kick your shoes off by a pair of his. Use his shower gel when you get washed, and wistfully tuck yourself up into the armchair you helped him pick out for his bedroom. It's tucked in the corner. Is perfect for watching the world roll by.

You know you should have just called him this morning. Spent the entire walk stubbornly hoping that he would instead, but he's just as childish as you are.

You've bickered with him a hundred times over since you first met him, but never like this.

The elevator dings to a stop, pulling you from your tiresome thoughts of Jungkook. Pulling your body from its slumped leaning stature against the mirrored walls, you trudge into a place that endlessly reminds you of him.

Impossible to escape, is Jungkook. Perhaps that's it. Maybe you've just had enough of each other. Need a little time to breathe.

Everyone else who started at the company around the same time as you has already left. It's just you and Jungkook still here from the small pool of fresh graduates that had been taken under Mr Seo's wing.

But you like it here. Like your job. The salary you earn is great—far more than you would get anywhere else.

Again, you don't know this, but Jungkook's always negotiated on your behalf behind closed doors. He makes the company far more money, and does admittedly get a pretty huge bonus every year according to the amount of deals closed.

That being said, he also stomps down to Mr Seo's office in the fourth quarter when news of the next fiscal year's raises are shared. Will demand that your base salary is matched to his. Has threatened, on numerous occasions, to call for a pay disparity audit from external forces if your wage isn't boosted up, even if it means his is cut down to make up for it.

You went out on a limb trusting him in the early days. This is how he repays you.

That's just friendship, though, he thinks. You help him, he helps you.

He also knows you'd probably be annoyed if you ever found out he meddled with things like that.

The girls in the accounting office always think it's so lovely whenever they see the pay increases. Yours and Jungkook's are never quite what they should be, and they know exactly why. It's why they always ask you how he is whenever you go to drop off inventory reports and materials lists with the lead accountant.

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

And it's also why a couple of them are curiously standing outside your office space, giggling like school girls as you approach it.

"Morning," you smile, then laugh a little too at their giddy excitement—but when you turn the corner and realise what they're so smitten over, you're a little lost for words.

Sitting on your desk is quite possibly the largest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen. Peonies, you think from afar. Pretty and pale pink, they're in a glass vase. Two dozen easily, if not more, blooming just for you.

"Oh," you hum, because it's hardly what you expect to walk into on a Thursday morning.

Mingyu flashes through your head, but you haven't heard a peep from him since you last let your conversation dissolve over the weekend. He has no reason to send you flowers.

But nor does anyone else.

"We tried working out the message," one of them admits. "But whoever your secret admirer is, they're hell-bent on keeping it secret!"

Shameless, you think, suppressing a well-natured laugh. They've got balls to admit that they've read the note.

Walking to your desk, you see it sitting atop of the flowers, and read it for yourself.

Anyone reading the note who knows a single non-superficial thing about the mystery sender would know who it is in a heartbeat. All it takes for you to know is to see the name of who it's addressed to.

Bammie—

She's right. It does match you. When I get home we can dress you up in my new tie.

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

Glancing over to the girls, who desperately want gossip, you simply shrug. If they've never heard Jungkook talk about Bam before, then they clearly don't know him at all. If he wanted his name on the note, he'd have put it there.

He could have gotten them sent to his apartment. He chose here. But he also chose anonymity.

And so you give him a little grace.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you bullshit with an apologetic smile that no one believes.

Lea just looks at you from across the room with a raised brow. Waits until the girls leave, then says, "That's not the kind of bouquet you send a colleague."

She already knows you're looking after Bam. That being said, she hasn't read the card. Has no idea what it says. Just knows that there's only one man you ever talk about with such warmth to be deserving of those flowers from.

"Apparently it is," you shrug, all but confirming who sent them with a coy smile.

"I hope he lets Jiwon down gently," Lea sighs, knowing just as well as you do that she's got a bit of a thing for Jungkook.

What she doesn't know is that it's the exact reason you're fighting with him.

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

"Why would he need to?" You downplay it all. Lea doesn't know about the awkward call Jiwon inserted herself into, or the fact you've already decided that he must have fucked her. "Like I said, apparently these are the kind of flowers sent by just a colleague."

Lea shakes her head. Has been observing you and Jungkook for years. Was waiting for a Christmas party, or one of those nightmarish summer tennis tournaments for the pair of you to finally figure it out. You're just as thick as two wooden planks when it comes to all of this, or so it would seem. A little push might be needed.

"Colleagues don't send flowers just because," she tells you with an air of authority. "And if I know anything about the stories you've told me, Jungkook doesn't send flowers full stop."

Just like that, you're thinking of those damn tattoos again. The snake, specifically.

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

And if you weren't confused before, then you sure as hell are now.

During the summer months, Jungkook often goes home to see Bam at lunchtime. It's not uncommon for you to go with him. In the winter, when the temperature of his apartment is less of a worry, Jungkook probably only goes home for lunch once a week or so.

Walking up to Jungkook's apartment in the middle of the day without him feels a little bit wrong. In one hand, you're holding a peony by its stem. In the other, you're clutching your phone just in case he calls.

In all honesty, you had planned on taking the entire vase back, but it was bloody heavy. You'll wait until he's back in the office.

It might just be paranoia, or the misplaced assumption that everyone is obsessed with what Jungkook does, but you swear there have been far more people passing your office today than usual. People you've seen maybe once or twice in your entire lifetime.

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

Has a repeat order going monthly for his mother, but that's it. And even then, he's kind of forgotten about it.

You've debated it with him before; flowers and their presence in relationships. 

He thinks a potted plant would be far more practical, but if he was really going to get someone something, it'd be herbs. Maybe a potted mint bush. Something useful that they could enjoy together.

A few weeks ago, you had told him he'd make an awful sugar daddy.

"Well, yeah!" He'd just laughed. "I save my money for myself. Me alone. If someone wants nice shit, they can get their own job."

"Oh, so you'd never treat a girlfriend?" You'd scoffed, forgetting the fact he never really has girlfriends. Just flings. "Never get her nice shit?"

"Well, that's different," he'd said. "It's not transactional."

"Everything in life is transactional, whether people like to kid themselves it is or not."

Jungkook looked affronted when you said this. You'd had differing perceptions of life for as long as he'd known you, but you'd always been a romantic. Always believed in the prevailing nature of love.

Bam had adjusted in his sleepy position. Curled up a little tighter, then stretched right out. Rested his hind paws on your thighs and tucked his nose into his chest.

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

"You trained him using transactions," you reminded him regardless. "Rewarded him with a treat every time he did as you asked. Transactional."

"Okay, but this?" He gestured to where Bam was curled between the pair of you on his sofa. That's always been a rule of his. No sofa for Bam—he's got all the beds he could ever want! But when Jungkook is on the sofa, it's the only place he wants to be, too. "He knows he's not supposed to be on here. He knows he won't get a reward, so why is he up here? It isn't transactional. He just—"

"Is playing you for a fool," you had laughed. "He wants to be on the sofa, so he lets us pet him in return for us not shooing him off. He's the one setting the transaction up. You're the one getting the reward. He's playing you at your own game. Aren't you, baby?"

You'd cooed a little, scratching at Bam's thigh. He shook it ever so gently and readjusted, but didn't stop resting against you.

It was a curious thought; the way that nothing in life ever comes for free. Even the favours you do for Jungkook by dog-sitting are transactional. You get just as much out of those days as he does.

The conversation had mellowed into something else, 'cause Jungkook didn't want to get into a debate. Knows that you can defend your point until the cows come home—has been in enough meetings with you to know as such. Likes being on your side 'cause you always win—and with a negotiator like him to seal the deal, it's always so much sweeter.

As the calling screen of Jungkook's contact details takes over your screen, phone resting against a wine bottle on the coffee table, you wonder how transactional this is.

He gave you flowers, and now you're giving him a call.

Anyone with a rational mind would surely ask: is this not how romance works?

But when he accepts your call, and you're met with a stern face that's desperately trying not to smile, you're reminded of what he really is: your best friend.

Neither of you wants to be the first one who cracks and gives in first, even if you both know this is all so stupid.

You reach over to pick up the peony. Hold it in front of your face. The petals have bloomed so spectacularly that it almost eclipses you.

Jungkook's face scrunches up a little, his terribly hidden smile slightly distorted but ever so hard to hide.

"Will you stop hating me now?" Is all he says.

"Never hated you," you grumble, bringing the flower a little lower, but still in frame. Sitting on the floor, your back is to the sofa and Bam is behind you, right where he's not supposed to be.

If Jungkook is bothered by it, he doesn't mention it. "I missed him this morning."

The guilt that crawls into your stomach and makes itself at home is rancid. Anguish is her name, and she loves nothing more than ruining a good thing.

The frown that steals the pretty smile from your face isn't one that Jungkook enjoys seeing on you, no matter how cute it is when your eyebrows pinch together.

"I should have called," you acknowledge, knowing that it was cruel of you not to, even if you were fighting. "I'm sorry."

Jungkook just smiles. "I assumed the stick was still up your arse."

Narrowing your eyes, you're pleased that he's joking with you; that things feel normal.

"It's fine," he dismisses regardless. "Last night was the opening event so I was a little worse for wear this morning, and then Jiwon was rummaging about at fuckin' six in the morning. Took her fuckin' hours to get ready."

And there it is; confirmation that she's been sharing his bed.

Though you don't frown, there's a stupor to the muscles in your face. The brightness you were looking at him with fades—and very quickly, Jungkook becomes the one who looks unhappy, now.

"What?" He says, genuinely a little confused.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

You just shake your head. Dismiss it. Flick the camera around and lift your phone to focus it on Bam as you give him a little scratch behind the ear.

"He's been good as gold," you begin to waffle on. The ridge between Jungkook's brows deepens. "Best boy in the doggie park, aren't you? There's a new couple who have just started walking a Yorkie. Yappy little bugger. I don't think Bam's a fan."

"No," Jungkook supposes. "He doesn't like yappy dogs—and I don't like it when you deflect. Show me your face, gremlin. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" You insist, but don't flick the camera back. Just get a little more boisterous with Bam, and while it does make Jungkook smile, he can't shake the horrible feeling that's building in his diaphragm.

Your Anguish has a cousin who goes by the name of Confusion, and she adores wrapping herself up in men who fail to communicate in a way that is healthy.

"C'mon," he softly says. Flicks his camera around. Shows you an empty hallway of the convention centre. Says, "I've left Jiwon in charge at the height of the day just so I can answer your call. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You didn't have to answer," you grumble.

Jungkook is smarter than most. Will have clocked the time of day and knew it was lunch. Definitely assumed you must be with Bam. It must be why he picked up.

Flicking the camera back on himself, Jungkook is almost at a loss for what else he can say to get you to open up.

A little honesty is needed.

And so you pout. Mumble, "They're calling you and Jiwon a dream team in the office."

Jungkook's frown intensifies as his dewy pink lips rest ajar. You'd say he looks distressed, but that's far too intense of an emotion for such a childish qualm.

He just knows that if he heard your partnership with another colleague—especially one in his department—being referred to like that, he'd take offence. It's you and him. You're the dream team. Always have been.

Shaking his head, Jungkook doesn't hide his contempt. Scoffs. "Fuck off. Dream team? She's using your strategies at a booth you designed, and even then, she's barely doing that—you know Acorn guy? The one you said to steer clear of? She's gunning for him—"

"Oh, you're kidding me," you gasp in disbelief. You warned her that he's bad news, multiple times. "Him?!"

"She's young," Jungkook says with a little judgement. Is scared of turning thirty, but definitely doesn't understand people who are closer to twenty. "He's just some hot guy on TV, to her. Doesn't realise his business is gonna tank. She isn't thinking about it long-term."

Which is funny, 'cause Jungkook never really used to think about things long term, either.

Sure, with investments and saving his money, he's always been a little cautious. When it comes to the business, though, it's someone else's money he's playing with. He takes risks. Does dumb shit and it gets rewards.

He really is incredibly good at his job, though. It's part of the reason the women love him, you always think.

It's not.

They like him because he's kind and also so bloody hot he should be on billboards, not in boardrooms.

You like him because he's competent.

In fact, you think there's nothing hotter than a competent man who just knows how to get shit done. And when said competent man can cook like Jungkook? Cares for his dog in the way he does? Looks like he does?

Sigh.

You ignore the way he looks a lot of the time, but you've a pair of eyes and a part of your brain that recognises attractive men. It's hard to ignore all of the time.

"Anyway," he shakes his head. "Not important. She's perfectly fine if not a little misguided—but she isn't you. So, stop worrying about it."

You take a second before you reply. Flick the camera back to you.

It surprises Jungkook, how Confusion has travelled through his bloodstream. Her bony fingers toy with his heart, and he's taken aback by just how sharp her nails are.

Looking at you never used to feel like this. He's not sure why it does now.

You muster up a little courage, even if you can't bring yourself to look at him properly. Let out a deep sigh. Now or never. You run the risk of causing another fight, but if you don't come clean, it'll only dirty everything.

"I just thought we kind of had an agreement, Kook," you eventually whine with an ever-so childish pout.

The hands that have been tearing at his heart migrate through his bloodstream. Get into his brain. Get into his house. Opens doors. Begins moving the furniture.

Stay out of the annexe, his thoughts hiss at Confusion.

Still he seems perfectly calm when he asks, "Watcha mean?"

He's not making this easy for you.

In fact, you'd say he's making it difficult. It would be far easier for you if he just acknowledged what he's already done.

"Well, just..." you take a moment or so to think about how it can be phrased with any dignity—and then you think fuck it. "She's in my department, Kook. I always thought you wouldn't fuck anyone I have to directly work with. It just makes it awkwa—"

"Woah, woah woah," he interrupts. Confusion sits on his shoulder, now, with a twisted smirk on her greyed-out face. "Wouldn't fuck anyone? What the hell do you think I've been doing?!"

"Well, I mean, it's less what and more... who," you joke a little too flippantly.

You don't think he's ever looked so offended in the entire time you've known him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

If anything, you're a bit surprised by just how offended he is. Jiwon is an incredibly pretty girl. A little young for him, granted, but not abhorrently so.

"What?!" You reply, equally confused, then relay everything back to him. "She woke you up this morning getting ready? Was in your room when I called you? Fucking got on your bed right in front of my face and cosied up with you to look at Bam."

Admittedly, that last one was said with a little venom. It annoys you the most.

"She woke me up this morning from across the room," he counters. "Was in our room because we were a last-minute addition to the convention, and it was the only room left within a ten-mile radius—twin beds, may I add! If I don't even share my bed with you when I'm at home, then what the hell makes you think I'd share one with her?! Yeah, the call thing was weird. I'm not gonna lie, it was, but I answered when she was around because I didn't want either of you to get the wrong impression."

A smile wobbles on your lips, as you try to remain stoic. Either of you. You know that you apparently got the wrong end of the stick—but you're not entirely sure what he means by either of you. You wonder what impression he's trying to give her, then decide it's not important.

You clasp your hands together. Lean forward. Put on your best noble old man voice, and say, "Well, it appears that it might have just happened, regardless."

Confusion's perch on Jungkook's shoulder is knocked loose when he laughs, though those sharp nails do claw onto his back. Leave scratch marks that will take a little while to heal—what's important is that they will.

One day, this awkward misstep will be something you laugh about. Kind of like he is, now. You'll forget your tears, but you won't ever forget the strange feeling of weight lifting off your shoulders, mind eased by Jungkook.

"You're a fucking idiot," he laughs with such fondness it almost doesn't feel like an insult. "Seriously? You thought I fucked her? And was then, what? Trying to brag about it? C'mon, you little gremlin! Give me some credit."

Never before has 'gremlin' ever sounded so kind. So warm. So much like 'darling', or 'mon amour'. Secret code for unspoken words.

"I don't know," you whine. Bam shuffles a little bit on the sofa behind you, turning his face away from the noise. You reach back to scratch his head as an apology. Jungkook smiles. Your care for his baby is so innate that you don't even realise you're doing it. "Her hair was damp, and she was practically falling out of her top—"

"Oh, but what I am supposed to do?" He laughs. "I can't tell her to cover up in her own damn room, and even then I just ignore it. I didn't sleep with her. I'm not going to sleep with her. Okay?"

