#especially the memories question like it’s the heart of the series that it’s impossible to know the answer to Daniel’s tuvix problem

[weather-mood]

So for the bubblegum series will we ever know if Daniel chooses the vampire thing and if he decides to get his memories back?

No, sorry! It’s deliberately open ended and that won’t be resolved. There will probably be more various oneshots but no answers on that front!

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

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[rmadridcore]

Between Us - Part 1

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian have been inseparable friends for years, but when unspoken feelings bubble to the surface, everything changes.

Word Count: 2.5K

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

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Author's note: Hi! Omg this feels so surreal. I have been planning to start writing for the longest time and I can't believe I managed to finally get to it. This is my very first fic so I would LOVE to hear all of your opinions, I’m open to your feedback 🩷 Also, english is not my first language but I’ll try my best to make sure there are no errors. There will be more parts to come shortly. I have the second part almost finished and I’m planning for it to be 3 or 4 part series with a possible epilogue. Anyway, have a nice read and please tell me what you guys think! 🫂 P.S my messages are always open if you have any questions or if you would just like to chat 💌

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“What are these for?” Kylian yells playfully as he roams around your room, inspecting everything with the curiosity of a child. His voice echoes from the bathroom doorway, where you're busy applying the finishing touches to your makeup. Turning around slightly, you see him holding up an eyelash curler, a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s used to curl your eyelashes,” you respond absentmindedly, focused on perfecting your eyeliner. Kylian squints at the strange device, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“Looks like a garlic press,” he snorts, placing the curler back down on the cluttered sink, where your makeup is messily scattered.

He’s been wandering aimlessly around the room for what feels like hours, clearly bored and restless as he waits for you to get ready for the charity gala. He’s always waiting, never complaining, even when you take your time. It’s something about Kylian that never fails to surprise you — the effortless patience he has when it comes to you.

You leave the bathroom, stepping into the room where he’s perched on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the fluffy blanket as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s dressed to perfection in an all-black designer suit, looking like he stepped straight out of a high-fashion photoshoot. The way the suit hugs his broad shoulders and the glimmer in his eyes when he sees you makes your heart flutter.

“You look stunning,” he says with a proud smile, his voice soft but sure. The blush creeping up your cheeks is impossible to hide, and he notices, grinning even wider.

“We don’t have to stay until the end,” he reassures you as you both settle into the backseat of the sleek black car waiting outside. He knows you too well, senses your discomfort at the idea of a long night surrounded by the elite. “We’ll stay for dinner, make our appearance, and we can leave whenever you want.”

His thoughtfulness touches you deeply. He knows how much you dislike these events — how they’re filled with pretentious people who only show up to flaunt their wealth. But you endure it, for him, and somehow that means more to him than he ever lets on.

You’ve known Kylian forever, since you were six and his mom invited yours to bring you to his seventh birthday party. The memories are blurry, but the birthday card you gave him that day still sits in his drawer. Unbeknownst to you, it’s one of his most cherished possessions.

As Kylian’s fame grew over the years, with him moving to Monaco and becoming a global star, you stayed in touch. He made sure of it. It wasn’t easy, especially as your feelings for him began to deepen, becoming more complicated and overwhelming. Falling in love with your best friend, a best friend who is adored by millions and surrounded by beautiful women, felt like the cruelest twist of fate.

It was a secret you carried alone, a burden that weighed on your heart every time you saw him with someone else. The girls that threw themselves at him didn’t seem to bother him; in fact, he enjoyed the attention. And why wouldn’t he? Kylian was magnetic, and you couldn't blame them for wanting him. What hurt most was knowing you could never compete with that — not when he saw you as just his best friend.

“I’m very glad you could make it. We’re always so happy to see you here,” a man across the dinner table says warmly to Kylian after you both take your seats. Kylian responds politely, his charm ever-present, before the man’s eyes land on you.

“I see you’re here with company. Would you care to introduce your beautiful lady to us?”

Kylian’s arm drapes casually over the back of your chair, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder.

“This is Y/N, my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

The man chuckles, embarrassed, and offers an awkward apology. Kylian laughs it off, but the words linger in your chest, twisting something deep inside. His best friend. That’s all you’ve ever been, no matter how many times he brings you as his date to these events, holds your hand, or tells you how beautiful you look. Each gesture feels like an evil tease, a reminder of what you want but can never have.

You watch him as he chats with the guests, his side profile as striking as ever. His sharp jawline, the curve of his nose, the way his eyes light up when he’s animated. To the world, he’s handsome, charismatic, sexy. But to you, Kylian is beautiful, in every sense of the word. It’s not just his looks; it’s the kindness in his heart, the way he smiles, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“Are you comfortable? We can leave whenever you want,” Kylian leans in to whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine as it brushes against your ear. It’s such a simple question, but the intimacy of the moment makes your pulse race. How you long for him to whisper sweet nothings, to share his thoughts with you and only you.

“No, I’m fine. We can stay a little longer. I heard the dessert’s supposed to be amazing,” you whisper back, earning a soft chuckle from him.

After dessert, most of the guests get up to mingle, dance, or grab drinks. You excuse yourself from the table, telling Kylian you’re headed to the bar for a cocktail. He offers to come with you, but you decline, not wanting to interrupt his conversation.

You order a Mimosa and settle on one of the stools, enjoying a rare moment of solitude when a voice breaks your thoughts.

“Hey,” says a deep voice beside you. You glance over to see a blonde guy, probably in his late twenties, with a genuinely sweet smile.

“I haven’t seen you here before. People who attend these things are usually regulars,” he says with curiosity.

You smile politely, a little taken aback by the sudden conversation. “I’m here with a friend. His foundation is involved.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you call Kylian your friend. Even though it’s the truth, it feels like a lie.

The blonde introduces himself as Louis, and you exchange small talk. He’s polite and charming, though the jokes he cracks don’t quite make you laugh the way Kylian’s do. You’re pleasantly surprised at how easily the conversation flows, but when he asks if you’d like to dance, you glance at your empty glass and decide it’s time to return to the table.

Back at the table, Kylian is chatting with a seven year old boy, Leo, who you remember from a party at his parents’ house Kylian has brought you to about a month ago. You greet Leo with a huge smile, and the boy rushes over to give you a hug, his small arms wrapping around you tightly. Kylian watches the interaction with a proud grin, his eyes twinkling with affection.

After chatting with Leo about his football obsession, his new kitten called Sushi and his annoying grammar teacher at school, his parents came to say goodbye and head home, as Leo’s bedtime was getting closer.

“How was your cocktail?” Kylian asks once Leo and his parents leave.

“Delicious,” you reply with a grin. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah. I’m on my best behavior tonight,” he says, leaning his cheek on his hand, his gaze locked on you.

The way he’s looking at you, through his long lashes, eyes full of warmth, almost makes you lose your composure.

The amount of self-control you've developed over the years, thanks to him, is staggering. There have been countless moments when you've had to stop yourself from plastering kisses all over his face, from giving in to the overwhelming desire that courses through you every time you’re near him. It’s beyond your ability to count how many times you've held back.

If only he knew how you dream about the taste of his lips, how you’ve imagined his touch in ways he could never guess. Sometimes, the urge to shout your love for him feels almost unbearable. To tell him, without hesitation, how much he means to you, how deeply you care, how profoundly he has changed your life. You’ve fantasized about spilling everything, about finally unburdening your heart of the love that’s been trapped inside for so long.

Maybe, just maybe, if you told him, you could breathe again. You could sleep peacefully, without the weight of unspoken emotions suffocating you at night. If you could just embrace these forbidden feelings, let them free, maybe you wouldn’t feel so lost, so torn between what you have and what you desperately want.

But no. Kylian has helped you build up an incredible amount of self-control, without even realizing it. He’s made you master the art of restraint, but in doing so, he’s also kept you from building the courage you need to tell him the truth. To risk everything, even if it means losing him forever.

And that’s a risk you’re still too afraid to take.

The night passes, and as guests begin to leave for the after-party, you and Kylian head to the car.

“You can go to the after-party if you want,” you offer sincerely. “I don’t mind going home alone.”

“I’d rather come home with you,” he says, stopping in his tracks to hold the car door open for you.

You hesitate, but his insistence is genuine. No matter how many times you’ve told him it’s fine for him to go out without you, he never does. He always chooses you.

“You know that if you keep asking, it won’t change anything, right?” Kylian grins as he playfully nudges your side. “I’m your permanent plus one for quiet nights at home. Get used to it.” He opens the car door for you with a flourish, always the gentleman. You roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but inside, your heart is doing a victory dance. Another cozy night in with him — it’s everything you secretly want.

The drive back is calm, filled with the comfortable silence that exists between two people who have known each other forever. It’s a silence that speaks louder than words, a silence that tells you neither of you needs to fill the gaps. Kylian’s presence is enough to bring you peace, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Memories flood your mind, like that one time after a particularly tough match. Kylian had come straight to your apartment, his face heavy with disappointment. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly what he needed. He had flopped onto your couch, resting his head in your lap as you softly stroked his hair. For hours, he laid there in silence, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing. You didn’t offer words of comfort because he didn’t need them, he just needed you.

It’s moments like those that make your heart ache. He needs you, but not in the way you want him to. To him, you’re his safe space, the person who can make the world quiet when it’s too loud. But what if you want more than that? What if you crave the noise, the chaos of love, the passion that makes your heart race?

When you arrive home, you quickly wipe off your makeup, exchanging your dress for a comfortable pair of sweats. Kylian’s already on the couch, lounging in the sweatpants he keeps in your closet for nights like these. He’s scrolling through Netflix, looking for something to watch.

“Who was the guy you were talking to at the bar?” he asks suddenly, not even looking up from the screen as you take a seat next to him.

The question catches you off guard. “What?” You blink at him, surprised. You hadn’t even realized he saw you talking to Louis. He could’ve asked about it a million times already, but why now?

“The guy at the bar,” Kylian shrugs, still trying to make it sound like a casual question, but there’s an edge to his tone.

“Oh, Louis? I just met him tonight,” you reply, playing it off like it’s nothing.

“Seems weird, that’s all,” Kylian mumbles, finally meeting your eyes. His brows are furrowed, and you can’t quite figure out why he’s bothered by this.

“We only talked for like 15 minutes,” you say with a shrug, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

Kylian says nothing for a moment, just nods and changes the subject, asking if the movie he picked is okay. You agree, and the two of you settle into your usual spot on the couch. About three minutes into the movie, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and you rest your head against his chest. His scent, fresh and familiar, wraps around you like a warm blanket.

These moments, these “friendly cuddles,” are frequent in your two decade long friendship. But to you, they mean so much more. In these fleeting moments, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that you’re not just his best friend, but something more. Ten out of ten strangers would think you were a couple, relaxing after a long day. And in these moments, you let that fantasy wash over you.

His hand moves absentmindedly, gently stroking your back. His chin rests on the top of your head, as though your bodies were designed to fit together. It feels perfect. But it’s also tragic.

Because Kylian isn’t yours. He never will be. No matter how many times you share these intimate, quiet moments, no matter how much his presence fills the empty spaces in your life, you’re always going to be his best friend. And while he never leaves your thoughts, you wonder if you ever truly cross his mind in the same way.

The movie plays on, but you’re not watching. You’re lost in the sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body against yours, and the ache in your chest that never seems to go away.

How many times have you thought about telling him? Telling him how deeply you’ve fallen for him. But the fear is always there, lurking in the back of your mind. The fear that if you tell him, everything will change. The easy laughter, the shared silences, the comforting hugs. All of it could disappear in an instant.

The movie ends, and Kylian stretches, letting out a content sigh. “That was good,” he says, still half-drowsy. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you reply with a smile, but inside, you’re screaming.

The guests at the gala had moved on to an after-party, but here you are, curled up on the couch with the one person who unknowingly holds your heart in his hands.

As you walk towards the door to go to bed, you pause, wanting to say something — anything. But the words don’t come.

And so, the night ends like all the others. With him, but not truly yours.

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[jolalibrary]

6. morning coffee

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.5k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it would be called 'the morning after'

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s hard not to smile when you open your eyes.

More so when you feel his breath on your neck, the scent of body wash you quickly remember him rubbing into your skin—the arm currently draped over your waist. The one keeping you firmly close, as though you would ever wish to be anywhere but here.

Seen, wanted and appreciated—even when he’s not entirely conscious.

The only reason you even contemplate moving from this—and the only real reason you’re awake—is that you’re desperate for the bathroom. It worsens the longer you lie there, thinking of it, the pressure on it from his forearm.

A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table tells you it’s far too early to disturb him. To wake him with a kiss and a whisper that you’ll be right back—especially when you think back to how late it was before the two of you finally whispered that you should sleep.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to.

Wanting instead to keep feeling his knuckles drag up and down your outer thigh and knee. The husk of his voice saying he should really flick the light off, even if he didn’t, instead letting you ask his favourite colour and him answering with a handful of shades you’d never remember.

Pick one, Francisco.

Mmm, not sure I can do that, baby. Too hard of a question.

Too hard to pick one thing?

Not when it’s the right thing.

Glancing over at him, fingers close to his, you swim for a moment in the memories of last night—the ache between your thighs a souvenir you can keep with you until it fades. Admiring the length of his lashes against his cheek, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips that you wish to kiss forever, as a thought—one strong and beating inside of you like your own heart—comes to you:

You don’t wish to trade this. Any of it.

