#silly ideas here get made into reality

[picturesofashe]

Punchberry

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.

[luveline]

bEGGING for something with the marauders with drunk reader at a halloween party!!! make it literally anything you want follow ur heart ily and ur writing is AMAZING!!!!

thank you, ily ♡ modern au, fem

The rugby uniform felt like a funny idea at the time, but now you're cold and wondering how James manages to stay warm when he plays. You must ask him. 

He sits on the couch with Remus and another friend, Frank. You like Frank but he's not one of your boys, leaving you no options —you have to slide yourself between Remus and James, emphasis on have to. Remus touches your waist unthinkingly as you do, like he might catch you if you fell. 

James is ecstatic to see you as always. "Where have you been? I was about to send out the search party." 

He's been very, very pleased with you upon the reveal of your costume. Like, pleased enough to take a handful of your thigh and squeeze at the soft inner part greedily. You lean back into Remus, enjoying the feeling and wanting his comfort. He's used to it, and  he adapts by pressing his face indulgently to the side of your head. 

You giggle. This is usually a nice feeling, but drunk? You're euphoric. 

"You can't stray too far, lovely, I need my victim," Remus says. 

"Where have your fangs gone?" you ask, pointing at your neck. "I made the bite mark so perfect. Everyone will think I have rabies if you don't commit." 

James laughs like you're hilarious. Later, you'll find out that you didn't quite say every word that you thought you said, and that you'd been slurring your words into one another to create Frankenstein's sentences. 

"Everybody already thinks you have rabies," James says. He's wearing a chef's costume from a show he likes, a white shirt that's sleeves strain against his biceps and a blue apron. Sirius spent an hour drawing tattoos into his brown skin with a sharpie. "That's why we've decided to put you down." 

"I'll have one last night of passion with her first, if you don't mind," Sirius says, announcing his presence. 

You like the sound of that, lifting yourself away from the other two boys and their touches to take Sirius' fine hands. He's in a button up and tie, the sticker on his chest proudly proclaiming, Hello, my name is: Dave.

"You're here to kiss me, right?" you ask.

Sirius grins and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "My little alcoholic, you smell like lambrini. What did we say about lambrini?" 

"Uh, that it makes me sloppy drunk." 

"Exactly!" He kisses your cheek, working an arm around your shoulder as though showing you off with pride to the other boys. "My darling, you're so smart." 

"Not that smart, she still drank the lambrini." 

"Remus, don't start," Sirius admonishes. "You just hate that she chooses me when she's drunk." 

"You're her enabler," James says, "of course she does. But before she was drunk she chose to dress as me for Halloween, so if anyone is the favourite–" 

"Oh, please don't start," Remus says. 

The boys start, arguing over who your favourite is. It's a silly pass time with no real merit but no malice, either, and you're just drunk enough to goad them on. "Maybe Remus should be my favourite. After all, he's my vampire. Our love is, like, eternal." 

The furrowed brow he gets whenever the other two boys debate slips. "It's so eternal," he says, nodding confidently. "Quite right, dove." 

"Eternal doesn't mean better." 

"Then what does it mean, Sirius?" 

You decide that James' lap looks comfortable and that you might be here for a long time, so you push his legs down flat and sit carefully (not very carefully in reality, but in your heart) on his thighs, socked feet pulled up onto the couch, sideways and skewiff in his company. 

"Well, obvious winner," James says, encompassing your back with a big arm, pulling you into him. Under his hand your shoulders feel like a more delicate system; you aren't necessarily small, but his touch feels so everywhere, a pervasive feeling of safety and comfort in the palm of his hand where it grasps you. 

"You have the more comfortable seat," Sirius says nonchalantly. "It means nothing." 

Remus pulls one of your socks up where it's slipping down your calf and Sirius interrupts the arguing to ask if you need a glass of water. You don't have favourites. They're each incredibly lovely in their own way. 

[goldenhypen]

. ⊹ just like this ˚ ͎ ｡

syn. taking care of jake when he gets sick, all because you refused to bring a jacket.

pair. jake x reader · wc. 1k · contains. fluff, catching a cold, mentions of food/drink

a/n. ^^ jake has the prettiest smile- nearly forgot this was just sitting in my drafts waiting to see the light of day- so now hopefully at least someone can enjoy it :’>

“damn, as much as i love to kiss you, your lips are freezing,” jake explained after he pulled away with hints of worry in his voice. “oh my, your hands are cold too. i told you you should’ve brought a jacket. you’re freezing.”

it had only been a few seconds but somehow, your lips were already missing the warmth of his own on yours.

“n-no”—stupid stutter—you denied through chattering teeth as the rest of your body began to shiver.

“really,” he said in more of a challenging tone through a chuckle, rather than a question, as he perked up a brow.

he already shrugged off most of his own jacket before you could even think of protesting, and within approximately three seconds, his coat was already hung over your shoulders, sheltering you from the chilling breeze, immediately feeling warmth shoot throughout your body.

“better?” he smirked.

“yes,” you half-guiltily admitted. “you’re going to get sick though.”

the frown on your face didn’t leave even as his next words left his throat, “well, better me than you.”

“no, jake,” you said as your pout grew longer.

“you know why?”

“hm?”

he paused as a smirk travelled to his lips before answering, “because then i’ll get to have you as my caretaker.”

“pfft—please. no, you're not. i’m telling you to take your jacket back, but you’re not letting me give it back to you. so that would be your fault.”

“ouch, someone is really eager to not take care of their boyfriend. okay, i see how it is,” he said with a dramatic frown.

you looked at him as you shook your head and rolled your eyes, “jake, no, i—”

“it’s fine! still better me than you though,” he said —if it was even possible—with more drama in his tone than before as he began to walk away.

you ran to catch up with him and took his still warm hand in both of yours as you looked into his eyes, but being the petty boy he was, who liked playing these silly games, he only continued walking, gaze straight ahead, refusing to look in your direction.

the rest of your date went on, with him eventually forgetting how he had planned on staying dramatic for as long as he could, and he made sure his jacket wasn’t let off your shoulders until you both got home, an immediate rush of warm air filling your bodies. momentarily, you took in the relaxing sensation, closing your eyes.

“want some hot cocoa?” jake asked, whipping you back to reality.

you gave him a small smile, followed by a satisfied nod at the idea. you could already feel the hot beverage flowing down your throat, warming up your insides.

you followed jake to the kitchen. and that was when you heard a sneeze just a few feet ahead.

“jake…”

he cleared his throat. “what? it was just a sneeze.”

“if you’re sick—”

“i’m alright. don’t worry.”

sceptical, you nodded.

later as you two cuddled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, hands wrapped around a nice cup of hot cocoa, jake furrowed his brows. “why is it so cold in here?”

you turned your head to face him with a questioning look. “i’m not cold.”

“it’s so cold.”

“jake, love, i think it’s just you.”

he shivered, putting his mug down before drowning himself under the covers. “cold.”

you hugged him under the ocean of blanket before he said, “i think i’ve got chills.”

you sighed sadly, “and who said they weren’t sick, hm?”

he huffed out a long puff of air from his cheeks. “i don’t feel good, y/n.”

you sighed again softly, feeling bad for the boy. “okay, stay here and rest. i’ll go make you some soup.”

you let go of his already weak and exhausted form before standing up, beginning to make your way toward the kitchen as you heard a “thanks, i love you!”

⎯ ❤︎ ⎯

“okay, i’m back with soup.” you placed it on the table in front of him. “it’s hot, be careful.”

“thanks, love.”

you watched as he took his first few spoonfuls, your hand reached behind his head as you ran it up and down his back soothingly.

after a moment of silence as he drank his soup, a sudden eruption of giggles filled the room.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, subconsciously beginning to laugh with him.

“i love being sick,” he said, turning to you with a cheeky grin.

“i’m sorry, you what?” you laughed, imagining you must’ve heard it wrong.

“i like being sick.”

“what? why?” you asked at his ridiculous statement.

“because i always get to have you take care of me,” he smirked, not so cheeky this time but more happy than anything.

“i—” was all you managed to push out, speechless.

“told you you’d take care of me,” he then said proudly victorious, chin held high. “i know you well enough to know how down bad you are for me, y/n.”

you scoffed in disbelief, “oh, please. you are unbelievable.”

“i might be unbelievable, but i’m not wrong,” he continued playfully.

“okay, mr. smarty pants. you win. i do love you, and what about it?”

he giggled, coming closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

no matter how long you two had been together, him doing this exact form of physical touch never failed to make everything in your body go weak, except your heart, its pace beating so fast, you were almost afraid it would leap out of your chest any minute.

“i love you more,” he breathed into your neck with a smile.

you wrapped your arms around him before starting, “okay, you big baby,” you tapped your hand in a repeating motion on his back, “i think you should get some sleep now. your body needs it.”

you felt as he nodded into your neck. “mhm. just like this.” he said, referring to the way you were tangled in each others arms, bodies sharing warmth, and breaths moving in sync. he closed his eyes. “this is exactly what i need to feel better.”

a/n. ahhh yall pls lmk if you liked this cuz idk if it’s me just second guessing myself but im feeling quite unsure about this one 🫠 and as always, thanks for reading <33

m.list · taglist

taglist 1. @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @vickytodoroki @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @sunjakes @w3bqrl @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @aeriil11 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @atrirose @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts @en-chantedtomeetyou @yeseoist @milisabunny @wonniestars @kazmura @nicholasluvbot @haechansbbg

[homoquartz]

hi!! if you would like to join me in being angry, please consider this new gem of journalism bestowed upon us peasants today:

(Article link is here)

In case you doubt it, yes, that is correct. Major studios will now assemble panels of racists, homophobes, transphobes, and misogynists to dictate how much us squirming pathetic little brown queers get to be represented on screen.

They were already doing this, but now they're comfortable saying it outright. As I have said before, THIS SHOULD ALARM YOU.

This post is long so the rest is below, backed up with data:

Disney is tacitly admitting that they canceled The Acolyte because they would rather alienate their marginalized fanbase than their rabid, genocidal straight white male one. And you can be damn sure this is also why the likes of Netflix and HBO Max are so comfortable discarding highly acclaimed queer shows like Warrior Nun, Our Flag Means Death, the Owl House, and Dead Boy Detectives.

The only shows about marginalized people allowed to go on are the ones that, against all odds, become hit successes (eg Heartstopper), at which point their earning potential outweighs their sin of being brown or gay. I want to emphasize that these shows must be breakout hits - shows that perform on par with straighter, whiter releases aren't given this grace.