He's not even thought about it. Feels nothing when he looks at her. No excitement. Even if she is attractive, he doesn't think his body would work properly.

Hasn't been working as it should do for the best part of a year now.

Or maybe it would better be referred to as 'malfunctioning'.

'Cause it seems to work okay when he thinks about you.

He 'malfunctioned' earlier on that day, as a matter of fact. Was just showering. And he missed you. And was thinking about those damn pyjama shorts. How smooth your legs had been when he'd hoisted you over his shoulder. How pliant you'd been as he chucked you down into his sheets. Your sleepy eyes and the 3AM husk to your voice. Fuck.

Even thinking about it in a dingy hallway of a convention centre, with your pretty face smiling at him through his phone, is making his heart race. If he doesn't get a hold on it, he'll go into cardiac. Might just flatline.

"Look, I gotta get back, okay?" He softly says. It's not a lie, but it is more sensible than he wants to be. "Have to make sure Jiwon hasn't sold the company to the acorn guy. There's a networking event tonight, so I can't call during Bammie's walk, but I'll check in at some point."

"Alright," you nod, a little sad to see him go, but understanding of it. "Hurry up and come home. Bam misses you."

"I miss him, too," Jungkook pouts. "Show me my baby before I go."

Phone angled to fully capture Bam, you indulge Jungkook for a few moments before he really does have to go. He lingers for a second or so after you say goodbye. Can't muster up anything good to say to make you stay.

Holding the stem of the single peony you'd taken home with you, you roll it between your thumb and fingers. Watch the petals twirl.

"What should I do, hey, Bam?" You wistfully sigh, eventually getting up to pop it in a glass of water. Jungkook has no vases, for he's never had any need for flowers.

The peony isn't the only thing blooming in his kitchen these days, though. It hasn't been for a while.

Work passes slowly that afternoon. You want to get home. See Bam. Finish off the wine you opened so that Jungkook doesn't scold you for letting it turn into vinegar when he gets back. And then you wanna sleep—just so you can wake up the next morning and take Bam on his walk.

It's not like that isn't part of your agenda tonight, too. It's just that Jungkook won't be around for that one.

Instead, his evening is spent in fancy rooms with men in even fancier suits and women who take a fancy to him, too. A whisky is in his hands at all times, his pretty lips embroiled in conversation. He talks so much he barely has any time to drink.

People gravitate towards him; those who feel threatened by his charm gravitate towards Jiwon. Mistake her for a prize he's trying to keep. Don't realise his unbothered facade is anything but a facade.

It's gone midnight by the time he's kicking off his shoes with a little wobble as he gets to his hotel room.

"I'm being serious," he almost giggles, phone between his shoulder and his ear as he loosens his cufflinks. "It's a wig. I'm positive."

280 miles away, phone on your tummy, loudspeaker on as you gaze up at Jungkook's bedroom ceiling, you're laughing too.

"It can't be," you protest the current topic of conversation—Mr Acorn (as he's now affectionately known between you both) and whether or not his hair is real. Jungkook had left Jiwon to continue her poorly judged perusal of him, in favour of checking in with you instead. There was no one else at that party he wanted to talk to more than he wanted to talk to you. Laughing and joking about stupid shit, he's glad you answered. "He went swimming on Singles Inferno!"

"So?!" Jungkook snorts, tapping his phone over to loudspeaker too and tossing it down onto his sheets. A little haphazard, he's unbuttoning his shirt. Is a little tipsy, but not enough to warrant any huge issues. "Maybe he used industrial strength glue."

"Surely he'd rather people just know he was bald? Start a trend?"

"Maybe he's got a terrible head tattoo," Jungkook theorises, tossing his shirt across to a chair, before finally discarding his pants, too. Is just in his boxers now as he clambers into the sheets. "Bald eagle. An ex's name. I dunno. But I'd take chemical burns over that."

"You'd never get a girl's name tattooed on you," you laugh in response. Legs tucked up, heels to your ass, you let your knees gently sway. Bam is curled up in his own bed by the foot of Jungkook's. You're not on facetime, mainly 'cause Jungkook clicked the wrong button, but it's also nice not using poor Bam as an excuse to talk to you.

"And I'm also not balding, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Are you not?" You hum, just to wind him up. "I swear there's a patch of missing hair—"

"Shut up," he cuts you off, voice just as fond as it is stern. "I will swim all the way back to the mainland and speed run up to Seoul just to shut you up. Don't speak it into existence. I have great hair."

"Mmm," you hum. Sinking a little further into his sheet, you turn on your side. Take him off speaker. Hold your phone to your ear. Look at the empty side of his bed and wonder what it'd be like if he were here. Know better than to indulge it. "And you are just so modest, too. Absolutely no ego whatsoever."

"It's why the ladies love me," he jokes, not realising just how true it is. Jungkook takes a moment before he says anything else. Is comforted by the silence you leave for him, totally unaware it's because you're not sure how to respond. "Not that it matters."

Though his delivery is soft and airy, like feathers falling from a well established nest, it lands in your chest with a heavy thud, like a stone from a bridge. You couldn't swerve in time. It shattered your windshield; plummeted straight into your heart. 'Causes a pile up on the freeway, all your thoughts held behind a tongue that cannot speak.

"You tired?" Jungkook hums down the speaker when a response never comes. "I'm sorry, I can let you go?"

"No," you say incredibly quickly considering you've been leaving your side of the conversation empty. "No, sorry. Just can't believe you're actually behaving yourself. Who are you, and what have you done with Cassanova that normally takes a hold of you after a few drinks?"

He's right here, Jungkook laments, knowing better than to act on the way he's been feeling lately. Just says, "Maybe I'm maturing."

"I find that hard to believe," you tell him. If the tiktok psychology gurus who have taught you everything you know about modern men are anything to go by, his brain should have finished fully developing about a year ago.

And while Jungkook would tell you to get fucked and that his brain was already fully developed, he knows that if he sat down and really thought about it, maybe it'd hold some merit. Afterall, it's been about a year since those first thoughts about you started creeping into his mind house.

It's only recently that he's been flirting with that damn annexe door, but he's been aware of someone in there for a while, now.

"What?" He smiles down the phone, resting an arm on his bare abdomen, looking up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. "Maybe I am. Maybe shagging random girls doesn't excite me anymore."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Yes," you insist, but there's a smile on your face.

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

It's why you're arguing against him. You wanna hear him deny it again. Tell you he doesn't care about other girls. You don't necessarily want him to care about you beyond what he already does. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

"No," he simply replies back. "I'm not."

"So if Jiwon—"

"Why are you bringing her up again?" He's smirking, now. You can hear it in his tone. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?!"

"Yeah," He insists, just like you had been earlier. "You don't like the idea of her sleeping with me."

Incorrect. You don't like the idea of him sleeping with her.

"Well, no," you admit. "But because I work with her—"

"That's not it," he fights against you. Knows that you didn't go and see Mingyu when you said you would, and also now knows you said you would after you thought he'd slept with Jiwon. He might not be able to read women's minds, but he's learnt your M.O. pretty well over the years.

"You're drunk," you whisper, trying to hide behind the alcohol that both of you have in your systems. Neither of you are in any position to make sensible choices.

"Tipsy," he corrects. "And so are you. Go on. Be honest. Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yeah, there is," he whispers, his words far braver in sentiment than they are in sound.

You swallow. Can't work out if he's just teasing you or not. "There's nothing."

The silence in the room around you is deafening. It's like all you can focus on is Jungkook, and the way you imagine his lips pouting together at the end of each sentence he speaks. Pretty and pink and—

"So you've never thought about it?" He interrupts your thoughts with a question you're unprepared for. 

"What?" You reply a little dismissively, as if it's an outlandish think to consider.

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

Knows he can't be the only one—and if he is, then maybe he really is insane.

"Us," he replies as if it's water off a duck's back. Simple. Easy. "You've never wondered what it would be like?"

"Kook..."

It's like playing chicken. Both too scared to cross a line for fear of it changing the entire fabric of your lives.

But you can acknowledge something without acting on it. Confirmation means nothing; it's the choices that follow which really mean something,

"Yeah?" He husks. His sleepy eyes are pressed shut, his voice a slow drawl. "What is it, huh? You want me to admit it first?"

You almost laugh at how dumb this whole conversation is. You're friends. Have been for years. Colleagues. Just... Well, just you and Jungkook. He's never thought about you like that. You're certain of it.

Yet still, you ask, "Well, have you?"

He doesn't reply immediately. You half think he's drifted off to sleep, proof that he'd had too much to drink to be having a conversation like this.

But then you hear his breathy little laugh through the speaker. You know he must be nibbling down on his bottom lip as he smirks. The sound is so familiar you can picture it. You wish he was here. Want to see it. Feel it.

Fuck, you curse yourself out. This is not good.

And Jungkook's only gonna make it a whole lot worse.

"Yeah," he quietly admits, keys in one hand and padlock in the other as he stares at the annexe door in his mind. Wide open, there's no going back now. Only forward. "I think about it all the time."

Bam nuzzles the side of his head against your tummy as he adjusts into a slightly more comfortable position on Jungkook's bed. The sheets are a mess from all your tossing and turning, your body plonked right in the middle of his mattress. There's no his side or your side anymore. You've made it yours, and Bam has joined in.

He shouldn't be on the bed. You know this, he knows this. You're both disobeying Jungkook. Are in this perfectly innocent sin together, and will face the wrath of Jungkook as a unit.

There's never really much wrath that comes from Jungkook. He's the type to smirk and laugh in the face of the people who've wronged him. Believes in karma. Fate. He draws the lines at horoscopes, though. Thinks they're bollocks. Smiles, still, when you blame shitty things on Mercury.

The only time you've ever seen him angry—nostrils flaring, jaw tense, agitated beyond compare—was when some guy wouldn't stop hitting on you in a bar. You'd told him no a dozen times over and he just wouldn't listen.

It still pisses you off that he listened to Jungkook without hesitation, but you also know it looked like Jungkook was gonna break his nose. You're far less intimidating when you're annoyed. Jungkook laughs at you whenever you get frustrated. Says you're cute—or at least as cute as a Gremlin can be.

You've got a similar look on your face now, all perplexed and bereft. If he were here, he'd be teasing you, trying to make you crack a smile.

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

You're staring up at his ceiling, early morning light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The world you wish to ignore today rudely intrudes on you regardless.

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

With one hand resting on Bam, the other is tightly clutching your phone. For the past five minutes, you've been locking and unlocking it like a wind-up toy drummer.

To call, or not to call, or whatever Shakespeare said.

The faint hum of a wine-induced hangover buzzes between your ears, but it isn't so bad. Probably because you didn't really have that much to drink.

If anyone asks, you'll say you had a bottle.

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

If Jungkook asks, you'll laugh— We had a call? Are you sure? —and he'll laugh too— Yeah, we were both pretty drunk —and you'll both pretend like he didn't say the words that he did.

Pulling the pillow he usually sleeps on across to your face, you press it down. Scream into the padding. It's not loud enough to alarm Bam, but it is enough to make him cock his head.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been Jungkook's lips that were loose last night.

The issue is that yours were, too.

You wish you didn't remember all the words you'd said. The way you'd told him to shut up.

The way he'd hummed, "Oh, come on. You know you think about it, too."

The way you'd said, "I do no such thing."

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

You'd protested. Said it didn't matter anyways, 'cause you both know it'd never work.

"So you have thought about it," he'd teased.

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

"Okay, rude," he'd pouted through the receiver. "I last way longer than a couple of minutes."

"You're disgusting," you'd laughed at the way he'd made it all about sex.

For all he knew, you could have been talking about a relationship—but you're right. You both know it'd never work, so of course this is about sex.

"You the one who's thought about it, though," he'd flirted through the phone. Biting down on his bottom lip, the darkness of his hotel room had slipped him into a fatal state of hedonism.

There was a beat of his heart. One. Two. Still no response from you.

He knew you were thinking about it. Thinking about him. Decided to push his luck. Had almost whispered, his fingertips trailing down his torso, as he chanced, "Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"

Silence continued to linger for longer than it should have, until you finally just whispered, "Kook."

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

But he can, and he did, and your lack of an answer was an answer in and of itself.

He wasn't even really after the truth. He just wanted to get under your skin; burrow himself down into the deepest, darkest, most depraved corner of your brain. Revenge, he thinks, for that damn annexe you've assigned squatters rights to.

You set up home in him? Fine . He'll do it right back.

"So this is what I am, huh?" You'd replied, with a little faux chip on your shoulder, trying to deflect from yourself. "Just another office girl for you to fantasize about?"

There's always been a challenge to you that Jungkook has liked. You're sparring partners. Will bicker and argue and end up laughing over it all. It makes for excellent brainstorming meetings, 'cause you're always trying to win. You bring out the best in each other, even if it is in a bid to do the opposite.

Jungkook had sighed. Weighed up his options. Rested his hands over his boxers, only to find himself far too entertained by the conversation. It wasn't a surprise, nor was it unwelcome.

The frequency of his thoughts about you had been doubling, tripling, quadrupling ever since Chuseok.

His bed has become a pit of sin in recent weeks; nobody but him in the shrouded decay of a mind-house he's been neglecting in favour of the annexe shared with you.

He already knows just how bad it's gonna be for him when he returns home, and the pillows are dented by your crown, the lingering scent of your perfume wrapping around him just like he knows his hand will be around his cock. Tight. Strong. Firm. It's your name he'll whine, just like it was when he was in the shower earlier that morning.

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

It's not like sex is an uncommon topic of conversation between you both. Casual vulgarity had been a tool used to bond with; a taboo way to tease one another. It's always been casual. Uncalculated.

It's different, now.

In the darkness of midnight, the stakes were raised almost as high as your heart rate.

"You think so poorly of me," he'd whined, a teasing smile on his lips. It wasn't rare to hear Jungkook address you so playfully. In fact, it was a common occurrence—yet it felt strange, this time. "You know you're not just another office girl."

"Do I?"

"You should."

"I don't," you'd shrugged into his sheets. "Tell me, how am I different?"

The distance between you made a flirt like this safe. Immediate consequences were null and void, and the alcohol in your system didn't seem to care for it either.

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

"You don't wanna hear it," he'd promised.

"Try me," you'd challenged.

And then Jungkook admitted something he knew far better than to confess, but couldn't seem to help himself. He just wanted you to know that you were special. That you were different.

That you are different. Are special.

"None of the office girls have ever made me cum in my own bed."

It came out far less sweet than his brain had told him it would, but it was still a compliment, he thought.

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

The way you both kind of shrieked at each other only amplified the shock of the confession, but also did well to hide the way it excited you, too. Got you hot beneath his sheets. Aroused.

"Don't say things like that," you'd scolded him with a laugh, playing it off as a joke. "I'll report you to HR."

"You'd do no such thing," he'd smirked down the line. Matched your energy. Played it off as an incredibly obscene, vulgar joke. Will turn his nose up if you ever ask him if he was telling the truth. "And anyways, the HR girls love me. You'd be fighting a losing battle."

"You're awful," you'd told him with such a tenderness that suggested you really didn't think that at all.

And so he smiled. Decided to cut his losses. Agreed. "Yeah. That's me."

The conversation dissolved into casual chatter until you both made excuses about being tired, or needing to sleep off the alcohol.

Yet both of you would spend the next hour awake, staring at your respective ceilings. Occasionally, you'd look to the space reserved for him in his bed. He'd do just the same. Would look at Jiwon's empty bed and lament the fact that it wasn't you on the trip with him.

He never should have asked you to watch over Bam—but there really isn't anyone else he'd rather have in his apartment.

Then he's thinking about you all over again, in his home, hair claw-clipped like it so often is, and how cute those little pyjama shorts of yours would look peeking out from the hemline of one of his shirts. He wonders what you're wearing; if it's your bare skin against his sheets. Wonders if he sleeps naked after he gets home, if it'd feel like your arms are wrapped around him; if the scent of your perfume would sink into his skin.

It doesn't take long for the thoughts to become lewd. He thinks of your lips, and how they'd part with a gasp if he were to stroke your skin with his fingertips. Thinks of your waist, and what it would feel like to hold. Thinks of your body in a way that really ought to get him fired.