Not just last night, but all of it—all of him.

But, you have to move. Even if your heart pleads with you not—eventually only doing so when your bladder twinges again in protest.

You find, slipping out from under his arm (all cautiously and carefully) is easy, until you glance back at his sleeping frame.

A calmness to him, a peacefulness. Chest and shoulder rising, face tilted ever so slightly into the plump pillow. It makes a pang of want thrum through you, one that doesn’t fade when you tiptoe back to the room and find him in a similar position.

Leaning on the wall, the one between his bedroom and en-suite, you flick your eyes to the half-open door. Spotting his bathrobe, fluffy and dark grey—flecks of white stitched in. Your throat suddenly scratchy, dry. Your body desperate for what usually fuels it when you’re up and about.

And you know you have to decide. Choose between attempting to slide back into bed or searching cupboards for coffee—both for you and him.

But you can’t stand there. Able to bet money that if he opened his eyes and found you staring, he’d one hundred per cent find it creepy.

You move when he sighs—further rolling into the space you had been moments ago. Smirking, you move, the decision made as you unhook the rope. Slowly sliding your arms into it until it’s draped over you and you’re welcomed by it: his scent.

That familiar one. The one which smells like pine cones, cedar wood and so much more. The one which had seeped into your clothes that first kiss close to your car.

And, thankfully, it only gets more intense as you step out into the hallway.

Brushing your hand over shelves as you pass, eyes lingering over the titles of books—ones about woodwork, decor and home. Fingers tracing the spines of them as you take in the photographs littered around.

Some are adorned with Luca, varying ages spanned across shelves. A tooth missing here, a gummy smile there. Some you assume are his family, and then a group of men, shirts off and standing in the middle of a dune—grinning, Frankie’s hair far shorter than it is now.

But, as you stare across his living area, you spot all the things you missed last night. The record player and the vinyls tucked on a higher shelf, placed beside crayon artwork framed in dark wood. There are mini-Lego figures in prime places, with wicker baskets containing multicoloured blocks and toys.

Then, there’s the closet near the kitchen you can’t remember from your tour—making a note to question him on later—before finally arriving at his kitchen.

And, fuck is it beautiful.

It’s all dimly lit by the early morning light flitting through the windows. Quiet, peaceful—save for the humming of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Like much of the place, the cupboards are dark, starkly contrasted by white-wash walls and pinned drawings on the fridge.

Centre-stage, and the thing you’re seeking, is his coffee machine. A sleek silver contraption that looks more complicated than you're used to. Shiny, remarkably clean.

Yet, you're determined.

Remembering his mention about his love of coffee and his preference for Cafe Bustelo. Trying to remember the rest, whether it was black drip, milk or no milk. Stroking a finger down the milk frother as you begin to piece it all together from fragments, hints he had dropped unknowingly.

Up until this point, you had found it difficult to find one thing about Frankie you didn’t like. Then you saw his kitchen layout.

Cupboard, after cupboard opened until you found the bright yellow bag. The smoky, rich smell wafting out as you tugged it close, all strong and inviting—it hooked a finger under your chin and coaxed you to spend several minutes fumbling with the machine.

Then, you hear the satisfying gurgle of brewing coffee.

Resisting the urge to break into a spontaneous dance, you opt instead to steal a momentary glance out the window. The world is stirring, its early morning canvas painted in delicate strokes of pink and orange, a serene backdrop as your gaze falls upon the garden. the worn slide of the wooden climbing frame, its sides adorned in an array of mismatched hues and haphazard brushstrokes. Your eyes begin tracing the trail of tiny handprints ascending one side, the lowest the smallest, increasing in size until halfway up. Then, at the top, larger prints that, just hours ago, you imagine were pressed against your own skin.

As a breeze blows through it, it swings multi-colour bulbs hanging, draped and swinging above. Letting your eyes sweep over the plants—the planters likely made by him, like you imagine much of the furniture outside is—suddenly spotting little figures buried into random bits of soil.  

And it makes you smile, grin—full on fucking beam.

Only letting it flicker when you’re stirred by the beep of the coffee machine, pulls you from your reverie. Fingers returning to opening cupboards, seeking mugs, almost grumbling to yourself when you feel hands on your waist.

Ones that feel right, purposeful.

“Morning.”

It’s gravelly, coated in the morning—slowly closing the door before moving back into him, your back flush to his chest.

“Good morning, Butterscotch.”

Feeling him sigh, chin resting on your shoulder, you raise your fingers to brush against his cheek.

“You trying to bring me coffee in bed?”

Turning, you rotate in his arms. Eyes briefly catching the sight of him half-naked. Before taking a full on glance to spot him in a pair of sweats, ones that sit low on his hips. One of his hands crosses over the expanse of his waist, fingers scratching at his soft stomach while you look up to see his hair all at odd angles—curls slightly frizzed from being over-toyed and ragged.

“Well, I was trying too, but...”

“Machine confuse you?”

Narrowing your eyes, his hands coming around you, you smirk. “I will not confirm or deny.”

Running his hand across his chin, he looks over you before his lips twitch. “It was a gift—the machine.”

“From you to you?”

You watch as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, poking you lightly in your side. “The coffee place near work—it was being refurbed, I offered some thoughts as I was in there all the time, so they gave it to me.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

“Do you use all of its features?”

Swallowing, he sighs. “No.”

Sliding your fingers along his jaw, nose practically touching his, you find yourself unable to break his eyes. To not want to remain pressed against the counter in his kitchen, stood barefoot in his bathrobe, coffee scents filling the air.

“I bet you know exactly how to take it apart and put it back together.”

“Baby…”

“Bet you descale it regularly, when you’re supposed to.”

Groaning at the feel of your fingers in his hair, he buries his face into your neck. “Is that making you hot for me?”

“Oddly, yes.”

Snorting against your skin, he slowly lets out a slow exhale. “I hate that I have to open the shop.”

“What would your plans be if you didn’t have to?”

Smirking, he groans—low, barely reaching the surface, but it vibrates through you all the same. “I would for one have convinced you the bedroom was far more comfortable.”

“Hmm, tempting.”

Laughing, he pecks your lips, not moving from his place in front of you, even if his head moves back. “I like that you smell like me.”

“Territorial, noted.”

Turning, he points to the mugs, as you begin pouring the coffee—handing him one as his fingers brush yours.

“I just… I liked that you stayed.”

“Stayed or showered with you and let you see where soap suds go?”

Tilting his chin down, his eyes burn into your soul—all wide, brown, desperate to swallow you whole. “If I remember right, you were also seeing where soap suds go.”

Shrugging, you smirk against the mug, noting his finger resting on the knot of the belt—the one protecting your modesty. “Well, it would be rude to not watch the show.”

“A show? Glad I put on my best moves then,” he replies, voice all low, a hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

You find it hard not to let your mouth become slack, breath hitching at the act.

“Glad it persuaded you to stay?”

Raising an eyebrow, you try to find something smart to say. Ticking. Whirring away. But then you see it.

Ever-present, hanging there—that worry in his eye. A look which half-pleads for you to pinch him and let him know it’s real. A thing you do as you clutch your coffee in one hand, avoid melting at his words and cup his cheek with the other.

The fabric of his robe-sleeve slides down and his breath flutters warmth against your wrist.

“You didn’t need to persuade me. I wanted to wake up in your arms…”

It’s smooth, the way one of his fingers undo the belt, body coming close as you place the mug down and feel his hands, all rough and worn, sliding over your hips. He's cautious to ensure his chest covers yours, as though attempting to keep you warm, concealed.

“—Plus, I really wanted to try your coffee. But, now I want to steal your coffee and bathrobe.”

His laughter trickles out and draws out against you. Frankie’s head shaking, wearing a large smile on his lips, “Well, I think I can come to some arrangement to let you.”

Sucking in a breath, finding his eyes locked on yours, you lean forward and kiss him. Gentle. Delicate. An assurance delivered softly as the coffee aroma continues to seep into your nose.

“I need to make you breakfast,” he whispers, mouth open, breathing the same air.

“Need, want or should?”

With a soft scoff, he leans in to capture your lips once more, whispering all three against you as his hand finds its way to the curve of your neck. Delicately tracing his fingertips over your jawline with a tantalising caress, you find yourself deepening the kiss, hungry for more. His grip on you tightens as you pull him closer, until there is no space left between you both. None that you want to be there. Desperate to be close, to have, to—

“‘m gonna make your breakfast now,” he says, voice close, pecking against your lips before his hands slide from your skin.

The loss is evident. Immediately missed.

Part of you longs to reach out, to draw him back until you feel him clutching the fabric together for you—a slightly lifted brow as you fumble for the belt, and he begins to pull things onto the counter.

Then, you watch him—tying his robe closed—half-in-awe of the meticulous way he moves around his space, grabbing things like he’s been thinking of what to make while you were busy rendered useless.

Eyes fixed on him so much, you see him pause—briefly. His gaze lingers on the coffee pot, glancing back, forcing you to laugh—a shake of your head.

"Thinking about how you’re going to miss this brilliant coffee, you know, since it’s mine now?" You quip, taking another sip of your coffee.

He turns, a pretend wounded expression on his face.

“I should confess that I’m not a nice person without my coffee," he replies, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement.

With a smile gracing your lips, you ease back against his countertop, enjoying the comforting warmth of both the freshly brewed coffee and his presence.

The sunlight continues to filter in gently, casting a soft and golden glow across the room as you pause to drink in the sight before you. Him, cooking you breakfast.

A thing you thought you could have only thought up weeks ago. His curls tousled, a charming mess.

"Selfishly then, I'll let you keep the coffee," you finally concede.

Nodding, he closes his eyes in gratitude before there’s a twitch of his lips. “Because you like me?”

“Because I really like this bathrobe—the robe is a non-negotiable."

He laughs again, shaking his head in defeat. "Fair enough, it's a deal."

“Because I look so good in it?”

“Well," he says, scratching the back of his head. “I think you look good in everything.”

Harry okay?

Yeah, he rocked up ten minutes after you drove off, was able to pick Luca up at normal time.

That’s great! Did you boys have fun?

We did. He’s really into dinosaurs at the moment so I found this craft we could do where we make dinosaurs out of paper plates.

I like making things with him, plus it’s a nice gift for his mom when I drop him off tomorrow.

So handy and crafty?

Very crafty.

And very good with your hands.

You flirt.

You had a nice day?

I got some work done which I needed to get started, and I did some yoga.

Putting all sorts of images in my head.

Says you, talking about being crafty.

Bed feels weird without you here.

Imprinted on it that quickly?

Yeah. You’re the only one that’s been in it except me, and obviously Luca.

Shut up. I cannot be.

You are.

I don’t bring people back to my house.

Ever?

Never.

Never.

Never—

You don’t think.

Not of the time. That he could be tired. Or that his son is asleep in the next room.

Fingers sliding across the screen, finding his contact, and clicking. It's pressed to your ear before you consider whether this is a bad idea. Clutching it, holding it like a lifeline, knowing it's too late. Even if you end it, he'd know, see—

It barely rings.

Two at most, one and a half being a possibility.

And you sigh.

“Fancy hearing from you.”

Pulling your knees up, your bed groans at the sudden movement as you tug the duvet closer to your chin, cheeks rising with your lips. “You’ve really not had someone in your bed?”

It’s there, the sigh. Not full of annoyance, but more like he’s said too much.

“No… I’ve not had anyone else in it but you,” he admits quietly into the phone.

“Wow.”

“And Luca, of course. I always… you sure you want to hear this?”

There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart flutter in your chest. An unexpected stroke of warmth through you at his question, at his consideration—prompting you to hug the duvet closer to yourself. A subtle smile dances across your lips as you let it wash over you.

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

Clearing his throat, you hear rustling, trying to half imagine if he’s turning over in bed, if he’s getting more comfortable—

“If I met someone, I didn’t… I only went to theirs.”

Biting your lip, you shift in your seated position, crossing your legs. “So, lunch and then theirs?”

“No lunch.”

“Coffee?”

Silence. Thick, ear-eroding silence. Before he breathes. “It would be a one-night thing and I wouldn’t stay.”

Oh. Your hand slides around your knee, trying not to grin too much. It's all far too easy to get ahead of yourself, to think too much. To run away and begin thinking this means more than it does. But, then—

“So, I’m…”

“Yeah.”

There’s more you want to ask, them sitting there, burning a hole in your tongue. Practically desperate to erode it, possibly poison it all—as questions sometimes do.

“And here I was thinking I was just another notch on your bedpost,” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, sweet.

He laughs then, a sound that makes you wish you were there with him, instead of miles apart in your own cold bed. “Not at all, baby.”

Toes twitching in your bed, you let out a breath. Sliding your legs out straight, slowly folding yourself down to the mattress, lying on one side as you hold the phone.

And you confess your own.

The reason you’re single, the reason you bought a house.

It rolls and falls, slipping with far too much ease into the air from your mouth. A burden-shifting, a weight from your shoulders lessening. The admission undoing the tightness around your chest as you continue to let the past be told in the present.

You don’t cry. Don’t even feel yourself well up. An improvement, a shift and change in you that you’re sure is brought on entirely by Frankie. On occasion, you hear movement from his side and the briefest whisper of your name. Not in pity—never in pity—just in understanding, in comfort.

“So, I’m the first—“

“Yes, Morales. You’re the first person to ask me out in a long time, big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal.”

Smirking, you twitch your toes. “In a few more dates I might confess that it is.”