These companies are going to obscure the reality of their actions by talking about profits and public image, but rest assured they would find a way to justify this even if the vast majority of viewers were brown and queer. Because it's about maintaining power. It's part of a nationwide surge against inclusion.

Do you remember the IGN article that just came out that revealed Disney's insistence that Riley be made to look "less gay" in Inside Out 2?

Do you remember the Autostraddle article which crunched the numbers to show that queer shows are cancelled more often and earlier than others?

How about GLAAD's breakdown of queer shows cancelled last year? Here's a snippet of the data:

❗️Both Autostraddle and GLAAD have found that 1 in 4 queer shows are axed. This is DOUBLE the rate for streaming shows overall, which is just at 12%.

Variety has a data breakdown here. What's interesting is that Netflix is actually pretty moderate with its cancellations, yet the majority of cancelled queer shows belong to Netflix.

I had a harder time finding data for shows featuring leads of color. If anyone has links, I'll add them here.

In conclusion:

They are banning our books. They are cancelling our shows. They are silencing our stories. You know why.

You can help in a few ways. One is to stream as many cancelled shows centering POC and/or queer people as you can. Another option is to cancel your streaming subscriptions and vote with your wallet (this is what I have done).

There's also a bunch of petitions for cancelled shows I strongly recommend signing. Pick a show and google it plus "petition" and it will turn up.

You can go to Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB and 5-star your chosen shows, as well as each episode.

You can message the streaming services on social media requesting renewal. Reaching out to influencers in spheres related to this topic, as well as media outlets, is also a good idea.

Finally and most importantly, talk to your friends and family. Ask them to do something. Ask them to tell people. The more people who stand against a hateful status quo, the less powerful it becomes.

I believe this can be turned around if we make enough noise. These streaming services should revive their queer shows, market them properly, and support them like any other show.

I sound silly now, but watch this space in two years.

[pinkhoodi]

love island !

✎ᝰ — hcs on how the bat boys (and wally :p) would act on love island

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, wally west x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff <3

♡⃕ — a/n: who do yall think would be the best male islander ? I’m voting wally or jason 🧏🏽‍♀️

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ bruce is here for one goal and one goal only, to find true love and he’ll use love island as his opportunity !!!

Ꮺ at first bruce thought it was a silly idea to go on a reality show to find love but then watching a season (or two), he realized that it might be just what he needs. a vacation in fiji where there’s no communication to the outside world and the only thing to focus on is the villa

Ꮺ I would see bruce as the bombshell everyone and I mean everyone is in love or jealous with. his introduction is smooth, his manners compliment him well, and the eye contact he makes with the girls have them heating up in the face. he would be an early on bombshell, maybe the end of week one so a lot of people consider him as an honorary og islander

Ꮺ bruce usually ends up making connections and then they wither away. he doesn’t understand why and it does start to frustrate him, he tries his best to grow a connection but he genuinely can’t seem to do it

Ꮺ thankfully, he’s grown some friendships that keeps him motivated and reminds him that there is a potential someone out there for him :)

Ꮺ buttt once he does, he’s stuck to his couple like glue and rarely leaves their side. he is there giggling and chatting with the person day in and day out, his experience in the villa swiftly changes once this person comes in

Ꮺ now casa amor…bruce is nawt playing any and I mean ANY games with casa !!! yes the reason for casa kind of makes sense but he doesn’t wanna indulge in the idea of hurting his couple or potentially damaging what he has built

Ꮺ bruce is someone who makes it to the final four and either wins or is definitely runner up. the results doesn’t phase him really since he feels like he found his person and someone he can grow to love <3

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ oh baby dick is here to have FUNNNNNNN. of course make some new connections but who is he to turn down a nice vacation on an island? with his busy and stressful schedule, he needs this vacation more than ever

Ꮺ dick would be an og islander and his path with finding love is what reeled in viewers. he’s done damn near every trope but oddly they don’t work in his favor :/

Ꮺ he realizes that most of the girls only get with him cause of his looks and his appeal which excited him at first but soon made him realize that these aren’t the connections he wanted. he wanted something genuine, something he could enjoy for the long run

Ꮺ I would think that he finds his love with one of the og members that he didn’t invest time in until later in the show. all his connections failed him except one and it was only labeled as a friendship until it sparked into something deeper in the last few weeks of his time in the villa

Ꮺ casa amor is what dick anticipated the most ngl, he was so ready to pack his bags and skip to casa. he wasn’t stressed about what was going on in the villa only cause he didn’t have any strong connections. I mean he brought a girl back but that didn’t last long

Ꮺ sadly dick didn’t make it to the final four and it kinda hurt him a little bit but he enjoyed the time while it lasted. also his connection with his person became stronger outside the villa and they eventually grew into a beautiful couple :)

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ in jason’s head, he is here for a good time, not a long time. it became the complete opposite but that’s neither here nor there !!

Ꮺ jason just did it cause production reached out to him. how? the world may never know. however, he doesn’t regret accepting the offer cause he enjoyed it more than he thought and he met some incredible people who helped him grow as a person

Ꮺ I would say jason was a bombshell that came in about a week after the season started. He’s like an honorary og cast to the other islanders

Ꮺ sadly, jason was almost always at the bottom or vulnerable cause he couldn’t find the right connection. every girl or bombshell he connected with, something was missing, something that could complete him. though he did find it halfway through the season

Ꮺ a bombshell came through just last minute and he’s been stuck by their hip since. he was still open to new connections but this bombshell always reeled him back in, made him see what he was missing from his past connection. they’re kind to others, always laughing, and bring a soft yet joyful energy to the villa

Ꮺ now casa…ooo casa. at first jason did it only to see what the hype was about it but oh how he instantly regrets it. he acknowledged himself and made his presence with the casa girls but he instantly got the feeling that they were nothing like his connection back in the villa

Ꮺ did he do some things? ….sadly yes but immediately regret it the day after. in a “why the fuck did i do this? what is wrong with me?” type of regret. he felt even more regret when he returned to the villa and saw his couple feeling low and silently infuriated during the recoupling

Ꮺ he did own up to his actions and told them the entire thing that went down, not sugarcoating anything. also apologizing almost every time he saw them until they forgave him

Ꮺ he got into the final four and won :). viewers loved his storyline and loved the amount of growth he had throughout the show + the amount of fangirls he collected

꒰ WALLY WEST ꒱

Ꮺ thee actual lover boy in this villa and it’s so cute :(. he really came to love island for the right reasons and it’s so beautiful watching him fall in love and become a lovesick puppy around his couple

Ꮺ wally would be either an og member or a bombshell that came in after the third recoupling

Ꮺ he didn’t really think too much into it when he applied for the show. he wanted to have fun for the summer and see what this show could teach him, what didn’t expect was to have one of the most beautiful love stories everrr

Ꮺ wally’s connection weren’t too bad but for some reason he kept gravitating towards someone (you) and it would unintentional, he genuinely doesn’t know how it happens. he could be getting to know other people but still find himself under your arms, at ease and with his cheeks blushing red

Ꮺ not only that, he would always end up recoupling with them. he doesn’t understand why but he enjoys knowing how much you like him and how much he likes you

Ꮺ as time went on, he slowly stopped being interested in other people and only kept his attention on his couple. he realized after talking to the boys how he feels and they all joked about he might be falling in love, they were joking but wally felt a ping of nervousness about this “falling in love” but he couldn’t deny it to himself, even if he tried

Ꮺ wherever his couple is, there he is as well. even not in their absence, he leaves a small pout until they come back, he pretends that he wasn’t pouting beforehand but the entire villa snitched that he def was (he was so red, it was so cute but so embarrassing LMAO). he’s always smiling when talking about them, describing them with such beautiful adjectives, and all his recoupling speeches about them have the villa feeling like he was a yearning poet in his past life

Ꮺ casa….casa amor. he wasn’t too excited on the idea but the boys convinced him and he instantly regrets listening to them. the casa girls just didn’t feel right and he tried to keep all interactions on a friendship level, no matter how much the girls push themselves onto wally

Ꮺ he got all sappy and sort of become sad of not being with his couple. while his friends enjoyed, he kept them in the back of his head and wondered what they were doing in the villa. a lot of “I miss y/n” and “I wanna be with y/n”, he missed them so much to the point where he started counting down how many hours left in this casa

Ꮺ viewers loved how much wally has grown to love their couple and has showed more than minimum to be with them. even if he did had a few screw ups, he was more than sure to fix it and get back into their good graces, he can’t see them being hurt and he doesn’t wanna hurt them in anyway, shape, or form

Ꮺ I would say wally def came in second or third place. the prize really didn’t matter to him so he’s not phase by it, he’s just happy to meet someone this incredible on the island. after the show, him and his couple officially got together and ended up married years later <3

♡⃕ hey im looking for a girl in the villa. personality, any height, mrs right 😜

♡⃕ ngl, the only reason it took me song to get these out cause i was hooked on love island 🥸 (#TEAM SORDELL & TEAM KANA 🤞🏽)

♡⃕ who was yall fav islander ? yall better not say rob or aaron…

♡⃕ there is def gonna be a part two !!! I wanted to add kaldur and roy but I’m way too tired and my brain hurts rn :/

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: psalm 27:14

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[monzterbatz]

thinking about the relationship between bot and mephone oh my god (analysis post)

so, it's known how it's heavily implied bot is mephone's favorite contestant in iii, right? there's quite a bit of evidence to back this up:

• "listen yinyang, you're great. possibly my second favorite contestant still here!" <- well, what's his first favorite?

• when bot gets eliminated: "any chance you'd... want to co-host?" mephone obviously wants them to stay and is upset when they DO leave:

• "that's what happens when two alliances get SO caught up in their own drama, that they force out the greatest player!" <- he thinks they were the greatest player out of everyone in iii

• + him standing up for them with the springtastic contract ofc ("i don't like how they treated you.")

well yeah, that's all nice and dandy, you may or may not have realised that already, but then you think about... why specifically is bot his favorite out of everyone? well...

what if it's because bot is the only contestant that mephone didn't make?

what if its because they werent restricted by his creativity and basic personality ideas/stereotypes like how the others were made, outside of the narrow mindset he inherited from watching just reality tv in his past? what if it's because bot is also a robot that was made for a specific purpose, just like him? what if he looks up to the fact bot found themself and CHOSE who they were, something that mephone always wanted to do but couldn't because of cobs?

mephone looks up to bot because they're something that he always strived to be; something unique. they might even have felt more alive to him subconsciously, which is ironic cause they're a literal robot, but that also makes them familiar to him in a sense; mephone grew up in solidarity next to a bunch of lifeless or barely sentient technology and no people from the outside world except for steve cobs (which is DEFINITELY not saying much) so to see another robot that's actually full of life must be something new to him, something special

oh yeah also the fact bot had actual good parental figures 😭 definitely something mephone wishes he has

it's honestly quite heartwrenching to see the parallels between the two, and the fact bot might be one of the only ones who survived after ii17 makes it hurt so much more considering both of them lost everyone else they cared about; they're both kinda in the same boat in some ways

but yeah thats abt it, thank you if u read this far lol 🙏 making analysis posts like these r rlly fun these two r silly

[insomniadreamzz]

So I am in a funny, soft mood today and I had this cute idea since it’s Christmas soon. Hope you enjoy this ❤️ and happy holidays! ❤️

——

Family

Jinx x Fem!Reader

Fluff, everyone is alive and happy

The lights of the christmas tree light up the living room, giving it a very cozy atmosphere.

