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ahundredtimesover · 11 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count:��12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

Series Masterlist

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook series #boss jungkook #boss au #workmates au

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frankcastleonlyfans · 5 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au

summary: your son maegon visits his sick old uncle, viserys, and end up learning the story of how you met your husband.

author's note: look who's back... this story was based off two asks, this one, and another one asking how daemon and mom!reader met. and now mom!reader is officially dornish!!!! i will not be making descriptions of her features in the future, but just know that mom!reader is poc. i hope you guys enjoy this story. it feels good to write again.

warnings: none ig

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

It is sad when a family member gets sick and you know there's nothing you can do about it. So when your brother-in-law fell ill, it came the time you had to explain to your children that King Viserys wouldn't be the same he once was. The hard part was trying not to scare them with the thought of losing their uncle.

The news brought sadness to Alyssa's and Rhaegon's hearts, but Maegon was the most affected one. He felt the necessity of doing something for his beloved uncle so that even though the King now lay indisposed, he could still feel loved. Your son was old enough to realize that besides Helaena, Viserys' kids did not care for him. That made him sad. Rhaenyra lived in Dragonstone, and for so she couldn't give the attention her father deserved.

The boy had the idea of asking Queen Alicent to let him pay some company for King, during the evenings where he would like someone to talk to. As she needed a break from the sick man herself, she would let Maegon take over her place wherever she felt like it. Which was, almost every evening.

During one of those evenings, Prince Daemon thought it would be nice to see what his brother and son talked about. Mostly, he just wanted to see his brother interacting with anyone, to have the certainty that Viserys would still be alive for a while. The King had little to no hair on his scalp. His body couldn't stand up without the supported of a cane. Daemon didn't know how much time his older brother had left.

When Daemon made entrance to the monarch's solar, he found his son and his brother giggling softly. It felt good to hear the laughing. It meant Viserys was in fact, still alive.

"May I know what is so funny?" The Rogue Prince asked, making his presence known.

Maegon was startled by his father's voice. He has been visiting his uncle for weeks now, but not once his father wanted to come with him.

"Oh, hello Daemon" Viserys grinned at the sight of his sibling, "what a coincidence to see you right now. I was just telling Maegon about that time when we were kids... Do you remember when we tried to find The Cannibal?"

Daemon chuckled, "I do. We searched around all Dragonstone until Father found us before we got inside a Volcano's cave."

"And we never found him!" Viserys laughed.

"Well, thank Gods! You two would probably be eaten or burned alive and I wouldn't be here today to hear the story if you did find him." Maegon reasoned, watching his father pacing around the King's solar.

Daemon's fingers danced around the huge model of Valyria that his brother had exposed in the middle of his room.

"I miss the good old days when I was brave. Once I was sword fighting, I was riding Balerion, I took my little brother to look for a cannibal wild dragon..." Viserys sighed softly.

"You are brave still, uncle" Maegon assures, "It takes bravery to rule. And it takes bravery to be kind. You are a good King."

Viserys nodded to his nephew's words, taking his hands across the table. Daemon felt warmth in his heart. He couldn't quite understand that sensation, but he sees that part of him feels glad that his son expressed words and emotions he could never say or show, because he didn't know how to.

"Did you know that I was the one who introduced your mother to Daemon?" Viserys asked, with fun in his tone, "Have I ever told you the story?"

"Oh, you haven't!" Maegon engaged, grinning excitedly, "Do tell me, uncle, please."

We were all at Driftmark to prestige Corlys and Rhaenys' wedding. Nobles from all across the Seven Kingdoms were there, and your mother was one of them. I remember she was wearing her house colors in her dress. She was a bit older than your sister is now, I think.

My late wife, Aemma, introduced me to her, I didn't know they were friends. I discovered that the lady whom I had just met, was not only a Princess but also played part as a knight at her father's guard. She wore that dress with such grace, that I thought my ears deceived me when I imagined her wearing armor and ringmail.

My thoughts were disturbed by Caraxes' whistling noises, when Daemon, who was very late for the ceremony, came flying upon our heads, rounding Corlys' castle. Everyone was watching the little show your father was giving, mouth-opened, shocked, scared. Y/N wasn't any of those things. She wasn't impressed at all. I remember asking her;

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

and smirking, she replied, "Where I come from, we have scarier animals."