“But not right now?”

Grinning, you bite your lip. “Feels like it would inflate your head, Francisco.”

More rustling comes down the phone before you hear a deep sigh. “Maybe. Are you in bed?”

“I am.”

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Is it weird to admit I miss you?”

“Not if it’s weird if I say I miss you too.”

You swear you hear him smile. That soft exhale he does dusts over your ear as he breathes your name, before adding, “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

A comfortable silence flows out, spreading as you listen to him breathe.

“Want me to tell you my favourite dinosaur?”

You don't fight the laughter that rings out around your bedroom

Sunday tiptoes in with the slightest spring in its step.

With a gentle stretch, you reach for the familiar weight of your phone, heart already skipping ahead of your groggy mind.

There's a flutter of excitement, it mixing with a hint of nerves as you wonder if he's reached out yet. Because it's silly to be excited at the idea that he has, to be giddy at the thought of him thinking of you in this quiet morning hour.

It feels almost teenage-like.

But when your screen lights up you don't care what it is, because there’s little point fighting the grin. The pure eclipsing smile that smothers tiredness and makes your cheeks hurt instantly.

Enjoying my morning coffee feels different without a robe-wearing thief.

Rolling onto your front, the duvet sliding down your back, you dig your elbows into the mattress and run your tongue across your teeth.

Good morning to you too. If there’s coffee left, expect me in half an hour. Unless you fancy getting some with me?

Even if it feels like minutes, his reply arrives in seconds.

Instantly illuminating your phone against the backdrop of your pillow, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips.

Always. But I’m thinking brunch might be better?

Grinning, you fight a giggle. Teeth biting down on your lip as your thumbs type at record speed.

Can’t wear the bathrobe there. No, not really. But, I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry. Promise? Pinky promise. Brunch it is. I'll pick you up.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[valentinetypewriter]

Me And My Husband - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Main masterlist // marauders era masterlist

Taglist: @rainychaosmiracle

(Let me know if you want to be apart of the tag list)

Word count: 2,549

Remus had finally let go of Sirius after said boy had started to calm down, though he kept his hands on his upper arms for comfort. "Sirius please talk to me, what the hell was that about" Remus was always soft spoken, it almost seemed impossible for it to get even softer but he always managed when he tried to comfort people. "You wouldn't understand Remus, it's just my family, it's always them" more tears leaked down the shorter boys face, his voice cracking a bit when he spoke. Remus pulled Sirius closer to himself, rubbing his hand up and down the crying boys back "then explain it to me so I can understand it" Sirius let out a weak nod in response "alright but I can't speak about it here".

The two boys had made their way back to their dorm room, of course after Remus had made up an excuse to the rest of his friend that he wasn't feeling very well. Though no one thought to question it, the young Werewolf seemed to always be sick every other week. Sirius sat on the edge of his bed with Remus, though never looking up to make eye contact with the taller boy, he was too embarrassed to do so. Sirius started his explanation with a soft sigh "it all started during the middle of our break, after I went back home from the Potter's". The memory was still fresh to Sirius, it had kept him awake many nights since it happened.

~Flashback~

Sirius had kept to himself since getting back home, wishing he could just spend the rest of the time with James, or even his other friends. He was especially not excited about today, his mother Walburga had invited over a friend of hers, and she of course told him that he'd be meeting them. Sirius was never happy to meet any of his parents' friends, they were always just like them, strict blood purists that stuck up their noses at him. He was dreading the moment his mother would call for him, he was dressed up nicely, being told it was an important occasion and he hated it. When Walburga finally called him down he wasn't expecting to see someone from Hogwarts staring at him, no he was expecting some old wrinkly pureblood that looked something like a ghost.

Sirius didn't know her name, nor did he care too. All he knew was that she was in Slytherin and best friends with her little brother, who of course was already sitting by her. He walked over to his mother holding out his hand to introduce himself "this is my eldest son Sirius, the one we talked about" his mother spoke for him, she always did, but he dreaded the thought of his mother talking about him to her 'friends' he could only expect the worst. Though the older woman in front of him just smiled as she shook his hand "well I hope he is as lovely as you described him to be, I'm M/n l/n" he smiled back at her although very confused, his mother had said something good about him to this woman, something she had never done before. "This is my daughter Y/n, I believe you're both starting your last year at Hogwarts" the mentioned girl nodded her head at Sirius as a small greeting. "Now Sirius since you'll be graduating your father and I thought it would be a good idea for you to start courting a member of a well respected pure-blood family, and luckily M/n here had the same thing planned for her daughter".

The world suddenly stopped for Sirius, his heart sinking down into his gut. The sickening swirl in his stomach kept building until a mess of words almost started spewing out of his mouth, though one harsh look from his mother kept him quiet. Sirius had no idea what to or do, so he stood still staring at the girl his parents wanted him to marry, only looking away when Walburga brought over a dark green velvet box. She handed it to the small girl Sirius was starting to despise, she grabbed it with a small and a quiet "thank you Mrs Black". She opened it and pulled out a beautiful and large ring, it was silver with crystal stars around the band and a stunning Emerald in the centre, it was so beautiful and it made him sick.

Walburga slipped the ring onto the young girl's finger as her face faltered, she seemed almost scared of the tall woman in front of her. Walburga then beckoned over her son, slipping on the dark steel ring with a similar star pattern onto his ring finger. "You'll make such a lovely addition to the family Y/n" Y/n just gave the woman a soft smile "oh and don't worry we have everything already planned for the big day, it will be a week after the two of you graduate" M/n spoke with a gleeful tone. The two Teenagers would never know but at that moment they were thinking the exact same thing, a wish to be younger. The threat of adulthood and an arranged marriage would be looming over their heads for the entire year, so they had to make the most of their last free year.

~Flashback over~

At this point Remus had his arm thrown over Sirius's shoulder, rubbing his thumb up and down to comfort the miserable boy "they've dictated my entire life, how I dressed, how I acted, who I spoke to, even tried to decide what house they wanted me to be in" Sirius let out an angry huff before continuing "and now I can't even choose who I fall in love with, I mean I'm to be married a week after we graduate! I wanted to do things with my life, like travel the world, have more fun with my friends before ever thinking of settling down with a wife and kids!" small tears welled up in his eyes the more worked up he became "God and I hate looking at her, and that stupid ring, it just reminds me of what waits for me after graduation" tears were now rushing down his face as he let out broken sobs "I'm sorry Sirius, I'm sorry this is happening to you, that I can't help you, love shouldn't be something that's decided for you, you both deserve to fall in love with someone you care about" Remus held on tighter to Sirius as tears streamed down the boys face. "Though she doesn't mean any harm to you, like she said she doesn't want this either, she's only wearing it to keep her parents pleased" Remus hesitated slight before he continued speaking "and I don't blame her, I wouldn't want your parents finding out that you aren't wearing it, and I don't trust Regulus enough not to tell them. It's just a suggestion, only so you don't get into any trouble" he had a soft smile as he spoke and Sirius could just tell he cared about what he was saying. Comfort from Remus always felt sincere and true, it never felt demeaning or horrid in any way, it made Sirius feel safe.

~timeskip~

After their talk Sirius had thought more about what Remus had said and he was right though, Sirius would rather die than have his parents find out he wasn't wearing the ring. So he had actually decided to wear it, it wasn't unusual for him. He often wore multiple rings at once, so no one would think to question it. Remus on the other hand had tried his luck in finding Y/n, he wanted to talk to her and properly apologise for overhearing their conversation yesterday, he started looking for her in more obvious places. Like the Great Hall, the Courtyard and even The Black Lake, where more introverted students would relax but Y/n had been in none of those places. Remus was starting to lose hope, so he decided to go to the library planning on looking into a spell that would help them with their upcoming prank. Remus grabbed a few random spell books before residing in the back of the library where, on a good day, there weren't any people there. Unfortunately for Remus this was not a good day, sitting at his usual table was a girl, he couldn't make out much of her only the back of her head. He had planned on walking away and looking for a different seat before he noticed the finger adorned with a dark green gem. Sitting at his usual spot in the library, far away from people to have enough privacy was the girl he had spent his morning looking for.

So he mustered up enough courage to approach the Slytherin girl "Excuse me, Y/n" the mentioned girl shot her head up from her book as she seemed startled, Remus's eyes widened, hands slowly came up in front of him "sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to come and apologise about yesterday…" "and to see how you are doing" he managed to stutter out as the girl reclaimed her composure. The girl let out a mean scoff at his words, not believing the words he was saying. "I don't care and it doesn't matter, it's not like you know anything besides what you eavesdropped on" she was so rude, though Remus had a feeling it was only to push him away. "Actually Sirius told me everything" he looked straight to the ground as your face grew harsh "of course he did, can't keep his mouth shut for a second". Remus moved to sit down next to the girl, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what's happening" Y/n seemed confused at his words "why in Merlin's name would you be sorry?" she seemed to shrink in on herself as she asked. "Well, because I know how much this is killing Sirius, and I know you don't want this either" Y/n scoffed at him "it doesn't matter what I want, this is how my family has been for generations, they never get married for love". She looked down at the table, tears pricking her eyes "but that doesn't mean you deserve this" Remus put a soft hand on the girl's shoulder, her eyes shooting up to meet him as he did so.

Remus knew all too well what the look in Y/n's eyes meant. It was the same look Sirius used to give him when Remus tried to comfort him in their early years, the same look that begs for the pity to stop. It was all too overwhelming for Y/n, the burning behind her eyes as she tried so hard to not let tears fall, the sad look in Remus's eyes as he stared down at her, trying to make her feel better with his useless words. Comfort never felt good for Y/n, it always felt too demeaning, as if behind the caring facade people were really just making fun of her, it made her feel weak. "Thanks, I guess" after that Y/n rushed out of the library.

~timeskip~

Monday had finally arrived, the day the Marauders could pull off their prank on Snape. They had found the perfect spell, a sort of transfiguration spell that would last an entire day and couldn't be reversed, it was perfect. There was 15 minutes before the first class started when they found Snape, he was with a few other Slytherin students in a busy corridor. They hid themselves behind a corner as James prepared to cast the spell, a small blue spark shot out travelling towards Snape. Unfortunately some had gotten in the way, having called out to the group of slytherin students who had stopped to turn around. Even more unfortunately the blue spark that was intended for Snape had hit none other than Regulus, he had made his way over to the group with Y/n, he moved too quickly to stop what was about to happen. As they were talking Regulus felt his large oversized Slytherin sweater start to shrink in size, changing itself into a cardigan style jumper. He started shifting uncomfortably, as his clothes grew tight. The others hadn't noticed until the boy's pants had started shrinking, forming into a pleated black skirt that reached the middle of his thigh. His socks also started to rise up his legs, changing into thigh high socks. They had all stopped talking, and Regulus had started looking around, his face violently red as he noticed how many people were staring at him.

In their shocked state the Marauders had no chance to duck behind the corned, Regulus had marched over anger burning in his grey eyes. "What the hell is your problem, it's the first day and you idiots pull this shit" he was very passed off, James had tried to stutter out a response though his eyes were stuck on the younger boy's outfit. "It wasn't meant for you Regulus, we were trying to hit Snape" Sirius shot out, annoyed that their prank had been ruined "Yes because that makes it so much better brother" the young boy's face started to lighten up, going back to its usual pale colour. James was completely stunned, he had a weird feeling form in the pit of his stomach, he deemed it to just be because he wasn't expecting to hit his best friend's younger brother. And it definitely wasn't because he thought that Regulus looked incredibly attractive in a skirt and thigh highs, though James couldn't tear his eyes off of him "if it makes you feel any better you sure do make a good girl" James blurted out, pulling out laughs from his three friends. Regulus felt his face burn up again as he looked away from James. He felt humiliated, "yes you're all absolutely hilarious" he wanted to get back at them, so he did in the only way he knew how. He leant closer to Sirius so the other boys wouldn't hear him, he wouldn't know but Remus could hear everything he was saying "just so you know brother, Y/n has been awfully close with that Crouch boy since we got back, you should keep an eye on your 'property'. If she fell for someone else mother would think you aren't putting in enough effort" Sirius had instantly stopped laughing, shooting his eyes from Regulus over to Y/n, where she had been talking closely to Barty Crouch Jr. The mentioned boy had laughed at something you said, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. Regulus just smiled at the look on his brother's face, a sick sense of joy washing over him "I'm going to go and get changed now" Sirius rolled his eyes at his brother "yeah good luck with that" though Regulus seemed to ignore him. Sirius's eyes were stuck on Y/n for a few moments "Well that was a fail, let get the hell out of here" Peter had finally spoken, with that the boys had started to make their way to class.

[nerdzzone]

Worlds Apart

Chapter Five

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Series Masterlist

-----

Waking up the morning after her birthday, Bridget was immediately reminded of why tequila shots were rarely a good idea for anyone over the age of twenty-two. Her head was pounding, it felt like it weighed far more than it usually did, and even simply rolling over had her feeling like her brain was going to burst out of her skull. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, taking a few big swigs in an attempt to get rid of some of the dryness in her mouth and she was relieved when her stomach didn’t turn and immediately attempt to force it back out. She might have been a far cry from feeling her best, but she’d definitely had much worse hangovers in her life and she was grateful for that small win.