How his lips could drag across your skin; the wet pink of his tongue learning where you liked to be touched. How he'd guide your hands. The words of approval he'd use— Yeah, like that. Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. You're so good at that aren't you, huh? You know how many times I've imagined this? You're so much better. G'na make me cum, babe. Keep going. You want my cum, yeah? Yeah, you do. Oh, fuck—

"No," he sharply scolds himself, tearing his thoughts from you and his hand from his thick, impatient cock. "Fucks sake, man. Get a grip."

Wanting you like this is selfish, he thinks. Selfish and stupid and— God —so fuckin' dumb.

He also thinks it's your fault. You're an interior designer, after all. Have made that stupid annexe feel more like a home than the rest of his head ever has. Added candles and cushions. Hung pictures on the wall; turned off the main light in favour of warm lamps that just make him wanna curl up and fall asleep with you on the sofa.

It's so different, this little annexe in his brain, to the apartment that he actually lives in.

If he were to assess it thoroughly, he'd realise that the annexe looks just like your apartment.

But he hates your place. Has never been shy about telling you so. Hates all your nicknacks. Hates the clothing rails you use instead of a proper wardrobe, and the way your beside table is actually just a stack of books you're yet to read. Hates how there's always a cosy blanket within touching distance, and how it always smells like black cherry candles. Hates how firm your mattress is, even if he's only ever slept on it once, fully clothed after you'd both had way too much to drink after a tight work deadline.

He also hated how he didn't wake up with an aching back like he usually does. Hated how sleeping in his own damn bed began to feel wrong, and how nowadays it only feels right during those first few days after he returns from trips; when it still smells like you and the rings you take off your fingers in the night are still tucked beneath his pillows.

Kind of like they are now, as you finally decide to stop being a miserable cow and just get up. You're normally the one who calls him, and it's typically always when you're walking Bam. Last night had been an anomaly. There's no reason for him to call you, now.

It's when you're showering that your phone lights up. Only briefly. Messages, not calls.

JK: can't call this morning, gotta head to the exhibition hall early

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

While the vomit emoji he adds onto the end of the final message is a little uncalled for, it's actually kind of a relief that he doesn't want to call. Having to face him right now, when you're in such a sorry state of confusion, would have only made the situation far worse for you.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

Your face when you walk into the office, and the state of despair Lea seems to find you in, would suggest otherwise.

By half past ten, you've managed to wrangle Jungkook into conversation eight times.

It's not until you mention him in relation to Jiwon that Lea seems to notice.

"Okay, so?" She laughs. "Everyone knows you and Jungkook are like a package deal. She isn't taking your spot—plus, you're her senior . If she tried to undercut you, do you think anyone would want to work with her?"

It's a good point, but you don't really care to listen to reason right now.

"But it's not undercutting," you pout. "You saw everyone in the group chat. Dream team. "

The way your voice heightens in pitch and nose turns up as you utter the phrase is nothing short of hilarious, and Lea makes sure to let you know.

"You're being a big old baby about this," she laughs again. "Jungkook's gonna come back, relay all of the deals he's set up, and then he's gonna whisk you up to his office to spend the next two weeks drawing up plans. I doubt I'll even see you!"

Admittedly, in the busy periods, you'll work at his desk. In the big chair. The special one he got after his first bonus. The one on his side of the desk. He'll work on the opposite side—the client side—with his laptop.

It's caused a fair amount of confusion before, whenever people have come to his office. Your nonchalance about it all makes it seem totally normal. Most people don't question it anymore—and if they do, you just say the programme you have to use runs better on his computer than it does on a laptop.

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

The issues is that Jungkook likes to keep you close when he's working. Makes it easier for the random questions he blurts out that you're always ready to answer. Annoys him to no end when you're not there and he has to go off and find you.

By the time he finds you, the question is always half gone or you start blathering on about something completely irrelevant and he forgets it anyway. It makes him antsy not having you close.

Neither of you seem to realise it's not normal.

"Look," Lea sighs, minimising her tab so that she can give you her full attention. "You're the one who suggested Jiwon should go. It's just work! You're acting like a jealous girlfriend—"

"No, I'm not!" You gasp. "Don't be absurd!"

"Well, whose apartment did you wake up in?"

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

"Who was the first person you spoke to this morning?"

"Okay, that's not fair. I'm looking after his—"

"Who was the last person you spoke to last night?"

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

"At least tell me you're in the spare room and not his bed," she jokes—but when she notices the look on your face, her smile drops. "Oh, you're kidding me! You know what you're like when it comes to domestication ! You're bloody nesting , aren't you?!"

"Oh c'mon," you scoff. "I'm not an animal!"

"Uh, yeah," she says, dumbfounded. "You are. That's the issue with humans. Too many bloody primal desires—"

"I do not have a primal desire for Jungkook!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never thought about it."

"I haven't!" You assert, eyes locked on hers. It's almost believable. Or at least it is until your lips begin to twitch. The look of shock on her face is borderline offensive. "Oh my God, shut up!"

Lea's face scrunches up in revulsion. Shoulders to her ears, she whispers, "He's a whore !"

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

Sighing, you slump into your chair. Push your pout up to your nose, and then sigh even deeper than before.

Looking across at Lea with such perplexity anyone would think she's just asked you to design interiors for a rocket ship, you decide you absolutely cannot let this confusion get the better of you.

"It's fine," you assure her. "He's coming home tomorrow evening. Once I'm out of his house, I'll be way more rationable about things."

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

As Jungkook places his rucksack down beside a bar stool in an airport lounge, he can't help but feel like he's doing something wrong.

It's dark outside, and the dim lights of the bar give way to a seedy intimacy that he's always loved about places like this—how fleeting they are. The casual embrace of a stranger's stare can linger for hours afterwards, consuming his thoughts for an entire flight.

Yet the only people he's even looked in the eyes of tonight have been the airport staff checking him through. Even as he asks for a whisky, he barely registers the woman behind the bar.

Placing his phone down, he also discards the lanyard that's been around his neck. He forgot to take it off before heading to their airport, and just popped it back on after going through the scanners.

It's not like he needs it now. The conference centre is miles away.

He's still in his business suit. Left quickly. Just confirmed with Jiwon that she didn't mind him catching an earlier flight and in all honesty, it suited her better. Jungkook had been so annoying about Acorn guy the entire time. Kept telling her it was a waste of energy, and no business would come from her pursuit of him. She wanted the chance to prove him wrong; to achieve something by herself.

"Are you Leaving early, too?" An American accent drawls from beside him, immediately grabbing Jungkook's attention.

A burly man with greying hair takes a perch on the stool beside Jungkook. Nodding towards the lanyard, he holds up his own. Mitch Ellis his tag reads, and instantly Jungkook is reminded of the folder you had handed to him before his departure.

"Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him."

The opportunity hadn't arisen. Jungkook barely even had time to breathe, let alone seek out some elusive American businessman—yet here he is, in the flesh, approaching Jungkook.

Sucking a little air between his teeth, Jungkook nods. Laughs. Says, "Got a family to get back to."

What. The. Fuck.

He doesn't know why on earth he said that, he just knows he can't take it back. A family. For Christ's sake! It's not just the abandoned house in his brain that's rotting—it's the whole damn thing. Stupid .

Pursing his lips in approval, Mitch nods. Lends an expression that Jungkook can only assume means he respects the answer.

"Family man," he says. "Don't see many of them in the industry these days."

Jungkook shrugs. Continues on with his bullshit. "I love my job, but home's where the heart is." Or at least, it's where his dog is. Of course, he loves Bam more than he cares to articulate—but a man and his dog surely don't constitute to a 'family'. "You off early, too?"

"Wife and kids tagged along for the trip," he nods, then quickly asks the barmaid for a whisky, too. "Promised I'd take them to Lotte World tomorrow."

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook tips his head from side to side, then says, "Get magic passes for the family. It's worth the extra price. Trust me."

He'd never dream of going to Lotte World on a Saturday.

In fact, he doesn't dream of it full stop. Grew up going to the Busan franchise, and would opt for it any day of the week. Everland would be his second choice if couldn't be bothered for the drive. But never the Jamsil Lotte World. It's always rammed .

"I swear, kids—" Mitch shakes his head "—All they do is bleed you dry."

Jungkook smiles. "I'm yet to reach that stage, but I can imagine."

Mitch looks appropriately confused. Did Jungkook not just make up a bullshit imaginary family? Surely he hasn't faltered already?

Jungkook clarifies, "Going home to my girl and my dog. No kids—or at least if I've acquired one over the last couple of days, it'll be a surprise."

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

Oh, God. He's going insane. He must be. This is ridiculous.

Those stupid dreams of his had already started migrating into daydreams. Now, they're being spoken into reality. This is terrible. Really, truly, awful.

Mitch has an easy ten, maybe twenty years on Jungkook.

His hair is greying, and there are lines embedded into his skin that tell stories of the life he's lived.

While it's his career Jungkook would typically be envious of, he finds himself jealous of Mitch's personal life. Wife. Kids. God, he hates the conformity of it all, but there's an ache in his chest when he thinks about all that he doesn't have.

And it only worsens when he thinks of you and Bam.

"Ah, young love," Mitch nods, again seemingly in approval of Jungkook and his 'choices'—which is bizarre, because Jungkook wants to punch himself in the face. "Make the most of it. You'll be longing for the good old days once the kids come."

It's too late for Jungkook to correct himself. Too late to admit to the truth. To say 'lol, jk, im single, just fancy the pants off my coworker.'

The thought of it all makes him want to hurl. Fancy.

He's never admitted his crush before, not even to himself. Oh, this is all so awful.

And so Jungkook panics. Says, "Hopefully we've got a couple years before then. We're both at the same company, so we're trying to figure it all out before doing anything we can't take back."

What is wrong with you?!

"Oh?" Mitch chirps, encouraging Jungkook to continue.

"Were interns at the same time," Jungkook begins to overexplain, as if it makes it any better. He's speaking a crush into existence that he isn't even sure exists, and declaring it as love of some sorts? Oh, this is really barbaric. He might throw up. Maybe if he pretends to faint, he can get out of this situation. He thinks it would be less mortifying. Yet, still, he continues! "Have gone up through the ranks together, but are different departments."

Why is he still talking about you?!

Oh God, his head is gonna explode. It's like you're building an extension on the annexe. He never gave you planning permission, and yet there you are, concrete trowel in one hand, a brick in the other. You're so pretty, he thinks.

Get a grip!

"HR nightmare," Mitch laughs, then leans a little closer. "Truth be told, it's how me and the missus met—I worked for her Daddy's company. Thought I'd be fired on the spot when we told him."

"But I'm guessing...?"

Mitch nods. "I'm now their longest-serving employee and am set to take over in the next five years," he laughs. Thankfully, it all worked out. Hopefully, the same'll be said for you and your missus."

Jungkook's lips curve into a tight-lipped smile. Decides he has to change topic, or otherwise he might just self-implode. "Yeah. Fingers crossed—anyway, I don't think we had a chance to speak at the conference, did we? What's your company?"

As if Jungkook has earned a gold seal of approval, Mitch nods his head over towards a couple of chairs that overlook the runways. Picks up his whisky. Begins to walk away. Says, "I was about to ask you the exact same thing. What did you say your name was again? Let's talk."

"Jeon Jungkook," he grins, picking up his whisky, finally forcing you out of his brain. "Yeah. Let's chat."

"Bammie," you whine into Jungkook's pillows when the sound of his paws excitedly clattering across the floorboards wakes you. You can't have been asleep for very long. A couple hours, tops. "It's not time for walkies yet."

Burrowing yourself deeper into Jungkook's sheets, you try and drown out the noise–but it's fruitless. Not only is Bam too cute to ignore, you worry that there's something wrong.

Sitting up, eyes all beary, the dark nothingness around you clues you in on the fact it's definitely the middle of the night. Pushing the duvet off your body, you swing your legs over the side of the bed as your phone begins to vibrate. Jungkook's face takes over your screen, and a frown takes over yours.

Part of you wants to ignore it. Wonder if maybe you've already slept through it ringing out, and that's what woke Bam up.

At this time of the evening, Jungkook should be at the afterparty. It's unofficial, and not endorsed by the convention, which only means one thing: people are getting legless.

He'd sent you a message earlier on in the day saying that Jiwon was still trying her absolute hardest to bag the Acorn man, after an unsuccessful attempt the night before. You wonder if he's wing-manning her.

Bitterly, you wonder if she's cut her losses. Turned her attention to Jungkook, instead.

He's probably shitfaced by now.

Part of you worries he'll want to continue the conversation from the night before. You're too sober to even consider flirting.

Sliding across to answer, you hold the phone to your ear and you begin to walk in the direction of wherever Bam may be.

"Yeah?" You croak down the phone, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

Bizarrely, you think he sounds sober. "Fuck off."

"Charming. Undo the bolt on the door," Jungkook demands down the line, but there's almost an echo, as if he's just in the other room or something like that.

Your feet softly pad into the living room, the darkness not much of a hindrance. You know his apartment like the back of your hand; the veins, the freckles, the grooves dappled in your skin below your knuckles. All it takes is a couple of steps for you to reach the light switch, and absolutely zero thought for you to flick it on.

"Hm?" You mumble a confused sound as light bursts into the room. Your eyes squeeze together, a groan catching in your throat. Blinking once, twice, you adjust quickly. Spot Bam by the entryway, looking up at the door expectantly. One of his paws taps at the steel, a soft whine trembling on his lips. Turning your attention back to Jungkook, you say, "What?"

"'I'm home, gremlin," Jungkook softly smiles down the phone. "Let me in."

"But it-" You begin to protest, knowing that his flight isn't until tomorrow.

Jungkook doesn't care to explain himself. Is just as tired as you sound.

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

It shouldn't make you feel the way that it does, all warm and content.

But it does, and for a moment, you let yourself indulge in the sensation of welcoming Jungkook right back to where he belongs.

Hanging up, you place your phone on the kitchen counter, reaching out to scratch Bam's head when you get to the door.

"Is it daddy, huh?" You ask him as he continues to paw at the door. There's a small metallic click as you unthread the bolt, which is quickly replaced by a robotic beep as you press the easy-release button for the latch.

Before you can even properly open the door, the handle is being pressed down from the outside. The sound of Jungkook's hushed voice echoes into the hallway instantly as he coos over Bam just to wind him up a little before he can see him.

"Who is it, Bammie?" He asks through the door, and you already know exactly what he looks like—smile so large it takes over his entire face.

You help to push the door open, and find that there's sunshine in the middle of the night in Jungkook's hallway.

"You're home," you sleepily smile as you watch Jungkook crouch, arms wide and all-encompassing as he greets Bam in the most boisterous of ways. He's not making any sense. Isn't saying any words. Just lets noises rumble from his throat, of which Bam somehow seems to understand.

In a way, you understand it too. The mental translation is a bit patchy, but you know it's something along the lines of, I've missed you so much Bammie, Daddy's home now, let's never spend time apart ever again.

Glancing up to you, that daylight smile hanging off his lips, Jungkook's got a glisten in his tired eyes.

Maybe you haven't adjusted to the light as well as you think you have, but there's something different about Jungkook. Something that's making your weary heart work overtime. It's all a bit strange. All a bit lovely. All a bit terrifying.

"Yeah," he tenderly agrees, hands scratching behind Bam's floppy ears as his eyes fondly meet yours. How could he ever stay away? "Home."

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[nightxcreature]

Sore Loser

Summary: Team Freewill has a game night

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

A/N: I have had the worst week. We had the flu and once we got over it, one of our best friends suddenly passed this weekend, and it just does not feel like Christmas for me At. All. We used to have game nights all the time with our friend and Uno was one of our favorites, so I wanted to put out something silly and fun, and this is the best I could do. Not edited, Written in roughly 10 minutes. I’m so sorry for being MIA, I’m truly trying to get back into a healthy mindset. Writing always makes me feel better but motivation has obviously gone out the window. What I wouldn’t give to be playing Uno in the bunker with these guys instead of living this nightmare.