"Scarier?" Aemma questioned.

"More dangerous." Y/N reasoned.

"I suppose you're right, Princess Y/N," I said, "There are beings more lethal than a dragon, like the very man who rides it can be far more dangerous for his ideals, than the dragon under his command."

It felt like I summoned my brother once I said those words.

"Prince Daemon" Y/N made a short reverence to greet his presence.

"Brother, let me introduce you to Princess Y/N of Sunspear, she is a good friend of Aemma's."

Daemon kept his smugly signature grin on his lips, and took Y/N's hand in his, kissing the soft skin of her knuckles.

"I am deeply sorry for being late for the ceremony. I hope dear cousin Rhaenys can forgive my missing presence." Daemon changed the subject without paying any interest to the lady who made us company.

His rudeness made me uncomfortable, but it was so like my brother to behave like that.

"Y/N, you should come visit us. Viserys and I would love to welcome your family to Dragonstone." Aemma smiled and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded, "Feel free to visit whenever you want. It is a very lonely place, and unfortunately, the only family we have there is my brother, as Aemma and I are still trying for a child."

Before Y/N could give us an answer, Daemon retorted, "My apologies if living with your younger brother is not what you expected of marriage."

"It certainly is not what I was expecting." Aemma playfully hit Daemon with her elbow.

Y/N giggled softly and the noise took Daemon's attention. He was quite curious why she was still there, in his presence. Most people who didn't know him are likely to feel uncomfortable with his intimidating presence, but not that girl.

"Are you here with your family?" He questioned. That was the first time he spoke directly to her.

Y/N shook her head, "My father sent me here in his name to prestige Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and give them our wedding gift."

"Oh. I see Dorne's economy must be great if its ruler has enough gold to spend on such superficial events." Like always, Daemon felt the need to say something directly rude.

Y/N frowned, "I thank the Gods our economy is doing well. It certainly is not because of your King." she replied. Her head remained raised, and her eyes stared at Daemon's on the same height.

Daemon felt strange. That woman wasn't offended by what he said, and even tried to get under his skin. One had to have such courage to talk to him like that.

"Uhm... Viserys, why don't you take Daemon to get that wine Corlys was talking to you about?" Aemma spoke trying to break the tension.

"When I took him away, he couldn't shut his mouth about Y/N. He was amazed a woman had the guts to talk to him like that, and even so about the King." Viserys finished the story, as Maegon quietly listened to every word he said.

"She never really had much filter, your mother." Daemon said, "Still doesn't."

Maegon frowned, "But... that's it? That's how you met mother? But, when did you start courting her, father?"

"She came to Viserys' coronation ceremony. Aemma was pregnant and couldn't make her company, so I offered myself for my sister-in-law to be the one hosting her friend in King's Landing." Daemon shrugged, "The rest... well, maybe you should ask your mother how it happened. I don't remember very well, but I know she quickly fell in love with me."

#dad!daemon targaryen au #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon imagines #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon targaryen x oc #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au

874 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 4 months ago

Note

hello hello! i see that the headcanon requests are open, so i have arrived 🐺🐺 i'd like to request the housewardens + chenya, neige and ortho with a reader that's mute! i feel like this would be an interesting thing to go off of. feel free to write it as something reader gained after a certain event, or as an illness that they were born with. platonic would be great, but i think romantic would be absolutely adorable too (minus ortho obviously) so go wild, do whatever you want >:) if this is fine for you to write of course!! love your writing, youre my favourite blog on tumblr hehe (runs away)

thank you so much!! and ofc ofc. I'm writing this based off my own experiences with being semiverbal so if I get something wrong,,, that's on me 😔

summary: nonspeaking reader type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, che'nya, leona, azul, kalim, vil, neige, idia, ortho (platonic), malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

I think Riddle is more adaptive than others give him credit for

it's not like there's any rule about not speaking

(and if there was, he would make an exception for you. he's not completely unreasonable)

I can see him learning sign language with you

and if that's not your thing, he'll figure something else out

he's a fast learner, after all

and he wants to make you comfortable, too. not that he'd ever outright admit it...