However, a wave of dread washed over her as the memories of the end of their night came back to her. Frantically grabbing her phone, she was hoping to find that the messages she remembered sending had all been a dream, but the several notifications of messages from Chris confirmed that it was all true. She was torn about whether she should read what he had to say or just assume that she’d embarrassed herself enough that he no longer wanted anything to do with her, but eventually her curiosity got the best of her and she opened their conversation.

The first thing that caught her eye was the picture of his face that popped up on the screen. He looked tired and like he’d had a very long day, but he was handsome nonetheless. The visible neckline of the t-shirt he was wearing and the soft light in the room told her that he must have sent it after he was home for the night and the timestamp confirmed her suspicions as she realized his reply had come long after she’d fallen asleep.

After staring at - and appreciating - the picture for longer than she was willing to admit, she tore her gaze away to focus on the message that accompanied it.

Sorry for the late reply, it’s been a long and busy night. Not sure my face is quite up to Paul’s standard, but who am I to deny the birthday girl?

The picture came through after that message, but it was followed by another.

I think it’s only fair that I get a picture in return though, don’t you? I have a theory that I’d like to prove and it would really help me out.

Her curiosity was piqued, but the heavy feeling of residual mascara around her eyes and the crunch of leftover hairspray in her hair despite its current out of control style had her cringing at the thought. A glance at the clock told her it was just before ten - a fact that surprised her considering her routine usually made it impossible for her to sleep after eight even on days she didn’t work or have Landon - which meant it was just after seven where Chris was on the west coast. Feeling comforted by the time difference, Bridget answered him.

A theory? What would that be?

She assumed she had plenty of time - especially if Chris was up late - to relax and freshen up before he answered, but she’d barely had enough time to snuggle back down under the blankets next to her still snoring friend and open her other unread messages of delayed birthday well wishes when a notification popped up.

I’ll explain when I get the evidence I need.

Again, her curiosity was getting the best of her as she tried to puzzle out what exactly a picture of her face could be used as evidence for. She was intrigued enough to sit up a little higher in bed and fluff her wild hair as she opened the front camera on her phone. The reflection that appeared on the screen had her dreading the thought of Chris seeing her in her current state, but there was something about the casual picture he’d sent her that made her pause just as she was about to turn her camera off. He definitely still looked great - she doubted there was ever a time when he didn’t - but it was also drastically different to the pictures she’d seen of him on the red carpet earlier that day. His hair was messy, his eyes were tired, it wasn’t a perfectly poised snapshot, and if he was willing to share that vulnerability with her then it had her thinking that maybe she should let her guard down and return the sentiment.

She ruffled her hair a little more in an attempt to shift it from unruly messy to sultry messy and leaned into the hungover look as she stared at the camera and snapped a quick picture. It absolutely wasn’t her best - definitely not a picture she would want to share all over social media - but it wasn’t entirely awful and she quickly sent it before she could change her mind, adding a disclaimer underneath the picture.

I don’t always look so rough in the morning, but I’m currently facing the consequences of drinking over the age of thirty.

Bridget tried not to let the suspense drive her insane as she stared at her phone, desperately hoping that Chris hadn’t fallen back to sleep and wouldn't leave that picture unanswered for a moment longer than necessary, but she was relieved when he once again replied almost immediately.

Haha well that’s the thing! You mentioned something about not being cute after a wild night and I couldn’t imagine that you’re ever not adorable. Turns out I’m right, you’re gorgeous even when you’re hungover.

The giddiness that his words stirred up inside her had her feeling a touch embarrassed by how easily a few sweet words could get under her skin. She felt her cheeks heat up and her smile stretching wide across her face as he seemed so genuine in what he’d said. Of course, it could have just been mindless flirting - she was sure he was well versed in how to charm a woman - but the fact that he’d remembered her offhanded comment enough to circle back to it encouraged her to believe that he was being sincere - even if she wasn’t entirely convinced he was right.

Wow, that is very generous of you to say! I’m glad I wasn’t there to see your actual horrified reaction, but thank you for being so kind.

Wrapped up in the conversation happening on her phone, Bridget hadn’t even realized that Molly was awake until a voice croaked out from the blankets beside her.

“Who are you talking to?” She questioned, her face barely visible as it peaked out from under the duvet. “The ear to ear grin on your face is blinding me.”

“Sorry,” Bridget giggled as she let her phone fall onto the bed beside her. “Well, I’m not really. It’s almost ten so you should be waking up anyway, but I was talking to Chris.”

The blanket lowered slightly as Molly poked her head out of the soft cocoon she’d buried herself in enough for Bridget to see the excitement in her eyes once again.

“You were? What did he say?”

“He was just commenting on how gorgeous I am even when I’m hungover.”

She spoke with a nonchalance that she hadn’t had when sending the picture, but the way that Molly’s eyebrow raised at that information had her biting back more giggles.

“And how would he know that?”

“Because I sent him a picture.”

“Well, that was bold of you,” Molly teased, a smug look on her face as she ventured a little further out from under the blankets just in time to hear Bridget’s indignant scoff. “Not that you don’t look super cute while you’re all ruffled and sleepy, but you must really like him if you’re feeling confident enough to send him a picture so early in the morning after one date.”

“Well, he sent me one last night when he was tired,” she admitted. “So it seemed fair to do the same.”

“That’s adorable,” Molly smiled. “You guys are already disgustingly cute.”

“Shut up,” Bridget blushed. “It’s no big deal.”

“You haven’t been on a date in five years,” Molly reminded her, finally throwing off the blanket completely as she stretched. “And now you’re exchanging selfies with someone you clearly like. That is a big deal and I’m very happy for you.”

Bridget’s first instinct was to roll her eyes, but she knew her old friend was most likely being more sincere than teasing in her excitement so she flashed her a smile instead.

“I’m happy for me too,” she admitted. “I’m really trying not to get too ahead of myself, but he seems really sweet and it’s nice to have someone that I’m excited to talk to.”

“You deserve it,” Molly assured her before adding, “And I deserve some coffee. Do you want some?”

“Yes, please,” Bridget nodded as Molly dragged herself out of bed. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

When Molly had disappeared out of the room, Bridget checked her phone and saw two more messages from Chris.

I’m not being kind, I’m being honest. You’re beautiful.

How were the birthday celebrations?

She answered quickly - not wanting to draw anymore of Molly’s well-intentioned attention to the situation - and explained briefly about her day with Landon, the dinner with her friends, and drinks with Molly before turning the conversation back towards him and asking about the premiere. She briefly wondered if she’d overshared by giving him so much detail instead of sticking to something simple like ‘it was good, thanks for asking’, but when Chris responded to her own question with just as much enthusiasm, she felt more at ease. He informed her that it had been a pretty exciting evening, but shared that he always found the big premieres to be pretty draining. He mentioned the anxiety that he struggled with before every big event and how hard it could be to get out of his own head and really be in the moment in the midst of all the chaos. He assured her that it had all worked out well in the end and been a success overall, but she appreciated his willingness to open up. There was something about Chris that made her want to let her guard down and it was comforting to know that he apparently felt the same way.

They continued their conversation throughout the morning - as Bridget cooked a big, greasy breakfast with Molly and Chris prepared for the day of press he had ahead of him - but it petered out just as Bridget headed home to shower and get some chores done before she had to head back into the city to pick Landon up from daycare. Chris was on her mind for almost the entire drive as she tried once again to understand how someone as kind, interesting, successful, and attractive as he was actually seemed to be as interested in her as she was in him, but just as she was trying to force herself to get a grip back on reality before she got carried away, she pulled up to her house and noticed the almost comically large bouquet of flowers on her doorstep.

Curious about who they could possibly be from, she hurried out of the car and as she read the card that was tucked in between the bright and beautiful arrangement, she felt her heart soar.

Happy Birthday!

Sorry for the belated gift, but everywhere was closed by the time I found out. I hope you had a great day and aren’t feeling too rough this morning.

Chris

-

In the days after her birthday, Bridget and Chris spent almost every free moment they had messaging each other. With Chris busy doing press for the movie and Bridget busy balancing work and her duties as a mom, they’d had to sneak in short conversations whenever possible but Bridget was grateful that Chris was making an effort to reach out at all. However, despite the fact that he was already exceeding her expectations for staying in touch, she had a feeling that it was about to change on the Sunday after her birthday when the press tour went international and he was heading to Beijing.

They’d texted back and forth most of Sunday afternoon after she’d dropped Landon off with his dad, but Chris had to say goodbye early in the evening to board his flight. Bridget had been determined to give him space - let him initiate the conversation so she didn’t bother him or make him feel pressured to reply to him when she knew his schedule would be pretty busy - but she caved almost as soon as she woke up the following morning. Her fingers were practically itching to text him as she opened and closed their conversation at least three times before she decided that it was only polite to send him a message. Not checking in to see if he arrived safely would be pretty rude and she quickly sent him a text before she could change her mind.

After their various conversations over the weekend, she was pretty sure that he would answer her as soon as he could. However, she wasn’t prepared for the way that her phone screen lit up less than a minute later with an incoming call from Chris. A million questions instantly started running through her mind - was it an accident? did he hit the wrong button when he saw the notification of her text? did he mean to call someone else? - but she quickly realized the only way to get any kind of explanation was to answer.

“Hello?”

Her voice was quiet and tentative as if she expected it to be a pocket dial with no one on the other end, but the sound of Chris’ chuckle floating through the phone immediately put her at ease.

“You sound tired,” he informed her. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” she assured him before pointing out, “I texted you first.”

“Good point,” he admitted. “But is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Bridget smiled. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. I was gonna text you back, but I’m pretty exhausted so I thought this might be easier.”

His admission had a frown sliding onto Bridget’s face.

“If you’re exhausted then you should get some sleep…”

“I’m trying to stay up a little longer,” he assured her. “I wanna beat the jetlag a little.”

“Oh, that makes sense. What time is it there?”

“Almost seven-thirty in the evening.”

Bridget glanced at the clock beside her bed and saw that it was also almost seven-thirty for her.

“So you’re twelve hours ahead?” She questioned, waiting for him to confirm before she asked him another question. “How was your flight?”

“It was long,” Chris sighed. “I was hoping to sleep, but it was pretty turbulent so I kept waking up.”

“I hate when that happens,” Bridget sympathized. “But if you didn’t sleep much on your way there then maybe you’ll adjust to the time difference even if you go to sleep now?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He’d tried to sound offended, but Bridget could hear the smile in his voice.

“No,” she giggled. “I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Well, thanks, but I’d rather stay awake a little bit longer,” he insisted, pausing slightly before adding, “Especially if I get to talk to you.”

The words had Bridget’s breath catching in her throat as she felt an increasingly familiar goofy grin slide onto her face.

“You’re such a charmer,” she teased, earning another chuckle from Chris. “So, do you get to bunk alone or does Marvel make you guys share rooms?”

“They’re pretty generous,” Chris admitted. “I’m not sure about everyone, but most of us get our own rooms.”

“Ah, yes, all the big superstars have to be spoiled, I guess.”

She hoped he could hear the teasing edge to her tone and was relieved when he went along with her joke.

“Yeah, well, you know what a diva I am.” The smirk in his voice was clear and Bridget bit her lip to hold back another giggle as he continued. “But it does have some drawbacks.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I hate being alone in hotel room beds,” he admitted. “They’re always so cold and stiff.”

“Are you wishing you had someone to break it in with?”

“Not like that,” Chris chuckled, grasping what she was implying. “But it would be nice to have someone to warm up with, maybe cuddle a little.”

“Yeah? And which of your co-stars were you hoping they’d make you share a room with to help you with that?”

“You’re hilarious,” Chris drawled sarcastically. “I actually had someone else in mind. How do you feel about cuddling?”

“I love it,” she confessed, feeling a wave of yearning wash over her touch starved body just at the thought of being wrapped up in his arms and pressed tightly against his side. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty physical with my affection.” The images that his words conjured up in her mind doused her in a flood of heat that was followed by a flush of embarrassment that she was clearly so desperate for any of the affection he was willing to offer. “So I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too,” Bridget smiled before boldly adding, “It’s just a shame we’re not in the same bed.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone as if Chris needed a second to process what she’d said, but just before she could mumble out an apology, he chuckled. It was a slightly darker, rougher chuckle than the lighthearted ones she’d heard earlier and the sound sent another shiver down her spine.

“That is a shame,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to suffer in this giant bed all by myself.”

Bridget laughed at the dramatic sigh that fell from his lips, but another glance at the clock had her amusement quickly replaced by disappointment.

“Sounds like quite a hardship,” she mockingly sympathized. “But unfortunately, I have to leave my nice, warm, cozy bed and get ready for work.”

“Oh, right. I’d already forgotten that it’s Monday morning for you.”

“Unfortunately,” Bridget stifled a yawn. “So I’ll let you go get some sleep.”

“Alright, I hope you have a good day.”

“Thanks, good luck with all your interviews tomorrow and have fun at the premiere.”

Chris thanked her for her well-wishes as well before they said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving Bridget to drag herself out of bed and go about her day with a smile on her face that she just couldn’t shake.

-

The first week of Chris’ travels made it difficult for them to stay in touch. The twelve hour time difference meant that one of them was always just about to start their day while the other was winding down which meant their conversations were mostly limited to brief check-ins. However, Chris still made the effort to send her a message every single day so even if the conversations were short, Bridget was content. She really hadn’t expected to hear from him more than once or twice while he was away, but now the thought of such limited contact had her stomach in knots. She knew it was silly - they still barely knew each other and he was still well within his rights to change his mind and cut their contact altogether - but he was always so eager and genuine in their conversations. She didn’t get the impression that he would be looking for an excuse to toss her aside any time soon.