Please do not steal my work, you don’t have permission and that’s real uncool. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated though, My Dudes. 🤙🏼

————————————————————————————————————————

“Kiss. My. Ass.” I bite across the table as I lay down one of the last cards in my hand. My eyes narrow in his direction and I send a sly smirk as I flip him off and say, “Uno.”

His green eyes narrow on my hand and the single card between my fingers. He glances worried down at his own hand and nods before steeling his features to rake his gaze back up to mine and take a slow sip from the bottle in front of him.

Castiel places a red 3 on top of mine, nervously glancing between myself and our friend. I can tell he’s unsure about playing another round with us when Sam lays a blue 3 on top of his red and Dean lets out a loud “Son of Bitch!”.

I send a vicious smile across the table, prematurely celebrating my win when Dean peeks over at Jacks hand. They lock eyes for a moment, seeming to be speaking telepathically when Dean’s own grin suddenly matches mine. He slowly pulls a single card out of his hand laying it down and giving Jack a solemn look, “Draw Four, Buddy.” Jack shakes his head, a pitying glance sent my way when pulls a ‘Draw Four’ card from his own hand, “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles as he lays it on the discard pile.

“You can’t stack cards!” I yell, “Since when do we stack cards?!”

Sam shrugs, a grimace crossing his face, “You stacked cards last round.”

“Yeah, well that was last round. We didn’t talk about it this round and-.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Sweetheart.” Dean cuts me off, the smirk never leaving his lips as he nods toward the pile, “Draw Eight.”

I stare open-mouthed down at the cards on the table, red filling my vision. I barely hear Sam speaking when I yank the cards up from the table and sling them across the room. Dean’s loud cackle echoes through the library and Sam slips his hand over to pull my drink to his side of the table before I can throw it at the older Winchester.

“I think you misunderstood what to do,.” Castiel’s monotone breaks me from rage and I turn to face him, taking several deep breaths as I do, “Here, let me help.” He says quickly and suddenly the cards are back on the table exactly as they were and Cas is counting out eight cards to add to my hand, “Here.” He says, holding them out to me with the most innocent of expressions, “That should be right.”

I stare blank faced at the angel before deciding against squaring up with God’s literal shield. I jerk the cards from his grasp and slouch back down in my seat to glare at Dean, whose shit eating grin couldn’t grow any bigger, “Your move.” He calls across the table smugly.

The game goes on well into the night, ending tragically with my drink in Dean’s face, his chair across the room, the table flipped, and both of us banned from playing Uno in ‘Sam’s Library’ ever again.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @lmhf1 @k-slla @whimsyfinny @aylacavebear @enigmalynne

@envysarchive @daisydark @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @manicjk

@suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @justwhisperingfantasies @mgchaser

@xinsonyax

[sams-butt-dem0n]

love the gang breaking up with reader hcs!! could we get hcs of them getting back together though😔

A/N: Hey guyssss! So sorry that i haven't posted in a while, I was enjoying some time off before the dreaded work ethic takes over haha. I have had SO MANY people ask this (by that I mean like 5) but that's a LOT fort me. I love this idea so i hope you like my writing of it :)

---

DARRY would take such a long time to realise that he regrets breaking up with you purely because he is such a busy man that he barely has any time to think about something other than work work work. He wouldn't know where to begin, what to say, when he was gonna have the time to even speak to you properly.

Luckily for him, you just so happened to be passing by the store he works in on weekends and he caught a glance of your figure walking past.

"Y/n!" He shouts, catching your attention. You roll your eyes as soon as you see him.

"What, Darry?" You say, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, huh?"

"Look, y/n, please can I just talk to you," he says. "Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes. Max."

He takes a deep breath, looks down at his feet, and begins. "Look, y/n, I've been a real dickhead."

You nod. "Good start."

"I just want you to know that I never meant anything that I said to you. I was going through a lot of stress, you know how I get. I'm so beyond sorry. What is it gonna take for you to have me back?"

You chuckle and look up into his eyes, those eyes you had missed so much. "Oh, Darry," you say. "You don't need to beg for me back. I'll always be yours."

You pull him into a kiss, your arms around his neck and his around your waist.

"I love you."

SODAPOP would be running back to you the literal next day. He would sleep on what he had said and accused you of and immediately regret it in the morning. He would race out of bed, throw a comb through his hair and put whatever shoes he could pick up first on his feet before sprinting to your place.

He would bang at your window, most probably waking you up as it was about 8am on a Sunday and there was no way in hell you'd be up before 10.

"Soda? What the hell are you doing here?" You ask, anger layered in your voice.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he says, tears rolling down his face. It killed you to see him like this. "Please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong and I'm so sorry that i fucked things up but please baby I need you to realise that I was just beating myself up for no reason. I would never think of you as a cheater I just-"

You needed to cut off his rambling. Soda, stop. Just get in here before you freeze to death."

PONYBOY doesn't even feel any form of regret until a good couple of moths later, the pressure of school had worn off and he was exposed to the harsh reality of what he had done. Of course, it's typical of a man to only realise what they have lost months too late but it was worth a shot. Within an hour, Ponyboy was stood at your door with a bunch of flowers, a personalised poem he had written just for you, and all of your favourite chocolates.

"Ponyboy, what are you-"

He cuts you off. "Y/n please don't say anything until I'm done. If you're gonna kick me off your porch, please just wait until I'm finished."

You nod and he begins to read out his poem, causing tears to gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Just like they had been doing for the past 73 days. He hands you a bunch of your favourite flowers halfway through his speech and continues, capturing your heart in a moment you shall never forget. How could you not forgive him after this?

DALLAS would take forever to even think of apologising to you and that's purely because of his bad boy ego he has going on. Like, what do you mean apologise? Do you know who he is? However, after about four months, Dallas finds a picture of the two of you from when you were together. You were sat beside him at the drive in, your legs laid over his and you had the largest beaming smile he had ever seen. God, he missed your smile. It was that moment where he realised he had thrown everything away.

And that's how you ended up in this moment, a beaten up and bloody Dallas Winston stood at your doorstep, begging for you to forgive him.

"please, y/n, I need you back," he says, spitting blood from between his lips. "I need you to say that everything is okay."

You weren't going to give in. Not until he said it.

"Please," he says, looking at you with such desperation in his eyes. Those eyes you had come to love endlessly.

He needed to say it. He still hadn't said it. Please, say it, Dallas, you thought.

"I'm sorry."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his; his arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close. He had finally got you back.

JOHNNY would be exactly like Sodapop, realising he made a huge mistake immediately after he made it. However, due to his home life and lack of confidence in any scenario, Johnny would have no clue how to apologise or even approach you. Because of this, he asks Dallas, his best buddy, for help. Why on Earth you would ask Dallas Winston for relationship advice is anyone's guess, but he did it either way.

Surprisingly enough, Johnny's effort was very much appreciated by Dallas and he genuinely helped him develop a plan that wasn't completely offensive. Johnny obviously recognised and cut out the parts that were. And so, he knocked at your bedroom window after climbing up the gutter, and you welcomed him in, your eyes still sore from all of the crying you had done.

"Johnny? Why are you here?" You ask, sitting him down on your bed and pacing around your room, not knowing how to feel about the situation. Relieved? Happy? Angry?

"I missed you," he says. "and I'm sorry."

STEVE would spend weeks upon weeks mulling over the fact that he had not only ended things with you, but ended them over the phone. He didn't get to hug you one last time. He didn't get to kiss you goodbye. He didn't even see your face when he had told you that it was over. He didn't have to see the hurt - he heard it. He could hear your heart sink to your stomach; he could hear the tears spill down your cheeks, your sweet rosy cheeks; he could feel the anger running through your blood. He hated himself for it. So much so that he was pushing everyone away as punishment to himself, even Soda.

Fortunately, Soda had had enough of Steve being so depressed about what he had done that he went to fetch you himself. You were minding your own business in your bedroom when your mother came to tell you that someone was at the door for you. Expecting it to be one of your girlfriends, you ran to the door to greet her but when you were faced with Sodapop Curtis, your smile dropped.

"Oh, hey Soda," you say, coldly.

"Y/n, I know you want nothing to do with Steve anymore but-"

"No." You say. "I don't care what you have to say. That asshole deserves whatever is coming to him."

"Pleaser, y/n." Soda begs. "Just talk to him for five minutes."

And that's how you ended up sat on the Curtis's couch, alone in the living room with none other than Steve Randle. Obviously, all of the boys were listening at the door.

"Y/n, I've been such a fool," Steve begins, making you chuckle.

"You can say that again."

"I've missed you so much," he admits. "And I am so sorry for what I did to you. I know you can't possibly forgive me straight away but I'm begging you - give me one month to prove myself to you. Just one month, that's all I ask."

You sigh, look down at your hands and then back up at him. "Fine. One month."

You knew whatever he had planned was going to bring you right back. And that is why you said yes.

TWOBIT would win you back almost instantly. He was just the kind of person that you couldn't stay mad at. No matter how badly he had hurt you, the second he knocked on your car window at the drive-in, you knew you were screwed.

"I've noticed you avoiding me, you know?" He says, cocking his head to the side, looking around your car to see you're alone.

"Well done, Columbo," you say. "Do you want a gold star?"

He nods. "Yeah, that would actually be pretty beneficial."

You hated him. (You really didn't).

"Are you gonna let me in or what?" He asks. "I hope you know I'm not gonna leave until you let me in."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

He gives you a look as if to say 'Did you really just ask me that?'. He sighs. "Please just let me in."

You unlock the door and allow him to sit in the passenger seat beside you. You had never heard a silence so deafening.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You that I'm sorry."

It's true, you did know, because every time you saw him on the streets he would look at you with his pleading, begging eyes that you love so much.

"I know," you reply. "But how do I know you won't hurt me again."

I promise you with every inch of my being that I will never fuck you over," he says, grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes. "Please."

[7waystreet]

dirty confessions | kim taehyung

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 6 — taehyung

Hi diary,

I have a confession to make. Not only did I indulge in that mind blowing threesome with Jimin and his chick, but I also secretly fucked Jungkook's gf (y/n) in the butt.

It's not just lust when it comes to (y/n)... she's been my best friend for years and I've been in love with her for as long as I can remember, much before the time she began dating Jungkook. I'd never confessed my feelings to her out of the fear of losing her, and looking back, I'm thankful I never did bcuz she ended up falling for Jungkookie anyways. It took me months to finally accept I'd never have her, my heart breaking every single time I saw them together happily in love, until I forced myself to get over it.

Her happiness means the world to me.

But everything changed when (y/n) approached me with a dark cloud looming above her head during our group roller skating meetup last weekend, appearing very much unlike her usual fun self... everything changed forever.

Hobi hyung and I struggle the most while roller skating, the fear of death flashing right before my eyes when I tumbled and got ready to fall smack onto the floor. But I suddenly felt two soft arms curl around my waist and hold me up straight from slipping, her fresh sweet scent seeping into my senses confirming my best friend (y/n) had indeed saved my ass. A heat flared through my chest knowing she was so close to me and enveloping my back in her warmth, my broken heart desperately pleading she'd never let go... but just like that, she inched out of the embrace and helped turn me around, a smile perking up my lips when my eyes met her beautiful ones.

But that happiness quickly faded away after I noticed the somber look on her dulled out face.

"What's wrong?" I asked her with a deepening concern, my fear of being on skates instantly disappearing as all of my attention went straight to her, trying to understand the reason behind her sadness.

"It's Kook."

My heart dropped hearing the depressing tone in her voice bcuz I knew how much he meant to her, her joyless demeanor indicating something was seriously wrong. I asked her what'd happened but it made me feel guilty as her eyes started to flood with tears. So I suggested if she just wanted to hangout after roller skating and talk about it, to which she agreed with a nod, then slowly drifting away towards Jungkookie while he was too busy playing with others.

"I think Kook's cheating on me. He just seems so distracted lately and he barely wants to have sex... I can't help but think he's with someone else. Sorry Tae. I know this is all TMI, but I couldn't share this stuff with anyone else but you."

As much as my sore heart wanted her to shut the fuck up about her sex life with Jeon Jungkook, I knew I had to put aside my hurt feelings and be there for my best friend. I assured her the young one was probably just stressed out bcuz of the upcoming concert prep as he always wants to give his 110% for ARMY, and that's probably why he seemed distant. There was no real proof that could confirm he was cheating on her, and I didn't want to feed her anxiety any more than what the poor girl was already experiencing. I wanted her to feel better.

My tummy madly flipped around when she suddenly flung her body onto mine, making me sink back into the couch's cushion with her weight on top of me, her small face buried in my chest while I could hear her silent sobs and shudders of worry. Nothing else mattered in that moment, my arms engulfing her in a big bear hug at once and holding her tight, her makeup staining my hoodie in the prettiest way possible.

I assured (y/n) that nobody could hurt her as long as I was standing by her side, which would be for the rest of our lives. My gut wrenched when she pulled away and looked up at me with glistening eyes, sniffling her snot heavy before a smile cracked through her gorgeous lips, my own mouth reflecting a grin when she sighed out in ease after a long time of crying.

"Why do you even put up with all my bullshit?" she awkwardly chuckled, cutely wiping her tears away with the back of her palm, but she froze in place when I blurted out "That's what you do for the girl you love."

The next couple of mins are burned into my memory forever for the way they made me feel a roller coaster of emotions... mostly an overwhelming amount of regret though. (y/n) gazed into my eyes while both her hands were still on my chest, her swollen face then leaning up to mine and pressing our lips together in a soft, sizzling kiss. The way our breaths naturally synced and fastened up made us both pause with our eyes closed shut to comprehend what'd just happened, our noses slightly touching as we remained inches away from each others faces. We'd just willingly shared our first kiss together.

I wasn't sure how we'd ended up doing this now after years of being the closest of friends... everything almost feeling like a dream, but to my pleasure it wasn't. (y/n) was mine in that moment, and I was willing to do anything to make her feel happy. I did respectfully ask to check if this is really what she wanted and she confirmed she did... if (y/n) felt peace in my arms, then I was gonna give her just that.

The best part was none of this shit felt weird, not even when we'd both made our way into the safety of my bedroom, probably bcuz (y/n) and I've slept in the same bed plenty of times before, just never in a sexual way like tonight. We'd already gotten into a hot makeout within seconds, our lips struggling to stay detached while I lightly sucked on her tongue, our hands slowly exploring one another's bodies to get used to touching each other in this unashamed way. It's crazy how many emotions I'd repressed all these years, passionate emotions I felt for her that were bursting out of me when my body got on top of hers and saw her crumble underneath my touch.

Her lips quivered when my palm wrapped around her neck and added a slight pressure, her face lighting up with excitement by seeing this hidden dominant side of me in such a way, my lips grazing her shivering ones as I leaned down and asked her "Is there something you wanted to try in bed... something he didn't do that I could help you with?"

My blood set on fire when she choked out "Anal" the more I added pressure on her throat with my palm, my lips immediately crashing into hers after hearing that word, my whole being now kissing her with a raging thrill, her moans mingling with mine while we began to really get into the mood.

The key to making any girl comfortable for anal is foreplay, and although (y/n) suggested drinking alcohol to loosen ourselves up, I refused the offer as I wanted to be in my senses and live in the present without being under any kind of influence. We naturally eased into a rhythm in no time though, our bodies wildly grinding against one another to up our desires even more, my throbbing cock rubbing onto her clit through our clothes enough to make her want to tear my clothes off right then and there.

I'll never forget the shocked looked on (y/n)'s face when she looked down at my big boner pop out after she'd pulled off my sweatpants, her throat visibly taking in a big gulp at the thought of my dick entering her tight lil ass. But the worry on her face faded away the second my mouth touched her clit, the way I was going down on her melting her into sweet pudding, although her pussy tasted way better than that. (y/n)'s moans and yelps were getting me off, my eyes focused up on her face while my tongue circled her clit and sucked on it with the perfect titillating pressure, my mouth then teasing her folds and slurping up her juices already flooding out while I rubbed her clit with my thumb to keep arousing her and loosening her muscles.

