#i keep. second guessing myself on things i know are true

[albamelody]

I Matched with My old Teacher on Tinder… and Fucked Him

Chapter 1 - Swipe

I was in my favorite place to procrastinate—curled sideways across my unmade bed, laptop abandoned in favor of my phone, thumb lazily flicking through an endless gallery of half‑smiles and would‑be soulmates. My tiny apartment smelled of bergamot tea and the croissants I hadn’t bothered to finish. Tinder had become my bedtime story lately: a soothing, mindless rhythm of nope, nope, maybe, nope.

Then the screen froze on a face I hadn’t seen in eight years, and the breath snagged right out of me.

Mr. Adrian Hayes.

The name still triggered muscle‑memory flutters in my stomach, the way theorems used to whenever he leaned over my desk to correct them. Back then he’d been thirty‑two, brilliant, devastating in a gentle‑professor sort of way—tall and long‑limbed, crisp shirts rolled to the elbow so you could admire his forearms without getting caught by the gossip patrol at the back of the room. Geometry had never been my calling, but I sat in the front row every day senior year, pushing thick‑rimmed glasses up my nose while I fantasized about tracing the veins in his hands.

And now he was on my screen—older, impossibly more handsome, dark‑blond hair threaded with silver at the temples. Same quiet smile that said I already know the answer, but I’d rather help you find it yourself. He wore a faded blue T‑shirt, an artfully chaotic bookcase behind him. A soft halo from a dormer window made his irises glow paler than I remembered, like the inside of a glacier.

Below his photo, a neon‑blue symbol pulsed. Super Like.

For two full seconds, I just stared, heart ramping in my chest. Was this some cosmic glitch? Had the universe pocket‑dialed my teenage crush? I forced myself to breathe, studied the rest of his profile—age forty‑one now, still living in the city, “secondary‑school educator, amateur woodworker, collector of bad puns.” His bio ended with a single line: Here for something real. My lips twisted up. Ever the understated idealist.

I hovered over the red X, because nostalgia had a tricky way of glamorizing things that ought to stay in the past. But the truth was, I’d never fully shaken the memory of him—his patience, his voice, his rare startling laugh. Even after a tangle of mediocre adult relationships, the idea of being admired by him still sent a low hum through my core.

My thumb slid right with a decisive flick.

It’s a match! confetti exploded across the screen. I squeaked—an embarrassing, almost squeal—and clapped a hand over my mouth, as if someone might hear.

A message bubble popped up before I could compose a greeting.

MrHayes: Well, this is the nicest surprise I’ve had all week. Do you remember me, or am I flattering myself?

The laugh that burst out of me felt absurdly giddy. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear and typed back.

Me: Hard to forget the guy who convinced me that proofs could be poetic. Me: Hi, Mr. Hayes.

While I waited, I thought about erasing the formal title—Adrian was in his bio, after all—but my phone buzzed first.

MrHayes: Adrian, please. And the feelings were mutual—you made teaching theorems feel like a flirtation with language.

Heat flooded my cheeks. Mutual? I sat up, spine against the headboard, pulse skipping. Somewhere a tiny voice warned me not to read too much into nostalgic niceties. I ignored it.

Me: So the rumors are true: teachers do have favorite students. Me: I always guessed, but it would’ve been scandalous to ask. Adrian: We’ll keep it our secret then. How have the last years treated you?

I told him in quick brushstrokes—graphic design degree, freelance gigs, an apartment barely large enough for my shoes, a mild addiction to cold brew. He volleyed back with stories of teaching stints in Ireland and Croatia, a younger brother’s wedding, the decision to return home because “the city feels different when you’re old enough to choose it.” His phrasing made my chest tighten.

The chat flowed so easily it was dangerous—memes about hexagons (“Bestagons are the true friendsagons,” he quipped), recollections of high‑school pranks, the time I’d insisted the golden ratio must secretly run the universe and he’d given me extra credit for “philosophical creativity.” Every so often his words slipped into a register that vibrated just below polite.

Adrian: I always admired how fearless you were presenting your project—face flushed, eyes bright, determined to prove symmetry was sexy. Me: Confession: my face was bright because my teacher looked good enough to make Euclid blush.

There, the line crossed. No polite misinterpretation left. A tremor shot through me as his typing dots appeared… then vanished. They returned, vanished again. My nerves sang. Finally:

Adrian: You just made me wish we weren’t limited to text.

A beat later:

Adrian: Coffee tomorrow? Or tonight, if your schedule’s flexible…

I laughed out loud at the screen, unbelieving. Coffee at 9 p.m. was ridiculous and impulsive. Which, apparently, was exactly my mood.

Me: Tonight. There’s a place I know that makes dangerous affogatos. Twenty minutes? Adrian: I’ll be there in fifteen. I was always an eager student.

____________________________________

To be continued...

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[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (hyung line) !

pairings: hyung line x reader (find maknae ver. here)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.6k

cw: light cursing, overworking, fatigue, fainting

a/n: i had to cut this in half since it was getting too long and i wanted to make sure i posted today! i have NO idea why i made seungcheol's so long lmao. hope you enjoy kings ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ also, i will be closing my requests so i can catch up on them over the weekend, i'll try to get them done by monday! thank you for all the support, it means so much to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

seungcheol - seungcheol is livid. you're still at your second part-time job when seungcheol calls you, "send me your location, y/n." you didn't tell seungcheol you had taken on a second job. you've never been comfortable with money, always having to work multiple jobs to stay afloat. that was until you met seungcheol, and since then he's always taken care of your expenses, even offering to pay for part of your tuition, and you decided it was enough. you didn't want for your (millionaire) boyfriend to think you were using him, so you told him you took on some evening classes.

today, you're covering someone else's shift. originally, you weren't going to, but after their promise of sending you a little extra money for it, you accepted.

"cheol, i told you i'm-"

"at class still? don't bullshit me, y/n. you didn't take on any new classes, you left your paper schedule on the counter."

your stomach drops. ah hell, you must be stupid. "y/n, what are you really doing?" he asks, almost pleading. there's absolutely no fighting it at that point, "i'm... at work. shift just ended, i'll send you my location." in defeat, you sit on a barstool at the restaurant and wait for seungcheol.

when he walks in, his eyes are immediately on you, walking over and grabbing your hand. "let's go," is all he says. the car ride is silent with tension; he only asks about it once you two are both home. "why? y/n there's no reason for you to be working another job. i'm right here; if you needed financial help, i could've helped you." he says gently, trying to maintain his frustration, but his brows are furrowed, exposing his true emotions.

"that's just the thing seungcheol, you're always here to help me. i don't want to use you because i can't support myself." you reason, but seungcheol obviously isn't buying it. "y/n, you're not using me, even if you did i wouldn't care. i don't want to watch you struggle when i know i can help." he takes your hand into his own. "don't do this to yourself, please. i love you too much to let this keep going." looks like you're quitting that job.

jeonghan - you and jeonghan are walking home from your date night. it's supposed to be romantic, you two walking hand in hand, but you're feeling the weight of the all nighters you've been pulling all week to finish your project, walking wobbily on the side walk.

"did you drink or something? you're walking a little funny babe." jeonghan teases before giving you a genuine look of concern. you try to laugh it off, "hah, maybe." but then your eyes start to droop ever so slowly. jeonghan notices, "have you been sleeping?" damn. did your concealer wear off or something? you're about to respond, but your legs give out and jeonghan catches you before everything goes dark.

you wake up on the couch, tucked in with a blanket with jeonghan caressing your forehead lovingly. "so i'm guessing the answer to my question is no," jeonghan murmurs, giggiling. "but seriously y/n- don't scare me like that," he adds. "i know i know, sorry-" you say, trying to sit up, but jeonghan interupts. "i don't think so, you need to rest baby," he gently pushes you back down before joining you on the couch. "we'll talk about this seriously later, let's just sleep for now." wrapping his arms around you, leaving you no choice but to comply.

joshua - joshua wants to trust you, knowing that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, but he can't help but worry when he looks over at you. you've been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish all your assignments before the end of the grading period.

he walks over, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. "you've been working for a bit, love. how about a break?" he suggests. you turn around, giving him a small smile, "i really would shua, but i've got like 2 hours till this is due. just let me finish this and i'll take a break." he frowns, "you promise?" "i promise," he hums in response, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before retreating to whatever he was doing.

2 hours later, joshua is back at your desk, only to find you slumped over your papers. he sighs, shaking his head before taking a look at your laptop. "hm, looks like you made the deadline," he says softly, gently shaking you awake.

"you did it, love. i'm proud of you, but i don't want you doing this often- it makes me worried." he murmurs, "come on, you need to take your well deserved break in a more comfortable space," taking your hand and guiding you to your room.

jun - honestly he gets it, between his singing and acting career, he knows what it's like to always feel like you're on the clock. he still doesn't approve of this though.

you just got home from working over time, it's 11:35- you both should be asleep, but he's waiting for you on the couch. looking at you, his heart breaks, noticing the eyebags, the bad posture, the way you're barely holding onto your bag, all of it. he makes his way over to you.

"oh, y/n," you don't process what's happening, about 30 seconds from fall asleep as he holds you. taking your bag from your hand, he then ushers you toward the couch. he helps you take off your jacket and shoes.

"do you want something to eat? water?" he asks while laying you down. you shake your head, but he still hands you a waterbottle anyway. "i'm always scared when you're like this bǎo bèi," he comments softly. "please take care of yourself, but if you can't, i'll be here." he gives you a kiss before laying your head down, falling asleep almost immediately.

hoshi - hoshi is nothing short of assertive, literally showing up to your job. "soonyoung, what are you-" "do you know what time it is? i'm taking you home." he leaves no room for argument as he drags you out of your work place. you're going to need to explain this to your manager.

"i'm not letting you do this to yourself, y/n. it's late. why are you still trying to work at this hour?" he asks, frustrated. "soonyoung, you know why. i don't have a roommate anymore; i can't pay rent with one income." he sighs, "i know, but you just look so- i don't know- tired now. i can help y/n, just let me."

there's no talking your way out of this, you just let him drag you all the way back to your apartment while rambling about how bad working late could be for your health: what if someone kidnaps you on the way home? what if you faint while you're walking up the stairs because you're so tired? what if you're so sleepy you don't notice someone walking by and you run into them and fall into a storm drain?

wonwoo - he doesn't scold you, but he'll get all nerdy and tell you terrible facts about not taking care of yourself.

you're bent over your laptop, trying to finish a whole group project on your own since you got assigned terrible partners. he sits down besides you, whispering in your ear, "keep sitting like that, and you won't be able to walk properly at 40," you scoff, but adjust your posture anyway, you don't want to test this guy. smiling in victory, he kisses you before walking away, reminding you to take a break.

you don't listen to him though, getting carried away in your work. wonwoo comes back every so often to tell you that your brain will start eating itself because you haven't eaten, you'll get terrible wrinkles because you're dehydrated, all that stuff.

once you're finally done and in bed, he scolds you, of course. "i know you think i'm joking, but i'm not y/n. this isn't good for you, next time you do this, i'm forcing you to stop, okay?" he strokes your hair and gives you a kiss. "i love you a lot, so take good care of yourself, can't have you dying on me."

woozi - out of all the members, he's definitely the one who relates to you the most. he knows you'll drown out the sound of people telling you to take breaks, so he takes things into his own hands.

you're working at your desk when woozi turns your chair around and grabs your hand, dragging you to the couch. you try to argue, you really need to finish this so your group doesn't fall behind on the project, but he doesn't take no for an answer.