She found herself sitting on the couch as Landon built a train track on the floor by her feet debating for what felt like the millionth time whether or not she was letting herself get too attached. She was willing to admit - at least to herself, not anyone else - that Chris took up more time in her mind than anything else currently did and that she looked forward to their conversations maybe a little more than she should, but it was fun and refreshing and Chris seemed just as enthusiastic as she was so that made it easier to let herself indulge.

Almost as if to prove her point, her phone lit up in her hand with an incoming facetime call from Chris. They hadn’t even spoken on the phone since the last time he’d called so she was a little surprised by the sudden shift to video, but she lifted up her phone until it was in front of her face and answered.

“Hey!” Chris grinned as his face appeared on the screen. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Bridget confirmed, matching his smile as she let her eyes drift to the small shot of herself in the corner to make sure that she looked at least somewhat presentable. “Did you make it to London?”

“I did,” he nodded. “We got in a few hours ago, but we went out for dinner to try and stay awake a bit longer.”

“You must be exhausted,” Bridget sympathized, doing the math of all the various time differences in her head. “I don’t know how you can handle bouncing through all these time zones.”

“I get used to it,” Chris shrugged. “And then sleep for a week when I get home.”

Bridget was just about to comment on how he’d earned the rest when their conversation caught Landon’s attention.

“Who are you talking to?”

“My friend, Chris,” Bridget informed him. “He’s all the way across the ocean in England right now.”

“That sounds really far…” Landon’s eyes widened as he scrambled up, standing on the couch to lean into the camera’s view. “Hi, Chris!”

“Hi, Landon!” Chris smiled. “Do you have baseball today?”

The question confused both of them for a moment until Bridget realized what Landon was wearing.

“No, not today, but Landon loves wearing his jersey,” she informed him. “I had to order a second one just to get the first one off of him long enough to wash it.”

Bridget rolled her eyes, but Landon puffed up his chest to make the logo a little more clear and Chris chuckled at his pride.

“I don’t blame him, that’s a pretty cool jersey. Are you liking baseball so far?”

“I love it,” Landon frantically nodded. “I even hit the ball sometimes! Not all the time, but sometimes I do!”

“Well, that’s better than I can do,” Chris admitted. “Usually I can’t hit the ball at all.”

“I can teach you!” Landon offered, earning a snort of laughter from Bridget at his confidence. “Maybe when I’m a little better at it.”

“That would be really fun,” Chris agreed. “I could use a good coach.”

“Landon might have to work on that a little bit more,” Bridget teased. “We were playing catch yesterday and he gave me a pretty hard time for not being able to throw very well.”

“But you were bad at it,” Landon protested over the sounds of Chris’ laughter. “I couldn’t even catch the ball!”

“Good coaches have to be patient.”

Bridget had to admit that she was embarrassingly bad at the game they’d been playing and Landon’s frustration was probably justified, but she appreciated the way he had the decency to look a little sheepish as he sighed and agreed to her criticism. However, before anything else could be said about it, a look of realization crossed over Landon’s face as he changed the subject with a lack of tact that only a four year old could get away with.

“Do you have a dog?”

The question was directed at Chris who nodded in confirmation.

“I do! You met him at the park one day, remember?”

“Yeah!” Landon grinned. “Where is he?”

“He’s not with me right now, he has to stay home when I travel.”

The sadness was clear in his voice and Bridget thought it was sweet how much he obviously missed his little companion.

“Landon loves dogs,” she explained even though she was pretty sure she’d mentioned that before. “He wants us to get one.”

“I love dogs too,” Chris agreed. “But, you know what? Dodger is staying with my sister right now and I’m sure he’d love it if you took him for a walk some time.”

The suggestion had Landon’s whole face lighting up as he blurted out an excited, “Really?!”

“Yeah,” Chris smiled. “He really misses me when I’m gone so I bet making a new friend would cheer him up a lot.”

Landon’s attention turned back to Bridget as he bounced on the couch, his excitement making it hard for him to sit still.

“Can we, Mommy? Can we, please?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bridget shrugged. “Is he with Carly?”

“Yeah, he likes being around the kids. They keep him entertained.”

“Okay, then I can text her and see if we can set up a time to borrow him,” she agreed, earning a squeal of joy from Landon before he jumped off the couch and turned his attention back to the trains. “I think you just made his day.”

“I should have suggested it sooner. I’m sure Carly won’t mind the break, but there’s no pressure if you don’t have the time.”

“I think we can find time to fit it in,” she assured him. “And hopefully it will get Landon off my back about getting him a dog for a little while so it’s a win-win.”

“Unless it just makes him want one more,” Chris pointed out with a smirk. “But you can borrow him when I’m home too if it does help.”

“Thanks, I think,” Bridget smirked. “Unless you’re just looking for some free dog sitting.”

Her teasing earned a bark of laughter from Chris as he shook his head.

“One day you’re gonna have to stop thinking the worst of me.”

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege, I’m afraid,” Bridget giggled. “But anyway, how’s London?”

“It’s good so far,” Chris shrugged, but as he launched into a little more detail about where they’d gone for dinner and the brief parts of the city that he’d actually had the chance to see that day, Bridget was struck by how natural their conversation was. Considering they’d only been on one date - maybe two, if painting her house counted as an unofficial one - it was amazing how easily they slipped into casually chatting like old friends. It felt far more like they’d known each other for years than the reality of them being virtual strangers, but Chris drew her focus back as he sleepily rubbed his eyes and admitted, “I’m tired though. I don’t feel like I’ll really be able to enjoy it here because I doubt I’ll have much energy for anything other than work, but maybe I’ll feel differently in the morning.”

“That’s understandable,” Bridget assured him, knowing how exhausted travelling always made her from the limited experience she had with it. “Have you been there before?”

“Yeah, so I’ve seen a lot of the big tourist attractions,” he admitted. “There’s a few other places I’d like to see, but nothing that I’m convinced would be worth losing sleep over.”

“I’ve never been, but I bet there’s some amazing libraries,” Bridget mused wistfully before she felt her cheeks heat up as she realized how lame she sounded. “Sorry, that was super dorky. I just, uh, I know that there’s one that supposedly used to be an asylum so that’s kinda cool. They're not all boring, sometimes the architecture is pretty impressive too.”

She cringed at her rambled defense as she was once again reminded that she was in a very different league to Chris when it came to interesting careers, but the amused look on his face slowed her spiral into humiliation at least a little bit.

“I know what you mean,” he assured her. “Some libraries are pretty incredible. I haven’t been in a long time, but the one in Boston is beautiful.”

“It is! It was my home away from home for a long time.”

Technically, if she was being honest, it was more like home to her than her actual home was for a very large portion of her childhood, but she was relieved when the fond smile that accompanied her words didn’t spark any more questions from Chris.

“Maybe I’ll try and squeeze in a library tour while I’m here,” he decided. “I bet there are some pretty great ones. I’ll check it out and report back, see if it’s worth your time coming all the way over here some day.”

“Well, I’m sure I could find other things in London to entertain myself.”

“Yeah,” Chris flashed her a smirk. “But would you want to?”

A giggle slipped from her lips as she felt a strange flush of pride that he apparently already had her so well figured out, but she couldn’t resist shooting him a playful glare.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “I do have other interests.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

It was a teasing challenge as while his tone implied that it would be a difficult task for her, she was pretty sure that he knew she’d be able to come up at least one other thing she liked besides libraries and books, but the answer that rolled off her tongue surprised her almost as much as it surprised him.

“Well, lately I’ve been getting kinda into Captain America.”

Her answer earned a chuckle from Chris as he pressed for more information.

“Yeah? The comic books or the movie?”

“If I’m being really honest, I’d have to say the actor is what appeals to me the most.”

���Wow, I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

Chris flashed her a wink that had her biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a giggle, but as he let out a yawn she knew that his bedtime was probably long overdue.

“I hope he is and I hope he doesn’t mind that I have to cut our conversation short, but I should probably go make Landon some dinner,” she informed him, hoping he’d be less resistant to ending their conversation if it wasn’t solely for his benefit. “And you should probably go get some sleep if you’re planning on finding the energy for that library tour.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to do that now, won’t I?”

“Yep,” Bridget smiled. “I expect a full written report.”

“Of course you do,” Chris smirked. “There’s that sexy librarian side coming out.”

Despite the blush that the word ‘sexy’ had flushing over her cheeks, Bridget stuck out her tongue before saying goodnight and hanging up. She tried her best to keep the lovesick smile off of her face, but it was hard when her conversations with Chris left her feeling so giddy and she was just grateful that Landon’s age left him clueless and distractible enough not to question her suddenly great mood.

-

Most days, Bridget liked being a parent. 

She liked watching Landon learn new things, she liked any opportunity to see things from his point of view and she liked getting to teach him about the world. She even liked helping him work through his bigger emotions and watching him slowly but surely learn better problem solving and coping skills. 

However, there were also days when it was a struggle. 

Days when Landon showed his stubborn side and refused to listen, when he would get frustrated and upset over every little thing and when it seemed like nothing Bridget tried to do could turn his mood around. Luckily, those days were few and far between, but as Bridget sipped a glass of wine at the end of one of those particularly rough days, she found herself feeling very glad that it was over.

It wasn’t until she was almost halfway through her drink that she felt like her head had stopped spinning enough to turn her attention to the text that remained unread on her phone. It was the first time since Chris had left town about a month and a half earlier that she’d let any message go unanswered for more than about an hour and while the guilt of ignoring him had weighed on her, she hoped he would understand as she typed out a reply.

Sorry. Had a bad day. I’m glad you made it back to L.A., maybe we can chat tomorrow if you’re not busy. I don’t think I’d be great company tonight.

He’d been bouncing back and forth between L.A. and New York since he’d returned to the US at the start of May and they’d spent almost every evening chatting and catching up about their days. They’d planned to talk that evening, but Bridget really didn’t feel like she had it in her to be cheerful and she wasn’t sure that their relationship was at a point yet where he wouldn’t be scared off by her bad mood. That was why she was surprised to see her phone almost instantly light up with an incoming call and Chris’ name on the screen.

“Hi, Chris…”

Her greeting came out as a sigh and she immediately felt bad for how disinterested she sounded, but before she could apologize, Chris replied.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it, but if you need someone to vent to then I’m happy to listen.”

His words would have made her laugh if they hadn’t sounded so sincere. He reminded her of one of those cliche descriptions of the perfect man that women just want to rub their feet and listen to their problems, but she could hear the concern in his voice and doubted that he was feigning interest just to win her over.

“It’s just been a tough day,” she admitted. “But I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me complain.”

“You’ve listened to me complain plenty since I left,” he pointed out and Bridget did have to admit that it was true. He often opened up about how monotonous and exhausting all the press and interviews could be and she was happy to listen so she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so guilty sharing her frustrations as well. “What happened?”

“Landon’s just been giving me a hard time all day,” she told him. “He didn’t sleep well last night so I should have expected it, but I literally Googled ‘am I a bad mom?’ at least four times today so that’s the point I’m at in my parenting journey.”

“Well, I can answer that question for you because you’re definitely not.”

Considering the rather small amount of time that Chris had actually seen Bridget and Landon together, it would have been easy to dismiss his support as meaningless reassurance that he knew would make her feel better with no evidence behind his claim, but Bridget knew that his heart was in the right place as she thanked him for the gesture.

“I appreciate that,” she sighed. “But sometimes I just feel so ineffective. Like, there’s only so many times I can warn him not to do something before I have to just let him do it and deal with the consequences, but then it’s hard to watch when he’s devastated by the outcome.”

“Is that what happened today?”

“Yeah,” she nodded to herself. “We’ve spent the entire week building this big Lego spaceship and he was so proud of finally finishing it, but then he wanted to play with it which is totally fine, but he kept balancing it right on the edge of the coffee table so I warned him that it would fall off and break and he just kept getting irritated with me and saying that it would be fine until it fell onto the floor and shattered into a million pieces.”

“Oh man, that’s rough,” Chris sympathized. “But sometimes I think they’ve just gotta learn things like that the hard way.”

“Definitely,” Bridget agreed. “But he was so crushed when it broke and that turned into anger because I couldn’t immediately put it back together even though it took days to build in the first place.”

“Patience is a hard skill at his age.”

Chris’ words were said with a chuckle that - despite her still lingering bad mood - had Bridget’s lips twitching into a smile.

“It is. And that was the last of a long list of hiccups we had today so I think we were both just kinda over it,” Bridget reflected. “But I’m sure tomorrow will be better and I’m sure that you are tired of hearing me vent about something you have no interest in.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone - long enough to make Bridget a bit nervous - before Chris spoke again.

“Well, you’re wrong about that for a couple of reasons,” he informed her, a hint of something that sounded like hurt in his voice. “First of all, I asked you to vent, I told you it was fine. I wouldn’t have done that if I was going to be irritated about it after two minutes of listening to you. And second, I am absolutely interested in hearing about Landon - even on days when things aren’t so great. I know he’s a big part of your life and if we’re gonna to do this then I’d like to be involved in that too - even if for now that just means getting to listen to you work through your frustrations.”

Again, his words sounded so much like exactly what she wanted to hear that she would have questioned how genuine they were if she couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice. He was clearly bothered by what she’d said and she felt bad for assuming that parenting woes weren’t a part of her life that he would care much about, but something he’d said had her momentarily distracted from what he was saying.