(obvious favoritism)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Che'nya is always quick on his feet

or... on air?

anyway

that means that he isn't one to let the absence of conversation stop him from his usual mischief

and he does love charades...

it's almost like he can read your thoughts. or your... hands? expressions?

whenever someone is giving you a hard time, they miiight just end up talking back to a floating head

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona actually never really... brings it up

before he had the full story, he just figured you were shy around him

(which went straight to his head, of course)

so he was already used to it when he found out it's not something you can control

and... he treats you no different for it

he knows you're not stupid or rude just because you're not yapping all the time

and if anyone else gave you a hard time about it... they'd be answering to him

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no worries with Azul

I mean, the guy can really do it all

sign language, pen and paper, text-to-speech, body language...

he's rather adaptable, and, trust me, being unable or unwilling to speak won't stop him

the offer to give you the voice of a beautiful singer is still on the table... but he can't blame you for not taking the deal

of course

in the meantime, you can come to him for anything and he'll help you out

on the house <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim's heart is in the right place

is he disappointed you won't be able to talk and sing and cheer with him? a little

you're used to the disappointment, unfortunately

but he doesn't give up so easily

or... at all

no singing? he's handing you an instrument

no talking? no problem, he knows you're still listening!

no hummin, shouting, cheering? he can make enough noise for the both of you

he makes sure you're included in everything

very sweet

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil has high expectations, but he isn't unreasonable

if you can't talk, you can't talk, and that's final

that doesn't excuse you from everything else in his strict regimen, though

what may be a weakness to others is a strength to him

you can improve yourself tenfold by focusing on what you can do rather than what you can't

writing, dancing, music...

however you choose to express yourself, he's very supportive

much like Kalim, he includes you in every conversation, every decision, every yes/no question

he's pretty great

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Neige! Neige is a sweetie

I like to think of Neige as someone who's actually quite timid in person, despite his career

it's probably your quietness that draws him to you in the first place

he is so very supportive

he's the kind of introvert to suddenly become extroverted when someone needs help

"excuse me, they asked for no pickles" type of guy

he'll hold your hand through everything if you need it, and remain by your side if you don't

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho and Idia are probably the best people to have on your side

Idia just feels so much more... comfortable around you, since he struggles with speaking, himself

he'll let you use his tablet if you need it to speak

...and then he'll get you one of your own, so he doesn't have a heart attack when you accidentally switch tabs

he'll even program a custom voice or two for you

Ortho is a walking translator for you

with a database full of information on body language and expression, he can determine your emotional state in a single glance

he's happy to help in any way he can, of course!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

at some point, Malleus needs a shirt that says "#1 Prefect Defender"

you haven't said a single word to him but if anything happened to you he would curse everyone in this room and then himself

(he means well, I promise)

he's never minded, nor questioned your silence

certain fae communicate through lights or movement rather than sound, so it isn't even anything strange to him

you fit right in at Diasomnia

and you're welcome to stay here for as long as you please

(hint hint)

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #che'nya x reader #neige leblanche x reader

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lokideservesahug · 6 months ago

Text

Bound to falling in love

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher soulmate au #f1 soulmate au #ldah's writing #f1 smau

412 notes · View notes

cdragons · 10 months ago

Text

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don��t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

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scoonsalicious · 7 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, gratuitous Hamlet 2 reference, mention of masturbation, descriptions of violence, death, full on crazy.

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: Nat sent you and Bucky some Hydra security footage she was able to get from her old KGB contacts. You're in for a wild ride.

A/N: THE MADNESS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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There was no real rhyme or reason to the footage, no overarching narrative that tied the clips together. They were just short, interspersed segments, with no sound, from different camera angles within the Hydra base. The base was probably operating underground; the harsh fluorescent lights acting as the only source of illumination, which made it impossible to determine time of day.

Most of the clips were mundane– shots of a younger version of Jade Carthage training in weapons and combat, eating with the base’s other operatives, sitting in some sort of school room and seemingly being made to recite information. One thing was clear– the girl was not the tortured prisoner she’d led Nick Fury to believe.

You and Bucky watched clips as Jade got older, her training more intense. The scientists at the base put her through extensive endurance testing but, upon completing them, she always looked happy, as though glad to have pleased her keepers with her results. Periodically, an older man in a suit would be seen in the footage. He appeared to be a higher up in Hydra’s hierarchy– the other occupants of the base deferred to him as though he was someone of importance.