It was Christmas and you and Jinx invited everyone over to your apartment, wanting to spend this beautiful day together with the family.

You had a beautiful dinner all together. Vi, Caitlyn, Vander and Isha. Everyone dear to you was there. Even if Vander wasn’t human anymore, it was still him and you made sure to make the right food for him too. It was a lot of work but Caitlyn and Vi helped you with preparing the dinner, it was a very fun experience.

You and Jinx adopted Isha a fee months ago and the little girl couldn’t be any happier having a family now, she didn’t speak but her actions always showed you how much she loved both of you.

„That was very good. Didn’t think you can cook.“ Vi was mocking Jinx as always, making her roll her eyes. „Look who‘s talking.“ She answered with a huff, making you chuckle.

„We all helped together, that makes it so good.“ You said, wanting to break the sisters little argument, Vander chewing his huge piece of meat in silence.

„She is right. I never thought I would say this but today is not the day to make any silly arguments. Let’s just enjoy us being all together here.“ Caitlyn spoke up and everyone was silent for a moment. The peace almost too beautiful to be true but it was gladly reality.

The silence got interrupted by little footsteps, Isha was walking towards you, pulling lightly on your shirt to get your attention. She was already done eating before anyone, excited for the presents. „Isha.“ You call her name and picked her up, placing her on your lap and she made a little sound, pointing to the Christmas tree, probably wanting to open the presents already. „I can see your excitement but let’s wait until everyone is done.“ You tried to make her a little more patient but of course a childs excitement for opening christmas presents can’t be stopped.

Jinx looked at you with such a loving gaze, enjoying the view of you with Isha. How beautiful you are acting with her and making sure to be kind and soft to not upset the little girl.

„We really never had a Christmas together…thank you for the invite. And sorry for mocking you earlier.“ Vi said, interrupting Jinx from her thoughts as she nudged Jinx in a playful way. Vander smiling at the sight of his daughters getting along well together.

„My tough older sister being all mushy now?“ Jinx teased, making us all chuckle.

Soon when everyone finished with the dinner, it’s finally time for the presents. Isha jumping off your lap and rushing to the Christmas tree all excited.

„Wow slow down little one.“ You said, giggling before it was finally time to open them. Of course there was a lot of stuff for Isha. Most of them Toys. Even Caitlyn and Vi gifted Isha something, making her run to them and hug them as thank you. „You really have some kind aunties Isha, hope you know that.“ Jinx said before reaching out for a little smaller present as she walked towards you. „I got something for ya too!“ She beamed, handing you the present over.

„Aww…that wasn’t necessary.“ You said with a soft voice before opening the gift meanwhile Vi and Caitlyn opened theirs for each other.

Jinx gifted you a necklace with a little heart you could open. You opened it, seeing a little picture of you and her in it, making you smile so wide. „Aww…that’s so beautiful thank you.“ You almost teared up, it was such a sweet gesture. „So you will always have me with you.“ Jinx explained and you hugged her so tightly, placing a kiss on her cheek. „Thank you my love.“ You whispered before pulling back, looking into her eyes with so much adoration.

Now it was your time to hand her your gift for her.

Jinx opened it eagerly being excited like a child, when she opened it, she was a little bit lost for words for a moment. There was a ring in the box with both of your names engraved in it. It was fitting just perfectly on her finger. „So everyone knows you belong to me.“ You said. Usually Jinx was the possessive one, she loved how you returned the possessiveness, feeling truly loved by you. „Thank you. Thank you so much.“ She crashed her lips against yours for a short but loving kiss.

„Look at the gays loving each other.“ Vi had to. She couldn’t hold it in, gaining a little hit from Caitlyn. „Hey! Look whos talking.“

You and Jinx didn’t take it in a mean way, you know Vi was just like that. Sisters always had to mick each other and it was just their way to show affection.

„Now for grandpa Vander.“ Jinx interrupted the sweet moment. Of course he won’t be left out, human or not. Of course opening a gift with his claws was nearly impossible so it wasn’t wrapped but hidden behind the huge tree. Isha getting the present, walking over to Vander with a huge collar that was almost as large as Isha herself. It had the name Vander on it.

„So everyone knows you are our Father, Grandpa to Isha and father in law.“ Jinx explained the gift. It should show he is not just a creature made by Singed. He is the one and only Vander. Also Jinx and Vi was engraved on it, so Vander will always have his daughters with him. He was happy about the gift, a very emotional moment and it got even more emotional when Vander spread his arms, wanting to hug Jinx and Vi. You and Caitlyn standing there, watching the beautiful scene with tears in your eyes before both sisters looked over at you. „You are also oart of the family.“ Vi said and you and Caitlyn, along with Isha went to them, having a huge group hug…no a family hug.

„M-Merry Christmas…“ Vander said with his deep raspy voice.

…

Later when everyone went home, you were on the couch with Isha who fell asleep in your lap and Jinx beside you. The TV was playing a Christmas Movie but you didn’t really pay attention to it. Your fingers playing with the little heart on your necklace Jinx gifted you.

„I love you.“ You said with a soft voice, not wanting to wake Isha up, getting Jinx’s attention. „I love you too.“ She responded, shifting closer to you so she could place a kiss on your lips. A soft, loving kiss.

„This was the first time I truly felt so happy…of course besides the fact that you are mine. Only today…I felt like we are a real family. The thing I always wanted. A family. Love.“ Jinx whispered, happy tears in her eyes and you couldn’t help but feel emotional as well.

„Jinx…this is all I wanted for us to have as well. Forget the struggle of the past and live a happy life. You deserve all of it my love.“ You said as you move your free hand around her, the other hand holding Isha. Jinx cuddled into you, sniffing so softly as she let her tears of happiness fall, you nuzzling into her hair, taking in her scent.

„I couldn’t be happier..“ She mentioned as her hand gently caressed Isha‘s hair, all of you three eventually falling asleep on the couch with only the lights of the Christmas tree lightning up the room.

[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

[1980shorrorfilm]

sour times

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

btw to the requests in my inbox; i see u. i hear u. 🙏

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin. 

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are. 

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’ 

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that. 

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though. 

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong. 

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it. 

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it. 

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow. 

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby. 

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home. 

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat. 

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off. 

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you. 

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so. 

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more? 

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs. 

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?” 

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there. 

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head. 

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby. 

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?” 

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy. 

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are. 

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie. 

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that. 

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you. 

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time. 

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips. 

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet. 

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other. 

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two. 

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Not alone • Harry Potter x f!reader

Pairing: Harry Potter x f!reader

Summary: After spending some time with your crush Harry, and while on your way to Hogsmeade, you decide you don't want him to be alone.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Fluff, English is not my first language!

A/N: Had this idea (which was supposed to be a drabble but oh well) while watching the third movie yesterday. Harry and y/n are supposed to be in their third year (to stay true to the books) but feel 100% free to imagine them being older if it makes you more comfortable. Enjoy! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated :)

The one thing new third years in Hogwarts were looking forward to the most was the fact that, after hearing their elders talking about how awesome all the shops in Hogsmeade were and all these rumors about the Shrieking Shack, they were finally allowed to go too. When you received your permission form, you immediately went to your parents so they could sign it. Soon, your friends wrote to you about how fun the trips to the village would be, and you answered , genuinely, that you were just as excited. 

So when it was time for the new year to start and to get inside the Hogwarts express, your friends were already talking about it while looking for a compartment. After a while, you ran into three people, and you recognized them immediately, not only because they were in your year, but also because of them was your crush - Harry Potter. You immediately felt your heart beating faster and your cheeks becoming hotter, especially when, when he was about to enter a compartment after Hermione, he turned his head towards you, and seeing you, waved.

“Hi, y/n.”

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back together, and managed to smile back.

“Hi, Harry.” 

He gave you one last smile before going into the compartment, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Your friends didn’t know you had a silly crush on the Boy who Lived, as you knew they wouldn’t stop teasing you about it if they did know, so you kept your disappointment - and hope of the dark haired boy truly noticing you - to yourself. He talked to you sometimes, and you two were sometimes paired together for group projects which all ended in a very good grade - and even a correct one with Snape - and he was nice and friendly, but you felt like he acted the same with most of your classmates, which made you believe that your crush wasn’t reciprocated. 

The next month, the visits to Hogsmeade started, and you and your friends were just as excited as the other students. The day before the first visit, you went to the common room sometime after class and found Harry there, a book open before him - but it was obvious he wasn’t reading it, as he looked lost in his thoughts. There were only you two here, and you didn’t know whether you should go and talk to him or not. Gathering up some courage, you walked up to him.

“That book seems fascinating,” you teased.

Coming back to reality, Harry raised his head towards you and smiled.

“Oh, hum, yes,” he said. “We’re supposed to read it for Binns and write something about it.” 

“Ah, yeah, that one. I planned to do it tonight, too.”

And before you realized what you said, Harry answered.

“Oh. Well, we can do it together if you want?” 

You looked at him, incapable of speaking, and after a while, Harry cleared his throat. 

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, I know you have good grades in that class…”

“No!” you almost screamed. “I mean, of course we can do it together. I’d love to.” 

“Cool,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “Well, you should take a seat.” 

“Oh, of course, sorry.”

You felt yourself blushing, feeling horrible for being so awkward around him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. The two of you started doing your homework, but soon started to talk about other topics like Quidditch or Professor Hagrid’s classes, not noticing the people coming and going. You guys laughed a lot too, and for the first time, it felt easy to talk to him. You still managed to finish the homework, and when you did, it was already time for dinner.

“Maybe we should go, don’t you think?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded.