It was the most intimate night of my life, the trust we both feel in each other as best friends allowing us to let go and perform such a sensitive act without worry. Just seeing her arch her back and get on all fours for me made me harden up even more, the sexy view of her fine ass right in front of me making my stomach drop while I poured a ton of lube on my cock and rubbed a little on her hole, her knees instantly shuddering at my touch. Leaning down towards her face, I kissed (y/n) and told her to communicate with me if anything hurt or felt uncomfortable and she eagerly kissed me back and smiled to finally give me the go.

Holy shit was it magical... the level of tightness in her ass something I'd never experienced before, the tip of my cock gradually inching in while I observed her moves, (y/n) whimpering and clutching the sheets in fists to get through the initial pain. I wanted to do everything possible to ease her into it so I guided my girl through the entirety of the sex, encouraging her to simultaneously touch herself the way she liked it while I stretched her butt out. My dick was fully nestled inside her hole by now, (y/n)'s fingers rubbing her clit in circles to the dirty talk I was now feeding her, praising her for how hot she was making me feel, how she was going to make me cum so hard, and how I wanted to keep fucking her all night long until she couldn't stand up or walk.

All of my fantasies were playing out one by one as I talked nasty to her and told (y/n) just how bad I wanted to ruin her, her chest shuddering while she kept touching herself and I picked up the pace of fucking her anally, my cock on cloud 9 feeling the friction of her ass against my bare skin, the need to cum approaching soon while (y/n)'s screams indicated she was nearing her end too.

My huge load of cum dripped right out of her asshole like a cream donut after I came straight into her with a breathless sigh, (y/n)'s legs clenching and her chest collapsing after she'd cum herself from the heightened combination of things. The sight was too beautiful to take in. Her legs gave out and she fell flat on the bed, her face in the mattress and body shaking as she tried to gain her severed breath, my body laying down next to her and rubbing her back to soothe her as I tried to calm down from my high myself.

(y/n) finally turned around and smiled at me, the both of us acknowledging the fact that nothing would change between us despite sharing this unforgettable experience together. Everything felt perfect.

a/n ♡

i imagined a "friends to lovers" plot for tae as it'd suit him the best over the others, knowing he's a social butterfly with many friends irl. altho this storyline has similarities to hoseok's, the motive behind the sex in both plots is diff; tae's not wishing revenge or lust like hobi. tae simply loves (y/n) but it blinds his judgement of betraying jungkook. tae is known to acting on whim irl and just doing what his heart freely desires, so the unplanned act with (y/n) doesn't come as a shocker.

— social butterfly: tae's able to establish a rapport with jimin's gf just like he is with jungkook's gf without having his own gf. he naturally possesses the quality to bond with various people, which is shown by the way he's able to hookup with both girls without any awkwardness

— eccentric persona: anal isn't the most common sexual act but it doesn't scare him when (y/n) suggests it. he's accepting of trying new things especially with his best friend, a reflection of tae's "free spirit" personality and lifestyle irl

— care giver: instead of drinking alcohol as a short cut to loosening up, he makes (y/n) feel comfortable by going down on her, easing her into things bcuz acts of service is a big part of his love language irl

[sirfrogsworth]

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

[maximotts]

I just have this gut feeling that if you made yeehaw wanda dinner and forgot to make dessert, she’d just look at you with the biggest grin and go “Oh I’ll just have you for dessert, honey.”

Sorry for going a wild with this one I'm not sorry but I just… yeah.. this was supposed to be like three paragraphs max; @caroldantops said it didn’t need edits so blame them for any typos 💖

18+ only please . wc: 1.2k . cw: oral, dirty talk, oversensitivity, Wanda just being a silly cowgirl who wants kitchen table sex after a long week of hard work

Wanda cleaned her plate effortlessly, your long labored over dinner fully appreciated by the woman across the small kitchen table. “You must’ve spent all day on that stew and it was well worth it. What’s for dessert?”

It wasn’t an unfair question; typically every night ended with a sweet treat handmade by you, Wanda eagerly awaiting whatever surprise you had in store. But tonight you stayed seated, head hung low to mumble out your ashamed response, “I forgot.. I thought we had pie left, but I didn’t realize you’d snuck the last piece off to work with you until it was too late to make anything new. I’m sorry, Wands…”

The brunette was silent for a moment while you fidgeted nervously in your seat, tapping her fork against her plate as she thought over your mistake. “Come over here for a second, bunny, lemme talk to you.”

You rose from your seat slowly, rounding the table to hover at Wanda’s side. She pushed her plate far out of the way before pointing to the now clear surface, confusing you until she gently nudged you over, “Sit down, right in front.. there ya go.”

“Are you mad? I’m sure I can make find something in the cupboards to-“ But Wanda shushed you, scooting her chair forward once she’d settled in place between your legs. You felt terrible about forgetting one of your girlfriend’s favorite things; the only thing keeping you from tears was Wanda’s strong hands smoothing up your thighs. “Would you be opposed to going out? It’s the weekend, we could get ice cream.”

“Nah, I don’t want any of that,” Wanda shook her head, playing with the short hem of your dress. She could care less if you never made dessert for her again, all she wanted was time with you at the end of every long day. “I’ve got my dessert right here, honey.”

A curious eyebrow cocked down at her, confusedly searching for whatever sweet she was seeing that you couldn’t, “You didn’t forget to eat the pie at lunch, did you? Because it can’t be good anymore if it’s been sitting out all day…”

“Oh no, I ended up eating that way before break time, couldn’t help myself,” Wanda dragged you to the table’s edge, letting your dress ride up with it. The second she spied those pink lace panties she practically begged to let her buy for you, she fought not to rip them right off. “Thankfully you’re sweeter than any pie or cake in the world… You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you?”

The forwardness of it all made your entire face hot, Wanda's wolfish grin and shameless groping of your now exposed ass making you feel like captured prey. It wasn't the first time either, Wanda loved to overwhelm, to make you feel like the owned plaything you longed to be, but couldn't dare say aloud.... until she came along. She didn't mind if you were bashful about your desires, not in the slightest; if she was honest, it only served to turn her on more.

So when you nodded, whispering out a yes and spreading your legs to give her free reign where she couldn't wait to get her hands on, Wanda barely held back a feral growl. "That's a good girl. Now relax and let daddy get her fill of dessert."

She lifted you just enough to tug that temptatious lace off, tucking it in her back jeans pocket for safe keeping. Wanda had never been a patient woman, not in work and certainly not when it came to you. Tilting you back just enough, she hitched soft thighs over her strong shoulders and dove in, mouth devouring you as if she hadn't just eaten two helpings of dinner.

"Such a pretty little cunt... always so wet and ready, all for me," Wanda loved to mumble her way through eating you out, bestowing endless praise on the girl she grew helplessly drunk on. Your hands buried themselves in Wanda's hair, hips stuttering as her tongue rippled over your clit, "Go on, bunny, you can fuck yourself on my face if you wanna. Use me all you want."

And use her you did, rutting over the rough surface until your back arched and you were clamoring with your arms and legs to try to bring Wanda impossibly closer. You could've been ashamed of how needy your girlfriend made you in so short a time, but you knew she loved you just like this, willing and pliant, and all you ever wanted was to make her happy. "Can you go inside? P-Please..."

She had her tongue in you before you could finish your sentence, pushing deep as she could manage and your groan was so loud, Wanda swore it rattled the walls. It was enough to leave her grinding against the ridge at the front of her chair; you always managed to do such a number on her, Wanda's head already swirling with ideas how to have you help her get off in bed later.

"Wanda.. Wands, I'm so-" The tip of her nose bumped against your clit as she tongue fucked you as best she could in time with your erratic thrusts. It dawned on you that you were going to cum on her face, right on the kitchen table Wanda'd built with her own two hands out back and you've never been so in love.

When that coil in your belly finally snapped, you swore you blacked out for a minute, the euphoria too great for your body to cope with. Your girlfriend worked you through your orgasm effortlessly, not minding how you suffocated her between your sex and thighs, lapping every drop of wetness she could before you leaked onto the table.

Pulling away was hard, but you were panting so heavily, Wanda knew she had to lay you back before you fell, prying your legs apart to safely lower you down. She laid her head on the top of your thigh, using her fingers now to play in the mess she'd made while you still twitched and shook. "Best dessert anyone could ever get, honey. You're such a gift..."

"You're sure you're not mad? Even a little?" Your question was still quiet, tone wavering as earlier insecurities crept in again. Wanda hated hurting your feelings; even though you insisted she be honest with you, she'd clocked your sensitivity from day one and always covered up any frustrations with you as best as possible.

But Wanda was too busy smothering your legs with kisses, marking your inner thighs with love bites to worry about one night of missed baked goods. "I'd never be mad over something so silly. I'm lucky enough to have my sweetheart to come home to every single evening."

The brunette sat up then, only to bend over when your arms reached out for her. It was a painfully awkward angle, but she could care less, brushing the hairs that'd shaken loose from your pigtails back behind your ears. Wanda had that silly grin on her face again, the one you couldn't help but melt for, and just like that you felt yourself smiling right back at your girlfriend. "You're so sweet to me, Wanda, it's adorable."

"I love ya, you've got nothing to worry about, bunny." As her lips met yours, Wanda fiddled with the thin bow on the front of your dress, her free hand hitching your leg over her hip to press your bare lower half to her denim-covered one. "Now... am I adorable enough to get a second bit of dessert or do I have to sneak it again?"

[anodizedblack]

I almost never make posts in here, but I’ve gotta get this out of my chest at last.

• Discovering My Hero Academia at 15.

• Seeing similarities between Izuku and myself : an emotional teen with a wish to help others, whose poor self-estime makes him try to befriend his bully.

• Enjoy the series for a while, but starts getting disturbed by Katsuki showing violent sadism while personally escaping any consequences.

• Find out a lot of fans not only like Bakugo for his toxic traits (although the author specified he was trying to make him unlikeable), but they also shipped the two together since day one.

• I’m seeing people glamorise a victim wanting the attention of his bully. I’m seeing people glamorise what broke my self-worth in my most vulnerable phase. It hurts.

• I try to not pay attention to it, but it just takes so much space in the fandom : shippers talking about a victim dating his active bully as « so romantic », people obnoxiously insisting how the manga WANTS YOU to see them romantically, even people drawing Bakugo… raping Izuku. I’m feeling sick to my soul, this is agonising.

• The pairing takes so much space its shippers impose themselves as THE queer ship, declaring anyone disliking it either can’t read or is homophobic, even though tons of same-sex ships from the manga have little to no backlash about them, because they’re simply not toxic.

• One Tumblr user even calls me homophobe for not seeing them romantically, something I have never been and never will be. And it happened at a time I was questioning my own sexuality.

• Fine, I won’t try to engage too much with this fandom and focus on the manga. But even without all this, it’s getting harder to enjoy : some characters with an interesting premise get eclipsed in favor of others chosen for their popularity in polls, many relationships are barely written and explored, others behave in a way that undo their character growth, the manga tries to introduce themes poorly, and I’m struggling to feel genuine sympathy for most of the villains.

• I just don’t enjoy this manga anymore, better just stop engaging with it.

• Time passes and I only occasionally see online stuff associated with it. Some plot points being discussed, but mostly shipping discourse again. With « bkdk » fans who seemingly dedicate their every online actions and life to that. Whose hostility and obnoxious behaviour has been immensely detrimental to the public image of the fandom, if not of the manga. They are still hellbent on insisting the entire story is about Bakugo and Izuku’s relationship, actually. Anyone believing otherwise, and pointing out parts of the story showing Izuku having feelings for another character is « delulu » of course.

• Bakugo finally makes his apology, 90% through the series. It’s laughable, and sounds like he doesn’t even know the amount of harm he’s done. Shippers use this as an opportunity to make themselves seem regular healthy fans, as if they haven’t been salivating at him verbally and physically abusing Izuku this whole time. The hypocrisy.

• The « first » ending of the manga comes out, and I find it disappointing. This suit should’ve been given to him by the government right after he recovered from his injuries, he saved the goddamn world. But instead he had to wait for years for his friends to spare money for it. Ugh. Anyways.

• The second and last ending, chapter 431 came out ? Izuku kindly declines an offer from Bakugo to work with him ? And it gives a conclusion to Ochako and Izuku’s relationship, showing them sharing feelings for one another ? So they did end up together… and the bkdk shippers are realising that. After all these years of being horrible, all this confidence and entitlement is simply breaking into a million pieces. And I’m loving every second of it. It absolutely brightens my day, my whole fucking weekend, that all those horrible people who fantasised over a ship born from a toxic idea of a relationship, from something that ruines lives, that broke me and countless others… are feeling disappointed, confused, stupid and miserable. Some say they don’t care, that they can seek refuge in their fanfictions written with « their » version of the characters, but the majority are visibly distraught and showing it. We told you guys, and you deserve every second of misery you’re going through.

It’s a low blow, I know. But you brought us this low.

You’re hurting, and we’re having the last laugh

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 108

"Hey, Steve," I whispered, sitting down in front of the gravestone, the grass prickling against the bare skin of my legs. The summer heat had been relentless these past few days, and the stone felt warm beneath my fingertips. Coming here alone had been tough, but I would have to get used to doing many things by myself in the future.

I was giving Bucky the space he asked for. He’d called me last night, but I was in the shower when it happened. I thought about calling him back, but part of me hesitated. Maybe I wanted to respect his need for space, or maybe I was afraid he wouldn't answer. Either way, he didn’t call again, and I convinced myself that he would if it was really important. But the silence felt heavier than I expected, like a knot tightening in my chest.

I traced the letters of Steve’s name, the familiar shape of each line grounding me for a moment. "I wish you were here," I murmured, feeling the sting of tears I’d been holding back. "I feel so alone in that huge house."

I had thought about selling the house and moving back to Brooklyn. It was a beautiful place, full of light and warmth, and there was so much space—perfect for a big family. I could imagine other people's children running and laughing in the backyard, their joy echoing off the trees. But mine never would.

The emptiness of it all seemed to swallow up the laughter that should have been there. The rooms felt too large, the silence too heavy. It was as if the house was waiting for something that would never come.

"Sometimes, I just wish I could have gone with you," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears welled up. My fingers traced the edges of the gravestone, feeling its heat against my skin. "Living feels like a mistake... If you’re up there... if you’re with our son... I don’t want to be here anymore."

Bucky was the only reason I’d held on, the one thing tethering me to this life. But now, he’d decided that it was all too much. There was nothing left keeping me here anymore, and the emptiness was swallowing me whole. My mind drifted to dark places I tried so hard to avoid.

I didn’t want to stay at the cemetery any longer, but the thought of going back to that empty, echoing house felt even worse. And I couldn’t show up at Bucky’s doorstep—not now, not like this. The weight of it all crashed down, and I buried my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face. The sudden buzz of my phone startled me. I fumbled to pull it from my bag, my heart leaping when I saw Sam’s name on the screen.

"Hey, Sam," I said, my voice shaky despite my best attempt to sound normal. It felt strange hearing from him after so long, especially after everything we'd been through together. We'd shared so much when we were on the run, but since Thanos was defeated, we had hardly spoken.

"Hey, what's up? It's been a while, so I thought I'd give you a call. How are you doing?" he asked his tone light but with a hint of concern underneath. He sounded cheerful, but there was a hesitation in his voice like he already knew things weren’t great.

I hesitated, unsure how much to say. "I'm... managing. It's just—" I paused, my voice catching, "—it’s been tough, you know?"

Yeah, I get that," he said. "Listen, why don’t you come down here for a while? I’m in Louisiana with my family. It might be good for you—a change of pace. What do you think?"

I paused, the idea sinking in. I had never been to Louisiana before, and everything around me lately felt like a constant reminder of Steve. Maybe getting away from it all, even for a little while, was exactly what I needed. "You know what? That actually sounds like a great idea."

"Great! We’re having a big barbecue this weekend—why don’t you join us? I’ll send you the details," he said, the relief clear in his voice.

"Sounds good... and, uh, thanks, Sam. This couldn't have come at a better time," I admitted, thinking back to the dark thoughts I’d had just moments before.

"Anytime. See you then!" he replied before hanging up with a click.

I sighed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I looked back at Steve's name etched into the stone. "I don’t know if you had anything to do with that, but... thanks," I whispered, wiping away a tear.