"shush y/n, just let me talk." he starts, "i know what it's like, i really do. you feel like everyone is depending on you, and maybe they are, but you don't have to do it all alone," when you try to dismiss him and get back to work, he's actually pinning you to the couch. in any other circumstance, you'd be turned the hell on... but he's serious about this. "listen, stop trying to shut me out y/n. i'm someone you can rely on, and i want you to. don't do this to yourself, i won't let you."

you nod in agreement. "good, now let's just stay here for a second," he lays on top of you, trapping you under him so there's nothing you can do but rest.

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

part 2

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on her. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.

[softtdaisy]

in the meantime / Aaron Hotchner

summary. when hotch gets hurt, you're called as his emergency contact. thing is, nobody knows you're not together anymore.

words count. 2 336

what to expect. a little angst I guess but fluff too, Jack is mentioned but he's a teen

a/n. I first imagined this very funny and light and I ended up adding more angst??? but it's still sweet and cute and hotch is a lover boy

F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

When you got called at school, at first, you didn’t think it could be that moment you’ve been scared of for months finally happening.

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was easy to leave your class and ask for a colleague to take care of your children. They were all occupied with creating a new poster with their names and wouldn't even notice your absence. Well, you imagine they wouldn’t because you weren’t supposed to leave for too long.

“Do you know who’s asking for me?” you asked the principal’s assistant who came for you. He was one of your friends here, so you knew how to analyze his gesture. And from how fast he was walking right now, you could tell this was more serious than you first thought.

“Well, she’s a brunette, dressed in black.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a second. Trying hard to remember what her name could be. Thing was, you didn’t know that many brunettes, dressed in black that could authorize herself to come here. “I think her name is Emily or something like that.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, freezing. 

You appreciated Emily. You would even call her a friend, even if you only knew her through Hotch. But you barely talked outside of the moment you spent together. 

Getting a call from her would have been weird. Having her come to your school wasn’t normal at all.

Yet, here she was. Waiting in the principal’s office. Indeed, she was wearing an all-black outfit but mostly wearing a concerned expression on her face.

When you opened the door, she rushed to you, interrupting her conversation. Her hand was soon on your shoulder and her eyes were locked on yours. You found some comfort in it. The problem was, you had no idea why you needed it.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” you asked, whispering like it was some secret the rest of your colleagues or your superior didn’t need to know. Which was true, somehow. “Is everything alright?” 

But you knew it wasn’t. And the three words that followed were the proof. “It’s Hotch.”

Your heart dropped, and the whole world went silent. 

You’ve spent months afraid of hearing these words one day. Checking your phone multiple times a day, waiting for his text to make sure he was doing fine. There were moments when you would have the same nightmares of coming home to an empty house, sometimes with more graphic images you wished you could forget.

When Emily noticed you seemed to disconnect from reality, she put her other hand on your shoulder. “He’s ok,” she added. 

“I don’t know how, but the unsub managed to stab him in the stomach. He lost a lot of blood and went to surgery, but he should be fine. Spencer told me he was waking up when he arrived here, you heard Emily explain, but her voice seemed like a distant melody.

You tried to focus on the good news, that Hotch was fine. As fine as he can be after an attack that probably woke up some trauma, but fine. Not dead. Not in danger. Fine. 

You took a breath and nodded to accept the information you just got. And showing Emily that you listened, that you understood what she said. 

It wasn’t until you managed to keep your stress as low as possible that the question popped up in your head. “You came all the way here to tell me?”

Emily looked at you with confusion. 

“Well, you’re his girlfriend and his emergency contact. And you weren’t answering your phone. I thought it would be better to bring you to the hospital myself than let you learn about that later by yourself.”

That was the moment you understood why Emily chose to drive all the way here.

Hotch didn’t tell anyone you weren’t together anymore.

Dating Hotch was easy, more than people thought it was.

He was a great listener. He loved to hear you speak about everything in your life just as much as he loved paying attention to small details. Offering your favorite flowers, having your favorite artist in his car, and sending a text about important events at your job even when he was miles and miles away. 

You could tell Hotch was working on the experience he got from his past relationship and all that he still had to learn to be a good partner for you. And he was doing a wonderful job on it.

This relationship did a lot of good for him too. With Jack being a teen and less with his dad, he finally felt like he had a new purpose to come back home. Hotch learned to love opening his door again. This time not being met by the silence. But by you, with some kind of reality TV on, reading a book on a sofa he almost forgot about before seeing you on it—not to mention the memories the both of you created on it. You made him feel loved. At his place but at every place in his life too.

For a year, you two have been the happiest and did everything to make this relationship work. Even the team noticed the change in Hotch’s personality. And after multiple drinks together, you started to call them friends too. You both loved the routine you created together. 

But even with the brightest sun shining on your relationship, the truth was the stress was still there. His job was anxious, to you, but to him too. Having someone to care about in his life once again made Hotch concerned about losing you. He tended to be more protective after rough cases, sometimes leaning to some controlling behavior he hated as much as you did.

The disputes became more and more recurrent. And after another fight, you both decided that maybe you needed a moment away from each other to wonder if this was really worth it. You wanted Aaron Hotchner to be the love of your life; you really did. Just as he wanted to. But was it really the life you both wanted?

It was a hard month away from him; you won’t lie.

And knowing you almost lost him was even hard.

“Let’s go,” you finally replied. And the ride to the hospital was surprisingly calm.

The few times you saw Emily, you both kept chatting for hours to the point Hotch even laughed one day about fearing she might steal you from him. But this time, there were no words. Not only because of the stress, but also because you realized you were lying to your friend because of Hotch. You haven’t seen him in a month, having no idea about what his life might have been these past thirty days. And she was great at worming information out of you. So you would rather not say a thing instead of spilling a secret.

The whole drive to the hospital felt like a fever dream. And nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling you got when you opened the door. A mix of relief and stress.

Hotch was there, indeed. Underneath a white sheet that made his skin look even paler, with dark circles bigger than the last time you saw him and a tired expression that made you wish you could do anything to let him relax and rest for at least a month.

He was facing the window and only turned his head when he heard you coming in. And the confusion replaced the tiredness on his face. Yet, you still noticed the short smile that drew on his lips when he saw you. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was sweet. Sweeter than usual. No matter how down he was, Hotch took everything in him to make you feel welcome. He didn’t want you to question your presence here or to think he was questioning it. He was glad to see your face after the awful day he had. Yet, he was still wondering why you came. After a month apart, he thought you put him aside. 

Deep down, Hotch had the feeling he was easy to forget. But you weren’t. You never felt his head or his heart.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t even talk. You were just focused on the silhouette of the man that shared your life these past months, lying on this hospital bed, looking so fragile.

You walked to him, as close as you could. So close that your knees bumped in the bed without you realizing it. You couldn’t resist the need to brush his hair, putting away some strands that were on his forehead. His confused and drained eyes follow each one of your moves.

“Honey?” he asked again, reaching for your hand. 

When you were together, not a day went by—except for those when he was away—where you wouldn’t hold hands. In the morning, when he was getting up, you tried to keep him with you a little longer. During breakfast, while he was drinking his coffee. When he said goodbye, kissing you before putting a kiss on your entangled hands. Or when you went to sleep, cuddling, with your hands on your stomach—or his, when he needed it after a rough day.

“You didn’t tell them we broke up,” you said in a low voice. It was the first time you said it out loud but also realized what it meant. And having Hotch in front of you, calling you by the nickname that followed you your whole relationship and caressing your hand with his thumb softly, helped see the truth behind that. “Emily came and picked me up because I’m your emergency contact, and I wasn’t answering my phone, and as your girlfriend, she assumed I needed to know. Because you didn’t tell anyone we weren’t together anymore.”

You finally landed your eyes on his, losing yourself in his baffled puppy look. “You’re right, I didn’t.” Hotch said. It was the first time since you came in that you noticed his voice was a little raspy. “And I’m glad it led you here.” 

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, not that you doubted he meant it. Over a year, you’ve learned to recognize Hotch’s expression. Especially the way his face was always softer when he was with you. Or how his very stoic and linear mouth always curled up in a smile around you.

Still, you had one question on your tongue. “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” he replied with a giggle. One that was sadly followed by a grimace. You watched as Hotch brought his other hand to his stomach to ease the pain. The doctor told him that even with the medicine, it would take him multiple days to get better. And until the stitches were gone, he wasn’t allowed to go back on the field.

But suddenly, the idea of being stuck at his office or at home wasn’t as awful as it was when he first thought about it. 

You sighed, focusing on his face rather than the wound he was clearly keeping hidden from you. “Why haven’t you told them?” 

Hotch took a second to look at you. The answer was obvious to him, to the point that there wasn’t a question to begin with. Over this past month, there was not a moment where he thought he had to make things clearer about your situation. Sure, he was a very private man, yet he never lied about you. He just kept things as they were. “Because I didn’t want it to be over.”

Hotch sat up against the headboard and motioned to you to sit on the bed with him. He moved his legs to give you space. And the heat you felt when he held your hand tighter to help you reminded you of the obvious attraction you had for him. Even after he had a terrible day. 

“Listen,” he started again with a tone that imposed on listening to him. That's not to say you weren't paying attention in the first place. “I know we made this decision together, and I respect it. And this month apart gave me the time to think about us.”

The first night coming home to an empty and silent house wasn’t easy for Hotch. He felt like he had failed again at keeping someone in his life. He hated that he lied to Jack, saying you had family obligations to explain your absence. He didn’t want his son to be disappointed about his dad's inability to maintain a great relationship.

And one day, Jack told him about a girl at school he had a crush on and everything he did to prove to her it was worth trying rather than giving up.

“I want to make things right with you.” Hotch pursued, bringing your hands to his chest. “Maybe I need to work on my perception of danger when it comes to you. And if so, I will do it. Because I want you.”

You always found it fascinating how his eyes often spoke louder than his words. And the look he was giving you right now was the best argument he could have found to prove you he meant it. Hotch loved you. And so did you. 

When a smile started to grow on your lips, also a silent answer to his silent confession, you noticed his lips curved too. Hotch let go of your hand to bring his own to your neck and move your face closer to him. But you stopped right before your lips touched.

“Maybe you should just consider not getting hurt the next time we argue.” You whispered, which made him laugh.

“Right, I’ll think about that.” He replied before finally guiding you to his lips.

Hotch never stopped believing he would get you back. So maybe he was right about not telling anyone about the breakup. 

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green, Part 27

masterpost This is just a first draft, please no concrit!

Danny wasn’t sure about this.

He should be. Bruce seemed sure about it. His… his siblings seemed sure about it. Babs seemed sure about it. But Danny… Danny couldn’t help but feel like he was forcing himself on another person. The fact that Annalise was dead didn’t help him feel any better at all. In fact, everyone had learned to avoid that point of argument after how upset it had made Danny the first time that Damian had tried it.