You two went to put your bags in your respective dorms before meeting again in the common room a minute after, and went together to the Great Hall. Here, you saw your friends as well as Hermione and Ron, and wondered if Harry would decide to rather stay with them than with you, but you ended up sitting next to him, and actually talked a lot with him, inadvertently forgetting about your friends. After dinner, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you and Harry walked together back to the common room, still chatting. 

“y/n?”

You turned your head and saw your friend Parvati.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time to go to bed.” 

“Oh.”

You looked around and saw that the rest of the Gryffindor house had already gone to their dorms.

“I guess you’re right.” you said before turning back to Harry. “Well, good night, Harry.”

“Good night, y/n.”

The next day, everyone in your class was talking about going to Hogsmeade, which made you realize you maybe should have asked Harry if he was going.  The afternoon came, and you rolled your eyes when hearing Draco Malfoy brag about whatever new expensive thing his father had bought him, and went to the courtyard to join the students who were allowed to go to the village. After giving your signed permission form to Filch, you saw Hermione and Ron, and looked for Harry, who usually wasn’t far away, and saw him talking to Professor McGonnagall. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but seeing Harry’s face, it couldn’t be something positive. You saw your Professor shaking her head, and after walking away a bit, going back to him and petting him on the shoulder in a compassionate gesture. You wanted to go and talk to him, feeling sad for him, but Professor McGonnagall gently touched your elbow.

You followed Parvati into the dorm you shared, and fell into an easy sleep, dreaming of a boy with green eyes and a scar on his forehead.

“Let’s get going, Miss y/l/n.” 

You nodded, and turned back your head. Harry was still here, and your eyes met before he turned on his heels and went back inside the castle. Your friends actually waited for you, so it was easy to catch up with them, but as you approached Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but think how Harry and how alone he must be feeling at this moment. Pondering whether you should go back to stay with him and if he wanted you to stay with him, you decided on the second option. Ignoring your friends’ confused questions and calls, you turned and ran back to the school, and, catching your breath, you went to look for the boy you had your heart. You started looking in the common room, but there was only the kind Neville. 

“Neville?” you asked. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I saw him minutes ago, he was going to the library.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled.

You almost ran to the library, and found him sitting alone, a fist holding his cheek. He saw you when you came closer to the table, still a bit breathless.

“y/n? You’re not in Hogsmeade?” he asked, confused.

“I was going, but…” you gulped and had a small smile. “I…I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

Harry looked at you, not speaking a word, and after a moment, his silence made you doubt if you made the good decision.

“I mean, hum…I’d understand if you wanted to be alone, though? I…I can leave.” 

Feeling like you were gonna die of embarrassment, you quickly turned around to leave but you heard a chair moving and, seconds after, a hand on your arm. 

“y/n, wait!”

You stopped your pace, and when you turned around to face Harry, his hand was still on your arm.

“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back for me. I…Maybe we can go eat chocolate by the fireplace in the common room?” 

You smiled, and felt your heart beater faster than ever.

“I’d love that very much.” 

Want to be tagged? Just use my Ask-Box!

Masterlist

[chaiifluuf]

Go kitty go! — d. osamu

synopsis. coming across a lonely kitten by the streets doesn’t happen everyday and it would be a crime not to take it home with you

content. gn!reader, ada!reader, fluff with extra fluff, reader likes cats(i love them okay.), established relationship, lowercase

notes. got this silly idea one day out of nowhere hehe, also thank you for all the love on my last fic! i really appreciate it <3 hope you enjoy !

meow!

suddenly you heard a high pitched cry and could identify it immediately. it was a cat. you stop in your tracks and turn your head around to the source of the noise. in a rather dark alleyway by the dumpster you notice a small kitty with a black coat and white paws. your heart melted in a second. why was there a kitten alone here, especially in this part of the city?  

“hey…” you speak out with a gentle tone, slowly crouching down so you could be more on the same level as the young feline. and to your satisfaction, it carefully started to make its way to you, seeming interested in you. with a smile you reach your hand out and invite the kitty to smell your hand, hoping that by doing so it will know that you won’t harm it. 

the black cat curiously sniffs the tips of your fingers before nuzzling your hand and letting out a small meow again. god you forgot how cute the sound of a kitten can be. you lightly stroke its back and you can’t believe how soft the fur is. you start to wonder how it ended up here. did it run away from home? was it a stray from the beginning? but then the coat wouldn’t be so clean and fluffy. or maybe someone kicked the kitten out or abandoned it? you really hope that’s not the case because who would do that to such an innocent creature.

the cat enjoys your affection quite a lot as it keeps rubbing itself against your legs. you stand up again as you remember you should really get home now. you’ve been dealing with a case for almost the whole day, leaving your poor boyfriend all alone for so long as dazai would describe it while you were about to leave in the morning. it was already hard enough to get out of bed since he would just not let go of you and pull you right back into the sheets with him, softly whining into your ear.

though now you were done with work, planning to return home. the kitty let out another cry and you knew you couldn’t just leave it here. who knows what might happen if you were to leave it alone here. 

and so you made up your mind to take it with you for the meantime and then later decide what to do next. you pick the animal up and continue walking, never before anticipating to encounter something like this but you were definitely not complaining.

•••

dazai is quietly laid down on the couch as he reads the book he always reads. it started out okay but overtime he has gotten bored of even reading that as time seems to go slower than usual. truth to be told, dazai just wanted you to come back, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. it was awfully quiet in the house, and ultimately there was just nothing particular to do.

he sighed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. dazai would have gladly come along with you but you insisted you wouldn’t take long and told him to go back to sleep as it was a little early in the morning when you had to leave. funny how you think he’d be able to normally sleep without you there. the amount of times dazai has thought about wanting to stay in bed with you for as long as even a day, cuddling and resting together, just you and him. even if you two wouldn’t be doing anything productive, he would still enjoy it to the fullest.

the sound of keys jingling and a door opening brought him back to reality. his face immediately lit up as he sat up straight, looking towards the front door, already excited to see your face. 

“my love! you’re finally back, how— …oh?”

as soon as you were in his view, he noticed something small in your hands. it took him less than a second to realise what that was.

“well as you can see.. i came home with some company today. look how adorable it is!” you tell him with a big smile while keeping the creature in your arms and rubbing its head with your thumb. the cat looks around curiously, examining the room.

dazai, for the first time in a while, was dumbfounded. he knew about your liking to cats but he never expected you to simply come back with one. 

“…you found a kitten?” he says unsurely as he stares at the kitty with slight confusion, trying to make sense of the situation.

“yeah, on the streets. i couldn’t possibly just leave it there when it came to me,” you speak with a soft tone and slowly put the kitten down so it could move freely. dazai watched the cat as it let out another meow. he blinked and turned back to you.

“surely you’re not planning to keep it right? someone might be looking for it,” he points out although he thinks his heart skipped a beat when he saw the pure look of adoration in your eyes. the overall image of happiness on you made his chest feel warmer.

you nod. “i know. however for the time being we can take some care of it, can’t we?” you say with a hopeful look, moving to sit down next to him and also helping the kitty to join you two as it followed you around.

“look I know you aren’t fond of dogs but i've never heard you say anything bad about cats,” you mention, slightly leaning on him as you wonder about his opinion on cats. 

he lets out a low hum, wrapping one of his arms around you and giving you a small kiss on your temple before responding calmly. “i don’t have anything against cats as long as they don’t attack me out of nowhere.”

you seemed pleased with his answer. “exactly! i’m sure that this cutie here is no problem at all,” a slight chuckle leaves your lips as you feel the black kitty between you and him lightly lick your finger, not used to the sensation of its rough tongue.

dazai’s grin grows a little. “are you talking about yourself?~” he teased, using that flirtatious tone of his. and of course he didn’t miss that pink tint that raised to your cheeks right after saying that. 

“‘samu! you know what I was talking about,” you tell him, and you can feel your cheeks burn a little. you should’ve honestly seen that one coming but oh well. he has always been too good at making comments like this to get you all flustered.

before he could respond, the kitten started meowing again, only slightly louder this time. both you and dazai are caught off guard by that. you blink in surprise. “what’s wrong?” your tone is softer, trying to figure out what’s going on as you stroke its back. 

“maybe it’s hungry?” dazai guesses since if the kitty has been a stray for some time then it must be hungry.

“oh you’re right,” you now realise that as well. what should you feed it though? you get up to go over and check the fridge, scanning over all the food items there are. you hum in thought. “pretty sure that cow milk wasn’t good for them… but we have some ham,” you speak while taking a package of it out.

dazai returns his gaze back to the black kitten. it really did have rather big and innocent eyes, he noticed. and before he had the chance to react, it made its way into his lap, seeming curious about him now. dazai’s body slightly tensed as he wasn’t sure what to do or what it wanted from him. the cat merely lets out a small cry as it stares at him.

after a moment of thinking, he slowly moves his hand near the kitty’s head and to his surprise, the kitten rubs itself against his palm right away. his gaze softened. Its fur really was as soft as it looked and after about a minute of petting it, he heard a different noise. It was undoubtedly purring. did this little one like him that much?

“aww socks likes you, ‘samu! this is the first time i'm hearing it purr,” you speak up with joy from behind as you prepare some small pieces of ham on a plate. dazai can’t help but chuckle at the mention of the name.

“socks? that's supposed to be its name now?” he says as he turns his head to you, a casual smile on his face. 

“i mean i think it is a fitting nickname, considering its black coat and white paws which seem like socks,” you explain while putting the rest of the ham back into the fridge and returning to the couch. You place the plate of some ham on the ground and glance at socks. “Look here, i got you something,” you tell the kitty as you point to the ham.

the kitten immediately perks up and jumps off dazai’s lap. it sniffs the pork and a second later starts eating it. your face beamed as you looked at socks, it is quite obvious that the poor animal was starving considering how hastily it’s eating.

dazai however had his eyes on you the entire time. he swears your beauty multiplies when you look so content like this. the way your eyes are sparkling, a soft smile gracing your lips, your whole figure seems to shine. and once again he's reminded that he is dating an angel. he really can’t fight the way the corners of his lips turned upwards. he wished things stayed this way forever. because if you are happy then he is happy.

it doesn’t take long for the kitten to finish its food, licking its lips in satisfaction. you reach out your hand to pet it, murmuring a small praise as well. 

“y’know we have to go to the animal shelter sooner or later,” dazai brings up with a quiet tone and intertwines one of his hands with yours. a moment of silence passes before you subtly nod, your hand squeezing his slightly. “yeah i know… i imagine someone could be worried sick, with no idea where their pet is,” you say calmly, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

yes, that was the right thing to do after all. it’s the least that this cat deserves.