Three days later, Sam picked me up from the airport. The hot Louisiana air felt thick and almost suffocating, but even so, I’d rather be here than alone in Brooklyn.

"Hey, it's good to see you," he greeted me with a warm hug, a big smile lighting up his face. Already, I felt a little lighter.

On the drive from the airport to his place, we talked about the weather, the incredible food here, and his family. Not once did he mention Steve or ask how I was coping, and for that, I was grateful.

The house was nestled by a lake, surrounded by woods; it reminded me a little of the fishing cabin where we’d stayed while on the run, but this place was much larger and felt more open. Sam introduced me to his sister, Sarah, and her two sons, AJ and Cass. They welcomed me as if we’d known each other for years, making me feel at home right away.

Sarah showed me the room I’d be staying in—a spacious bedroom with a large bed and its own bathroom. It felt cozy and comfortable, a perfect place to escape for a while.

At least that’s what I thought until I found out they had invited Bucky too. The barbecue was already in full swing—people chatting, drinking, and waiting for their burgers. That’s when I spotted him, talking to Sarah. They seemed to be getting along well, judging by the smile on her face.

He’d cut his hair and shaved, looking different, almost like a weight had been lifted. He even smiled at her, which made me hesitate. I thought about slipping back into my room, avoiding the whole situation, but the barbecue could go on all night.

"Look who’s here!" Sam called out as I stood frozen on the porch. Bucky turned, and for a moment, his smile faded, his eyes locking onto mine. But then he quickly recovered, noticing the people around us. He grabbed Sam by the arm, pulling him aside to whisper something in his ear.

I caught a bit of their exchange as Sam led me toward the others. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said before turning his attention back to me with a welcoming grin.

"Hey," Bucky greeted, lifting his beer casually, though there was a slight tension in his eyes.

"Hey," I replied, forcing a smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

Bucky turned to Sam, his tone light but pointed. "Yeah, right back at you. Someone forgot to mention that."

Sam laughed, giving both of us a pat on the back. "Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, I’m starving," he said, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Sarah glanced between us, sensing the tension. "I'll see you around then, Bucky," she said, quickly excusing herself and leaving us alone.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to ease the awkwardness. "New look?" I asked, attempting to break the ice.

"Uh, yeah, it was time," he replied, tapping his foot nervously, his gaze shifting around us. "Listen, I can leave if this is too awkward for you."

I scoffed, my arms crossing defensively. "You were the one who said you couldn’t be around me anymore."

He shook his head, frustration evident in his eyes. "That's not what I said! I just needed some space... I called you, and you never called me back..."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off. "You said to call you if I needed anything, and I did call, but nothing—no text, nothing." His voice was rising, and I could see agitation building within him.

"I'm sorry, okay? I was hurt!" I stammered, my voice quieter but still laced with emotion.

"That's why I stayed away in the first place," he said, shaking his head, frustration etched on his features. "We would just end up hurting each other."

"Well, it didn’t work," I replied, a lump forming in my throat. "I’m hurt, but I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll give you the space you want." I took a step back, trying to create some distance between us.

"This isn’t about what I want," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He shook his head again and downed the rest of his beer in one swift motion as if hoping to wash away the tension hanging between us.

Just then, Sam returned with two plates piled high with burgers. "Who wants some burgers?" he called out, handing one to me.

"Thanks," Bucky murmured, his gaze already drifting toward one of the tables further away, where he took a seat, clearly eager to put some distance between us.

I turned to face Sam, raising an eyebrow. "Did you do this on purpose?"

He looked guilty, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "Well, he kept bugging me about how he screwed up and didn’t know how to fix things," he admitted. "So, I thought a little push might help. You can't fix things if you don't talk." He leaned in closer, a hint of encouragement in his voice. "So... talk."

I sighed, feeling the weight of Sam's words. "I wish it was that easy, Sam."

"Well, you've got plenty of time; he's staying at the house too," Sam said with a grin before he disappeared back into the crowd.

My gaze shifted to Bucky, and I felt my mouth fall open in surprise. He was staring at me, his burger untouched on the plate. A look of discomfort crossed his face when he realized I was watching him, and he quickly turned his attention to Sarah, who had settled down next to him.

Their laughter echoed in my ears, and I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. The warmth of the barbecue seemed to fade, replaced by the chill of uncertainty.

Next Chapter

[mastermindmiko]

Secrets

Pairing: Remus Lupin + fem!reader

Word count: 1411

Summary: You and Remus have been together for a while. He's been keeping secrets and you've had enough.

Warnings: negative emotions? breaking up. angst with a happy ending

an: two marauders posts? is this beginning of an era?

hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Remus this has been keeping secrets. The reason why I know this is because I know him, or at least I thought I did.

Even before we became official, I always knew that he was hiding something. His disappearances, his mother's illnesses, and his father's random need to need him back home. And even, dare I say it, his scars. I love them in every way. I don't believe that they are flaws like he does, instead, I believe that they only enhance his appearance. However, I do understand that it is unusual for a teenage boy to have them littered across all his body and his face starting from even his first year.

This thing that he had to hide, it never bothered me before. Maybe because I was spending less time with him or maybe because I didn't love him back then. Since we've become official about a year ago, I started to notice it a bit more since he will randomly be very opposed to going out at certain times. Or he would snap at me when we are simply studying together.

I always understood because I get it. His world isn’t supposed to revolve around me? He doesn't have to tell me everything but it's hard to be understanding when you don't really know what you're supposed to understand.

I never pressure him even though I know that it's eating me inside. Maybe they need to help him too, because every time he randomly disappears or goes to help his father, or check up on his mother. I feel like the shine in his eyes dims every time.

I want to help, I want to know what makes the boy I love hurt. I want to make it go away and maybe even fight it to do so.

What hurts me the most is that his friends know. James, Sirius and Peter, all all know, but he never once told his own girlfriend. I would try to find out myself, but I wouldn't want to invade his privacy. Instead, I wait for him to come to me, if he comes...

"Maybe we can go out next weekend instead." Remus suggests, and I frown, it's supposed to be this weekend, not any other one. I ask, "Why not this one?"

"I have-"

"Things to do, your father needs you, there's a prank you need to pull. What excuse are you going to give me this time?" I snap, I shouldn't have, but this weekend is important. If I'm being honest, I could've listed off all the excuses he's given me for hours. I had them all memorized.

"You don't need to act like this. I don't have to go out with you every weekend, we spend enough time together as it is. I don't have to explain myself, I said next weekend." He snaps, and a part of me feels like I deserve it for getting angry first, but I still feel the ache in my chest.

I gulp as I watch him gather his books in a huff and leave the library. When I can no longer see him, I cover my face with my hands and a few tears fall. I feel pathetic, but can you blame me for not wanting to spend our anniversary alone?

~~~

I'm going to talk to him, I'm going to find out what he's been hiding and we're going to talk about it because this is a relationship, he doesn't get to keep secrets as long as they effect me.

It's been a few days since I had that fight? with Remus. I've barely seen him around, but in a way, it helped me.

I first went insane trying to think of what he's been hiding. The possibilities of him cheating have come to mind several times, thinking about why, with who, and when, but ultimately I decided that Remus wouldn't cheat, at least I hope not.

Then came the idea that he might not love me anymore, but he's only told me that he did two months ago, so could he have loved me and then stopped so quickly? I didn't know, what I knew is that I did still love him, and if he didn't love me anymore, I'd rather not waste my time and postpone the heartbreak.

It was after breakfast, and I heard a few first years talking about how the famous Gryffindor boys (Remus, James, Sirius and Peter) were in the hospital wing. I assumed of course that it was because of a failed prank, wouldn't be the first time one of those happen.

I knew Remus was too smart to get involved in anything that could fail, so I assumed that he would be fine. I reached the hospital wing, and Peter's the first one that saw me. He tapped Sirius who looked at me, eyes went wide, then tapped James who had done a similar reaction.

Peter quickly closed the curtains around one bed, and they all came rushing to me, all of them, except Remus. I panic, I rush over to them, but they meet me half way and start turning me around the opposite way. I say, "Is Remus okay? why's he here? what happened?"

I sputter a lot more questions but they already have me out of the wing. They all look panicked possibly more than me. James speaks out first, he rubs a sheepish hand to the back of his neck and says, "Remus is fine, he just had a bit of a headache this morning."

"Well, if he's fine, then I can go see him." I say, and try to push past them, but they hold both my arms to steady me in place. Sirius says, "Yes, but uh- he doesn't want a lot of noise, so we can't let you go in there."

"And of course, when someone wants some peace and quiet they go to you guys." I say, pointedly and give them all unconvinced look because I was unconvinced. Why were they hiding my boyfriend from me? Unless...my boyfriend is the one that wanted to be hid from me. I frown, "Does Remus not want to see me?"

The boys stutter around and look at each other panicked, wondering what to say. They all begin sentences unsure, and it only makes my frown deepen, he doesn't want to see me. James says, "Of course, he wants to see you, just not right now."

Sirius elbows him when he notices my expression turn sadder after James' words. I nod my head and I feel my eyes begin to burn. No, I wasn't going to cry and especially not in front of them, they'd tell Remus in a flash. I take in a deep breath, and say, as steadily as I can, "Well, I wouldn't want to force myself on him, so, uh, tell him I hope he gets well soon, and that we need to talk."

I can see their faces change after I say those last few words. It wasn't a secret that 'we need to talk' was the beginning of every break up talk in the world, but I didn't want that to happen. I loved Remus, we just needed to improve our communication.

I head back to the common room, and on my way there, I can't think of anything else, but the fact that Remus didn't want to see me. My thoughts trace back to the idea that he doesn't love me anymore. They go downhill from there, and I ask myself, what if he really is cheating? Maybe he's too busy with another girl to notice the one he already has.

I bump into someone, and I notice who it is by the flaming red hair. Lily grabs my forearms to steady me and herself, making sure neither of us falls. She chuckles, "Sorry about that, I wasn't looking at where I was going- are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say and I give her an unconvincing half assed smile. she frowns and I bitterly chuckle, "Things just haven't been going well with Remus lately."

She turns white and starts to fumble. She avoids my gaze and shifts on her feet. She stutters, "He's got a lot going on lately, he's been busy with...um stuff. I'm sure it'll be over in a few days."

"He told you." I say and it's a revelation that shocks me. He told Lily. He told James, Sirius, Peter and Lily, but not his girlfriend. She starts to fumble for excuses, but it doesn't matter because I already make my away past her and get to common room as fast as I can. I need to be alone.

Luckily, my dorm is empty. People have already gone to classes, but I don't think I can. My heart sinks and I can't believe that my boyfriend doesn't trust me with whatever secret he's got. I try to stop the tears that start flowing, but I cant.

He forgot our anniversary, and he's keeping secrets, secrets that he's told everyone close in his life, but me. A secret that he's been hiding for who knows how long. He doesn't want to see me either. I sob harder and I keep on asking myself what's going on in this relationship that is beneficial for me, and isn't' hurting me.

Maybe it's time that Remus and I break up.

~~~

"Hi, James told me that you wanted to talk." Remus says, two days later. He catches me right as I'm about to leave for another lesson. I check my watch, I have ten minutes before I need to get to class, maybe now's the time to do this.

"I do want to talk."

"James told me that it's going to be something bad, but I know you, I know us. I told him it was nothing." Remus chuckles and I feel myself getting guilty. I push that feeling away, I wasn't the one keeping secrets. I don't say anything in reply and Remus' grin fades.

"It's nothing, right?" Remus asks, with a frown. He takes a few more steps towards me, and I feel my heart race like it always does when he's near. I realize I won't be able to do this if he's any closer. I place a hand between us and he stops.

I hop on the desk, and I avoid his gaze. This should be simple I'm the one who decided, it isn't like he's the one ending this, I am. I look at him, take in a break then exhale. I say, "I think we should break up."

I didn't think anything could've hurt me more that what Remus has done to me, but the look on his face after I said those six words...nothing can describe it. I takes a step closer to me and I shuffle away. The pain becomes etched deeper into his face.

He still reaches out a hand and grabs mine. He looks up at me and his eyes water. He stutters, "B-but why? I love you. Don't you love me too?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why are you doing this? I don't want to break up. I don't ever want to break up. I actually think this happened in a nightmare before." Remus says, and his tears escape his eyes one by one. I say, "Because you're keeping things from me, Remus."

"I don't want to break up, but there's something going on with you, and you don't want to tell me about it-"

"I can't-"

"Yes you can, you very well could when you told James and Sirius. Peter and Lily, you told them all but not me. This isn't about you keeping something to yourself, this is about you trusting me." I explain, I sniffle, I didn't notice when I started crying. I say, "You even forgot our anniversary."

His face comforts with realization. He smacks a hand to his head, and he grips my hand with both of his and he squeezes. He pleads, "I'll make it up to you, please."

"That's not enough-"

"I'll spend every free moment I have with you."

I shake my head and lower my gaze to the floor. He says, "I'll buy you gifts, so many you won't be able to count them. Please, I don't want to lose you. I love you."

"I want you to tell me."

"I can't...you'll hate me." Remus says, and he looks down to the ground. I say, "You're losing me by not telling me."

He doesn't say anything, and I believe he's contemplating walking out right now. It would hurt, but it would make the getting over him process much easier. He takes in a deep breath, and he holds my hand tighter. I realize that he's going to tell me. He opens his mouth then closes it. I say, "Take your time."

"I-I'm a werewolf." Remus says, and I have to say, it makes sense. The scars, the attitude, everything. Even his disappearances happen on a monthly basis, it adds up in every way. I'm surprised, but it doesn't change anything. I say, "Okay."

"I tell you my biggest and possibly only secret and you're answer is okay." Remus says, and I nod my head. I shrug my shoulders and say, "What do you want me to say? It makes sense."

"I doesn't change the way you think of me." Remus asks, and I furrow my eyebrows. I hesitate before saying, "I think it makes you sexier."

"what?"

"You know, I just-" I stutter and flush pink, "It's just so brave that you go through that every month and you know these are kind of like your battle scars."

I smile sheepishly and trace on of the scars on his arms. He looks at me incredulously and he chuckles a bit. He repeats, "You think it makes me sexier? but werewolf are classified as monsters."

"You're a cute, sexy, book-loving, sock folding monster then." I chuckle and he does the same thing. He presses a kiss to my forehead and he wraps his arms around me in a big hug. I mutter, "I really wish you could've told me sooner."

"I didn't want you to hate me."

"I don't think I could ever hate you." I say, and he looks at me as if he doesn't believe me, I'll make him believe eventually. He lowers his head and places a smooth, loving kiss on my lips. He asks, "Am I forgiven?"

"Give me more of those kisses and then we'll talk."

[inairbinad]

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire!

part one of seven | 4.9k | AO3 Now Complete!

Where Eddie wakes up a little bit different, Steve is obsessed, and Dustin gets his Meddling Kids Platinum Badge™. I know I posted a couple teasers from the last chapter of this over the weekend, but friendly reminder that this is primarily an idiots to lovers fic, and they take their sweet ass time getting there. Warnings: None for this part, except the obvious mentions of blood.

Steve didn’t ever really leave Eddie’s bedside, while he was sleeping. The only breaks he took were to shower or go visit Max down the hall. Most nights he stayed past visiting hours, the nursing staff having long given up on trying to stop him falling asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair—oftentimes with Lucas's head resting on his shoulder.

One of those nights, with Steve already leveled with exhaustion and barely holding his own head up, Robin came in to sit with him.

“Steve,” she all but whispered.

“I’m okay, Rob,” he said automatically. “Just gonna rest my eyes for a bit, then I’ll drive you home.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Robin said, sounding fondly annoyed. “Nancy’s gonna drive me. But—don’t you think you should go home and get some rest?” she tried.

They’d had this conversation every day for the last three, now. Steve hadn’t yet relented.

“I’m just gonna worry if I go home,” he said honestly. “I won’t sleep. At least here I know they’re both still breathing.”

Eddie had made strides in that regard, at least; they’d extubated him earlier that day. There still weren’t any signs of him waking up, though, and there was no change at all with Max.

Robin sighed, apparently having expected that answer. She was quiet for a minute, as they both listened to the slow beep of Eddie’s heart monitor.