They didn’t get it, how could they? Death meant something different to them.

“Danny?” Dick’s concerned voice interrupted Danny’s thoughts. “Do you want something different to eat?”

Danny blinked down at the scrambled eggs that he had been idly pushing around on his plate for the last few minutes. The yellow lumps didn’t look very edible anymore. “Oh. Um, I guess another scone and some fruit?”

It was only Dick, Damian, Duke, and Bruce at breakfast that day. All the D kids. Jason had gone back home yesterday. Dick would leave today, but Tim would be back and maybe Cass. It was hard to have less of them there. It was hard to have them away where Danny couldn’t know they were safe. Danny tried not to make a big deal about it, he had to let them all start getting back to their lives. They had been giving up so much for him.

After swallowing a large bite of the scone Dick had passed him, Danny asked, “Can I see how changing back to my ghost form goes today?”

For just a split second, everyone at the table froze before they forced themselves back into motion.

“Of course. Do you want to do that after breakfast? I’d like myself or Dick to be with you, in case there’s a set back with your injuries,” Bruce said.

“I guess? I don’t know when Dick wants to leave,” Danny said with a glance between the two adults at the table.

“I don’t have to head out until early afternoon,” Dick chirped. “What’s work like for you, B?”

“Just an afternoon meeting that I’ll be attending virtually. Lucius knows there’s a family thing going on and is holding down the fort,” Bruce said.

“Lucius Fox,” Duke explained. “He keeps stuff running and Bruce on track.”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s true. He also knows about the family nightlife, which helps immensely.”

“I guess that after breakfast works,” Danny said as he picked a little at his scone. He was realizing that Bruce hadn’t actually seen his ghost form before. Damian and Duke hadn’t either, he didn’t think. It felt like a reveal even though it wasn’t. Danny met Damian’s searching gaze and gave a little bit of a shrug. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been in it. I guess I’m feeling, like, this itch about it.”

Damian gave a little nod. “A muscle that needs stretching. May I join Father and Grayson in the Cave to watch?”

A chunk of the scone broke off. Danny fumbled it slightly before just setting the pastry down on his plate. “Sure? I don’t know if it’s really going to be anything interesting. I’m guessing that I might still be pretty weak, so I don’t really plan to try much.”

“What sort of things can you normally do?” Duke asked as he mopped up the last of the egg on his plate with a piece of toast.

Danny resisted the urge to fidget with the scone again. “Oh, um, well flight is the most basic thing.”

“Please no flying too high or over open parts of the cave right now,” Bruce said with a slightly strained sounding voice. “I’d rather you not fall when we can’t safely catch you. When you think you’re stable, we can have a family friend over to spot you.”

“Oh. Sure? I mean, I’ve fallen before and I’ve been fine. It’s hard for me to take damaged in the form.”

“Still, Dandelion,” Dick said carefully. “We’d rather not risk you. Just put up with us being overly cautious for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny replied on rote. He didn’t really get it. There hadn’t been any being careful before with Sam and Tucker, but he had been hurt around his new family a lot. “Um, other powers I have are to go invisible and intangible. And I can shoot some energy blast elemental things. There’s duplication too, but it’s, um… yeah. Not great and I don’t want to after…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. This is just what you need,” Bruce assured him. “No one is asking you to use your powers here unless it’s something that you want to do or need to do for your health.”

Danny gave a jerky little nod and looked away. “Right.”

“Come on, Dami,” Dick said as he stood, “let’s go run through some stretches so we can get some practice in before I leave.”

“I’ll let Alfred know you’ll still be here for lunch and that I won’t be. Group project,” Duke said and got up also.

It went from a pretty full table to just Danny and Bruce almost instantly. Danny nibbled on a chunk of the scone.

“Danny, what’s going through your head, chum?”

What was going through his head? “I just… I don’t know. My ghost half has always been for something. Sam wanted me to fight the other ghosts. My… anyways, experiments. I guess I don’t know how to talk about it after everything. I don’t know how to talk about it with all of you. You guys are out there being heroes all the time and… don’t you want to use my powers?”

Bruce moved to the seat next to Danny. He was so large that he loomed a little even when trying to seem smaller. Danny didn’t think he’d get that large. Not anymore, not after dying. Not after the years in a box.

Would Damian get bigger than him? Probably.

“In the Justice League, I’m the strategist,” Bruce said calmly. “There have been times in my life that I’ve been far too much the strategist. There have been other times in my life when I’ve tried to use strategy to cover up my fears and feelings and have hurt people. It’s something that I still have to work on, and I likely will for the rest of my life. I very much do not want to not screw that up with you. After everything you’ve been through, I want it to be as clear as possible that who you are and what you are isn’t something that I plan to use. The only one that gets to say what you use that for is yourself. You’re not an asset, you’re my kid.”

Danny blinked quickly. He didn’t want to cry again. “I don’t know if I know how to be a kid anymore.”

“I was horrible at being a kid,” Bruce said. “As were… well, a number of my children. But the good of that is, you don’t have to be a normal kid here. If for you being a kid is training Ursa and going flying and, I don’t know, building model airplanes then that’s fine. If at some point you do want to be part of the nightlife, then that will be fine too. You have all of us to figure those things out with you. And we’ll disagree sometimes, because we’re us, but that is alright too.”

Danny gave a slightly watery little chuckle. “Going to build model airplanes with me?”

“If that’s what you’re into, absolutely.”

“What if… what if part of what I want is to reach out to Jazz? What if I want her to help me figure out things too?”

“Then I just ask that you let us figure out how to do that safely first so that no one can find you here and come for you,” Bruce said.

“You’d really let me?”

“She’s your sister. You being part of this family doesn’t change that. In fact, Jazz welcome to be part of this family if she would like to be. But she can also not be and still be your sister.”

“Once it’s safe,” Danny said. “I’ll reach out once it’s safe for me and for Dami and Jason too. I won’t let them get hurt because of me.”

Bruce ruffled Danny’s hair. “I know you won’t. Just let us help with it. I don’t think any of us could take you running off like that again.”

Danny winced. “That… wasn’t my best moment.”

“Maybe not, but we all understand how you got to that point. I’m just glad that you were headed to me and that we got you back,” Bruce said with a little shrug. “Well, and that you didn’t get pneumonia from being injured and out in the rain.”

Danny stood when Bruce did, setting his napkin on the table. He tried not to seem like he was scrambling, but the formal meals were still a little much. “I’m glad about that too. I think I’ve been injured enough for a long time.”

“You really have been,” Bruce agreed. “Which is why I’d prefer no full on flying until we have either Superman or Superboy over to visit and spot you.”

“I won’t fall, I don’t think.”

“Still,” Bruce said with a little frown that seemed somehow dark.

“Oh, strategist. You can, like, picture it, can’t you? Me falling.”

“Far too easily.”

“Okay, yeah, no full on flying on my own until you know I won’t fall,” Danny agreed. “Even if I know you’d catch me.”

“We’d try our best to, chum, always.”

[spiderfunkz]

HYUN-JU x TALKACTIVE!READER

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

author's note: this is so me.. i talk way too much so i'm lowkey just projecting myself on here. anyways, requests are open but i'm taking my time replying since i've been busy so just keep that in mind!

▸ hyun-ju is a good listener. a great one, even. she's got a big heart and soul, she's someone who is willing to listen to whatever you have to say. and she doesn't just listen, she tries to understand. which is a quality that is hard to find these days.

▸ you noticed it a bit later in your relationship. every time you talk, she listens and isn't afraid to ask questions regarding your situation or interest. she's genuinely invested in what you have to say. "oh, really? tell me more, hon."

▸ even if you just say random things or suggestions related to literally anything, she's all ears! whatever is going on in your head, every single sentence you utter, she's always nodding a long. she's probably wondering how you managed to say three sentences in a second.

▸ you tend to get very extroverted when you get comfortable. you'd ramble about anything for hours and hours, hyun-ju finds this adorable. she's definitely admiring you as you speak, your words always find a way to her heart.

▸ if you were talking about something she has no clue in, she's gonna research about it either online or in books so she could talk about it with you! even if small mistakes slip, her efforts show. and you appreciate that more than ever.

▸ "wait, you watched the movie and read the book?" — "yeah! i thought it would be nice to discuss it with you. you talked about it nonstop last week, so i figured i'd give it a look, and i must admit- you do have amazing taste."

▸ good moods mean you'd go on walks with hyun-ju and visit multiple parks at once. pointing out random birds, trees, and flower types. speaking whatever crossed your mind in specific moments.

▸ "oh look! a daisy. did you know daisies bloom in the spring like every other flower and their last bloom is in autumn? though, that's very common, um. ah! moon flowers, they only bloom one night a year." you'd giggle, "i did not know, but i do now!" hyun-ju smiles.

▸ during movies you can get very quiet. but as the movie ends, you'd ramble quicker than speed itself. "it's okay. at best. i just don't understand why the characters would do such things! i guess it is fictional, but still! does logic not exist in that universe?"

▸ same thing with books, you can read for hours in silence, but as soon as you close the book... "hyun! you must read this! not only is this one of a kind, but once you read it you can not put it down. i love it so much, it made me tear up a bit because of a character, but, um. okay, no spoilers!"

▸ hyun-ju could get really lost in your voice sometimes. you'd be talking about something silly like rocks or something, and she'd still be mesmerized. hyun-ju thinks that your voice could easily soothe her to sleep.

▸ and it's true, your voice makes her feel so safe. during conversations, she gets sudden realizations of how lucky she truly is. to be able to listen to you, in a calm setting, just the two of you.

▸ if you send her voice notes, she'd listen to it on repeat. especially when she's away or vice versa, she loves hearing your voice over and over as it gives ger comfort.

▸ "hey, hyun! i know you're really busy, and i know you only listen to my voice notes when you're done with work, so i ought to tell you about how much i love you. and how much i miss you. don't forget to tell me goodnight, or not the bed bugs might bite me."

▸ she would never think of your ongoing talks as unimportant. if you would suddenly pause and stop talking, she'd notice immediately. but hyun-ju always reassures you that it's perfectly okay.

▸ if you feel tired or off, and you just wanna be quiet for a bit, hyun-ju likes to ramble too, she does it a bit more often ever since she's met you. her voice is sleepy, her head lays near yours, your bed is cold and hyun-ju is the only source of warmth. as she traces your hands, "do you wanna know what happened earlier in the office?" you'd nod, she'd talk and only stop when you've completely fallen asleep.

▸ "and that's the end of it. goodnight, angel." she'd place a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep herself.

[ponderingmoonlight]

KnY shorts request incomiiiing:

Giyuu stumbling his way through a love confession and asking y/n out pls pls pls ily

„Giyu?“

He can’t mess this up. No, he swore to himself that he’ll finally confess, that he needs to get all those feelings off his chest.

“Hey, Giyu?”

But what if you’ll never look at him as usual after this? Or worse, what if you’ll make fun of him? Giyu, falling for someone like (y/n). It sounds ridiculous even in the back of his mind. Maybe he should just turn around and leave as quietly as he came-

“Giyu, look at me.”

The second he focuses on your eyes, he’s lost all over again.

“You wanted to tell me something?”

“No, absolutely not”, he blurts out immediately.