“I know that guy,” Bucky said the first time the footage showed a clear image of the man’s face. “Not his name or anything like that, but I remember seeing him with Alexander Pierce.”

You reached up to hold the hand that Bucky still kept on your shoulder, squeezing it in support. “You okay to go on with this?” you asked, knowing that Pierce, as the man who had commanded him to kill Tony’s parents, among others, was a shadow that still loomed large over Bucky’s psyche.

He swallowed. “Yeah. I’m good.”

The two of you kept watching as Suit Man came to observe Carthage, bringing her gifts and acting almost… parental toward the girl. It was disconcerting to watch him gently stroke her hair or offer her a hug, knowing the kind of man he must be, if he was working so high up within Hydra.

“What’s that?” you asked, rewinding the clip and enlarging it over a folder that Suit Man had handed to Carthage. “Holy shit,” you said, once you’d made out the face on the photo attached to the front of the file. “Buck, that’s you.”

Bucky leaned forward, squinting at your screen. “How can you tell, doll?” he asked. “It just looks like a bunch of pixels.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’ve stared at your face long and hard enough to recognize it anywhere, Barnes,” you told him. “Whatever’s in that file, it’s about you.”

Bucky gave you a look you couldn’t quite unpack. “Keep playing it,” he said after a moment.

You zoomed out and resumed the footage. Over time, Suit Man would bring Carthage more files. She would continue her training, follow her same routine. You were nearly nodding off with the monotony of it when something changed. A new camera angle appeared in the footage, this one seeming to be of Carthage’s quarters within the base, and you were surprised by just how… normal they were. She had a four poster bed, a vanity, bookshelves– it was a typical room for a young woman. The only thing that looked remotely out of place were the photos on the walls. Once again, you paused the video so you could enlarge the image.

The walls were covered in seemingly hundreds of photos of Bucky.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Are those… are those all me?” Bucky asked as you dragged the image around your screen, wanting to see every available corner of her space.

“Yes,” you said. “They… these all look like surveillance shots. Why do you look like Jesus in this picture?” you asked him, squinting as you pointed to one where he was wearing robes and standing by a river, his long hair tied half-up in the back of his head.

“Shit, that’s from when I was in Wakanda,” Bucky exhaled. “How the fuck would Hydra get shots of me there?”

You leaned back. “Well. Rock me, rock me, rock me, sexy Jesus,” you said under your breath.

“We just discovered that Hydra somehow found a way to spy on me in the most technologically secretive nation on the planet, and that’s your takeaway?” Bucky asked.

“I’m neither blind, nor a nun, Barnes,” you replied before zooming out and starting the footage once again. “Though, with a Savior that looked like that, I’d gladly devote the rest of my life to serving the Faith.”

“Pretty sure that’s blasphemy,” he said, though you could hear the shy smile in his voice, and you just knew he was blushing at the compliment. “I don’t understand, though. If I’m her target, why’s she hanging my pictures on her wall?”

You squinted your eyes as the Carthage in the footage drew a heart around one of Bucky’s headshots with what appeared to be lipstick. “I think…” you began, an idea coming to you, “I think they’re manufacturing infatuation.” You bit your lip in consideration. “If there’s one thing on this planet with more obsessive, singular focus on a target than a Hydra-trained assassin, it’s a teenage girl with a crush. They’re making sure she’s got the concentration of both.” You watched with sick fascination as Carthage took the photo she’d drawn the heart on, and bringing it over to her bed, appeared to be talking to it as she crawled under the covers.

“Oh, shit,” you said with realization. “We should skip over this part.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, clueless to what you knew was coming. “What’s going on?”

“If I am not mistaken,” you said, as Carthage held the photo to her chest before slipping a hand under her blanket, “she’s about to start masturbating to that photo of you.”

“Jesus fuck!” Bucky exclaimed. “Fast forward, Pocket! Fast forward!”

You skipped the video to the next time stamp, trying and failing to control your laughter. It wasn’t that you were laughing at Carthage– this was a gross violation of a private moment, and no one, not even her, deserved that; no, you were laughing at how horrifically uncomfortable it seemed to make Bucky.

“Come on, Barnes,” you said, getting yourself together, “you’ve already fucked the girl twice. Now you’re suddenly shy about watching her cum?”