“Can I ask you something?” Robin asked, voice still low. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, to be clear.”

Steve had an idea of what was coming next and let it happen anyway.

“Sure,” he said.

“This,” she started, gesturing towards Steve slumped in his chair, “is more than just guilt, isn’t it?”

Of course Robin knew. She always went on about how she couldn’t read social cues very well, but Steve couldn’t ever get anything past her. Maybe it was their “telepathic brain thing” that Dustin always complained about them doing. Sometimes it weirded Steve out a little, but right now he was just grateful for it. For Robin.

“No,” he said. His voice sounded small. “It’s hardly guilt at all, really.”

Robin just made little humming noise to herself. Steve took that to mean she wanted him to keep going.

“I mean, I wish we’d done things differently, obviously” Steve said, laughing bitterly so that he wouldn’t cry instead. He’d go back and do things over a thousand times not to end up here again. “I wish I’d stayed with him and Dustin, maybe. Or dealt with Jason when we’d had the chance…” he trailed off, thinking of Max down the hall, Lucas’s swollen face, and the way Erica jumped at every loud noise now. “I’d do a lot differently—or I wouldn’t do it at all. But I blame Vecna more than I blame myself, believe it or not.”

He couldn’t quite figure out what Robin was thinking, or what the look she was giving him meant. Her eyes were soft, a little sad, but also something else.

“I just,” Steve started, but he didn’t know how to say it out loud. Except he knew Robin was waiting for him to, and that she’d be proud of him if he did. The promise of that propelled Steve forward. “I can’t lose him, Robin. Not when I just got him.”

Steve didn’t think he had Eddie, not really. He just knew how Eddie’s teasing grin made his insides warm. How whichever pet name for Steve fell out of his lips at any given moment made him almost forget the apocalypse they were fighting together. Steve didn’t need to have Eddie as his own, he thought. He just needed to know he was alive, that Steve had more days ahead of Eddie invading his personal space, and leaving Steve breathless when he left his scent of smoke and something spicy in his wake.

“You won’t,” Robin said, something steely in her voice now as she grabbed Steve's hand and squeezed. “Neither of them are going anywhere. Not if I can help it.”

Steve did his best to believe her.

———

On the seventh morning of Eddie’s hospital stay, Steve dragged himself into Eddie’s room like usual. Coffee didn’t really do much to quell his exhaustion these days, but he sipped on some anyway as he got to his new routine. He played one of Eddie’s cassettes—quietly, as he’d gotten plenty of dirty looks from the nurses for being too loud before—humming along as he pulled a chair up next to Eddie’s bed. He was so still, Steve couldn’t help reaching out to thread his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, just to feel his pulse still beating away.

This time it stuttered under Steve’s touch. That was new. Steve looked at Eddie’s face, confused. He looked peaceful, like this. His skin was still cool to the touch, but his breathing was even, pulse slow and now jumpy. Was that a good sign?

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, settling in. He let his grip around Eddie’s wrist loosen, leaving his hand to cover Eddie’s own instead. “It’s been seven days in here, now. Three since you’ve been breathing on your own again. Max is still asleep, too. I wish I had better news. Dustin misses you. I miss you,” Steve sighed and tried to think of something cheerful to share.

“The press does seem to be buying the government’s alternate serial killer theory, since it’s simpler than ’Satan did it,’ I guess. Wayne said the police are working on closing the case against you, so that’s a relief, at least.” Steve dropped his head into his free hand. What good was clearing Eddie’s name if he wouldn’t wake up to see it himself?

“I was wondering why I wasn’t handcuffed to the bed,” a surprisingly smooth and awake voice said above him.

Steve’s head snapped up so fast his neck cracked. Eddie was looking down at him already, his brown eyes darker, somehow. But they were open, bright, and alive. Steve felt his mouth stretch into a wide grin. He didn’t know what to say for what felt like a long time, just smiling stupidly at Eddie.

“Disappointed by that?” Steve finally replied, then immediately felt like kicking himself. Here Eddie was, waking up from a coma, and Steve couldn’t even figure out how to say something normal. Something like, how are you feeling or can I get you some water, sprang to mind too late. But apparently all Steve’s stupid little brain could manage was something not-so-vaguely flirtatious under Eddie’s gaze.

But Eddie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if Steve wasn’t totally deluding himself, it seemed like Eddie liked it. He didn’t blush, but he looked flustered. Hungry. Steve let that revelation settle deep into his bones, warm and pooling like syrup.

Then he got his shit together.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He was still cold. Eddie’s gaze flicked down to Steve’s neck and back. If Steve hadn’t been analyzing Eddie’s every move—for any sign that he might break, might fall back into a coma, might leave again—he’d have probably missed it.

“Starving,” was all Eddie said with a devilish grin.

Steve watched, somewhat dazed, as Eddie let the doctors marvel over his recovery for about forty-five minutes before checking himself out against medical advice. His bites had already scarred over, completely healed in somewhat miraculous fashion. The doctor’s seemed mildly concerned about Eddie’s circulation, given how much blood he’d lost and how slow his pulse still was. But all of his tests were normal, had been for days now. He didn’t seem to have any muscle atrophy, no loss of brain function. He was just Eddie.

So Steve didn’t argue when Eddie asked him to drive him home as soon as possible. Steve wheeled Eddie down the hall to visit Max before he took him back to the motel where Wayne was staying. Eddie had complained loudly about the wheelchair, only relenting when Steve gently laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Humor me.”

They sat with Max for a while, sobering Steve’s giddiness at Eddie’s complete turnaround. But Steve knew if anyone had the strength in them to do the same, it was Max Mayfield.

No one was here visiting yet—it was still early by anyone but Steve’s standards. So they took their time talking to her, Eddie giving her the daily update like Steve had done for him. He gave Steve a knowing grin as he said, “We all miss you, Red.”

Steve was too busy looking at his feet in embarrassment, so he didn’t notice Eddie hopping out of his wheelchair at lightning speed.

Then Eddie was in his space again, quicker than Steve had time to even account for. Eddie turned into Steve’s neck and whispered, “Cover for me, Stevie.”

Then he dipped down the hallway and into the stairwell.

Steve fumbled to recover for a minute, wondering what on earth had just happened. He looked to Max’s sleeping face as if maybe she’d know. Steve imagined her usual lazy shrug and his heart ached.

Sure enough, a minute later one of the younger nurses came looking for Eddie with discharge paperwork. Bewildered as he was, Steve could handle this part. He leaned against the door frame next to her and grinned.

“I think he went back to his room for something,” Steve said, before putting on the most convincing show of fake flirting he could muster. It still wasn’t his best—Steve was mostly still thinking of Eddie whispering into his neck and ear—but it worked well enough to distract her. Steve was actually surprised to see her face fall when he brushed her off for Eddie’s return.

Take that, Robin, he thought, picturing her damned tally board. Steve thought this whole endeavor probably warranted a point in the ‘You Rule’ column, but he didn’t care much. He was too busy watching Eddie saunter over to his side with his now-zipped jacket suspiciously full looking, and his grin bright.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand, shall we?”

Steve was too busy caught up in the thrill of Eddie—alive, probably healthy as Steve had ever seen him, laughing breathlessly as they made their escape to Steve’s car—to even ask what he’d been covering for. He wondered if they’d just robbed the hospital pharmacy.

Eddie seemed to wilt a bit once they got outside and the sun peeked out from behind a cloud overhead, hitting him straight in the face.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, ducking back into the shade by the doors. “Didn’t think of that.”

“What?” Steve asked, offering his sunglasses over. Eddie accepted them with a grateful smile, then took a tentative step back into the sunshine.

“It’s nothing,” he said, seeming to relax a little once the sunglasses were on. Steve couldn’t help but notice they looked good on him. “Help me to the car, would you?”

So Steve did, offering Eddie an arm to lean on as they made their way through the parking lot. Steve eyed him carefully, but didn’t ask questions.

Well, at least not until they got into the beemer. That’s when Eddie immediately pulled something out of his jacket—was that donated blood?—then tore into the bag and sucked its contents down like, well, water.

Then Steve had questions. The first of which being a hearty, “The fuck?”

Eddie drained the bag and let his head fall back to rest on the seat, exposing the column of his neck. Steve swallowed, cursing his brain to pay attention to what the hell was happening instead of being a slut for once. Eddie lolled his head to look at Steve and gave him a gleaming, bloody smile.

“So, funny story,” he paused. If Steve had to guess it must’ve been for dramatic effect. “I think I’m a vampire.”

———

Admittedly, the whole vampire revelation made Steve a little anxious in a what-in-the-Vecna-fuckery sort of way, but he didn’t trust Eddie any less over it. Just because he was on the slithering asshole’s radar, Steve didn’t understand why he’d have to worry about Eddie being mind-controlled by Vecna anymore that he did for Max or Will. The whole vampire bit was admittedly a curveball, but so was the rest of Steve’s life at this point.

All the same, Eddie himself had insisted that they give it a few days before letting him around the kids, to be sure. Dustin only gave it twenty-four hours before calling a “family meeting” and inviting everyone over to Steve’s. Steve had not been consulted, but what else was new?

So there he sat, Eddie sandwiched between himself and Robin on his couch, while Mike, Lucas, and Dustin took turns pacing in front of them.

The kids eventually devolved into having a rapid-fire debate about some dude called Kas—who apparently destroyed things? Steve wasn’t sure it really mattered. Dustin kept yelling something about Kas and betrayal, whatever that meant, but Mike was countering with something about evil and alignments. Steve guessed it wasn’t about any dark desires from a chiropractor.

Eddie had finally had enough of their bickering and whistled for them to shut up.

“Look, kiddos. I want a Vecna-free brain just as much as you guys. Well, more than you guys do,” he paused to fiddle with his rings. Steve wondered if they weren’t real silver, or if that was just a myth. Then he realized he’d thought all vampire-related things were myths up until yesterday. He shook himself out of his thoughts as Eddie continued. “If he is secretly hanging out in the ol’ noggin, I can’t tell. But don’t you all keep telling me about a girl with mind-reading abilities? Think she could suss him out?”

The room went silent, blessedly, for maybe one-and-a-half seconds.

“Genius!” Dustin exclaimed.

“Where’s El?" Mike asked Lucas at the same time.

“Will that work?” Lucas questioned over everyone else.

“One at a time, Jesus,” Steve cut in, rubbing his eyes. When he stopped, Eddie was looking at him with some emotion Steve couldn’t quite interpret. He stopped trying and turned back to the kids, who stood there staring at him like they were waiting for assignments. Steve sighed, and pointed at Mike. “You first, Wheeler.”

Mike turned to Lucas. “Was El still at the hospital when you left?”

She spent most of her time with either Hopper or Max these days, so it was a fair assumption.

“She was,” Lucas confirmed. “Is that something you think she can do?”

“Probably,” Mike shrugged.

“Definitely,” Will amended, speaking up for the first time in a while.

And so that’s how Steve ended up going to get El so she could “do a proper seance” on Eddie’s brain, as he’d put it.

“I don’t feel him,” El said about an hour later. “Your mind is strange.”

Robin failed to hide her snickering behind her hand.

“Believe me, kid, I know,” Eddie agreed with a grin.

With everyone more relaxed after that, Eddie regaled the kids with his tale of evading tipping off the nurses to his being awake while he pieced together that he’d woken up not quite…human.

“So I played dead,” Eddie told them and flopped on the floor like a sack of dead weight, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth and everything. Steve watched the hem of Eddie’s shirt ride up just far enough to give him a glimpse of the worst of his scarring. They already seemed to have faded again since the day before. “And hoped like hell I wouldn’t eat anyone before I could figure out how to get down to the blood bank. Then Stevie came to my rescue.” He flashed Steve an exaggerated wink and whisked himself back to his feet as he told everyone how waking up felt.

Eddie apparently had a lot of weird dreams while he was still under, too. When Dustin asked, Eddie explained how most were like watching his body turn cold, like steel—or dreams about blood. He recounted waking up and being overwhelmed by feeling almost everything around him, of being able to hear the heartbeat of the patient in the next room over before the monitor even registered it with a beep.

As an added bonus, Eddie also enjoyed showing off the fangs.

Steve had to work to control his face every time Eddie popped those out. Steve thought the fangs should be freaking him out, but they didn’t in the slightest. To the point where Steve thought maybe there was something wrong with his fight or flight response after one-too-many trips to a different dimension. A normal person would be scared, not inexplicably turned on by the thought of them sinking into the flesh of their neck.

In the interest of not exposing himself as a lovestruck idiot to absolutely everyone in the room—Robin absolutely already knew, based on the looks she’d been shooting him all afternoon—Steve excused himself to the patio for a smoke break. He didn’t usually smoke much anymore, unless he was drinking, largely due to Robin’s incessant nagging about it. But Steve was pretty sure if he had to keep his blossoming crush on his friend the vampire in check, he’d need a lot more nicotine to distract himself.

Except Eddie slid out of the patio door to join him. Steve offered him one from his own pack wordlessly. Eddie accepted with a toothy—but thankfully fang-free—grin.

“Do these do anything for you anymore?” Steve asked, suddenly curious.

“Not really,” Eddie shrugged. “I just wouldn’t know what to do with my hands if I quit. Or for an excuse to leave the room when I’m uncomfortable.”

Steve huffed out a nervous laugh, unsure if that was meant to be Eddie calling him out. Unwilling to really find out, Steve stayed quiet and stared up at the few stars that were starting to show themselves.

“Are you sure you wanna let me drive them home?” Eddie asked after a minute, staring determinedly at his shoes. Steve didn’t know what the hell to make of that question.

“I’m not your mother, Munson,” he tried for a lighter tone.

“True,” Eddie smirked, “but you’re kind of theirs, though.”

Fair, Steve thought. But he still wasn’t sure what Eddie was actually getting at. “What’s this about?”

Eddie sighed and stubbed out his cigarette with a frustrated flourish. “I guess I’m asking if you’re sure you trust me to be around them. By myself. When I’m like…this.”

Steve almost laughed, but managed to hold it in once he saw that Eddie was being serious. He was tucking into himself like a pill bug, like he was expecting the fear and revulsion to finally come rolling off of Steve in waves.

Steve had wondered if it was a delayed reaction on his part, as well, and if eventually he’d be disgusted or freaked out by the whole situation. So far those feelings showed no threat of surfacing, and Steve didn’t really think that they would, either.

Instead, all he felt was relief. He was relieved that Eddie was still alive. Or, well, kind of alive. He never really mastered the logistics of all the vampire movies Robin has made him watch. And really, after all of the Upside Down creatures that had tried to eat them over the years, Eddie seemed positively tame.

Most importantly, he seemed like himself.

So, gently, Steve reached his hand across the empty expanse between them and laid it on Eddie’s forearm. Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own.

“I trust you,” Steve said, putting every ounce of sincerity he could muster into the look they shared. Eddie seemed to believe it, because after a moment he deflated, melting back to lean against the house. “And more importantly, so do they,” Steve added, jerking his head back towards the kids inside.

“Your trust is pretty important to me, too, Harrington,” Eddie admitted with an almost shy smile.

Steve sucked whatever he could out of the last dregs of his cigarette and prayed for the strength to survive being a total goner for Eddie Munson.

———

Max seemed to be improving physically, but there were still no signs of her waking up anytime soon. The longer she slept, and the more things deteriorated in town, the more everyone wanted to find Vecna and finish the job.

Soon enough they all coalesced around a plan to end the Upside Down nonsense once and for all. With El and Will back in town, and Eddie’s newfound enhanced abilities of his own, it didn’t take much. Especially once they realized their old friends the demobats were now more inclined to follow Eddie’s lead than “Old Slitherfuck,” as he called Vecna.

One spring night they snuck into the Upside Down one last time and ended things for good. Max woke up in Lucas’s arms the moment Vecna was done and dusted, and El closed the gates for what they all hoped was the final time.

And now? Well. Now everyone was trying to get back to normal. Or as normal as they could be when they had to figure out ways to steal blood for the vampire in their friend group.

So on they went, trying to settle into yet another new set of skin. Eddie was still wary of himself, Steve could tell, but he never withdrew into isolation or tried to convince everyone they were better off without him.