“But…you just told me we needed to talk”, you remind him with your oh so gentle voice.

These past days, Giyu acted so strange around you that you were convinced that he might not like you anymore. And now he’s standing in front of you, his staring at the ceiling while his body tells you more than urgently that he wants to get away from here as soon as possible.

“Listen, I don’t know why but…If you don’t want to work with me anymore or if I did something that upset you, you really don’t have to-“

Him, not liking you? Giyu’s eyes grow wider and wider, stare at you in sheer disbelief as your face drops with each word that leaves your mouth.

Something inside him snaps.

“I like you”, he interrupts your senseless words.

All those feelings he tried to suppress, those words that never dared to leave his mouth. He can’t hold it back any longer.

"I've been trying so hard to keep this to myself because I didn't want to mess things up between us, but I can't anymore. I have feelings for you, and it's not just some crush. It's like every time I'm around you, everything else just fades away, and I can't stop thinking about what it would be like if you felt the same way. I know this is messy and maybe terrible timing, but I had to tell you. Even if you don’t like me back-"

“Giyu”, you breathe out, your heart almost pounding out of your chest.

Did this really happen? Is this really how he feels, the reason behind his strange behavior?

“It’s okay, you don’t have to console me, I’ll just leave-“

Out of instinct, you grab his arm and yank him back around.

“But I like you too. To be exact, I might be…in love with you as well.”

“You…in love with me?”, he repeats with widened eyes.

“I thought you’ll tell me to stay away because you acted so strange.”

“You really need to work on that, Tomioka-san!”, Shinobu shouts from afar.

"So...will you go out with me, (y/n)?", he continues with low voice, his cheeks now bright red.

Gently, you place your cheek on his shoulder, take in that delicious smell you adore so much.

"I'd love to."

Bonus:

"How did a jerk like you manage to pull (y/n) with saying shit like that?", Sanemi jeers at him from afar.

"It must be true love!", Mitsuri cries out.

"Maybe she was forced", Obanai mutters

"Well, I guess (y/n) always had a big heart for outsiders", Shinobu adds kindly

[kanmom51]

NOOOOOO.....

Well yesssss.

But NOOOOOO. Not again.

Are we back to me waking up to missing JK's lives?????

Oh my friggin god.

And what a live it seems to have been.

I'm off for a couple of weeks vacay for Christmas and New years, so I guess I won't be able to watch the translated live for a bit now, not to mention to write about it. Seriously JK, I need to have a word with you about your timetable... Well, with your superiors too, given they gave you the leave and permission to do this live...

I do want to remind you that neither Jin nor Hobi came live during their time off when in service. They posted on IG at times, but never came live. Just thought it needed to be mentioned. JK could have posted on Weverse. He actually did that too. He could have taken a photo and posted. He could have recorded a short message and posted. He didn't. He chose to come live because he had something to say. In that all so very special JK way. Matter of factly during his live.

Oh, and if we are on that one, do I mention karma is a bitch? Or more so, JK is one. Cause if anyone thinks for one second that the timing of this live was a coincidence, they have another thing coming. Just like every single live we had back in 2023 that followed up a shit show (Tae lives created or fan created - "I don't have a girlfriend").

This hate wave I mentioned in my post yesterday was beyond others I've seen. Disgusting hits made at JM's dad and family forcing him to shut down the comments on the IG account. Hits made at Bam. All beyond the vile hate towards JK and JM as well. And not only on X, but also on JM's dad's cafe IG account and Bam's IG account. So yeah, JK does things for a reason.

And just for the vile haters, JK made sure to mention JM multiple times.

INCLUDING MENTIONING THEIR SHOWERS TOGETHER.

And if anyone wants to go down the path of "they have communal showers" road, I say stop!! No!! They do not shower with other soldiers. Not with JM's body image issues. Not with previous idols being photographed in the shower. This is a HUGE issue that idols have had in the past and were granted private shower times due to. They just don't shower with others.

But they do shower together.

So I guess deal with that one haters!!!!

And OMG, he sang Die with a smile.

Man sang Die with a smile.

And people!!!

He knows the lyrics off by heart!!!!!!!

Now hold on for one second.

They sing in the shower together.

Just take that one in, and add Die with a smile...

And there we have our dream come true. Jikook singing this song together.

Meant to be!!!!

Oh, this too:

They go a little away from others and sing loudly....

Ok then.

We call it signing nowdays.

That's what they tell the others I guess.

Oh, there is so much I could add in this matter...

But I'm very demure, so I will refrain from going down that road.

All I'll say (and leave the singing to them) is....

I will emphasize this one last time before I say my goodbyes.

JK KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING.

He knew what he was doing when he came live after Tae's lives and debunked stupid conclusions fans (the cult) made.

He knew what he was doing when he told us things he wanted us to know and understand about him in his 2023 lives.

He knew what he was doing when he did his "I go the other way" TikTok.

He knew what he was doing when he told us he doesn't have a girlfriend.

He knew what he was doing when he mentioned JM in this live.

And he very well knew what he was doing when he told us about their singing in the shower together.

He didn't have to mention the shower.

He really didn't.

He wanted to.

And you can see it written all over his face. You could hear it in his voice.

Eat on that cheeky grin haters!!!

Haters will hate and Jikook will keep having showers together.

T'is what t'is.

JK came home (literally) to give us his holidays gift.

Merry Christmas and Hanukah to y'all and Happy New Year!!!

From myself, Jikook and JM's chestie besties...

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts��“I love you” prompts. What other character should I do?

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader  

Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)

Scenario: Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?

Aether

“He’s sweet,” You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. “I mean, he’s a simple guy. He’s not a mystery, it’s not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess that’s one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.” 

“Uhuh,” your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. “but you don’t just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,” 

You’re rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, “Well--I mean--” and as if realizing you’re making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. “Yeah, I guess...” You don’t know why you admit to it, but it’s not like your friend didn’t already know.

What he does:

Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.

Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.

Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes there’s no mistaking the overheard confession.

All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. “You didn’t hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!” Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.

“Erm...Ahem” he coughs into his fist. “I...didn’t mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?” and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.

Albedo

“His schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,” was your excuse to your friend when asked why you haven’t confessed to the alchemist yet. “I don’t think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesn’t need a distraction.”

What he does:

His logical side agrees that he doesn’t need a distraction.

But the other part of him doesn’t mind if its you.

Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.

“...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,” you jump at his sudden voice. “Just as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,” Albedo stretches a hand out to you. “...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?” 

Alhaitham

“Y/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that you have a crush on him,”

“Shush!!” You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. “People could be listening, besides, if that’s true, then it’s even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so let’s just forget about it, ok?” 

What he does:

..................................No he doesn’t know. Sure he’s smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didn’t know what to do.

Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.

Lo and behold a few days later he’ll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.

“Y/N,” he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Y-Yes?” You haven’t seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.

“I heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,” straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation. 

It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. You’re not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies. 

“...I wouldn’t say that I completely have no interest in you,” he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away. 

Alhaitham holds back a sigh, “...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... I’ll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if you’re free,” 

You’re FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.

Ayato

“Besides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?” you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.

“He takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. He’s obviously doing it on purpose,” your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.

“He does that to everyone...” you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you don’t know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare. 

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to be so jealous,” your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.

What he does:

Doesn’t even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story. 

Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.

“Jealousy doesn’t usually paint a beautiful colour,” he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.

“But I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,” The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right. 

“...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?” you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles. 

“You’ll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?” He wasn’t really asking, it was almost a command. 

You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.

Cyno

“...He’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I don’t know why you like him so much,” your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them. 

“Maybe because he works hard, unlike other people,” you shake your head a little. 

“As General Mahamatra he’s supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.” your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.

“Okay, so what if he’s a little vicious in his ways? He’s just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,” 

What he does:

Doesn’t know what to do.

Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.

Torn between revealing himself now or later. 

Can’t think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when you’re still working with your friend.

As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching. 

You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that it’s Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe he’s just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and you’re left to wordlessly look up at him.

There’s a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“...I value the high praise that you give me,” he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.

He heard. 

“O-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...It’s...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...” you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them. 

There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.

“...Do you want to play some TCG?” 

“Huh?” You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there. 

You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. “Sure, but go easy on me, I haven’t played in a while,”

“That’s fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,”

Dainsleif

“Mysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You don’t know what he dabbles in,” (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern. 

“Perhaps he has some secrets...but I don’t think he’s a bad guy at all. I’ve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,” you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.

“At least he’s handsome, there’s that,” (Your friend) adds. 

“Sure, but that’s not the only reason I like him,” you laugh.

What he does:

Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by “like” him.

Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Prefers to get things over with and thinks there’s no harm in confronting you immediately.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.

Dainsleif.

“Y/N,” he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. “Hi, you’re early today,” just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesn’t even spare them a glance.

He doesn’t have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesn’t particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).

“Yes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,” he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back. 

“...What can I get you?” there’s a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage. 

“Your company,”

Diluc

“It’s been years,” (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. “Are you still in love with Diluc?”

There’s a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. “...I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.” You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. “Jean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I don’t think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,”

“Does he know, at least?” (Your friend) asks and you half scoff. 

“I’m not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesn’t act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.” 

“Out of sight, out of mind huh?” (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.

What he does:

Internally a mess of emotions. Doesn’t know where to start. 

but he’s just standing there and he’s stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him. 

He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him. 

“D-Diluc,” you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).

“(Your friend), could you give us a minute?” he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair. 

“...I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you start, and yet he doesn’t say anything, prompting you to continue talking. “...You don’t have to think about it too much, it’s just silly--”

“I wasn’t sure,” he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. “I wasn’t sure...if you really felt that way.” 

The statement somehow exasperates you. “You weren’t sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--” then it hits you. “Or were you scared, Diluc?”

The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, “I was, I still am,” but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. “...but this time...” his fists clench on his side. “This time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,”

He was not going to lose you too.

Itto

“Seriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?” (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you. 

"Oh, say it a bit louder why don’t you?” You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.”

“Sorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??” your can tell by the look on your friend’s face that they think you have weird tastes.

What he does:

Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue what’s going on.

“Crush?!”

You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. “Y/N?! You planning on crushing me?!” then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. “Yeah right, you’re no match for me!”

Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. You’re a little disappointed he doesn’t get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. “You stupid oaf, we don’t mean it that way...” 

Itto’s head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. “No? Then... Watcha all talkin about?” 

You grab your friend’s arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. “It’s not important! Actually, we better get going--”

“Y/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!” Your friend explodes, patience long gone. 

Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, “...Oh,” then there’s the slight tugging at his chest, he can’t help but beam and smile silly. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!”

You’re not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety. 

Kaeya

“It’s all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesn’t mean anything,” you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.

“...Do you want it to be just fun and games?” your friend chides, and there’s a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, it’s almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs. 

“...Let’s change the subject,” 

What he does: 

responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.

“How about let’s not?” Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you. 

“Snowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,” his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“...I didn’t say anything though?” you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest. 

“Silence speaks volumes, Y/N,” Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. “So if you’re opposed to what I’m about to do, better speak up,”

He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.

You stay silent.

He grins.

Scaramouche

“Hat guy? He’s brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. You’ve always been weird,” (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again. 

“Stop calling him that,” You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. “That’s not his only distinctive feature, you know,” you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.