•••

in the end, the kitty reunited with its real owner. you still remember the image of pure relief on her face when she hugged her pet tightly, a few tears escaping her eyes. she also thanked you dearly with a hug as well. she was beyond grateful to you over the fact that you decided to take it with you to the shelter.

oh and you found out that the kitten’s real name was molly. it was a perfect name for her no doubt, but you won’t regret calling her by your created nickname before. 

molly is now with her owner in her real home, loved and cared for. problem solved. so why don’t you feel happy about it?

you honestly felt a little guilty for even getting this attached. you should have expected this one way or another, it wasn’t like you were going to keep a cat all of a sudden just because you found it on the streets. you should forget about this and move on with your life.

dazai noticed your changed behaviour after the whole thing. he always does. you were more quiet at times, and he could tell you missed her even if you didn't bring it up. the affection you had for her was clear to him from the beginning. he often thought about how to make you feel better, what he could say to see that smile of yours again. one day he finally got an idea.

“love, i’ve been thinking about something,” dazai says, leaning slightly against the kitchen counter as he watches you cook breakfast.

you hum in response. “i'm listening,” you say simply while you sprinkle some salt onto the fried eggs you’re cooking. after a moment he decides to continue.

“i wouldn’t mind adopting a cat some time in the future,” he tells you truthfully as he glances at you, waiting for your reaction.

your movements pause. “...are you serious?” you turn to him and look deep into his eyes. for a second you were unsure if you heard him right.

dazai smiled fondly before nodding, and after processing what he meant, a smile grew on your lips too. he sees that familiar light in your eyes again now and he couldn’t feel luckier.

you moved closer to him and gave him a simple yet sweet kiss on the lips. dazai placed his hands on your hips, slowly drawing circles on them as he focused on the kiss.

afterwards, you kept your forehead in touch with his, murmuring your next words so tenderly.

“i love you so much.”

and dazai responds just as softly.

“i love you even more, my dear.”

wow this came out much longer than I thought whoopsies, anyways this guy definitively is secretly a cat person (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

[rubywithecat]

“JjK men when you get wrong idea (dirty mind) of what they were talking”

Hello! It’s been a long time, u guys! I was really busy cuz preparing for my Japanese N4 exam. But have u guys heard about the song “Otaku hot girl”?! That’s so cooked and I can’t fcking let that song out of my head and those jjk edits all over my fyp?! That’s like never wanting to back to reality, loves!

Gojo Satoru

U were going on date with him and he was talking about the curses. U were analyzing his handsome figure and lost in your own fantasy about him. “Mine was this long” he said, expressing with his hand. U didn’t catch up what he was talking about so u had wrong idea, other meaning, about what he meant. Your eyes widened. “This long?? Urs?? Well considering your height, it’s supposed to” U replied, blushing. He busted in laughter. “Wait— what r u talking about, y/n? What u got in ur mind, huh?” He asked, still laughing. U got embarrassed. “What?! That was what u were talking about, Satoru?!” U defended. “Well, I wasn’t talking about what u were thinking, brat” he smirked. “But I like this side of u” He moved near u and whispered into ur ear “If I have to talk about what u thought, I would say mine is longer than that”

Kento Nanami

It was a business meeting with ur team and Nanami was one of them. Ur car was at the repair shop so he offered u a ride home. He is much older than u and u have a huge crush on him. U followed him from behind, silent and nervous, as ur heels sound is the only thing u both can hear. During ride, u pushed the nerve to talk to break awkward silence. “So…What do u usually do at home?” U asked, casually. That sounded silly and u just wanna scream of why would u even ask such childish thing! Will he gonna mock or smth? U thought. He just made a small smile. “I live alone so I do mostly that pleasures me” he answered, focusing on the road. “So like u do it alone or with some girl?” U asked, thinking why he would say such thing casually! “Huh? What do u mean?” He narrowed his eyebrows and u realized u embarrassed urself by getting dirty idea of what he actually meant. “Omg I’m so sorry! I thought—“ u blushed. “Dirty-mind huh? I didnt know that innocent looking of urs doesn’t match of ur mind, y/n” he looked at u with lust. “That turns me on” he said as he teased. “Wanna know what I do at home? Why not come with me hum?” He raised his eyebrows.

Toji fushiguro

U were helping Toji at the kitchen for dinner while other students waiting and talking at living room. “This roasted chicken looks tasty” u said u were slicing the veggies. “Ofc it is. Btw thank u for helping me out. Those brats at front would never” he tapped. “No problem. I enjoy cooking too, that’s why” U said, lWhat do I have to do with these sliced veggies, sir?”. “Spread the leg” he replied as he was making the soup. “I pardon u sir?!!” u said as ur eyes widened and surprised. He closed the gas and came to u. He could see lust and dirty thoughts in ur eyes as he stared down and tucked ur hair. “Sir I think it’s not good to do here…?” U said nervously. He smirked as switched and took a veggie bowl from u and sliced the chicken from its leg, layering with veggies. “How would slice this without spreading this fcking chicken’s leg?” He teased, “unless u were thinking smth else?”. “It’s nothing!” U were so embarrassed. “I didn’t know u have a thing for me, kid” he smirked. “Well unfortunately, those kids will have to starve a lil longer” he said as he pushed u to kitchen counter. “And it’s ur fault for that” he kissed ur neck.

Suguru Geto

“Is it only two of us?” U asked, wondering the empty classroom. “Yeah since tmr is holiday, others don’t seem to join our study group” he replied, reading a book. “I see” u said down as u opened ur book. U peeked a look at him and gosh how handsome one can be. U sighed and focused doing maths problem. “Ur so wet” he suddenly said. U thought u got caught peeking. “No im not!” U sensitively defended. “U are” he calmly replied. “Who tf r u thinking u r to accuse me like that? Ur being handsome doesn’t mean u can say that dirty to a girl?” U argued. He looked at u for a while and made a small laugh. “Ahaha…I mean the air conditioner is broken and it’s so hot here and ur sweating. Just look at urself” he said as u were so shy about how u acted. “U could have said more clearly, bastard!” U yelled, copping ur embarrassment. “Don’t worry I won’t let other know about ur dirty little mind” he teased as he winked at u. “I wonder how dirty that can be in bed” He’s true that ur so wet now.

I hope u enjoy this! Plz like and share if u could! Thanks a lot and I really appreciate every support! Luv u guys <33

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that ����👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

[venmondiese]

New Year's Traditions.

In New Year, you have your traditions in order to assure a good year. You eat 12 grapes, and then watch the fireworks with your loved ones. Aemond might start his own traditions, in his own way.

✧Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, AFAB reader, P in V, exhibisionsm, praising kink, slight breeding kink, soft sex. ✧Word Count: 4008 ✧Author's note: hehe my first tumblr fanfic post lol, I KNOW that new year passed, but this idea came to me at 2 am after seeing the fireworks. enjoy!! ✧AO3 link: here

Aemond and you have shared many moments together. Birthdays, anniversaries, and one of your favourites was new year

It was a silly reason, to celebrate another day marked as the beginning of a new year, yet you liked how it meant a simple thing; starting a new year of your life with Aemond. And you liked that.

As Aemond hated going to his family’s mansion for these holidays, you remained in your apartment, cosy as ever and only you two. You, Aemond and Vhagar, is an old grumpy lady cat, that he adored more than everything, more than even you, you suspect sometimes. 

And you didn’t even do such a produced food this year, you ate some pretty good lasagna, with a second dish with shrimps and salad. It was nice, and it certainly was more like a fancy dinner between you two. Aemond loved to spoil you in any way he could, so every whim or idea you could have, he would make it reality. 

“Eating grapes is so stupid” Aemond says, as you pick out the grapes to leave it on a grape carefully.

“Stupid or not, I like grapes”  You state leaving the plate on the table in front of the TV. “And you are gonna eat them as well” 

“I am not” Aemond states, crossing his arms as he smirks. He was so amused by seeing you like this, worried about stupid little traditions that made no sense.

“Yes, you are. You have to eat one each time that stupid clock that you bought chimes” you say pointing at the stupid clock that he brought one day, out of nowhere, saying it was a relic from old Valyria, with little dragons details on the wood, a stupid grandfather’s clock that stood at the side of the couch, that chimes in each hour. 

At first, at night it kept you awake, and the sound was so deep, you jumped each time. So did Vhagar, annoyed by being awakened. Even at sex, when Aemond was so deep, readjusting your guts in the best of ways, his cock hitting so wonderfully inside you, and his sweet praises whispered in your ear… and the stupid clock chimes. You hated it.

“If you miss it, and do not get to eat all twelve on time, you’d have a year of bad luck” You state, wrinkling your nose teasingly. “And you can make a wish for each month”

“If it makes you happy…” He sighs, sitting on the couch, where Vhagar jumps quickly on his lap to lay there, always before you could cuddle up to him. She did it on purpose, and Aemond allowed his two girls, as he called you both, to fight over him and his attention and affections. 

“Come on, I always have done it. It is a tradition.” You say with a thoughtful nod, as you sit beside him. “And see where it ended… I am your girlfriend, and we have been together for two years now… You don’t want this one to be the last?” You ask dramatically, and he rolls his eyes as he leans his head back, but he chuckles amused.

“I have until midnight to think” He mumbles amused, moving his hand to caress your thigh sweetly. 

He has chosen the dress. He didn’t believe in the new year being something special, but if it was an opportunity to make you dress nicely, he’d take it in a heartbeat. He had his own taste when it came to your clothes, Aemond liked seeing you in special, tight dresses that made you stand out wherever you went. To brag that you were his, and he always took the time to braid your hair in the style of his ancestors, and he was meticulous about it. 

“Then you have until midnight to leave the apartment” You say in your best teasing tone, smiling smugly to him and his lips almost make a little pout.

“Don’t be like that” He says rubbing your thigh as he moves his head closer to you, still leaning on the back of the couch “At least you could grant me a goodbye sex?” He tries to plead using his best puppy eyes for teasing.

“Absolutely no” You state laughing at your little back and forth. 

Aemond was often perceived as quiet and a bit cold, at least you did the first time you met him. Little words came naturally from him, his answers were brief words and that was it. But he grew warmer as you two grew together, and he enjoyed teasing a bit too much, it amused him to no end. He just loved your reactions, and how you fought back, it was all worth it. 

He loved how you had a enmity with Vhagar, seeing who could get more affection from him, and who would he choose, sometimes he chose the cat on purpose just to get a raise out of you. He’d laugh every time, and make it up to you by eating you out like he was a starved man.

“I’ll eat the damn grapes” He mumbles smirking. “I feel like Persephone being forced to eat the pomegranate..”

“I am no Hades” You say mumbling.