In all their conversations, they hadn’t mentioned anything about what exactly their situation was. They talked a lot - enough that they’d become pretty good friends - and they flirted pretty regularly - enough that it was obvious that friends probably wasn’t all they would be - but they hadn’t actually talked about what their plan was. So Chris speculating about if they were ‘gonna do this’ was something that Bridget took as a pretty good sign that his time away hadn’t given him any second thoughts and had her biting back a smile despite the guilt she felt from his scolding.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t trying to be dismissive, I really do appreciate your support. I just don’t want to bore you if it’s not a problem that you can really relate to.”

“I can relate to it in some ways,” he assured her. “I’ve spent enough time with my niece and nephews to know how tough kids can be some days. They’re good kids, but even good kids have their bad days.”

“Absolutely. Landon is a good kid too, but that doesn’t make days like today any easier.”

Another heavy sigh fell from her lips as she sipped her wine and tried to shake off her bad mood, but it was what Chris said next that really cheered her up.

“I know, but I bet tomorrow will be better,” he assured her before adding, “And I don’t want to be presumptuous by thinking that this will help at all, but I’m gonna be home in a few days. Maybe I could take your mind off things by taking you out on another date?”

The flush of excitement that Bridget felt as she processed his offer easily succeeded in washing away the last of her melancholy feelings. Her heart raced, her hands started to sweat, and it took more effort that she was happy to admit to play it cooler than simply immediately blurting out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’. She’d been curious about when he would be coming back as she did remember him saying he’d only be gone for a couple of months - which by her math was wrapping up pretty soon - but she couldn’t think of a way to ask about it that didn’t feel too desperate so she’d just been hoping that he’d mention it when he was ready. So, to hear that he was eager to make plans for when he was back was music to her ears.

“I would really like that,” Bridget accepted, grateful that they weren’t using video and Chris couldn’t see the goofy grin on her face. “And you’re not being presumptuous, I was hoping you’d be back soon.”

“I'm happy to hear that!” Chris let out an audible breath of relief and Bridget couldn’t stop a giggle from slipping from her lips before he continued. “I have a few more things to do over the next few days, but I think I’m gonna fly back on Tuesday night.”

“Great. I’ll be childfree until Sunday, but I understand if you need a little while to catch your breath when you get back.”

Even though her statement was true, the thought of having to wait almost two weeks until she had another free evening made her heart clench with disappointment and she was relieved when Chris rushed to assure her.

“Nah, usually just a couple days is all I need. We could aim for Friday if that works for you?”

“Absolutely,” Bridget smiled. “That’s made me feel better already, thank you.”

“No, thank you for saying yes,” Chris chuckled. “I was worried you’d come to your senses while I was away and turn me down.”

“Definitely not. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”

Bridget felt that was a somewhat obvious statement considering how much time they’d spent chatting while he was away, but there was something that made her feel vulnerable about actually admitting it to him and she was relieved when he returned the sentiment.

Once their plans were in place and the weight of Bridget’s bad day had lifted, they continued their conversation as they figured out what their second official date would entail, talked about what other obligations Chris had in L.A. and what else Bridget had planned that week. It was the same easy and comfortable conversation that they always seemed to fall into, but the excitement of seeing each other again so soon bubbling under the surface had Bridget feeling desperate for that close connection that could only be reached by actually being in the same room and from Chris’ enthusiasm and increased flirtation she thought it was safe to assume that he was feeling the same way.

[cookinguptales]

Excited to see that you watched vampterview! You always have such fun and interesting commentary on stuff. No pressure of course but I'd look forward to any Sarah takes you might have on it 👀

Who knows? Maybe! I'm about to go on a three-week road trip, but we'll see how much time I have!

I'm still digesting a bit, I'll admit, and I really don't know what's already been discussed to death in the fandom. Personally, my academic interests were always really focused on stories, how we tell them, how we internalize them, and how we can't help but put ourselves, our experiences, and our biases into our retellings of them. To be loved is to be changed when memories of us live in the hearts of others, y'know?

So... I'd say that I was really interested in the ways they played with unreliable narrators in the series. How the concept of the sanctity of primary sources was really dismantled. Because they were all primary sources and they were all telling completely different stories! Whether it was due to misremembering, bias, or literal mind control, even the written sources simply could not be trusted.

I remember there was this really formative experience for me was when I was 16 years old and taking summer classes at UChicago. I was studying Egyptology there, which meant I was spending a lot of time at the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures (formerly the OI) studying and translating the artifacts there.

I don't remember all the details (though I guess I could probably pin down the particulars if I combed through their collections) but I remember seeing two ancient accounts of the same war written by both sides -- and both accounts claimed victory. And, y'know, whether each side had a different definition of victory or whether someone was just straight-up lying... I mean. It brings up the idea of an unreliable narrator on a massive historical scale.

Sometimes, particularly with older historical events, we're only going to have scattered archaeological fragments that we can piece together. Sometimes we have to do a lot of guessing and detective work to come to any conclusion at all. And historically, we have prioritized written accounts over all other forms of evidence. But, y'know... people lie. Or they misremember. Or they misconstrue. Reconstructing history not just through first-person accounts but by looking at other evidence and questioning those accounts is crucial. And even then, we'll probably never find any objective "truth," if objective truth even exists in a situation like that.

So... like, an unreliable narrator is nothing new in media. But framing it through Daniel, who is a nonfiction writer trying to make sense of all of these different testimonies to construct an actual historical narrative... That made it really interesting to me. It wasn't just all of these different vampires stating their truths. It was Daniel trying to sort through all of the misdirection to find out what actually happened. And the show makes it clear that, while he gets close, he'll probably never know all the details for sure. It simply isn't possible.

So IWTV, to me, was a really interesting look at the impossibility of constructing an objective historical narrative, especially when speaking about very old events with few sources. You have mentally ill vampires who are several decades removed from the events in question, you have contemporaneous (but very biased) journal entries, you have newspaper clippings written by journalists who had very little information, you have artifacts that may (or may not!) confirm certain testimonies...

idk. I guess while I do have thoughts about the characters and their motivations, I was more interested in the way that things were framed and presented in the show. I thought that was really neat.

[braveheartstoryteller]

Childhood's End

I'm beginning to understand Roxas more, and what he represents in KH. Or at least how I read him. There are many ways which to view KH and its themes, and this is just one way I do. I've said it before, but the series is about growing up, especially anything that deals with Sora directly. Roxas is a part of this, and to me he is the catalyst to Sora growing up. The general crux of how I see Roxas is this: Roxas is Sora with a broken heart. I do believe Roxas always had a heart, in some way. His actual situation, at least in how he is represented in my mind, is that he couldn't connect with his heart. In Dream Drop Distance, Xemnas says something interesting to Sora: "The memory and heart are tightly linked. Rub a few memories together, and you get a spark of emotion, a feeling." So in the view of the story, memories are important for heart connection. What does Roxas lack? Yeah, memories, especially in the beginning. However, even when he saw memories of Sora he still struggled. Xion was different. She connected to Sora, even without "meeting" him. It was partly why she did what she did, both in the end, and even before when she visits Naminé. Roxas on the other hand fought tooth and nail, until he saw Sora for the first time. And even then, it wouldn't be until after he fights Sora and discovers why things had to be the way they are, does he finally accept his fate. All because, his heart was fractured. Without being able to feel his heart, he was without a compass. And without it, connecting with others was difficult, though not impossible. Eventually Roxas does connect with Sora, but this has emotional consequences to the latter. When Roxas shows Sora his memories in DDD, it profoundly effects Sora in ways he doesn't entirely understand. All he knows it hurts, and that confuses him. And that's the thing. As a child grows, they begin to lose the "blinders" that they have in the beginning. What I mean by that, is that when you're young the world revolves around you. This can be frustrating to an adult, but it is also helpful to the child. It means that children aren't as effected by something traumatic, if it ends okay, they are usually okay. It's like when Sora pierces his own heart in the end of KH1. He doesn't really think about it. Everything is fine, or so he thinks. But when one grows up further, a child's world begins to expand, and the understanding of others grow. With that though, comes pain, often in the form of new ideas, that stretch a child's understanding of the world. This is reflected in Roxas sharing his memories with Sora. With this new found understanding comes questions, questions Sora doesn't know how to answer. And in that, Sora begins to truly grow up. DDD represents to me the ending of Sora's childhood or at least the start of it. KH3 continues that thought, as more new ideas are presented to him at every turn. By the end, it is the end of Sora's childhood, as he distances himself from anything that is connected to that by leaving all that behind. Something we all do in some way as we reach the end of our own childhoods. We change, so our worlds change too. And in that, KH reflects this path. The broken path to growing up.

[rise-my-angel]

Totally hypothetical. If i went into hotgw and brought robb back (you cannot say impossible) and put him in front of reader and jon snow (again please humor me) do you think reader would take him back? Or did death do them part

OKAY I HAVE AN INTERESTING ANSWER TO THAT. So, going by the current timeline, Jon and the Reader are at the same stage Robb and the Reader were when they died.

Only a few short years into being married (3 for Robb and you closing in on 1 year in a few months for Jon and you). And you are five months pregnant with his child. The same scenario when Robb watched you and his unborn son get butchered before his eyes.

Robb also loves Jon and never wanted to take happiness away from him and Jon never wanted to just replace and erase Robb from your life. But things are no longer simple. (I mean emotionally wise, I'm ignoring the question of so whose actually King in the North now because the logistics of that are more complicated then the average scheme by Littlefinger).

Because this is a tidbit hidden in both the nsfw alphabet one shot and the side story Scattered Memories of the Starks. But Robb at the very least, knew that by the time the main series started, Jon was into you in some way. He knew for a fact it was sexual, but he was unsure as to if it also was romantic and to what degree. Now he had no idea it was a relationship, and he assumed you did not have a clue about any of this, but Robb was fully aware to some degree Jon had developed some form of intimate feelings for you.

So him coming back, and seeing you and Jon married and pregnant wouldnt actually surprise him that much. He would understand Jon's side completely and he would understand that it was likely not easy for you to move on. So he wouldnt blame either party and wouldn't want you or Jon feeling guilty.

But Robb loves you still and you're his wife, even if just in the previous life you shared but in his heart you never stopped being his wife. But now you're also Jon's wife. And you are pregnant with Jon's child at the same stage you were with Robbs child.

At that point, I don't think it has anything to do with your choice. Robb and Jon both know youd be too confused and guilty and upset to be rationale to make a decision on your own about it.

It would really come down to a very long night between Robb and Jon and probably a decent amount of ale as they try to talk about what going to happen. They need to both be on the same page because both love you and neither want to hurt the other nor you by making you choose.

Though I will say, there is a bit of a hiccup that tips the balance in Jon's favour. And that is his resurrection. You resurrecting Jon had bound you both by a very deep kind of blood magic that binds you both to the other for life. Just like how Thoros and Beric are deeply connected by this abnormal magic, its intense between Jon and you because now also, romantic feelings are involved.

Resurrection has also awoken some more deeply hidden tendencies in Jon inherited by a certain individual *cough cough* and that darker side of him has made Jon extremely possessive about you. He doesn't want to refuse your and Robbs love and doesnt resent either of you for it, but there would be no denying that Robb would come back and notice that Jon is very intensely possessive of you more then is at all normal and you are very dependent on him in a similar abnormal manner (you had one fight with Jon and thought he didnt love you anymore and ran away into the arms of an assassination attempt on your life like GIRL YOU ARE UNWELL).

I don't think it comes down to choosing one over the other, I think its a lot more complicated, especially because of the bond created between you and Jon through his resurrection has deeply corrupted both of your abilities to approach the relationship with a rational degree of distance and self control. And that's a very difficult thing that is genuinly impossible to just work through.

[starlightbelle]

Infinity war death is better because he did it for thor. Tree loki never made amends with thor. Why cwnt loki have both his friends and his brother

Interesting

If you’re asking me if I think he deserves to have both his brother and his friends, then I would respond emphatically: YES

Without question or hesitation.

Loki deserves to live. He deserves happiness and satisfaction. Loki deserves to love, and to be loved in return. He deserves his brother, and he deserves his friends.

Loki’s sacrifice is valid in both. I don’t disagree with you there. But his death was badly written in Infinity War and thus the execution seemed a poor reflection of his character…or at the very least incomplete.

He sacrificed himself for Thor, yes, and that intent is such a worthy sacrifice. But the way Loki’s skills and abilities were so underutilized by the writing did such a disservice to his character.

In reality, Loki is probably more scrappy and definitely more resourceful than that. He’s smart/clever enough to know better than to reveal himself to Thanos without a backup plan (or more).

And Loki would NOT go out without a fight. A real fight. He would use every ounce of his power, every tool in his arsenal, everything remotely at his disposal to do as much damage as he could in what time he had. He would fight and fight and fight even if (and especially if) he knew he had no chance at making it out alive.

Thanos was intended to be menacing but Loki is far stronger than he was given credit for in that scene and his death was used merely as a plot device…they killed Loki off so easily in that opening scene as a way to demonstrate Thanos’ power and establish him as a real threat. That’s all.

They reduced what should’ve been a meaningful sacrifice to save the life of his brother down to a pitiable demonstration of the lengths he’s willing to go to to protect those he loves.

Thor’s life and countless others were at stake and Loki would fight tooth-and-nail to protect Thor’s life. If he knew he would die regardless, Loki would try to inflict whatever impairment he was able to the slow his enemy down or cause them as much of a handicap as he is able.