“Oh? What else are his “distinctive features”?” (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes. 

You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiya’s library. “...His eyes,” you simply answer. “They’re a beautiful shade of violet-blue...He’s always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,” 

There’s silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.

What he does:

is amused.

thinks its cute pathetic.

will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.

will be cocky.

“My eyes, huh?”

It’s hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramouche’s form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but there’s a smug smirk on his face. “Didn’t know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,”

It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.

You didn’t know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward. 

“...What’re you looking for?” he blurted out.

“...A book...”

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re looking for a book. I meant what’s the title?” There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively. 

“...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...” you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.

“You’re in the wrong section,” the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment. 

“If it’s about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,” you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that he’s offering his hand, but his face is blank.

“...Well? Come on. I don’t have all day,”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But that’s just the way he was. 

You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.

Xiao

“Oh so that’s why you’re coming over more frequently...” (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.

“Well, I’m also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,”

“Uhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause you’re awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,” 

You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. “I--” You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. “I just want to do something nice for Xiao, that’s all,” you innocently quip. “I...I know I can’t help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,”

(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. “That’s nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,” 

What he does:

once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldn’t do.

But now he bides his time, and observes if it’s safe to open up. 

He wouldn’t outright thank you at first, but he’ll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.

He’s rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.

Eventually when he realizes you’re not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.

He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu. 

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BVD1VVFP

Consider supporting me to read some exclusive fics:

https://ko-fi.com/primofate

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Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

[returnsandreturns]

i'm here for y'all, take my hand

“Is this how high school Foggy spent his free time?” Matt asks, amused, watching Foggy open the tiny window in his childhood bedroom and prop it up with an old yearbook. 

“I was too square,” Foggy says. “Nobody sold the vice president of the student council drugs. Maybe the president because she had their respect but not me.”

“So no action in this twin bed, either?” Matt asks.

“Only with myself,” Foggy says, “but I am, of course, a very tender lover.” 

“Of course,” Matt echoes, solemnly. 

“What about you?” Foggy asks, reaching to grab Matt’s sleeve and gently tug him closer, showing him where the window is. He’s been doing that sometimes, like he’s comfortable enough to just casually touch Matt and like he’s sure that Matt’s comfortable, too. Which is more or less true. “Did little orphan Matty get laid in high school?” 

“Just a lot of kissing,” Matt says, slowly exhaling the smoke, “and one weird handjob.” 

“How weird?” Foggy asks, squinting. 

“Uh, under a blanket at some upstate church youth retreat,” Matt says. “People were praying at the time.” 

“. . .you make so much more sense to me now,” Foggy says. “Who was this exhibitionist Catholic schoolgirl? Was she wearing the skirt? Just asking for reasons.” 

“It was a guy, actually,” Matt says, not completely sure why he says it when he could easily lie. He hasn’t actually told this story before but it would be nothing. “No skirt. Just khakis, probably.” 

“It was a guy?” Foggy asks, mouth dropping open. 

Matt shrugs. 

“Things happen,” he says, laughing when Foggy just keeps staring. “What?” 

“Things happen?” Foggy repeats, laughing. “To you, maybe. Things don’t happen to me. Nobody’s ever offered to give me a weird gay handjob. I’d have to put a lot of effort into making that happen.” 

“You never know,” Matt says. 

“No, I think I do know,” Foggy says. “Unless you’re planning on taking our relationship in a beautiful and arguably natural new direction.” 

“Arguably natural, huh?” Matt asks, choking on a laugh and coughing from the smoke as he turns to lean out the window before handing the joint back and crawling back to sit on the bed. 

“Yeah, birds, bees, all that shit,” Foggy says, stubbing out the joint and carefully putting it back in the plastic sandwich bag he brought it in. “So. . .the handjob was weird and potentially caused some sort of religious trauma but. . .did you. . .” 

“. . .finish?” Matt asks.

“No!” Foggy says, laughing. “I mean, also that, but did you. . .you know, like it?” 

“. . .I didn’t dislike it,” Matt says. 

“You’re gonna be such a good lawyer,” Foggy says, dropping down next to him. “I guess I’m asking–and you don’t have to answer, you can, of course, plead the fifth, which you’d know due to the fact that you’re gonna be such a good lawyer–if you maybe possibly like. . .guys. A little.” 

Matt thinks about it for a second, biting his lip. 

“Maybe possibly a little,” he says. “You?” 

“Quite possibly a moderate amount,” Foggy says, smiling when Matt laughs. 

“So, what do we do with this information?” Matt asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Let’s let the high set in properly,” Foggy says, leaning into his shoulder. “Talking about feelings is way better when you’re high and don’t feel shame as strongly.” 

“. . .you have feelings?” Matt asks, curiously. 

“. . .give it like fifteen minutes,” Foggy says, weakly. 

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Forever Ain’t Long Enough

Paring: Glen Powell x Rockstar!Reader

Summary: Glen Powell and his rockstar love have been together for a decade, ever since they met on Scream Queens. Their relationship, once a well-kept Hollywood secret, is now making headlines—especially after their red carpet appearance at the Twisters premiere, where a certain ring was spotted. Now, sitting down for an exclusive interview ahead of her highly anticipated country comeback album, she finally confirms the rumors: not only did Glen propose, but they’re already married.

The camera flashes are still burned into her retinas. Last night, when they stepped onto the Twisters red carpet, she swore she heard the collective gasp from the press the second they noticed the ring. A decade together and somehow, they’d managed to keep this part a secret—until now.

“Alright,” the interviewer, a seasoned journalist with a warm smile, leans in with an air of intrigue. “Let’s start with the question on everyone’s mind. The Twisters premiere. The ring. Glen Powell finally putting a ring on the rockstar he’s been crushing on for ten years. Is it true?”

She laughs, shaking her head at the dramatics. “Oh, it’s true,” she admits, holding up her hand so the camera gets a good look at the diamond. “But we kinda forgot to tell people that we’ve actually been married for months.”

The interviewer’s jaw drops. “Wait—married? Glen Powell and his longtime rockstar girlfriend-turned-fiancée-turned-wife?”

She grins, nodding. “Yep.”

“Okay, hold on. You mean to tell me Glen Powell—Hollywood’s golden boy, America’s sweetheart—has been secretly married to you, country music’s newly returned queen, for how long?”

“Six months,” she confirms, sitting back against the leather chair. “We had a quiet ceremony on our ranch in Austin. Just family, some close friends, nothing crazy. I think after ten years together, we didn’t feel like we needed a spectacle. We just wanted us.”

The interviewer shakes her head in disbelief. “I need to process this. I feel like I’ve been lied to.”

She laughs again, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, we never lied. We just… didn’t correct anyone.”

“Unbelievable,” the interviewer mutters, then refocuses. “So, tell me—how did Glen propose? Because if this was under wraps, I’m guessing it wasn’t a public, get-down-on-one-knee-at-the-Oscars kind of thing.”

“Not even close,” she says, her smile softening. “It was at home, on the ranch. We were sitting on the porch, watching the sun go down, and he just—he pulled out the ring and said, ‘Ten years is a long time to wait, but forever still doesn’t feel like enough.’ And that was it. Simple. Perfect. Him.”

The interviewer sighs dramatically. “Well, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It really was,” she agrees, her fingers absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring. “And I know people always say ‘when you know, you know,’ but Glen—he’s always been it for me. Since day one. I think we both knew it, even when we were just kids messing around on Scream Queens.”

“So, does this mean the new album is about him?”

“Oh, yeah,” she confirms. “He’s all over this record. Every song, every lyric. It’s about the life we built together, the love we’ve grown into. It’s my love letter to him, to us, to Austin, to home. Making this album felt like coming back to myself.”

The interviewer sighs wistfully. “A secret wedding, a country comeback, and a husband who’s been in love with you since the minute he met you. You’re living the dream, girl.”

She grins, looking down at her ring before meeting the camera with a twinkle in her eye. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I really am.”

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (12)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

About yn: although the character does not have a faceclaim, pictures suggest reader is white.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 11 // MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 12) — STILL IN NYC

liked by bestfriend, lookitsnyoh, sisterinlaw and 47,813 others

yourinstagram nyc this is not a drill: my favorite person in the whole wide world is here and even tho she’s just arrived she’s not wasting any time!! i mean ive barely recovered from how freaking good the show was but im already out here having yet another greatest night thanks to her. god i missed you ＠bestfriend lets find you a fake job too so you never leave my side okay? okay love youuuuuuu  

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bestfriend COUNTDOWN IS OVERRRRRR bestfriend WE FINALLY MEET AGAINNNNN  bestfriend WHERE IS MY PIZZAAAAAA user3 the chaotic energy i get from these two is so healing istg  harrystyles I feel betrayed

↳ yourinstagram no boys allowed when it’s girls night ↳ bestfriend you’re invited next time tho we���ll make an exception

harryfan1 harry can you please just follow her already ftlog you’re here all the time anyway  harryfan5 aaaaaaaa it happened it finally happened!! user1 omg I’m so happy for you, so excited! I guess this means she’s going to the second show, right? 🤩 harryfan3 OKAY BUT I NEED TO KNOW ＠bestfriend did you meet harry already or?? I mean how was it are you okay did you fangirl PLS SHARE user2 is ＠bestfriend getting her own short video like your mom did? 

↳ harryfan7 omg that’s so true I remember when that came up she was doing those videos all the time and now we haven’t gotten one in so long 😭

Oct 3, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by harryfan1, user1, ynrryfan and 317 others

ynupdates Hey guys! As many of you already know, ＠bestfriend turned her ig private right when Yn joined Harry Styles on tour and her number of followers it’s pretty low.

Luckily for us, as soon as we created the account and started posting about Yn, she followed us. We were only able to follow her back after a little while, but since then we’ve been able not only to stay in touch with her but also to keep up with her posts.

All this time we’ve been very supportive and respectful of her privacy and never shared any pictures or information related to Yn (or even mentioned anything existed in the first place). 

This weekend, though, the two best friends are finally reunited ❤️ it was a surprise for all of us, and the excitement we felt when we saw these stories was really hard to contain. So… We reached out to ＠bestfriend and asked if we could share these with you — to which she very kindly said yes! (if we promised to cover yn’s face, of course)

With that being said, we hope you enjoy these glimpses posted by Yn’s best friend during the day. Pictures include them sightseeing in NYC this morning, the cutest pose by the one and only Harry Styles, a cake from backstage at the Madison Square Garden, and Yn doing her job right before the show! 

We’re so happy and so thankful that we get to freak out about all this with you! Share your thoughts with us, and let’s show our love to the coolest best friend who is also the most supportive we’ve ever seen! 

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user1 ahhh!! I follow her too and I freak out every time I see anything. I’m so happy to know she was okay with you guys sharing this ❤️ user2 uh-oh… this place is about to get so crowded… harryfan1 oh my goodness look at him???!??!???? harryfan3 they’re all hanging out together?! I need more details pls user3 let me innnnnnnn  user4 everyone say THANK YOU BESTIE

↳ user5 THANK YOU BESTIE ↳ harryfan5 THANK YOU BESTIE 

user6 I’m not a fan of Harry Styles but damn he looks hot harryfan7 guys I’m so jealous I wanna follow her too :(((( harryfan9 okay but what if she posts about the show?? and more pictures of him?? will you share everything with us???