“Mhm. I suppose if I eat only six of them I could live freely in the spring and summer without you?” He teases, totally amused.

“Careful. Too many jokes of leaving can break a girl’s heart” 

“I’d never break your heart” He mumbles going to hiss your chin and then your lips, almost too lazily for him. He does it gently, showing him the little pecks of his affection in your chin and lips. Aemond looks at you tenderly, as he speaks softly. You can hear the sound of the programmated count back for new year on the tv, but you look at him kissing you. “I’ll eat the grapes for you”

“Like Adam ate the apple for Eve?” You inquire, amused.

“Yes. I’ll follow you out of Eden once they expel us” He murmurs smiling, still his face close to yours, you could feel his soft breath, calm and it smells like the wine you two tasted earlier. His hand returns to rub your thigh softly, as he looks at your face as if wanting to remember each part of it, his eye moving to your tender eyes to your lips, and he has a little smile curling on his lips, involuntary, you can notice. 

“I’ll fetch the champagne” You murmur, breaking his gaze, standing up and walking to the kitchen. He hums, and sits back correctly. 

Once you are back, with two glasses and the bottle, he is caressing Vhagar’s back and moving his hand to pat slightly her bottom, which she appreciates a lot. 

“Stop spanking that ugly cat” You grumble leaving the two cups on the table in front of him.

“Jealous?” 

“No” You say looking at the hour. 23:57. Close enough. “Are you sure that we could see the fireworks through the balcony?”

“Yes. Mother said the apartment had a nice view to the Blackwater bay just nicely. We’ll watch all the fireworks from the safety and comfort of our balcony.” 

You hum, nodding a bit. “I love fireworks” You say excitedly, and Vhagar meow. “Vhagar likes them too”

“Vhagar can barely see” Aemond says in a laugh, “I’d be surprised if actually makes it to the balcony”

“You are being mean” You giggle caressing Vhagar’s furr, which she appreciates but gives you a stern look. 

“Give me a kiss before the year ends” Aemond urges looking at the clock, 23:58.

“I thought you didn’t believed in-” 

“Shut up and kiss me” He repeats, and before you respond, he leans to kiss you, moving you closer to him. Vhagar grumbles and gets off his lap, but Aemond doesn’t even notice. 

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips against your just for a bit, just enjoying the simpleness of a kiss. He doesn’t press it further, and his lips are tender against yours, soft and gentle, when he wants. His hand presses on your chin, and he swallows the slow hum that you give him. He smiles in the kiss, knowing that it couldn’t take all minutes, even if he wanted. Because you had your silly traditions, and if they made you happy…

“See? With one minute left” He says smugly. 

“How considerate is my boyfriend” You say standing up to extend him his bowl of grapes. “One each-”

“Yes” He says, groaning as he stands up. He smiles as he sees you so excited for this silly thing, eating grapes for a new year. He looks at his bowl and he has an amused smile, the things he does for love… 

As the new year strikes, the awful clock sounds for a bit, and he leans to steal a kiss from you. “Happy new year” He mumbles. 

“Happy new year” You murmur as you kiss.

After the chimes. He does as requested, just for you. He eats the grapes as the clock strikes twelve times at midnight. He has to laugh at your commitment, as the sound of people in other apartments can be heard, and you look at him smiling as you eat the twelve grapes. He does it for you, no doubt in it, just to see you smile as he eats the grapes. What he wouldn’t do for you, after all?

“See?” You say now, grapes finished just in time, and he rolls his eyes amused as he grabs Vhagar from the ground to caress her chin. You go to hug him, and mumble “Happy new year”

Vhagar meows, and Aemond laughs “See? She says happy new year too” 

“That is so silly” You say with a giggle, and you lean to kiss him sweetly, more properly this time, as you hug him. He has one hand on the small of your back, while the other still holds Vhagar. 

A little family of three, you always say, proud of being with him. He was always equally proud of you, always pampering you with love and gifts, no matter how tired he could be each day, he always came to be with you and be the doting boyfriend he always is.

“Now, shall we see the fireworks you were so eager for, hm?” He asks, smirking as your faces are close. “My sweet girl” He says softly, his adoring gaze looking at her.

You smile, and your cheeks blush a bit. He never manages to miss the chance to make you all flustered for him.

“Yeah, let’s go” You say, giving him a sweet peck on the lips, as he leaves Vhagar on the couch. 

You slide the door open for the balcony, and you can hear the loud cheers from people around, you have a nice view to Blackwater Bay, a bit far enough to see the fireworks from a nice view, and everything is already dark so the main focus was the fireworks.

Aemond lays on the balcony by your side, looking at the ground for a bit, and smirking. “I think they are about to start, do you have one of your silly traditions for fireworks too?”

“Oh, fuck off” You say pushing him a bit, and he laughs.

“It’s chilly” He comments a bit, and looks over at you in your dress “I’ll bring our jackets” He says going back to the apartment, and you remain there, looking at how the people in the streets were also expecting the pyrotechnic show. 

Aemond was right, it was a bit cold. But again, he likes to dress you up in pretty dresses. He often jokes how you are his ‘perfect doll’ and how he loves to show you off in the best makeup, dresses and hairstyles. He was just proud of it, that you allowed him to. 

“Aemond, it is starting!” You say loudly so he can hurry up, since he always takes too long for everything. 

The first fireworks start, the red explosion illuminates the darkness of the city, and you look in amazement, as a more yellow one follows. People cheer, also excited for the colours, and you hear Aemond closing the sliding door of the balcony.

“Here” He says, extending the jacket to you as he pushes Vhagar inside of the apartment. 

You thank him as you quickly put on the jacket, now looking at the purple ones exploding in a soft motion. 

“Don’t you think it is pretty?” You say to Aemond “The purple ones are better, but they don’t illuminate as good as the– Oh” 

Aemond passes his arms over your waist, hugging you from behind, and his chin is quickly pressed against your left shoulder as he snuggles into you.

“Very pretty” He murmurs.

“I mean the view” You say embarrassed. 

“Not as pretty as you” He adds smiling. 

He leans to kiss your lips, and you chuckle in his lips, as you hear more explosions from the fireworks go off, and you just know what comes next. Aemond wasn’t really subtle when he wanted you; when he wanted to devour you wholly, and now it wasn’t the exception. He did it on purpose, so you always know how much you entice him.

“Aemond, the fireworks..” You whine as he keeps insisting on kissing you. “It is only one time a year-”

“I know” He says, resigning and leaving you alone, as you leave a small kiss on his cheek as a thank you. 

The light blue explosions were quite nice, and combined with the purple ones did a pretty sight. Some minutes pass as you feel Aemond starting to kiss you neck again, slowly, but with more intention now, he wanted you and he was letting you know.

“Love-” You get interrupted by him.

“Watch your fireworks” He instructs you, moving his hands to your thighs, and he is quick to move them up as he speaks slowly to you. He moves his body a bit back, to watch yours as he does whatever he wants with you. “I’ll do my thing here…”

“We can surely do it once the show is over”

“I am afraid I cannot bear any longer. You eat grapes to celebrate a new turn in the sun, and I might start a new tradition for the new year.” He tells you, and moves your head to watch the fireworks. 

He moves his hands up, so your dress is all the way up, and accumulating in your waist, as he hums in delight. He moves your jacket to rest in your waist, anytime it could fall again. It was quick, but Aemond wanted you like he never did before.

“Anyone could see us” You say, the red firework exploding and you see the people in the street, below and so unaware of this. 

“Then let them see my pretty girl celebrating a new year” He murmurs, not caring about that. “Mmm… Red underwear. Is that another sweet tradition of yours? I think that one I might like” He teases kissing your shoulder as he pulls your underwear off. 

You feel aroused, from his sweet words and slightly more because of the embarrassment of this. Being fucked in your balcony, as the fireworks exploded in front of you, and the people around celebrated another year. As always, Aemond had to do everything in his own way, celebrating in his own way.

Hearing him undo his belt does it for you, the arousal makes your belly flutter, and you try to look back at him, but each time he pushes your head forward; watch the fireworks, it is his order.

Your hands grip a bit on the balcony railing, as you lean a bit forward, as if presenting you to him. His hands quickly go to your hips, and he leans closer to press a kiss on your neck, soft, wet kisses making their way to your jaw. 

“You are so divine like this, my sweet loving girl” He praises you slightly, his hands rubbing in circles on your hips for a few moments, you can feel his cock pressed on the curvature of your ass, and you whimper a bit impatient now. “So pretty, fuck, and all mine”

The mere thought of that drives him insane. His hand moves upfront, and he quickly finds his way to your pussy, aching and longing for him. You moan impatiently as you push your own throbbing core to his hand and fingers, and he chuckles a bit, without breath as the mere action aroused him to no end. 

“I’ll make you really wet and nice for me” He tells you, always so eloquent at the time of having sex. “You know my goals for this year? Make you my sweet wife…” He admits, moving his hand to your lower abdomen, pushing the dress to be a bit higher on your waist. He presses his hand there, his palm giving your cold body some heat. His fingers find your clit, and press against it so softly, giving you just the right stimulation to make you moan “And I’ll give you my baby, so your belly swells so full and nicely. Yeah, I’ll make you a mother… And then again, and again…” He starts rambling off a bit, his own lust talks for him, and you have to moan at these words. 

The mere thought of it makes your pussy clench in need, and you have to bite your lower lip because of it. Your head cannot properly focus on the pyrotechnic show ahead, but only in his words. You shoulder tense, and your head falls a bit as the lust is too much. You want, you need him inside. 

“Yeah, please, please…” You whine for him, wanting to get the clue and just fuck you, right there. 

“Let’s see, are you properly wet?” He says in his best smugly tone, and you know that tone. He wants to tease you.

Even if you cannot see him, the wet sounds give him away. He is fisting himself, at the sight of you, leaned in the balcony railing all at his mercy as the lights of the fireworks illuminate your figure, and while he inspects you, his fingers around your entrance to check how really wet you are. He takes the note, that if he wants to fuck you along with the pyrotechnic show, the moment was now.

He moves your legs to be apart, cursing in a low tone, as he takes your hips to accommodate you at his taste, and you have to shush your own moan once you feel the tip of his cock moving between your legs, all the way to your entrance. 

He pushes in, firmly and decided, yet still slow at first, as he always did. You assume that he takes his time, wanting to feel you opening at his length and he always groans lowly as if it was the best thing ever. 

You whimper, his cock as always moving inch by inch, slowly as if he wanted your walls to remember his shape, his hardness, every vein and how he throbs for you. 