What I like about LOKI’s ending is how Loki was shown to withstand the time radiation without even the use of a suit. It was reminiscent of Thor taking the full power of a dying star. He’s able to do that because he isn’t human; he’s the only person on that Team (save for Sylvie maybe) who could make that play.

I think the point you’re trying to make is that Loki sacrificing himself for Thor is objectively more impactful to the audience than him saving the multiverse? Because at least that way he showed his brother that he loved/cared for him?

I definitely agree I wish we’d gotten to see Thor and Loki’s story get closure, but I knew having Thor make a cameo on the series was pretty much impossible. It would be more satisfying to fans of the characters to see them reunite/ make amends/ etc.

I don’t disagree. At all.

That’s part of what makes his sacrifice that much more heart-wrenching. It’s very Shakespearean and it’s tragic, and it’s not the happy ending I think Loki deserves…but it is fitting in the sense that Loki chose to sacrifice himself.

He does that a lot, actually. He’s a very self-sacrificial character

Loki’s desire to be loved/have friends/not be alone is constantly at war with his intense passion/ love and need to give and give and GIVE of himself to make that a reality.

It breaks my heart that Loki will never get reconciliation with his brother, that Thor will go on never knowing what happened to his brother, with the last memory of him being the Attack on New York. This hurts, it’s heartbreaking…but despite that, Loki ultimately did make the sacrifice play so those he loved (that includes Thor) would be able to live even if that means never seeing any of them again.

He is incredibly selfless by resigning himself to an eternity of isolation to sustain the lives of those he loves.

Despite the tragic nature of his ending, I think it’s also kind of beautiful.

[the--highlanders]

good luck with moving! heres a question for you. 2 actually. firstly tardis team 2 movie night whos choosing what? secondly do you think polly/ben and victoria and zoe would get on? (btw your fics are insane. ben jamie freindship my beloved)

ahhh thank you so much!! ben jamie friendship my beloved also, I really really need to write something longer about them. also relisten to the selachian gambit because it's so good for ben-jamie brotp content

I'm SO sorry this has taken so long also!! but I have been thinking very hard about what their movie picks will be. ngl I don't think I'm enough of a movie person to like, pick specific movies but I've been thinking about Vibes

jamie is just like, impressed by movies in general, especially in s4. so he'll go for basically anything that the rest of the gang put on. especially since a modern/futuristic real-world setting is likely to be just as unfamiliar to him as scifi/fantasy setting! he probably doesn't always distinguish them super clearly because some of the scifi stuff is closer to his actual experiences ghfdkj. I feel like he'd quite like comedies/more light-hearted stuff though? & some action stuff/jumpscare-y horror is just a no-go because he's not super used to non-live media making noises on its own, and sudden loud noises/being suddenly scared doesn't always play nice with his trauma. he'd just rather avoid it. also I feel like he'd really like documentaries!! he's super curious about everything and it's a nice way for him to absorb information through auditory processing which he's good with/used to and without the issue of learning to read. sometimes he'll disappear for a bit and the others will end up finding him curled up on a sofa watching a documentary on the most random stuff

two also has super eclectic taste but in a more out there/esoteric way. he claims he just has super refined taste when the others won't watch some artsy 12-hour martian epic with him (and then falls asleep or wanders off like, half an hour in because he doesn't actually have that sort of ability to sit still). he will put on the weirdest alien stuff that's totally incomprehensible to everyone else though. but he's also into like, silent comedies. he's such a chaplin-esque character, how could he not be (though he denies any similarity to himself!). and he's more into fantasy than hard scifi - it's impossible to watch any sort of serious scifi with him unless you want to hear a constant commentary on the inaccuracies in it. (by series 6 jamie has picked up on this habit, albeit with his much more limited knowledge. zoe finds this super disconcerting).

ben is absolutely the instigator of two and jamie's comedy enjoyment. he's Also a silent comedy guy. but I think he'd like action/adventure films as well? he's got like, a whole host of them that he really loves and is always trying to get the others to watch. I feel like he's the biggest movie watcher of the tardis team honestly, like going to the cinema was something he did a fair bit pre-canon? maybe it's something he did with his father while he was still alive, so he has fond but kind of bittersweet memories of it. & tbh I feel like being interested in the heroes as well as the love interests was part of his bi awakening. so he'd be the one pushing for the movie nights to happen, and maybe also more inclined to pick out alien/futuristic stuff than polly is, because he wants to see what else is out there.

polly is probably the one who comes the closest to appreciating two's more esoteric movie picks?? like they're not necessarily her favourite thing but she'll sit down and watch them with him. it's bonding time for them. they paint each other's nails and hang out. I think she'd also like kinda film noir/darker stuff. juuust enough that two and jamie like to tease ben about how many films she watches where the wife kills her husband. (ben takes it in pretty good humour. he's a wife guy like that he would support polly for this). also she's a bad romcom watcher in the sense that she likes to yell at the screen about all the dumb decisions the characters make, why the main couple wouldn't work out, that sort of thing. it's stress relief for her. she gets the others into it and the four of them sit there shouting like they're watching a sports game

[fayesdiary]

For the video game asks: 4, 6, 12, and 28!

4) Do you like to get 100% achievements/trophies?

Depends on the game, really.

For example, I love 100%ing Kirby games to the point I don't consider them done until I do so because the requirements are always tough but reasonable and a lot of fun, but then there are other games where 100% either takes way too long (Souls games), you have to do a lot of stupid and annoying shit for achievements, have to deal with asinine drop rates for collection achievements (Dark Souls 3 and Re:Chain of Memories, especially the latter because to get all the enemy card you have to kill every single type of enemy last in a fight for a minimal chance of their enemy card dropping so it's almost impossible without RNG manipulation), and a lot of that stuff makes me go "oh hell no."

So I'd say it depends on how much I enjoyed the game for me to even want to do 100% and how respectful of my time the requirements are. Majora's Mask is a pretty good example of that because I never planned to do 100% at first but then i loved the game so much I decided to go with it!

6) A series you’ve enjoyed since your early days of gaming and still enjoy to this day whether it still has games coming out or is one you return to

KINGDOM HEARTS. No question.

I've been entrentched in the series ever since I was a child and I always adored it. I think it alone rewired my brain so much and determined a lot of my obsessions! (power of friendship, existentialism/identity crises, clones, people sharing a body, you name it)

It's something that is always in my mind at least in the background and that flares up periodically or when a new game comes out, and I am so excited for the future of the series since it's a whole new direction and despite all the setup there's still so much we don't know!

(and yes I did absolutely scream when Sora got announced for Smash or the KH4 trailer)

12) A character you particularly like in the game you’re currently playing

Well, I'm playing Engage right now, I already mentioned the brain worms Alear and Veyle give me, so I'm just going to say that I freaking adore Yunaka with all my heart.

28) Pick a series you like. What was the first game you played for it? Was it a good starting point? Would it still be a good starting point now?

For the Kirby series (that shares the throne of favorite franchise along with Kingdom Hearts), Super Star Ultra was my first game!

I'd say it's still a really great introduction as a wonderful remake of one of the pillars of the whole franchise (even if it's a bit clunky compared to the newer games), but it's absolutely one of the best Kirby games (and remakes in general, really) and I think every Kirby fan or anyone interested in getting into Kirby should play it!

[northerngoshawk]

Happy FFWF! Which fic of yours do you think best represents you as a writer, and why?

ACK CHOCO WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

okay, um. *flips through my repertoire of fics* uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

honestly, you asked a really, really hard question. i've written a vast array of fics from various genres, from gen to romance, from angst and tragedy to hurt/comfort to fluff to introspection, character-centric and ship-centric (kataang ofc lol), there's just so, so much i feel like i've written that it's nigh impossible to choose only one fic to represent it all.

but if i had to choose one that got to my core as a writer, i think i would pick everything, my Aang-centric drabble in which Aang meditates on the loss of his people. it's only 600-some words, but i feel like its shortness is what really gets into why i love to write Aang-centric fics so much. it really delves deeply into the loss and grief Aang feels for his lost people, and a lot of my Aang-centric fics deal with that as a core theme, no matter the situation or plot.

i especially love this one line i wrote:

"It's not so much that I think of them as they are a part of me," he says, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. "Just as I am an airbender and the Avatar, I am the memories of all of them. I am the product of all who shaped me, and the legacy of all who taught me."

i really, really love it because it shows how his people, while gone physically, still live on in his memories and the lessons he learned. their teachings and legacy still live on through him, and as long as he lives, they do too, and i really think that's beautiful. and even though the grief never goes away, there is peace in knowing they still live on through him.

(but also since you so very clearly insisted on it, i will throw in my Aang mcd series as a bonus just because Aang whump & mcd my beloved and i know i went through a phase where that was all i wrote stop calling me out like this choco >:( )

anyways thanks for the ffwf, choco!

[bmaxwell]

Persona 3 Reload

I don't often replay games, especially long-ass RPG's. I've played a lot of those. Persona 3 is one of my favorites, possibly at the very top of that list. As with all games (and movies, books, show, music, etc.) it is impossible to separate the time and place of my experience from the experience itself.

I specifically remember buying Persona 3. It was the special edition that came with a slip case and art book (and soundtrack?). I hadn't played a turn-based RPG in too long and, while I'd never heard of Persona, it looked like an RPG that takes place in modern times where you go to school during the day and fight demons at night. I love slice of life stuff in videogames, so I gave it a try. And fell in love.

Right off the bat it hooked me. I'd never played anything quite like it. Nearly 20 years later I have the game in my personal top 10 and consider it one of my favorite game series. When they announced Persona 3 Reload and I saw that it was getting a full remake to bring the visuals in line with Persona 5, I was excited and a teeeeeny bit apprehensive. Would it hold up to my warm memories?

It isn't a one-for-one remake. Lots of quality of life improvements have been added - most importantly the ability to directly control your party members in combat. Gone are the days of watching your party members and hoping they heal Junpei, or don't waste SP on a combat ability when a simple basic attack will do the job.

You can now save the game more easily, there are more opportunities to leave Tartarus, and your party no longer gets fatigued after being in Tartarus for too long. They've added the baton pass system from Persona 5, and each character has a sort of ultimate ability that charges up and can be used in a pinch.

The writing still has its questionable moments. Some of which are understandable (high school guys want to date, talk to, sneak a peek at high school girls) and some less so (your classmate Kenji still talks like someone 10 years older and really wants to hump everything - including a teacher). I think I remember a gay panic scene from the original game that I didn't see this time around. The game's treatment of sexuality has always been a black eye on the series. I'd like to think they're moving in the right direction, but we'll see.

I tried to explore some different social links from my first time through, so I ended up dating Yukari and largely ignoring Chihiro this time around. I explored the story lines of the girl at the shrine, the track star, and the monk this time around, though I still pursued the old couple at the bookstore and the dying young man at the park. Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.

I was glad to find that Persona 3 holds up incredibly well for me, not just because of the updates to bring it in line with 2024. The game's world, story, and overall vibes land for me better than its two successors. The beating heart of the game is anxiety over the passage of time and dealing with loss.* There's a low thrum of unease always just beneath everything, and it slowly comes into focus as the story wears on. The game's dichotomy between the familiar daily school life and the mystery and danger of the dark hour is as appealing as ever.

The cast is still my favorite in the series, and I found myself interested in every one of their backstories and how their characters developed. Everyone has their own trauma and scarred history - except for Junpei. He's the game's happy-go-lucky sidekick, and for much of the game his conflict revolves around not knowing his place in the world. He's playing second fiddle to the main character, and he knows it. As the group fights to end the Dark Hour and rid the world of the encroaching epidemic of Apathy Syndrome, he knows that an end to this conflict means an end to his purpose and sense of usefulness. This lands better than you might expect and made Junpei relatable for me. He's my favorite himbo bro BFF in the series (compared with Yusuke and Ryuji).

Persona 3 Reload accomplishes what very few games have - it makes me feel invested in both the larger story of the world and the individual characters within it. It somehow feels the way the original game felt back in 2006. It's the best version of one of the best games ever made, and I'm looking forward to The Answer DLC coming next month.

*Persona 3 has two hearts.

[specialability]

AI: The Somnium Files

Rambling thoughts. Lots of spoilers for most of the storylines but not the "true" endings.

There are a couple places where the writing in this game is genuinely touching. Oda's ending is one of them.

The game tells you when there is a branching choice coming up, which means it's impossible to somehow miss anything. It doesn't matter what background stuff you click on or which dialogue choices you choose or even what order you travel to different places in. This is kind of disappointing. Especially when most of the side dialogue is either puns that don't translate well (seriously my condolences to the localizers), perverted jokes along the lines of "hee hee boobs", and bland observations. I want to click on everything and read everything but unfortunately it is not actually that rewarding to do so. If something is an important plot point it will be shoved in your face five hundred times to make sure you notice. It is impossible to fail in a conversation or interview. Even if you fail in a Somnium you can always do it over again no problem.

I think it's also a weird decision to make the Somnium sections timed. Normally you want to reward the player for checking things out and trying every option. Instead, this directly penalizes it. With the exception of some tricks you can do with Timies to make the best use of your time (e.g. if you get a black/bad 2x timie that you are forced to use on your next turn, find a move that is only like 5secs long and do that to use it up), there is only one correct thing to click on and if you just click on the correct things one at a time you will unlock the Somnium with loads of time to spare. If you want to click around and read other stuff, you have to intentionally fail a few times.