↳ harryfan11 say yes please ↳ ynupdates only if she’s okay with it :) we will never share anything without her consent! 

harryfan13 real talk now: how many secrets have you been keeping all to yourself since you’ve followed her?

↳ ynupdates 🫣🤐

ynrryfan THOSE ARE MY PARENTS AND MY MOTHER  ynrryfan THANK YOU ＠bestfriend WE LOVE YOU ynrry THANK YOU ＠ynupdates WE LOVE YOU TOO harryfan8 ???? wtf 

Oct 4, 2021 •

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liked by bestfriend, annetwist, harrystyles and 51,335 others

yourinstagram second show in nyc is over guys 🥺 

gosh im supposed to be out celebrating rn but ive been in my hotel room staring and smiling at the only two pics i took tonight. i honestly cant believe how genuinely happy i feel. i never tried to hide how much i love harry’s music, or how to be able to watch him perform my favorite songs every night is a dream come true for me. but then to be there with ＠bestfriend singing and dancing to OUR favorite songs is something so extraordinary i cant even imagine putting it into words. she was there when i needed someone to push me so i finally started posting videos on youtube, she cheered me on, and she supported me all the way through every achievement. but above all that, she was also there when i was going through the lowest period of my life. when i didnt want to leave my bed and when i could barely recognize myself anymore. she was there and she never let go of my hand. just like she still wont let go of it until this day. life isnt perfect and not every day is the happiest, but every day i feel the luckiest for having such an amazing friend next to me. ily bestie and thank you for sharing this moment with me!

also and finally (before someone comes knocking on my door and yelling at me for how late i am…….), i just wanna warn you that i’ll be the most annoyingly happy person in nyc tonight. i had the greatest time of my life and im so over the moon that im not the least embarrassed of being this emotional or this dramatic or this unbothered by my silly grammar and punctuation!! lol all jokes aside these people around me make me smile everyday and there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards them. thank you thank you thank you. to all of you. my favorite fake friends. you smashed it tonight and im sure madison square garden had never seen such talented gorgeous wonderful people take over a stage like you did the past two days. im proud and ily all. 

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bestfriend shut up bestfriend did we just post pictures of the same moment? bestfriend we so did! bestfriend ugh i love you so much there are no words to describe it bestfriend my fav song was even included on the set list i feel like i won the lottery or something  lookitsnyoh there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards you, too 🧚 pillowpersonpp Let’s cheers to that tonight! user1 ahh, i love your friendship! user1 also i just remembered when you bought harry’s album with your first paycheck and you mentioned something about your ex being jealous so he didn’t want you to buy it? 

↳ harryfan55 wait, what? Where did you see that? ↳ user1 she posted about it months ago  ↳ bestfriend hahahaha ↳ bestfriend thats so true and im so drinking to that tonight

annetwist ❤️ harryfan4 I’m sorry (I’m not) but there’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about you ynrryfan this tour is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me harryfan5 please never change harryfan7 wheres harry am i finally here before him???

↳ harryfan9 lol im afraid he only liked the post this time

Oct 4, 2021 •

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— — — — — 

PART 13 — AFTER NYC

— — — — — 

Tag list: @tchlamqtsgf @theekyliepage @deamus-liv @hotchnersangel @gem1712 @firelordzu @stylessbean @this-is-tiny-mia — PLEASE READ: I’ll only add to the next tag list those who interact with this post. I hope you understand, thank you for your excitement. 

[salemlunaa]

I might just be overthinking this but (this is lengthy, I wanted to explain as best I could)

I’ve been procrastinating the void for three years now it’s crazy. I haven’t got insane yet, but I have this terrible routine of going throughout the day wanting to enter the void but when I come home and it’s time for bedtime and all that suddenly want to enter leaves this magical third-party force making me do this. It’s a conscious choice. I just don’t get why I keep setting myself up for this disappointment every single day. 

Ive gone through all the reasonings. Even tho this current life makes me nothing but unhappy, tired, and I constantly feel like a shell of myself but it’s what I’m used to another thing I’ve noticed is I only want to enter the void when I’m actively doing something I don’t like like I’m at work or I’m at school or I’m doing homework but when I’m laying down in my bed I guess I’m not inconvenience so I guess I just tell myself all is OK even though there’s this voice deep down screaming at me to just enter the void because I know I’m gonna be disappointed and irritated myself next morning if I don’t, and I always just ignore it.

I don’t know if it’s because I prefer to imagine my dream life at a safe distance in just my head as insane as that sounds. I used to think I was afraid of change, but it’s not that cause I’ve always adapted to it. Well, I guess it was just usually not really my choice I had to. I’ve come to terms with the fact that there’s no way for me to prepare for a life. I haven’t experienced. I’m over that. I know. I deserve to live an stress-free fun life after the bullshit I’ve gone through. I mean, clearly I don’t want enough but at the same time I clearly do because I keep screaming at myself to just do it. I don’t know why my procrastination or laziness or stubbornness. I don’t know why I let it overpower that

Four years probably since I don’t know at least fifth or sixth grade I believe that somehow someway they’re just has to be away I can get the dream life I’ve been dreaming of. I don’t know why, but I just feel like something can do it for me like there’s no way I’m destined to live this shitty ass life, and now that I found the power to do so now I just keep pushing it back. Oh I’ll do it later even though I’m wanted this for years since I was probably 11, im 20 now, I found out about his whole community when I was 17 on a Saturday evening binge eating fruit snacks.

Im just so frustrated with myself, how I can allow myself to keep making my own suffering at this point, I know all the why but I don’t understand the why. Why I keep doing this to myself and how to stop it, I try to think and understand it everyday. I want to enter the void and get the life I deserve and I don’t plan on giving up ever.

Ik this is super long so thank you so much for answering if you do. can I be your 🌶️🥒 (spicy dill) anon, if that’s still a thing?

hi love🌶️🥒

you have the exact same problem that majority of this community has so please don’t feel lonely. A lot of people spend their days doing nothing at all and wait for the last second to apply.

you are not destined to live a shitty life, you get to craft your own life and i know it can be comforting imagining that from afar, but if you really want it you have to lock in, like really, you actually have to try.

I don’t want you to waste any more years like this so some advice i will give you is whenever you have any free time include the void, try and if it “fails” go back to what you know is true, relaxation and detachment and try again.

This is such a common problem in the community and your story will resonate with so many people, so to everyone reading this go an apply, stop killing time 💋💋

[pepi1989]

Wrapped in Calm - Marcello Hernández

I can’t believe there’s no Marcello fics anywhere. Let me get the hang of it, and y’all are gonna get some good fics lol

Saturday mornings used to feel rushed, like there was always something to get done. But with Marcello, it’s different. Even with SNL later tonight, there’s this sense of calm that radiates from him.

His arm is slung lazily over my waist, his face half-buried in the pillow, dark curls all messy. He’s awake, but neither of us has moved, too comfortable in the quiet of the morning. I feel him shift slightly, and a soft hum escapes his lips, the kind that makes me smile.

"Morning," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. His hand brushes my hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin, and I can’t help but lean into his touch.

"Morning," I whisper back, my voice just as soft. I turn my head slightly to catch a glimpse of him, and there he is, eyes barely open but filled with this easy kind of warmth that makes my heart flutter.

We lie there for a while longer, neither of us in any hurry to move. His breathing is slow, steady, like he’s savoring every second. I feel the familiar pull of his body against mine as he shifts closer, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

"You’re so cozy," he murmurs against my skin, lips brushing lightly, and I can’t help but laugh a little, the sound muffled by the sheets.

"You say that every time," I tease, but I can’t deny that it’s true. Moments like this feel so effortless, like the world could stop outside and neither of us would care.

He lets out a contented sigh, pulling me even closer until our bodies are flush, his warmth enveloping me completely. "Yeah, well, it’s true every time."

There’s a quiet pause, the kind that’s comfortable, like we’ve said all we need to. Outside, the city is probably waking up, but here, in our little bubble, it’s just us. I can feel Marcelo’s chest rising and falling slowly against my back, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that I’ve grown to love.

"Are you nervous about tonight?" I ask after a while, breaking the silence.

I feel him shake his head, lips still pressed softly to my skin. "Not really. Feels normal now, you know?" His voice is so calm, so sure, like the chaos of live TV doesn’t even faze him anymore.

"Must be nice," I say, smiling to myself. It’s hard to imagine not being at least a little bit anxious before performing live in front of millions, but Marcello… he’s so chill about it. He always is.

He laughs quietly, his breath warm against my neck. "I guess I’ve just got good company to keep me grounded."

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it, and nudge him with my elbow. "You’re so cheesy."

"And you love it," he teases, his arm tightening around me, pulling me into this half-playful, half-sweet hug.

I sigh, leaning back into him, fully content. "Yeah, I do." And I mean it. Every bit of it. These slow mornings, the way he holds me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the way he’s so calm before a night of madness, it’s all part of why I love him.

We stay like that for a little longer, wrapped up in each other, letting the morning stretch on without a care in the world.

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

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

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

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

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

wordcount: 18K

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

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes—but you don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure?"

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

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

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

"Go on..."

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

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Very well," he accepts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

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

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

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

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

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

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

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

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night, Kook."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

"Sleep tight!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

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

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

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

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

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

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

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

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

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

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

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh? She was at your place?"

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

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

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It shouldn't.

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

But it does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he does. He always will.

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

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

"I always call?"

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

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

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

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

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

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

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

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

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

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

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

He had your back. You had his.

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

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

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

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

Didn't. Past tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

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

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

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

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

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

But nor does anyone else.

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

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

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

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

Bammie—

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

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

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

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

And so you give him a little grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

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

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

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

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

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

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

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

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

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

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

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little honesty is needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's not.

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

You like him because he's competent.

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's not making this easy for you.

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

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

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

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

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

"You've got to be kidding me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

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

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

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

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

"So if Jiwon—"

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

"Jealous?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's nothing to tell."

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

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

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

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

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

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

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

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

"Kook..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

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

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

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

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

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

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

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

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

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

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

The issue is that yours were, too.

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

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

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

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

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

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

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

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

It's different, now.

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

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

"Do I?"

"You should."

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

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

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

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

"Try me," you'd challenged.

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

That you are different. Are special.

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

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

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

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

At least that's what you tell yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

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

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

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

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

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

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

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

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you?!

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

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

Why is he still talking about you?!

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

Get a grip!

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

"But I'm guessing...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's probably shitfaced by now.

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

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

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

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

The sunlight is warm on my skin. It’s morning— late morning, by the angle of the sunlight, but still morning— and I feel my lover’s hand brush the hair from my face. My eyes are not yet open, but I can feel her gaze, her breath, even her smile behind the darkness of my closed eyelids. The mattress dips with her heated weight next to me, a familiar feeling that warms me from the inside out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she lilts softly, her smile dancing in the sound of her words. “It’s time for breakfast. If you’d like to be up sometime before noon, now’s your chance.”

There’s only one thing that bothers me.