Which was good, because everyone wanted Eddie around that much more.

Dustin wanted nothing more than to test his abilities, and did test whatever Eddie would let him get away with. Robin asked if they could have vampire movie nights, or if Eddie would find that insensitive (he heartily agreed to it). Nancy had a million questions like the good reporter she was, and she and Dustin often piggybacked off each other’s ideas. Mike tended to go between staring at Eddie in awe and wondering if maybe his sexuality was just “people with superpowers.”

Or at least that’s what Steve and Robin assumed when no one else was listening (and Robin wasn’t pointing out Steve’s own crush on a certain vampire).

Steve was just doing his best to cope. He was getting used to the whole “Eddie Munson is now an undead vampire” situation. Really, he was.

Was he sometimes inexplicably a little bit jealous that he apparently didn’t get enough demobat venom to also be turned? Jealous that he wasn’t the one with superhuman strength and outright awe from the kids at his mere existence? If he was, Steve wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. Because he knew where the jealousy was really coming from, and he certainly wasn’t going to admit how attractive he found Eddie’s new set of pearly whites, no matter how many times Robin tried to get him to.

With everyone’s support (and curiosity), it didn’t take very long for Eddie to finally relish his adaptation into an immortal being either. They’d determined that the sun was hard on him—it made him feel sluggish and itchy, “like Kryptonite"—but he didn’t burst into flame under its rays. Usually he just wore sunglasses and carried around an umbrella like an old-timey gentlewoman who didn’t want to accidentally gain a freckle.

Eddie had been a night-owl before, anyway, so nothing much had really changed there either. Silver didn’t hurt him, mirrors still worked on him, and garlic only made him sneeze. No one was willing to check if a wooden stake would do anything, and Eddie seemed as glad of that as Steve was. Other than the commanding an army of bats, invulnerability, and the obvious diet changes, Eddie didn’t seem all that different.

It was driving Steve wild.

The simplest of flirtatious remarks sent him into a tailspin most days. And Eddie was full of flirtatious remarks by default. The more Steve let on that the flirting flustered him, the more elaborate Eddie got with it.

Eddie’s retelling of his and Steve’s escape from the hospital became more embellished, as well. Steve didn’t exactly know what had happened before he’d arrived to visit that morning, but he was pretty sure it didn’t involve a ravenous Eddie hanging upside down from the hospital ceiling to avoid being caught out of bed while he looked for the blood bank, like Eddie claimed.

Once, he was regaling Will and Dustin with his harrowing journey down into the basement on the “hunt for blood,” as he stood on top of the coffee table in Steve’s living room. (Steve did not have it in him to object to this, a bit of a double standard that Robin mocked him mercilessly over.) Steve was only half paying attention—he’d been there, thank you very much, he remembered what actually happened—from the kitchen while dumping a bag of chips into a bowl.

He perked up though when Eddie said, “Steve was pitifully flirting with a nurse for my benefit—“

“Hey!” Steve protested as he made his way back to the living room. He shoved the bowl into Eddie’s chest and flopped on the sofa next to Will. “She was into it.”

“I could tell your heart wasn’t in it, sweetheart,” Eddie said, and shot Steve a wink. It was so simple, barely even a blip on anyone else's radar, but it had Steve feeling heated through.

Steve tried not to melt into the floor as Will gave him a sideways glance. He did his best to ignore it. The last thing he needed was for someone other than Robin to needle him about his ridiculous behavior.

That particular desire was quickly snuffed out by one Dustin Henderson, though.

———

One day in May, Dustin cornered Steve on their way out of the Henderson house.

“Do you have a problem with Eddie?” Dustin asked him, point blank in his hallway. Steve was suddenly very grateful that Claudia was not at home at the moment.

“No?” Steve couldn’t help but let it become a question. Dustin narrowed his eyes.

“Well, it seems like you do. All you ever do is stare at him, you barely talk, you act like you’re going to jump out of your skin if he even looks at you. Are you afraid of him or something?” Dustin’s face softened, like he was trying not to be quite as harsh as usual. There was still a fierceness there, though, that Steve knew was just born of protectiveness over Eddie.

“No,” Steve replied without hesitation. “Even though you might think that’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to have to our friend the newborn vampire, I’m not afraid of him.”

“Well that’s just it!” Dustin half-yelled, throwing his hands in the air. He just barely missed clipping Steve’s nose. “He’s our friend, but you’re back to treating him like some kind of freak. So if you’re not afraid of him, I’d like to know why you’re being a dick.”

Steve flinched. Dustin wasn’t outright saying it, but he got the implication all the same; you’re acting like King Steve again.

He so violently wanted to reject the accusation that he considered telling Dustin the truth.

It wasn’t like Dustin didn’t accept queer people. He knew about Robin now—thank god—and practically mooned over her for weeks with how cool he found it. Steve was pretty sure Dustin wouldn’t react any differently to finding out he was also a member of the fruit basket, as Robin had dubbed them.

Steve took in the sheer disappointment on Dustin’s face and sighed. He retreated into the living room and plopped on the couch, restlessly running his hands through his hair. Tews came up to him and rubbed her cheek against his pant leg. He gratefully scratched her ears.

Steve knew if he just admitted to the jealousy, Dustin would feel better, but wouldn’t entirely lose that kicked-puppy look. ‘I just want my dads to get along,’ he’d taken to whining whenever he felt like Steve and Eddie weren’t bonding to his specifications. Steve tried not to spontaneously combust each time any of the kids referred to him and Eddie as such.

Fuck it, Steve thought. He knew Dustin would latch on to his confession like Dart with a Three Musketeers, and Steve dreaded the conclusions he’d jump to. But he couldn’t stand to disappoint the kid. He took a deep breath in as Dustin sat beside him. For once, he’d kept his mouth shut instead of berating Steve into submission. He waited patiently, quiet.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Steve said again. “I don’t think he’s a freak. I’m not turning back into King Steve.” He gave Dustin a pained look, who had the grace to look a bit sheepish in response. “I like him, okay?”

“You don’t seem like you—“

“No, Dust,” Steve interrupted. He held Dustin’s gaze this time, hoping he’d connect the dots without too much explanation on Steve’s part. “I like him. I stare and barely talk and tense up because he makes me nervous. But in the butterflies in your stomach kind of way, not the oh god he’s going to kill us all in our sleep kind of way.”

Dustin stayed silent, but his eyes were wide as saucers. Steve wondered if he should give himself a pat on the back for rendering Dustin Henderson speechless for possibly the first time ever.

“You okay?” Steve asked instead, picking at his pant leg. Steve was nearly certain Dustin wouldn’t care that he was bisexual, sure. But he couldn’t help but worry that Dustin still wouldn’t approve—that Steve wouldn’t be good enough, not for Eddie, not in Dustin’s eyes.

Dustin had a knack for surprising Steve, though.

“This is amazing,” he said, eyes practically fucking sparkling with delight.

[PART TWO]

[kiiwiigii]

Night-Time Reading

Alec x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are having a rough day managing your POTS/CFS. All you want to do is relax and Alec is there to help.

Warnings:

Fluff! Nothing but tooth rotting fluff.

Word Count: 400+

Requested?: Yes!

So I'm going through a really rough time, I'm disabled (pots and CFS) and my cfs is acting up badly cause school started and I've been so busy I haven't had a break period, constantly walking and running and being busy. now I have a three day weekend so my body is letting myself feel the consequences of pushing myself too far, so I was wondering if I could suggest some comfort? Alec with a mate that either has cfs or just has some symptoms and just him keeping them as comfortable as possible while they're in pain Common symptoms (including the ones I'm going through) - joint pain (I can barely go up stairs and walk -extreme temp fluctuations (really hot to really cold quickly) -brain fog (brain is foggy. I'm too weak to open a bottle of coke so I left it open and while talking I tipped it over and forgot it was open) -migraines/headaches -sore throat -trembling -really tired but can't fall asleep and/or sleeps for a really long time Thank you for listening 🫶🏼 -🦊

A/N: Hey nonny! I am so, so sorry it has taken me this long to write this. Honestly, I was (and still am I suppose) intimidated to write this, simply because these illnesses are not something I am not even remotely familiar with. But I also want to thank you because it's a good writing exercise for me. I'm also sorry that you're having such a rough time. I can't even imagine. So here's a fic, just for you, darling. I hope you're feeling better.

Another A/N: So the wonderful and amazing @alecvolturi did an amazing edit of Alec reading the first bit of The Hobbit. Please give it a listen as you read. It's PERFECT.

Miserable.

I was fucking miserable.

It began just by sitting up. I could feel the migraine building, and I was already in the throws of a hot flash. It didn't help that the pain in my joints was flaring up again.

It was 3 a.m. and I was already this close to crying. I couldn't remember the last time that I had a proper nights sleep. I just wanted one day, one day where I didn't have to be in pain or worry that any movement I made would set off a whole other series of symptoms, all of which almost all of them were painful.

"Darling?" Alec was next to me, his cold hands running over my heated skin, trailing goosebumps behind in his wake.

His hands were a sweet, cool balm on my flushed skin. It gave me a little relief. I leaned into him, enjoying the cold. His lips pressed to my forehead.

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

"7 to 8." I mumbled.

One would think with how long that I've lived with this disease that I would have a high pain tolerance. That couldn't be further from the truth. I could already feel a few tears slipping from beneath my lashes. I just wanted something to make the pain go away.

I whined as Alec disappeared, only to reappear with my meds and a bottle of water a moment later.

"Here, drink." He handed me the pills and water, and I took them gratefully. He pulled the comforter from the floor where I had kicked it off, bundling it back up on the bed for us to lay down on. He then grabbed my phone, pulling up my favorite playlist, the one he made for me to help me calm down when I felt like shit. The music started flowing through the speaker near my bed at a low volume.

"What book, darling?" His eyes were already scanning my bookshelves.

"Uhm…" I blinked back at him slowly, trying to process what he said.

"How about The Hobbit?"

"Perfect." I rasped with a small smile.

He was next to me again in a flash, his back against the headboard as he pulled me gently to him, a pillow already ready in his lap.

"In the hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit." His voice lilted over me, and I felt myself begin to relax as his hands gently ran through my hair and along my neck.

The fine mist that signaled the use of his gift began to unfurl from his fingers and I felt myself begin to numb. The first time he had done this it had been disconcerting, but now I welcomed it with relish. A small reprieve from the pain. I smiled to myself, letting my eyes slip closed as I listened.

Then finally, sleep came for me.

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[successblueprints]

So, I woke up late again. My 50 alarms went off, but instead of jumping out of bed, I hit snooze too many times. Now, the day feels ruined before it even starts. I have so much to do, but the more I think about it, the less motivated I feel. My focus is gone, and instead of being productive, I’m scrolling through social media or just zoning out. It’s like waking up late sets the tone for the whole day. And it turns out, it actually does—there’s science behind it.

Why Does This Happen?

According to research, when you wake up late, your body’s internal clock, or circadian rhythm, gets out of sync. This is called delayed sleep-wake phase disorder, and it affects everything from your focus to your mood. Waking up later than planned disrupts your routine, messes with your discipline, and makes it harder to concentrate, leading to less productive days overall.

How Can You Fix It?

If you want to stop waking up late and regain control over your day, here are a few tips:

1. Set a Consistent Sleep Routine: Going to bed and waking up at the same time every day, even on weekends, helps stabilize your internal clock.

2. Limit Screen Time Before Bed: Blue light from your phone or computer can mess with melatonin production, which is the hormone that helps you fall asleep

3. Use Morning Light Exposure: Getting sunlight in the morning helps reset your internal clock and makes it easier to wake up on time.

4. Make Snoozing Harder: Place your phone or tablet across the room, preferably with the loudest, most cringe-worthy alarm you can find. I like closing my tablet case and putting it away, so when it goes off, I’m embarrassed enough to get up and turn it off.

But What If You Still Wake Up Late?

Even if you sleep in, the day isn’t completely ruined. Here’s how you can still turn things around:

1. Set a 5-Minute Timer: Start by committing to just 5 minutes of work on any task. You’ll see that once you get started, it’s not as bad as you thought. Afterward, take a short breather and give yourself some positive talk—then do another 5 minutes.

2. Prioritize Your Tasks: Focus on one or two important things for the day. This way, even if you’re behind, you’re still making progress on what matters most.

3. Forgive Yourself: Don’t dwell on the fact that you woke up late. Instead, accept it and shift your focus to what you can still do with the rest of the day.

4. Time Block: Organize your tasks into chunks of time. For example, dedicate 30 minutes to one task and then take a short break. This gives structure to the rest of your day, even if it started late.

What If You Still Can’t Get Yourself to Do It?

When you wake up late, it's like your inner child is throwing a tantrum, refusing to focus. But you’ve got to turn that tantrum off, remind yourself that the day isn’t over, and get to work. You don’t have time to argue with distractions—you’ve got things to achieve.

Breaking Tasks Down Even Smaller: Instead of thinking about the entire task, just focus on the very first step.

Starting with Something Easy: Sometimes tackling the easiest thing first can create momentum.

Doing Something Active: Go for a walk or stretch to reset your mind before trying again.

Note from me: It’s a bit of a bittersweet moment today. Maybe I barely studied and it freaked me out, but instead of getting stuck in that panic, it pushed me to dig deeper, do the research, and come up with solutions to help not just myself, but other people dealing with the same struggles. So, even if today didn’t go as planned, it inspired something bigger—a better plan for the future, and hopefully, a little help for anyone else going through the same thing. ^-^

[fandoms-writings]

“It’s okay to break.” - “I’m not going to break.” with my baby Bucky please 🥺💜

Mir 🥺 I had to hold myself back from making this longer 🤍

“Bucky?” You called from where you stood on his doorstep. You wanted to check on him, to make sure he was okay after that last mission.

You all knew the risks of taking him on that one, infiltrating not just any hydra base, but the one you learned he was held in. The mission was a success - you brought the building to rubble and ash for him - but after, he was quiet and reserved. More than usual.

When you’d gotten back to the compound, he silently walked off towards his room even though it was routine procedure to get checked by Cho’s nurses after any mission. You gave him some time, but when dinner came and went and he still hadn’t shown face, you decided to check on him.

So here you were, knocking on his door at almost midnight, trying to get a glimpse just to make sure he was alright with a plate of food from the dinner he’d missed. You listened for any sort of shuffling movement on the other side while the cold tile of the hall seeped into your bare toes.

You raised your hand to knock again when the handle jiggled before turning. The door pulled back to reveal a solemn looking Bucky on the other side and your heart sunk into your stomach.

“Hey,” you tried to give him a small smile, a tilt of your lips really, and he tried to give one back, but his lips barely moved.

“You missed dinner,” you muttered, slowly holding the plate up so he would notice it. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m good,” he tried to claim, but right after his stomach growled so loud you could hear it from where you stood three feet away.

You tried to hold in your giggle as he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut before stepping aside.

“Alright fine, maybe I’m a little hungry,” he stated as he held his hand out to motion for you to come in.

You sat with him while he slowly ate, mostly just pushing the food around his plate, disinterested.

“Are you okay?” You asked once he’d put the rest of the food in his fridge. “I know today must’ve been a lot for you, emotionally.”

“I’m fine,” he claimed, sitting across from you on his small couch.

“You know it’s okay if you’re not right? It’s okay to break.”

“I’m not going to break,” he looked over at you, the first time since he’d let you in and you could see the raging mix of emotions swimming in his eyes. “I just needed some time to think.”

“Okay, but still. Just know it’s okay. You don’t have to be this strong man who doesn’t let stuff get to him. And if you ever need to talk, you can always talk to me. Whatever you tell me remains locked in here,” you pointed to your heart. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

He huffed somewhat of a short laugh at that and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. There was a sort of pride surging through you at getting him to crack just a little.

“I might take you up on that,” he looked down at his clasped hands for a moment before looking back at you. “Go get some shoes on.”

Your back straightened and you raised your eyebrows. “Why?”

He stood from the couch, holding a hand out to pull you up, “I was thinking we could go get milkshakes at the diner down the street. I’ll spill my secrets to you but only over sweets.”

Come join me for a drabble weekend!

Come join me for a drabble weekend!