All that said, I do think the mystery itself is very well written. Red herrings are carefully placed. There are lots of little hints that make it satisfying when they pay off. Since you get to do different branches you end up with more information than the characters most of the time so it's possible to pick up clues or nuance that Date and Aiba are missing. But that also means you can't make Date act on information that you the player have. I do find it frustrating when occasionally Date comes out with some information that hasn't been shared with the player. That always feels like playing unfair. But for the most part the clues are all there.

Date in general is a frustrating protagonist. Not just because he's not very likeable. He's a walking anime stereotype, using constant jokes about porn to disguise his caring personality and whatever. Pervert with a heart of gold! Puke. What's more annoying than that, though, is his unbelievable level of credulousness. Like, he's supposed to be a police DETECTIVE but at no point does he question the vast number of suspicious things going on around him. He is being dosed with drugs without his knowledge and Aiba brings it up multiple times. Why does he have Aiba in the first place instead of a normal eyepatch or fake eye? Is she meant to keep an eye on him? Why is he in the only person in this setting with a magic super revolver? Pewter and the Boss clearly know who he was before he lost his memory but aren't telling him even when he asks. He's a part of a secret research extrajudicial policing unit that coerces people into signing consent agreements and then drugs them to go rummage through their dreams. These are the people he trusts unconditionally. His best friend, Okiura, confesses that he was part of a series of cons that got old people to put yakuza in their wills and then kill them, and his reaction is like "wow that's heavy bud, but you didn't kill them with your own hands so it's fine I guess". Most of the time he is just doing what Aiba suggests he do. And then we're supposed to believe he is capable of figuring out these murder cases. It is not even a Harry Dubois level of incompetence because everybody in-game and the narrative itself all agree that Harry is both a fuckup and very good at his job. In this, the narrative keeps telling me he is this cool competent detective and yet none of his decisions or behaviour actually make me think that is true.

So far I have finished Mitsuki and Ota's routes. I've hit a locked route on two occasions and so have been forced to go back to do Iris' delusional branch. I am not a fan of how they handled her delusions, but at least it is acknowledged in-game that Date handles it particularly poorly. I just don't trust the author enough to handle it better even if he wasn't an idiot. I like "is it real or is it a delusion or is it supernatural" a lot, I just do not like being reminded of how society views people who experiences hallucinations and delusions.

Each of the routes end really abruptly without any resolution of the murders and I kinda understand that thematically the game is about these relationships between people and not really the murders themselves, but at the same time I am playing this game FOR the mystery. And the story remains interesting so long as it sticks to the mystery. At least after each route officially ends we get a short clip of a really jaw-dropping clue that hopefully will pull things together in the end. I still want to know what happens. I just also want to hit Date in the head like a fritzy TV so his brain resets.

If I am permitted one more complaint: WHY are there mandatory gun aiming mini-games in the middle of this VN. I am playing a VN because I am BAD at SHOOTING GAMES. Not to mention the game only does this a handful of times so it's not like you get practise. It's genuinely difficult to do and takes me many tries and much pain to do each one. Yes, physical RSI tendon pain. Which makes me very irritable.

I am frustrated because parts of this game are really good and parts are really crap.

[heartintact]

Delight was devouring her to the point where it felt almost dangerous. Her cheeks burned from the admission, and her heart rate was so high that she feared she would die if Jordan ever stopped touching her, not that it seemed like that would happen any time soon with the way they looked at her through their lashes. But none of those things threatened the real intimacy of the moment, the one that had nothing to do with the teasing roll of their hips against hers or with the obscene moans that abandoned her throat, and everything to do with the way Jordan laughed, warm and pleased with her confession, making it impossible for Marie not to grin back at them, sincere and giddy. Their promise came out whispered against her lips, getting her to gasp once they finally kissed her again. It wasn’t a noise of objection nor was it an acceptance; it was something different, the kind of amused curiosity that flushed through her because she didn’t even know if she could keep up for long. It sounded like torture and indulgence at the same time, and Marie felt both unprepared and starving for it. “So impatient,” she teased, an admonishing tone not at all believable as her hips raised for her to unbutton her jeans before pulling them down unceremoniously down her thighs, huffing out a breathless laugh as Jordan helped once their own pants were out of the way. Her pretty, wine-colored lace was already soaked through, folds messy with slick against the fabric, but Marie didn’t have the decency to care because they were back on her again, swallowing her whines, palms sneaking under her panties with a touch that was new and somehow well-known. Because it was Jordan, the same Jordan who knew her body by memory by now, who had taken the time to figure out what made her groan and what made her crumble in their hands; but in this form, their fingers were smaller, more delicate, even as their grip on her was more controlling, and their mouth was softer, their lips fuller, even as they used them to bite harder than usual. There were a hundred little differences from what she’d known in the past weeks, new details of them for her to discover, and Marie’s mind was reeling with excitement, feeling proud and desperate to figure them out all over again.

“You do?” Marie asked softly, all pretend innocence and playfulness because her naivety didn’t take it as far as not knowing that for sure. It didn’t matter how desperate they were—hands roaming through bodies and pleas murmured in a haze of need—they always found a moment to get on their knees for her, to worship her with their tongue. She fucking loved it, and if they kept up that pace, it really would go to her head. The series of questions was unfair, bordering on mean—of course she’d thought about it. But she forgave them for that unkindness, especially because it would be impossible for her to hold onto a grudge when they looked that perfect, lowering themselves on her body and moving the ruined panties to the side so her cunt was exposed, cold air kissing sensitive skin. It made her feel filthier, not being fully naked but practically unwrapped like a pretty gift they couldn’t wait to use. “Yeah, I—yeah, all the time,” she finally replied, her voice a sweet, broken thing as they put their mouth on her. They didn’t ease her into it, instead licking and sucking on her clit like they wanted to get her to come undone embarrassingly quick. Marie gasped out their name as they spat on her pussy, the ache inside of her feeling heavy in her chest. She’d accuse them of wanting to drive her insane if it weren’t for the dirty sounds that escaped them too—the ones that betrayed exactly how much they were enjoying it. “I wondered whether you’d be nice to me or if you’d be meaner about it.” It all depended on the mood they were in during her fantasies, the kind of rehearsal they’d had that day, or how combative she was feeling. “The days you didn’t come home with me or when you didn’t give me any attention in the studio, that’s what I thought about. You. Always you.” Moans got caught in her throat as she spoke, slipping in between heated words. “So, yeah, I wondered about this.” Marie’s legs bent a little higher, spreading herself wider for them, her tights burning with the pleasurable effort of her muscles. “If your fingers would fuck me just as deep, or if you’d have to give me a third one to stretch me out just how you like it.” Her center clenched at her own words, whimpering as her hips attempted to grind against Jordan’s mouth—not an easy task when their hands kept her in her place. “If you’d be just as easy to unravel if I tasted you like this, if you’d be just as tight as I am… yeah, I’ve had a lot of time to think. It’s your fault, really, getting me all used to getting what I want.” A choked-out laugh abandoned her, one of her fists tightening its hold on the sheet as the other hand moved down, fingers threading in Jordan’s hair, not pulling, just making sure the dark hair wouldn’t cover their face when she was that close.

With the lewd drag of their tongue against her heat, the way their lips closed dirtily around her clit despite the way her sounds grew wilder and breathier, and the gorgeous sight of them, it wasn’t a surprise when Marie fell apart easily, melting against their touch, her head falling back against the mattress when the aftershocks crept up on her without any sort of warning. It was like floating; no, it was better. Pushing up onto her elbows after taking a moment, there was a dazed smile on her face as she felt a shiver running up her spine, her body still buzzing as she got Jordan closer to her. “How’d you want me, baby?” If her brain registered the pet name, she didn’t show it; she was too drunk on them to even offer the proper time to respond. Leaning in to kiss them, Marie’s hands moved immediately to cup their face, tongue licking at their lips before parting her mouth for them. “You’ve been so bossy tonight; is that what you want? To have control, to make the decisions?” She cooed, even if she knew that kind of bratty attitude could play against her. “You could sit on my face; I bet you’d look real good coming on my tongue, using my mouth like that.” Her palms moved down their body as she spoke, smiling against their lips as they sneaked under the elastic of the briefs, her hands curving around their ass. “Or you could actually take the time to get me naked now and rub that pretty pussy against mine; doesn’t that sound great?” It seemed only fair to have them remove her underwear. After all, they’d been the one to get her to ruin it. “You can have me however you want, but surely you already knew that, didn’t you?”

To go from being so cautious about this side of themselves to slowly dropping away every layer of anxiety that had plagued them, filling up slowly with exhilaration and a need to make up for every moment that they'd held back... it was thrilling. Edging closer and closer to things they'd fantasised and dreamed of. Their bodies fit together so perfectly like this, soft skin pressed so closely, nipples hardening with the contact, heat growing more intense as they both sought out friction. It could have easily been overwhelming, but Jordan rode the current, embracing a new boldness, a new confidence unleashed as they sought out Marie's want and approval. The look on her face alone would have been enough, the way she stared up at them in awe, pretty brown eyes filled with an affection that made their heart melt and their cunt clench with need. They exhaled, chuckling softly and grinning at her answer. "Yeah?" Their hands shifted down as she removed hers, arching a little into the press of her palms against their breasts and groaning. They caught her hips, holding her steady as they slowed their moments to rock and grind against her, mind flashing between sliding inside her and how this would feel without any layers between them. It'd take a bit of positioning to get the right spot, but the way their bodies moved would allow for it, they could already imagine how it would feel to slide against the wetness of her pussy with their own. They looked down at her through their lashes, eyelids a little heavy as they revelled in all of it. Pretty would have been enough to feed their ego, but she continued and they drew close again, one of their forearms pressing into the bed, bracketing her on one side as their brows rose and their cheeks warmed. They weren't shy by any means, but not quite used to this kind of attention in this form, not in a way they liked as much as this. Marie's touch, her gaze, it came with a deeper kind of affection than just fucking for satiating whatever need they'd built up. She was too good at making them feel almost unsteady with the level of urgency that charged through their body, awakening every inch, making the hairs stand on end when she uttered something as simple as not having done this before. This, meaning... with a body like theirs. With a woman. They hadn't quite thought about it until she'd spoken it aloud. Their brows furrowed and then lifted in surprise, the corner of their mouth following suit before they laughed. God, yeah, if she'd gotten off just like this, with the wicked, drawn out thrust of Jordan's lips against hers and not even a real touch to her needy folds — that kind of smugness wouldn't have washed off of them for weeks. "I think admitting it already has my fucking ego ballooning to new heights..."

They swooped down to her again, lips brushing over hers as they spoke, their hand keeping her hair away from her face as their gaze trailed up to her eyes when they pulled back to stare at her. "If this is your first time getting fucked by a girl, I hope you're not expecting me to let you off with just twice tonight. Might just keep it up till you pass out. And you're not going anywhere after." With that, their mouth sealed over hers again. The rest of the world ceased to exist, as they went back to grinding their hips against hers, hands gripping and tightening at her waist. The layers were starting to feel stifling, so they pulled back, leaning on their legs as they made quick work of their pants. "This, off." They ordered, motioning to her bottoms as they leaned back up, briefs still hanging on their hips as they helped her shed another layer. Admittedly, in this form they felt more demanding, more domineering with the way they gripped the back of her thighs, hands sliding up to cup the back of her knees, gaze trailing over her body possessively. It was too hard to help it, not leaning down to her again, fingers dipping underneath the hem of her panties to just touch her hips, holding onto it as they ground their hips down again, feeling another layer closer to her, that heat pressing right against their own folds. She was so slick it was likely leaving a wet patch on their own underwear and they were pleased with the thought, their kisses growing dirtier, teeth tugging at her bottom lip before their mouth trailed to her neck. They littered her skin with open mouthed kisses, a hand snaking between their bodies too press against her, giving them both something to helplessly hump against in the search for more. God, Jordan needed more of her. They licked a stripe up her skin, lips landing near her ear. "You have no fucking idea how much I like eating your pussy." They spoke softly, pulling away as their hand shifted and turned, teasing her over the fabric of her underwear. Their other hand was focused on keeping her legs spread, trailing up the back of a brown thigh to cup the back of her knee, firm in the way they insisted she stay open so they could tease her clit.

"Think my mouth feels different like this?" They asked, shifting back on the bed as their knees sunk further into the mattress. "That something you wondered about, how soft my mouth would feel? If I ate it the same?" They were lowering already, dropping one hand to ease her underwear aside, as if they couldn't even waste the time to pull it off of her. They groaned the second they leaned in, the heady taste making a shiver run through their whole body. Their dark hair curtained the side of their face, brushing against her thigh. They weren't shy about it, not in either form, but surely she expected nothing less. Their flat tongue slid through her folds, relishing in how her body had reacted to humping against each other, all desperate and aching for each other. Fingers spread her open wider, focus shifting to her swollen clit, moaning as they swirled their tongue around it. Their gaze lifted to look at her as they lifted their mouth, just enough to fill their mouth with saliva and spit down against her cunt lewdly, smirking into it as they dove back in. Their hand slid up between them now, trailing along her stomach and up towards her breast, squeezing as they savoured each lick, mouth and chin beginning to glisten as they dug in shamelessly. It was only natural to them, that instinct to make her come like this first, to apologise for all the bullshit of the night with their head tucked between her legs.