It shouldn’t be morning. It should be afternoon at the earliest. Last I remember, I was fighting— what’s new? I’m always fighting— and it was important this time. It was a fight for not only our lives but every life, an earth-shattering, world-ending battle for the future of humanity. I should be there fighting still. 

And besides, I have no lover. I don’t even know what gave me the idea that I did. 

I know enough of espionage to know when something is too good to be true. So, instead of revealing my wakefulness, I lie very still. I mimic the deep breathing of sleep and wait for her next move. 

“Bucky,” she beckons, her hand on my chest. “Bucky, I know you’re awake. Those breathing tricks don’t work on me anymore, you know that.”

Panic flares in my chest, but I force myself to stay still. How? I think. How does she know?

Her hand is warm against my chest, right over my heart. My overactive imagination envisions that warm hand burrowing, boring a hole through my chest plate and into my heart, crushing it in her grip—

“Oh well,” she sighs, her voice full of Loki’s own mischief. “I guess I’ll have to persuade you that waking is better than dreaming.”

Her hand moves. It travels down the center of my chest— my bare chest, I notice— her fingers lightly caressing through the hair at my stomach, travelling lower and lower until—

I snatch her hand away just before she reaches the waistband of my boxers. My eyes snap open, and with the silence of an assassin, I roll on top of her, capturing both of her hands at the wrist and pinning her legs with my own. She giggles— giggles!— the whole while, right up until the moment she sees my face. Trapped beneath me with nowhere to go, she stares up at me, smiling at first, then wide-eyed and sober. 

“Bucky? Honey?”

There is fear in her voice. It lands sourly on my ears, and I foolishly want to see her smiling again. I shake my head, trying to clear it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I’m shocked to note that the fear I’d heard is gone, replaced by a soft concern that’s echoed in the softening of her eyes. 

“Who are you?” I demand. 

“What? What do you mean, who am I?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists and force them to the bed.

“Answer the question.”

“Bucky, you’re scaring me,” she says, and her hands begin to tremble. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t tell me who the hell you are.”

Her expression hardens. 

“I,” she says with surprising indignation, “am your wife. And I’m starting to get real goddamn offended that my husband is threatening me in our marriage bed. I suggest you get a grip, James Buchanan Barnes, before I start to take it personal.”

I blink owlishly at her.

Wife?

Her hands are still shaking, but I can tell she’s getting angrier by the second. Intellectually, I know that I have her pinned and that there’s no way she can hurt me. Emotionally? I feel about thirty seconds away from experiencing a category four storm of righteous wifely fury that I know I shouldn’t fear, but fear anyway. 

 “Well?” she demands. “Are you going to let me up so we can talk this through like adults or are you going to continue trying to assault me?”

I don’t release her immediately, but I do take a look around me. The bedroom is neatly organized and done up in shades of slate blue and wheat gold. The big window to my right is open, allowing the breeze to tango with the sheer white and gold curtains that hand from a sturdy gold rod. On the walls are photos of my friends— Steve, Shuri, T’challa, and others— and on the nightstand next to the bed, there is a photo of a bride and a groom holding hands in front of a place I recognize. It is a secluded place along a Wakandan lakeside, with grass so green it looks like shattered emeralds and water so blue that it seems only melted, watery sky.

That place— it is my favorite place in all the wide world. If I were ever to be married anywhere, that would be the place I would choose to be married at. 

The woman beneath me— my wife— follows my gaze, and I can feel her muscles relax, softening in my grip.

“Wakanda,” she murmurs. “Do you remember that, our wedding day? The grass stains on my dress, the way Steve cried and T’challa got so drunk that he tripped over his own feet at the reception while trying to Cupid Shuffle? Surely you do— Tony Stark laughed so hard he threw up.”

“No,” I tell her truthfully before I can think to stop myself. “What’s a Cupid Shuffle?”

I look back down at her, and her expression goes all pinched.

“I think we might better call Steve,” she says gently, brows creased in concern. “You love the Cupid Shuffle.”

***

According to Steve, I do not love the Cupid shuffle. Quite the opposite, in fact. I detest the song so much that my wife— who I still don’t remember— had apparently been trying to shock me out of my state of amnesia by claiming I did. When that didn’t work, she brought me here, to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters— whatever the fuck that is. 

Out of curiosity, I ask Steve to show me this Cupid Shuffle, and he’s absolutely right. I hate the song, and the dance looks stupid. The idea of T’challa falling over trying to do it is so cringe that my bones feel nauseous just thinking about it. 

“He did, though,” Steve reiterates, the shit-eating grin on his face no less bright for the ugly blue fluorescent lighting of the infirmary. He just loves it when he knows a reference before I do. “The night you were married, we were all so happy that nothing was embarrassing. Maybe I’m a sap, but… it felt a little like magic.”

Married. So even Steve seems to think I am, but I don’t feel very married. Even as I look around at the stoic, sterile infirmary around me, I feel like there is a battlefield I should be on, a war I should be fighting.

My inner turmoil must be apparent on my face, because Steve moves closer, speaks softer.

“Believe me,” Steve says, putting a big hand on my shoulder. “You love her, Buck. No matter how many years you’ve lost, you’ll remember it in your bones if you give her a chance.”

The crazy thing is, I believe him. 

She’s sitting on the other side of the glass window that separates us, chatting with Pepper Potts. Miss Potts, Steve told me, is now Mrs. Stark, and when I’d asked him why she felt okay associating with us after all that happened, he’d told me that they’d all made up a long time ago. Even now, I’m relieved for that; as grateful as I am that Steve chose me over his Avenger friends, I have always questioned whether or not I was worth the trade. To know that all is set to right between the two sides is comforting.

My wife laughs at something Pepper says, grasps her hand with a smile. As I study her, I come to an obvious realization.

“She’s beautiful,” I tell Steve. “That’s got to count for something, I guess.”

If I’m being honest, it counts for a lot, but I don’t want to seem shallow. Even at this distance, her smile is charming; I remember being up close and personal with that smile this morning, and I know that her eyes have that shine to them that says she’s as sweet as she is mischievous. Her nose is a graceful outward slope against her profile, and her lips, while predisposed to pouting, seem soft, well-shaped, and supple. And as for the rest of her… 

I try hard not to think about the way she’d pulled off the oversized— the me sized— t-shirt that she was wearing to change into something decent to wear. At the sight of her bare skin, I had been possessed of a strange and terrible urge to lick her from head to fucking toe before she managed to put real clothes on and show me where my clothes were. I shudder at the memory.

“I told you,” Steve says, “You love her. Only love can make a man look so green about the gills. You had the same look on your wedding day.”

I really, really can’t think about that right now. 

“So… we really beat Thanos?”

“Yep. Five years ago. We all did the whole Avengers thing and, you know, assembled.” Steve shrugged. “It was a close call, but between all of us we managed to cut off Thanos’s hand before he could use the glove and his head before he could do any more damage. The old one-two, as it were.”

I don’t remember that at all. I tell him what I last recall— fighting Thanos in the Wakandan jungle, a mad melee for our lives. 

“That’s about how it happened,” Steve nods, “except Tony was there, fighting with us. Don’t you remember him?”

I shake my head. I don’t remember, but battles are like that sometimes. Things get confused, chaotic— I might have been so busy fighting for my life that I just didn’t notice him swooping in to assist. I relate this to Steve, and he nods thoughtfully. 

“It may be. In any case, I think I know why your memory is spotty. Who knows what’s gonna come back on the scans they took, but, I’ve gotta be honest”— Steve’s ears turn pink, so I know he’s really embarrassed— “You and I were training yesterday, testing out the new battle simulator here at S.W.O.R.D., and uh… I hit you in the head pretty hard with the shield.”

He looks away, shamefaced.

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

It is a terrible and unnatural thing to see Captain fucking America wilt like an overwatered magnolia. I take my oldest and dearest friend by the arm and tell him exactly what he needs to hear.

“Steve. Do not ever be sorry for anything that happens to me because of you. No, no, no, don’t look at me like that— every day that I’m alive and in my right mind is a day I borrowed from you. You should have killed me when I came off the ice with a mission to kill you.”

“I would never,” he protests.

“My point exactly. I don’t deserve you, Steve.”

“But you do.” His expression is pained. “You do, and you deserve this life you’ve made for yourself too, and I’m the reason you don’t remember it.”

Oh, boy. Thick as ever, that skull of his.

“The only reason I have this life is because you risked yours to give it to me, so cut the shit.” I think for a moment, then add, “Besides, we don’t actually know if you hitting me caused any memory loss. My skull is pretty thick, I’m sure it’s been through worse. It could be that so much time on ice, all the deprogramming, and stuff… it could just be that my brain has been through too much.”

It’s a sobering thought. We sit together in silence for a moment, letting that one sink in.

“In any case,” Steve says, “the scans won’t be back for a few days. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

I don’t know. I’m a stranger in a strange land.

“Would it be bad to just… pretend nothing happened? If I already have a house, I could just… stay there with…”

It occurs to me that I don’t know my wife’s name.

“With (Y/N)?”

I nod.

“Yeah. With her. I mean, if she doesn’t mind.”

I feel myself flush. She might mind after this morning… I seem to remember pissing her off. Hurting her. Scaring her. I wouldn’t want me in my house if I was in her shoes.

“I’m sure she won’t. It might be… upsetting to her because you don’t remember, but she’s tough. More than that, Buck, you should know she takes her vows very seriously. When she said for better or for worse, she meant it. This is nowhere near the ‘worse’ she would endure for you. She loves you.”

“I’m starting to get that,” I say as I make awkward eye contact with her through the glass. “I could get used to it, I think. Being loved by somebody like her.”

“Take it from me,” Steve grins, “you’ll never get used to her.”

I’ve known Steve for many, many years, but I still can’t parse the meaning of that mischievous look in his eyes. 

I am so, so out of my depth here— but that has ever and always been so. I was out of my depth as a kid in a war, then again as a man trapped inside an assassin, and again as a human soldier in a war of heroes, aliens, and other magical freaks of nature. I can navigate my way out of this one just as well as the others, I tell myself. It’s only a matter of compartmentalization. 

“Ready to get going?”

My old friend holds a hand out to me. With a bravery I do not feel, I take his hand and let him help me down from the exam table.

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“You got this, soldier.”

“Sure, Steve. Whatever you say.”

We walk together to rejoin my wife and Pepper Potts— Stark, I remind myself. My wife stands, and by the way her brows forcibly smooth and a smile thinly blankets her former worried frown, it’s clear that she’s troubled. Pepper stands next to her and squeezes her shoulder in a silent gesture of support. 

“Well, I don’t know about everyone else,” says (Y/N), “but I’m starving. Anyone down for brunch?”

Steve shrugs. 

“I could eat. Pep?”

“I’m famished. I skipped breakfast to get Morgan to school on time, and it’s nearly lunch now.”

All eyes turn to me. I’ve never thought of myself as bashful, but being the center of attention at this present moment feels very similar to having my bare ass cheeks sitting on hot asphalt.

“Brunch is good. Where to?”

“Bagels on 32nd?” (Y/N) suggests.

“Fine by me.”

“Nothing better.”

Jesus fuck— they’re all looking at me again. If I could melt into a puddle, I would.