“First time of the year, huh?” He cannot help but tease a bit, as his forehead was resting against your shoulder, and he looked how the sight of his cock disappeared as he pushed all the way in, and your ass against his crotch never fails to make him moan.  “Fuck..” 

With one arm wrapped around your waist, he moves the other one to caress your hip, as you moan impatiently for him to move.

“Focus on the fireworks” He insists, his tone shaky, and you both know that no one here cares for the damn fireworks right now.

He starts thrusting, slow at first, making you close your eyes in delight, and your breath is catching midway in your throat from how good it feels. He as well feels in pure delight, you always took him so well, you always were so tight that it made him fantasise about you always. 

“Just like that, baby” He says, increasing his thrusts, moving your hips to meet his pounding, and you start mewling, and it only seems to encourage him to move faster. His other hand finds the way to your hair, grabbing it to make your head look forward. “You wanted so badly to watch it, and now you don’t even care? Tsk, tsk…” 

You can hear the amusement of his tone, how he loves being the responsible of this, of making you melt under his touch, and thanks to his cock.

Entering you over and over, was probably the best way to start the year, and he marks this tradition as his own now, seeing the fireworks as he fuck you against the balcony railing. The idea pushes him into arousal even further, his forehead leaning on your shoulder again, and it makes so easy to hear his lascive sounds, his soft grunts as he keeps pushing your body to meet his, and wanting to make a mess out of you.

“Fuck!” There, he thinks smirking to himself, so buried into you, and he pushes away without any mercy. You let another mewl, lascive and filthy, driving him insane. “Aemond, fuck…” You moan, his cock deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot, and fitting so good inside you would never keep you quiet. 

You can see from the edge of you eyes the neighbors below, also in the balcony, but they were drinking champagne and unaware of how their upstairs neighbors were fucking like animals in the middle of the firework show.

“Are you close, sweet thing?” He asks kissing and nibbling below your ear, right where your jaw started. “Are you gonna cum– Gonna soak my cock, like the good girl you are?”

“Yes” You say breathing forcefully, letting out an exhale that feels more like a sob, and you nod frantically. His hand loose from your hand, and moves down to play, once again, with your pearl. 

At that, you have to move one of your own hands to your mouth not to shout in ectasis, as he does just the right thing. His cock deep inside you, thrusting and pounding into you, precum all over your walls, you are sure, and his fingers doing circles and rubbing your clitoris in the best way possible. 

It is no one’s surprise when you cum with a choked moan, your eyes closed as Aemond feels your walls clenching around you as your orgasm hits you. You don’t even seem to notice how the show keeps going, the palmer lake fireworks right in front of you, and you are too busy soaking his cock to notice.

He doesn’t last longer either, the sight and the feeling of you cumming around him, is enough to make him bury himself deep into you, and let out a moan as he fills you, his arm wrapped around you keeping you still so you don’t move as he cums inside you.

You both are out of breath, and you are too exhausted from the orgasm that hit you.

“Look” He murmurs, and you let out a little sound, not in the mood for his teasing. “Not, really, look; your favourites, the palmer ones..” He says pointing at them.

You look at the fireworks, explode so gracefully and then fall faintly. You chuckle a bit, as he hugs you from behind, kissing your cheek adoringly and tenderly.

“I love you” You say softly.

“I love you too” He says, as he pulls out, letting you enjoy the rest of the show. 

He pulls your dress down, and makes sure your jacket can warm you after all, and you thank him. He also fixes himself, and he takes you in his arms, kissing your forehead at the last, and more prettier fireworks are in the sky.

“I think that next year, you could ride me” He teases and you have to laugh at that. 

“I’ll do” you promise, curling in his hug and watching the sky full of colours.

It seems like a great year, already. 

[uniquexusposts]

Below Deck | C. Leclerc (1)

Summary: Y/n and Charles had broken up a few weeks ago. Y/n thought it was a good idea to enter the yachting world to get over the break up, but suddenly he shows up at the last charter of the season. How will they cope with it? Words: 3018 Read the story that was based off the one shot here Part 2

"All crew, all crew, the guests are arriving in ten minutes. Please, change into your polos," the captain said on the radio.

"Copied."

The final charter of Y/n's yachting season was about to start. She and her roommate Bobbie were standing in their cabins, changing into their polos. It was silence; they both were tired and glad this was their last charter.

Y/n was the third stew on this yacht, and Bobbie was the second stew. And you know what they say? They either love or hate each other. This time, they liked each other. However, they had a mixed relationship with their boss, the first stew: Helena.

"Last charter, girl," Bobbie said and put on perfume.

"Last charter," Y/n breathed. "Two more nights, three more days."

The entire crew made their way to the deck. They were standing in a line; Bobbie was holding the plate with the glasses of champagne, and Y/n had the plate with refreshing towels. The captain and chief stew were standing on the dock.

"It's the last one," Otis sang and did a silly dance. "The last, last, last." He was a deckhand.

Everyone laughed and danced along with him.

"I really hope the guests are chill, down to earth, not too demanding," Felix said hopefully, the engineer.

"And otherwise, we make the best of it," Bobbie said.

Six people were walking toward the yacht. The crew quickly peeked at their new guests but couldn't stare. Y/n looked at the group that had now arrived at the captain and chief stew. Her face straightened when she saw who the group was.

"Oh, my god, that is Max Verstappen," Felix whispered; the fanboy was getting exposed now.

"Who?" Otis asked.

"Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 2021 world champion," Felix said.

"I don't watch Formula 1," Otis huffed.

Eyes widened. "Is that Carlos Sainz? And Pierre Gasly?" Bobbie noticed them now.

"And Charles Leclerc," Luca said impressively, he was the bosun.

Charles Leclerc.

Y/n could feel her heartbeat rise, and her lips parted. There is no way that this is happening. Everything around her faded away for a moment. Her mind was blank. She barely knew how to stand up straight anymore, or how to breathe. The sun on her skin made her sweat even more. It is the last one, you can do it. Y/n returned to reality, cleared her throat and put her best fake smile on her face.

"Hello, welcome on board," Luca warmly smiled. "My name is Luca, I'm your bosun."

Max was the first one in the group, making clear he was the primary guest. He introduced himself to everyone and shook their hands. Kelly, his girlfriend and co-primary guest, was walking behind him. Followed by Carlos and his girlfriend, Pierre and...and Charles.

When Charles was standing in front of Y/n, their eyes met. She had not looked in those eyes for six weeks. Those blue-coloured eyes with touches of other more beautiful colours... However, the smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes. To her own experience, this moment took forever, but in reality, it was just a few seconds.

"I'm Y/n; nice to meet you," Y/n smiled. Well, she forced a smile. And it did not feel natural or convincing. She had to stay in her role. "Welcome on board. Would you like to have a refreshing towel?" She was the second to last person in the line.

Pain. She is acting like nothing happened. Charles swallowed hard. "Yes, thank you," he managed to say. He grabbed a towel and moved to the next person. He tried to listen to her words; he filtered her name: Bobbie. She offered him a glass of champagne. "Thank you, I'm Charles."

The captain was explaining a few things about the yacht. The guests were looking at Y/n, they knew her. And Y/n knew them personally. Y/n looked away from everyone, she could feel the judgy looks. Nobody knew she was here, doing this job. She went off the radar six weeks ago. They all looked back at the captain and first stew when they announced the yacht tour would begin.

Everyone but the captain and first stew walked off the boat to get the guest's luggage.

"I really cannot believe we have F1 drivers as guests," Felix cried. "I cannot believe that they shook my hand."

"Dude, chill," Otis smirked.

"I think they will be chill," Bobbie said. "They look chill and give off a relaxing vibe."

Felix grabbed a suitcase and a backpack. "Do you watch F1, Y/n?" He gave the two pieces to her.

The crew developed a thing during the season: adding Y/n's name at the end of every sentence meant for her.

"No, I don't, and I won't," she coldly replied and walked back on the boat with the luggage.

Oh, my, I can't wait for the moment they walk off this boat. She dragged the luggage down to the guest bedrooms. Everyone was so hyped to serve the drivers, but Y/n only wanted to cry.

"What is the room division?" Y/n asked Luca.

"Master is Max and Kelly, left is Carlos and Rebecca, and right is Pierre and Charles." Luca stepped toward her to check the labels. "You have Charles his luggage. You have to go to the right, Y/n."

You've got to be kidding me. "Perfect," she replied and opened the right cabin door. On the preference sheets, they requested to unpack their luggage, but Y/n knew Charles hated it when people touched his stuff. She bit her lip and placed his backpack on the chair. For a moment, she looked at it. It was just a black backpack, it was simple, and somehow she adored it a lot. "Fuck," Y/n whispered and took a deep breath. She stepped away from his suitcase and lifted it to be placed on the luggage chair. The only thing she did was open his suitcase.

"Oh, o, I'm sorry."

Y/n turned around, and she gasped for air. "My goodness, Pierre. You scared me," she whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered back. "I had no idea that you worked on a yacht now." The Frenchman entered the room. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she softly said. Pierre stepped towards her and gave her a hug; he was not only a good friend of Charles, but also a good friend of Y/n. "How are you?"

"Good, I'm good, now I know where my friend hangs out."

She weakly smiled.

"Is everything good in here?" Helena entered the cabin with Pierre's luggage. The fake smile appeared on her face, but she looked judgemental at her stew.

Pierre smiled. "Yes, absolutely. I was asking Bobbie to help me with unpacking my suitcase." He pointed at Y/n.

Helena slowly nodded. "Perfect. Y/n, can you help me at the bar if you're done unpacking the suitcase?" She put the accent on 'Y/n'.

It made Pierre chuckle.

"Yes, absolutely." Then Y/n realised she answered the exact same as Pierre. Helena walked away. "Bobbie? Seriously, Pierre?" She wanted to grab his suitcase, but he was first.

"Neh, neh, neh, you're not doing this. I can do it myself," he said and closed the door behind him. "You sit, I talk, you listen," he said and opened his suitcase. "And I had to say a your name wrong, I don't know you."

"Oh, god." Y/n sat down on the free chair. She looked at Pierre. An empty feeling entered her body. "I don't know if I can do it, Pierre," she hopelessly said.

"Then don't pay attention to him."

"How?" She shot back. "Did you know how hard it was to not burst into tears when I saw it were you all who came? Pierre, I'm not ready to face him yet."

"And what do you want to do now? You can't walk away, we're already sailing away."

Y/n groaned, annoyed.

"But Y/n, why did you go off the radar? I was worried."