You felt Bucky stiffen behind you, and you felt bad… momentarily, but he didn’t acknowledge your comment, so you kept watching the footage, until there were only a few minutes left. Suit Man returned and after a few moments, said something to Carthage that had her jumping for what appeared to be joy and throwing her arms around the man.

“Something’s about to happen,” you muttered, eyes glued to the screen. And then… shit hit the fan.

You and Bucky watched in horror as Suit Man handed Carthage a pair of guns, and the two moved systematically through the base, with Carthage slaughtering every operative in their path.

“What the hell?” Bucky whispered.

“No other survivors,” you said, recalling the words from her bio sheet all those months ago. “They’re selling her story. Making it look like she escaped. Jesus Christ. She lived with these people for years. She’s fucking insane.”

Carthage was pumping so many bullets into the agents at the base that she quickly ran out. From there, it was like she just snapped– beating the others to death with anything she could get her hands on. And if there was nothing readily available, she used her bare hands. “Fuck,” you muttered, feeling the urge to vomit. You turned your head, burying it into Bucky’s stomach as he stood behind you. “I can’t watch anymore. Tell me when it’s done,” you begged.

Bucky’s hand came up and rubbed comforting circles on your back. “Yeah, sweets,” he said, voice hollow, “I’ll let you know.”

After what seemed like absolutely far too long, you heard Bucky swallow, and he tapped you on your shoulder, indicating it was safe for you to look again. Turning back to the screen, you were disgusted to see Carthage absolutely covered in blood. The only thing you could think of was Carrie at the prom, but Carthage looked delighted with herself, the whites of her eyes and her blazing smile sitting in stark contrast to the dark lifeblood that coated her face. Together, she and Suit Man walked casually out of the last camera frame, as though she hadn’t just committed mass murder.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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jils-things · 8 months ago

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I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

[3.25.23]

ouueeehh we're back to my corny love letters like last time 💜 again absolutely NO pressure reading these, because it WILL get lengthy 💜 this also serves as a personal love letter that i can archive!

ahh, steven st.one. a wild card in my f/o list. i never thought i'd find myself to like him... i've always tried my best to avoid the pretty boy design after i've gotten older which is why i was oddly in denial during my early steven days hehe... the earliest memory i have of him is just me battling him in my ruby emulator back in the 4th grade - but i don't think i actually remembered him too well, i only thought he looked like a silly anime version of the classical composer be.ethoven and tbh, i still like to think he does look like him in the rse style lolll 💜

for the whole, actual story - it was just last year - i was reading the r/s arc, of course. it was one of those days in school where i had nothing much to do and snuck my phone to read manga to pass some time. at some point, my classmate joined to read with me - it was at this moment where steven debuts properly and it caught my classmate by Surprise. she thought he looked very handsome! to which i teased her... strangely enough, this exchange impacted me? maybe it's because someone acknowledged what i was doing and even bothered to briefly read along with me - so in a way steven kinda bookmarked that memory.

so after that exchange, i just kept on reading. everytime he had something to say, i couldn't help but just stare at his face? he looked nice, i guess? he's also very gentle and polite... i kept this thought of mine for quite sometime until i was discussing the manga arc with my p.okespe mutual and he mentioned him. i somewhat confessed he looked nice and that was the biggest mistake i've ever done because what my friend did after was absolutely blow me with art after art of the pretty rock collector and i was STRUGGLING. it ultimately came down to this one cute panel in the o.ras chapter where he was blushing and I wasn't the same person since then 🚶🚶🚶and funnily enough, i told myself I wasn't going to fall for anyone because of the manga and whoopedoo p.okespe!steven my beloved the greatest man ever. i mean i love the game counterpart as well, they're nearly identical - it's just the manga that totally swept me... sighhhh

steven is such a nice character to begin with, he's honestly a very humble and nice champion. he's not showy about his identity and would rather be alone by himself to indulge in what he wants. he is willing to give up a very respectable position in the po.kemon league just to pursue his interests and with that i see a man not after power and fame but a man who just wants to find joy in what he does even if it demotes him. on top of that, he's just a sweet gentleman. he was raised well of course, and you can see it clearly in his acts in the story. i love him very much for that and who wouldn't want those traits?