A small, soft hand reaches out to mine. My wife looks at me with a fondness that makes my chest ache. I hadn’t thought my discomfort to be so transparent, but it’s clear that she’s trying to comfort me. My heart lurches in my chest, but my body relaxes ever-so-slightly as she squeezes my hand. 

“Bagels it is,” I manage, and then we all set off to walk together for a couple blocks. 

On the brief walk, Steve and Pepper walk ahead of us, chatting about Morgan— who I surmise is Stark’s daughter— and (Y/N) and I hang back. She’s quiet, reserved, and perhaps a bit nervous, but half a block into our walk, she turns to me and says,

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” She looks up at me sheepishly. “You just seemed a bit frazzled, and I wanted— well, what I mean is, I just did what I would normally do, but I realize that things with us— well, things in general, but also with us— are not exactly normal right now, so in hindsight I could have just made it all worse instead of helping you feel, uh, less frazzled, so I’m really sorry if—”

I stop her there. The rambling is cute, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she’s going to work herself into hysterics if I let her keep going.

“I didn’t mind. Your normal— our normal— is good, I think.” 

She shuts up then. I can feel her eyes burning holes into my face, but I dare not look down to meet her gaze. 

We walk a ways further, and I ask her about the bagel place, what she usually gets, what the options are. She tells me her order, then hesitates. Sensing this hesitation, I make a guess at what she’s thinking and ask what my usual order is. She relaxes a bit, then tells me, and it seems right— both the order and the conversation.

“Now, there is some lore about this bagel place that I should probably mention.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Her tone is light, but she seems terribly interested in the brick wall of the building next to us. “Mrs. Dolores Finch is a regular there. I don’t suppose you remember Dolores?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Well, she’s taken quite a shine to you— well, to both of us, really. She was quite taken with you when you rescued her cat out of a tree next to the cafe— the cat had slipped its harness, though how that fat furball managed to do that is beyond me— and once she got over her phase of trying to split us up and pair you with her granddaughter, she became… tolerable.”

She finally risks a sideways glance at me, gauging my reaction, then refocuses her eyes ahead of us.

“She will try to pinch your bum, though. I’ll do my best to run interference, but she’s surprisingly agile for someone her age.”

I try to imagine such a scene— a game of keep-away with my ass as the prize— and fail spectacularly.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on guard for bum pinches.”

The rest of the way to the bagel place, we walk in silence, and I worry quietly about being ass-ambushed. I know there’s no reason to get so worked up, but the thing about being a soldier and an assassin is that a high-functioning anxiety disorder will keep a fella alive more often than it kills him. And sometimes, like it or not, the thing your brain deems anxiety-worthy is an old lady and her cat. 

Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.

We stop in front of an old brick building. It’s rustic and charming on the outside, and on the inside it’s full of soft golden light and old— like, really old, like me old— jazz music playing out of a Bluetooth speaker on a nearby shelf.

My wife elbows me gently as we approach a table, and her mouth molds itself into a smile.

“Good morning, Dolores,” she says with more fondness than I had anticipated. “How are you today?”

Dolores is a short old woman with gray hair covering what once was all auburn tresses. I can tell this because unruly bits of it peek out from beneath her frankly outrageous hat. The hat is giant, roughly the size of a large serving dish, and features what I can only assume is not one, not two, but three taxidermied cardinals on it. At her feet, the biggest, orange-ist cat I’ve ever seen is sprawled out in a patch of sunlight streaming in from the window, trying his damndest to wriggle out of his neon green reflective cat harness. 

“Oh, my bones ache, but what else is new,” says Dolores with a put-upon sigh. When she looks past (Y/N) and and makes eye contact with me, her eyes light up with a nefarious grin that I’ve only ever seen on evil megalomaniacs right before pressing a big, red button. “Oh, and you’ve brought my darling boy to me! How wonderful! Oh my days, you won’t believe all the things that have fallen into disrepair around the house, why only this morning the garden hose—”

“Dolores,” (Y/N) smoothly interjects, placing a hand on Dolores’s shoulder. “Bucky isn’t feeling well these days. We just came to grab a quick bite and go home. I hope that’s alright.”

Dolores frowns. Her brown eyes go impossibly sad, and she leans closer to my wife to murmur,

“Is it… y’know… the war?”

It doesn’t take much to imagine which war she means— certainly not the war I was actually in. But still, given my metal arm and general disposition, it’s a valid assumption for her to have made. Despite my age, I haven’t gone very far from that army boy, lost, alone, and scared as hell.

(Y/N) looks back at me, then murmurs,

“Something like that.”

Dolores nods to herself.

“Well. Nothing to do for it but weather it, dearie. My own husband George, God rest his soul, was in the Air Force in 1939 when the war started, and honey when he came back, it was rough going, I tell you, really rough.”

With a start, I realize that Dolores is probably not too far in age from myself. 

“But you’re a strong girl,” she continued, “and he’s a good man.”

Her eyes move to me, and then she says,

“And Bucky, my dear— let this sweet woman take care of you. Oh, I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through it. Lean on her when you can’t stand on your own, and if she can’t hold you up anymore, just sit down and ride it out together.”

She holds out a hand to me, and I take it. Her skin is old and frail, but softly textured to the touch. 

“There you are, dear. I do wish you well. I really do. I’ll let you go.”

I nod. My wife gives our goodbyes, and just as I turn to follow her in the direction of our friends, I feel a pinch on my left ass cheek to rival the very wrath of God.

I whirl around, but Dolores is sipping her coffee, as innocent as a rattlesnake in a rose bush.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) says once we’re out of earshot, clearly embarrassed. “I really thought she was gonna let you have that one.”

“You were right,” I tell her with a wry grin. “She really is agile for her age.”

We rejoin Steve and Pepper, who rib me about Dolores’s antics before we all tuck into our food. The bagel I ordered— a recommendation from my wife— is spectacular, and it’s gone before anyone else’s is even halfway eaten. We sit and chat for a rather long while, and I find it surprisingly easy to be genuine with these people. They seem to understand me as well as they understand each other. It’s such a pleasant experience that I’m almost sad when we all have to leave.

“Will you all come over for dinner soon?” Pepper asks us, tucking her chair back under the table. “Tony’s been rotting in the garage for too long and could use the company.”

“We’ll be there,” Steve says with his signature boy-scout smile, and I nod in agreement.

“I’ll text you later and schedule, then. We all good to go?”

We all agree and say our goodbyes, and then we head out into the late afternoon sunshine. Pepper and Steve turn back to the direction of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. (Y/N) and I set off in a different direction. She takes us through a path that is unfamiliar to me, but clearly well-trodden by her; within a few minutes, we arrive at the same place I’d started this Freaky Friday-esque day. 

Our home.

It’s smaller on the outside than it seemed on the inside. The exterior is a creamy white stucco, and the roofing is the color of freshly-turned clay. The lawn is small but well-manicured, and a small rock structure bubbles with water— a fountain, I realize.

It’s like something out of a dream. Even when my hand touches the handle of our door, the whole place just doesn’t feel real.

Once inside, I begin to take notice of the layout, the design of the home. The hardwood floors are a gorgeous cherry shade; as we move to the living room, though, most of that hardwood is covered and protected by a Turkish rug that I know must have cost thousands of dollars.

So, I think, not only are we a happy couple, my wife and I, but we’re also well-off.

Looking around at all the photos, artwork, and knickknacks makes my head spin with the sheer amount of information that my mind is trying to absorb. In the living room, there is a photo of me with Tony Stark, standing in his garage and holding something with my metal hand that would obviously be too hot to hold otherwise; an eyeball that I can only hope is glass sits on a shelf next to a picture of a raccoon— Rocket, I recall— and a note that reads, just in case. There are dozens of these things in my immediate line of sight. I can hardly breathe for taking in every detail.

As I observe my surroundings, it becomes painfully clear that I have happened upon a world where I am not used, not tolerated, but cherished

In this world, it seems that I am very rich indeed.

But I cannot fathom this world, not right now. It is all too much at once. I feel awkward once more— ashamed, almost, and most certainly out of place. 

“I need to go for a walk.”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through, but the truth of the statement I have made is not mitigated by its impulsivity. I know myself enough to know when I need space— and right now, when my old, brainwashed life seems preferable to having to face my own reality not as a voyeur, but as an active participant, I know it’s time to gain some fucking perspective.

I look at my wife, who has, in the meantime, curled up on the couch and begun to read. She looks back at me and says with utmost gentleness,

“I know. Take as long as you need. Don’t forget your phone in case you want to crash at Steve’s or— or something.”

There’s no confusion or concern in her voice— so I surmise that this has happened before. I had wondered why she hadn’t spoken at all or invited me to sit. In retrospect, it seems that she had expected this eventuality. Like she knows me well enough to know that I would need space to process this. 

It is a terrible thing to be known so intimately by someone that you don’t know at all. With just this one exchange, my wife has managed to make me feel both an aching fondness and a terrible inadequacy. 

I don’t know her the way that she knows me. I certainly don’t know what she needs right now. But, judging by the sadness in her eyes, it’s not me deciding to fuck off for a while. A sacrifice, then— her comfort for mine.

I won’t forget it, and I am grateful for it… but I just can’t look at her any longer.

“Thanks.”

I do take my phone— which I barely know how to operate, dammit— and set out for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. The activity does wonders for my building headache. Despite my wife’s warning, I don’t anticipate being out more than half an hour. In the end, though, she’s right. I don’t even think to turn back until the sun is setting and I’m still miles from where I started. By the time I return, the stars are up and the moon is out, but as I open the front door to my home, I find that I’m much more centered.

Sure, I’m out of my depth— but I’ve always been out of my depth. Sure, I’ve lost some memories— but how much different is that really from having lost so many years to the ice? The end result is the same: I have to move forward with the time that I do have. 

And as for my wife…

Some version of me loved this woman enough to promise my life to her; some version of me loves her so much that Steve insists that I always will love her. I trust my own judgement, and I trust Steve’s. To see the evidence of that good judgement, all I have to do is look around at photographs on the walls, in my phone, and around the house. In nearly every photo, I am smiling. It is so clear that in this life that I have forgotten, I have been loved and treasured and accepted beyond anything I could have imagined for myself. It would be an injustice for me to turn away from it. It would be an act of such unimaginable ingratitude that the thought of leaving disgusts me.

The living room is dark except for a single lamp. My wife is stretched out beneath the light of that lamp, a hardback book nudging into her sternum as she holds it tightly in her sleep. She is so beautiful like this that I imagine her to be an angel, glowing and golden. The only thing that mars the illusion is the presence of tear-tracks, little stains that cut jagged lines down either of her cherubic cheeks. 

I pry the book gently from her hands. There is a mark against her chest where the corner had dug into her soft flesh, and I wish that there was something I could do to soothe that skin, to make it as if nothing had marred it. Instead, I find pillows and a blanket and cover her, adjusting her body so that she won’t have a crick in her neck from sleeping awkwardly. That done, I step back and admire my handiwork.

Oh yes. Much better.

Now, she looks much more human— but also much more comfortable. I’ll take that over otherworldly beauty any day of the week.

I turn towards the bedroom I woke up in this morning. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Food can wait. I’m exhausted.

I strip down to my boxers, face-plant, and sleep, dreamless, for nine solid, delightful hours.