"Yachting," Y/n simply replied. "Working my arse off." She got up; it didn't feel right to be in a room and doing nothing. "I barely have time to keep up with everything. On my breaks, I do a power nap. On days off, I'm just enjoying my free time-" She got cut off by a radio message for her. She replied straight away. "I gotta go, we will speak later."

"Yes, of course. I'm happy to see that you're doing fine, Y/n," Pierre mentioned. "This is something I do not have to worry about anymore."

Her fingers were wrapped around the doorknob, she only smiled weakly. She opened the door. "And, Pierre?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't be like shit, we can't handle more shit guests anymore," Y/n whispered and squinted her eyes.

Pierre grinned. "It really depends on how we get treated."

"Get out of here." She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her. It did her good to see Pierre again, but it was not how she would have liked. Someone wanted to walk down the stairs when she wanted to walk up the stairs. "You go first," she politely smiled.

Charles walked down the stairs, slowly. His eyes were glued on Y/n. The salmon orange-coloured shirt highlighted her tanned skin tone. However, it seemed like she had lost some weight. His lips parted. "Sorry, I didn't know you worked here, Y/n," he whispered.

Her eyes closed for a second or two; the way how he says it will never tire me. "I...is...is everything to your liking?" If Y/n left her role to him, things would escalate.

"Yes." Charles had to switch between being informal to formal. It hurt him, but if this was what she wanted... "It's perfect."

"Perfect. If there is anything that we can do for you, please don't hesitate to say it."

"I will, thank you."

And away she went. Y/n ran up the stairs and faced Helena at the bar. "I will be back in a sec; I have to change into my work clothes," she smiled and walked to the crew mess.

The smile dropped from her face, and she stormed to her own cabin. She closed the door behind her and balled her hands into fists. "Fucking hell," she breathed and felt the tears flowing in her eyes.

--

Y/n yawned when she walked up the stairs. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and her day shift had just started. It was the second day of the last charter. She was about to check the bar, but she noticed two people outside in the lounge. I hate morning people. This is not a pleasant way to start the day.

She walked to the lounge. "Hello," Y/n smiled.

"Hello, darling," Rebecca warmly smiled.

"Good morning," Carlos smiled.

"God, you're early," Y/n softly said, breaking the character for a second, regretting it already.

Carlos smirked. "You know us."

"Yeah, that is true. Is there anything I can get you?"

"I'm fine; I'm just enjoying the sunrise," Rebecca said.

Carlos nodded. "I'm fine too."

"Perfect. If there is anything that you want, just give me a shout. Will the breakfast still be at ten?" Y/n felt uncomfortable; she was serving her friends. And it usually would not matter, but this is the top-of-the-top service she had to give.

He nodded again. When Y/n stepped away, he inhaled. "Y/n, how are you doing?"

"I'm alright, busy with work. How about you?"

"Happy to have a weekend off," Carlos answered her question.

"I had no idea you worked on a yacht now," Rebecca admitted. "Do you like it?"

Y/n looked around. Yes, her job was to entertain the guests and be polite. But to a certain point. Being personal was crossing the line. But it were her friends. However, how much would it affect her tip at the end? That was why she entered the yachting world. "Yeah, I had no idea that I would end up here," Y/n also admitted. "But you know, it's something else, and I think it's fine for now." And it is quick and much money.

"How many more days do you have left?"

"This is the last charter."

It was silence.

"Gosh, I miss you, girl. It's so hard to not act like friends," Rebecca breathed and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Because I can see how you distance yourself from us."

There goes the tip for the crew.

"I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want them to know that I know you. So I'm sorry if I act like a cold bitch, but I... They can't know," Y/n stammered and swallowed hard. "Because I want to laugh with you, talk to you like we used to, but if I do, I will get in trouble for being too personal and crossing so many lines."

Rebecca got up from the lounge. "I know, I know," she said and hugged Y/n.

"I miss you so much," Y/n whispered, hurt. "Seeing you again, makes me so happy."

"When you're finished here, we need to go out, okay?" She looked at her friend when letting go of her.

"Yes."

Felix was walking around the boat, checking if everything was looking decent. "Good morning," he said. One of the guests was sitting on the lounge, and the other was standing next to Y/n. "Is everything okay here?"

"Yes, thank you," Carlos smiled.

Y/n forced a smile on her face. "I'm talking Rebecca and Carlos through the planned schedule for today," she said to her colleague. "Everything is still going as planned." Felix nodded, satisfied and walked away. "At the picnic... I heard that more people were joining you?"

"Lando, George, Alex and Daniel are joining with their girlfriends," Rebecca mentioned. "Are you coming too, or will that not be on your service? Or do we have to ask if you will join us? You're one of us, you have to be there. This was your idea." Y/n joked about booking a yacht with a beach picnic a couple of months ago, only because she watched Below Deck.

And they actually booked it. The realisation hit Y/n. This was her idea, and she couldn't even join them. Well, on the other side. "I was one of you," Y/n replied. "And I can't join you. I am working. I won't be able to lunch with you."

"You will, we will make something up. And yes, Charles will be there. But you don't have to hug or kiss him. We will make sure you will be sitting on the complete opposite of him, yes?"

--

"I am so glad that this is the last picnic," Bobbie breathed and placed some plates on the table. "I fucking hate picnics, especially on the beach. It looks so nice when you can just sit on your butt and eat. But it is a pain in the arse when you have to make it look so nice. I mean, the sun is breaking me apart, there's sand everywhere, nothing is stable," she complained.

Y/n smiled, but bit her lip to hide it. She placed the cutlery next to the plates and only listened.

"I'm sorry for my complaining hour, but now we can talk without other people hearing it," Bobbie mumbled.

"No, no, please, share everything you want. I'll just listen," Y/n replied and softly chuckled. "Because I can only agree with you."

"And you know what I heard? Helena was talking to Otis in the crew mess - she didn't know that I was in the laundry room - and she literally said: 'Since the moment the guests have arrived, I have not heard Y/n's name once. Not once. Do they even know that we have a third stew? I am working my arse off, and she gets to do nothing.'," Bobbie dramatically said, and she looked sorry at Y/n.

Y/n stopped placing the cutlery on the table. "What? Is she serious?"

"That is what I heard..."

This could either be the truth or a lie to create drama. "I work my arse off, she is the one who does nothing. She only makes out with Otis and lets us do the work. She can kiss my arse. Whatever. Just one more day and it is over," Y/n defended herself. "I'm starting to move to the dislike side. I liked Helena at first, but she's doing weird things and blaming us for it."

"I stopped liking her after the first charter when she screwed me over by saying that the master was not cleaned yet. That was her job, it was even on the board. And suddenly, it was my job without saying shit to me," Bobbie ranted. "She can suck my dick."

The radio went off. "Bobbie and Y/n, the guests are on their way."

Bobbie grabbed her transceiver. "Perfect, thank you," she friendly said.

Y/n burst into laughter and continued putting the cutlery on the table. "You're such a snake."

"Learnt from the best," Bobbie proudly said.

"Sassy."

Fifteen minutes later, the table was all set, and the guests arrived. Bobbie quickly took a photo of the table while Y/n walked over to the tender to help the guests out of the tender.

"Thank you, Y/n," Max smiled.

She gave him a nod and helped Kelly, who was also getting help from Kelly. She was followed by Rebecca, Carlos and Pierre. Y/n looked at Charles and stuck out her hand. She could see the doubt in his eyes, but he grabbed her hand anyway. She gasped for air and saw every memory she had of him, playing in front of her eyes. And it looked like Charles had it too.

Charles looked away and jumped out of the tender into the water. "Thank you, Y/n/n," he softly said and let go of her hand.

"Anytime," she lipped and swallowed hard.

It had been just over 24 hours, and she barely had seen Charles. He was avoiding every contact moment between himself and his ex-girlfriend. Y/n noticed it, it hurt, but it was for the best. She looked down and closed her eyes; she just wanted to walk further into the sea and drown.

"The other tender is arriving, Y/n," Luca said.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked up at the bosun. "Thank you, Luca. I will let you know when they want to go back," she said and padded the tender a couple of times.

"Copied."

She waved at him when he sailed away. Her eyes fell on the other tender, and she put on another smile. Y/n stepped to it. "Welcome, everyone."

"Y/n!" Carmen excitedly said, but straightened her face right away. "Oh, my god, sorry. I don't know you," she apologised. Rebecca had asked the others to pretend not to know Y/n, only to protect her from her colleagues.

"It's okay, darling," Y/n said and smiled comfortably. Once again, she helped everyone get off the tender, and she made an agreement with their bosun. "I will call you," she mentioned. He nodded and sailed away as well.

The beach picnic started.

It was fake. Her smile was fake. Her laugh was fake. It seemed like her happiness was fake as well. Charles couldn't keep his eyes off Y/n. It was so incredibly hard to be around her. How she was pretending nothing had happened. But she probably had to do that because of her work, but still. It hurt him to see her smile at him. It hurt him how she would serve him drinks without any problem while he was freaking out on the inside.

"Is everything to your liking?" Bobbie asked and looked around.

Multiple nods and yeses were shared.

"Amazing..."

Y/n walked away from the table and let Bobbie do her thing with talking. She grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip. Her eyes were resting on the table. I should have been there as well...

...because I am still in love with my ex-boyfriend. I tried to forget him during my six weeks of yachting, but I can't stop thinking about him. I can't get over him because I am still connected to him. We were together for four years, and he was my first real love.

And we broke up because we thought it didn't work anymore.

We thought...

Stupid thought.

Seeing them all together feels like a reminder that everyone has moved on. That he had moved on. I feel ashamed of myself for feeling this way. I need to move on too. But I can't move on because Charles still occupies so much space in my head. It is really starting to annoy me and affect my life. I can't see a way to move on because every time I try to move on, he is still in my head, telling me that I'll not be happy with someone else. This terrifies me because I know it is true.

He was my first love, and he is my only love.

What am I meant to do now? I'm 24 years old, and my life feels so unfinished already. It's so difficult when everyone is moving on, and I am just stuck in the same place.

"Hello, Y/n?" Bobbie was waving in front of Y/n's eyes. "Are you here with me?"

A shock went through Y/n's body, and she looked at Bobbie. "What? Yes, why?"

"You're crying?" Bobbie squeezed her eyebrows together and looked worried. "Are you okay?"

Y/n felt her cheeks; they were wet. Her heart dropped. She dried her cheeks quickly and forced a smile on her face. "Sand in my eyes, no worries," she smiled.

"If you say so..."

"I say so." Y/n cleared her throat and looked at the table again. Her eyes got stuck on one person. Their eyes were locked. All the air got sucked out of her lungs.

Charles saw it. All of it.

Part 2

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