i was really absolutely embarrassed to be all over this guy at first - it took a whole month for me to actually share to my blog about how i liked steven and took awhile to adjust to that fact that i opened up about it 😭 but the community was very kind and supportive about the pairing and if i'm being honest, i think stevaide made a super lasting impact on my blog recently and it's really so comforting to picture them as a young loving married couple with ruby. it made me feel unashamed with what i can do with my silly ships. i'm still very glad for the endless support for steven and jaide.

soo, yes. happy memoryshipping 💜💚 thank you for making my times of struggle more bearable if not perfect and thank you to everyone who enjoys this ship even if it was just a little bit :]

credits to @/cafekitsune <3

#~ art #pokemon selfship #selfship #selfshipping #selfship community #safeshipping #there it is guys... the day #so glad i was able to make this before i got busy and i really havent been drawing anything fun so!!! ahhh #this is currently my wallpaper since rendering it and i LOVE it to bits #also yay full reveal of that chibi doodle hehehehhe #iim so happy yippepeieeyeyeee #💚 memoryshipping

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handmedownpocketpussy · 19 days ago

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Incredible new guy just dropped... and we have an update as well:

Image ID three screenshots from two separate posts on Reddit from the same user, the first, dated two days ago reads:

So, this happened a few days ago, and I’m still trying to process it. For context, I (28F) have been with my BF (30M) for about 2 years. We live together, and I’ve always done most of the cooking because I genuinely enjoy it, and he claims he can’t “even boil water” without setting off the smoke alarm.

The other night, I made one of our favorite meals, and while we were eating, he got a weird smirk on his face. He then says, “You know, I’ve been taking notes.” I laughed, thinking he was joking, but then he said, “No, really. I made a presentation.”

I still thought it was a joke until he got up, connected his laptop to the TV, and opened a PowerPoint titled “Improving Our Home Dining Experience.” I was in disbelief as he went slide by slide critiquing my dishes: “Slide 1: Too Much Garlic,” “Slide 2: Pasta Consistency,” “Slide 3: More Salt, Less Sass.”

The kicker was Slide 8, which was just a photo of Gordon Ramsay facepalming with the caption, “What he’d think.”

I was stunned. I told him if he had such detailed opinions, he should cook himself. He tried to backtrack, saying it was “all in good fun” and that he was “just trying to help.” But I wasn’t laughing. I haven’t cooked since, and now he’s been living off cereal and takeout. He’s sulking, saying I’m overreacting and “ruining the joke.”

So, Reddit, AITA for refusing to cook after my BF presented me with a PowerPoint critique of my cooking?

Edit: Thanks for all of your comments and support, I just posted an update!! End first post. The second post, dated today reads:

Hey, Reddit! So, it’s been a wild ride since I posted my original story about my (now ex) boyfriend’s infamous PowerPoint presentation critiquing my cooking. I can’t thank you enough for all the support, laughs, and even the outrage on my behalf. Buckle up, because here’s the follow-up you didn’t know you needed.

After reading your comments and taking some time to process what happened, I decided that our relationship needed a serious talk. I sat him down to discuss how his presentation came across as not just unfunny, but pretty disrespectful. You know, typical mature relationship stuff.

Well, what does he do? He smirks and goes, “Oh, I was prepared for this!” He actually grabs his laptop, connects it to the TV again, and presents me with another PowerPoint titled “How to Take a Joke: A Comprehensive Guide.”

Yes, folks, he made a whole slideshow explaining why I needed to learn how to “chill out” and “appreciate humor.” Slide 1 featured a meme of a clown putting on makeup with my name plastered over it. Slide 2? A bullet point list titled, “Why Your Overreaction is Hilarious.” Slide 3 was titled, “How I’m Clearly the Comedian in this Relationship.”

At this point, I was too stunned to speak. But then he pulled out Slide 6: “Things You Can Do While Not Cooking (Because You’re Mad).” The audacity, right? It was as if he really thought he’d win me over with this next-level presentation. Spoiler alert: he did not.

So, I did what any rational, PowerPoint-loving person would do. I made my own. I stayed up all night crafting a presentation called “Why It’s Time to Move On: A Farewell Guide.” It had everything: flowcharts mapping his incompetence in the kitchen, pie charts illustrating my happiness before and after “The Great Presentation Debacle,” and my personal favorite—Slide 9, a GIF of Gordon Ramsay yelling: „GET OUT!”

This morning, I sat him down and went through my PowerPoint with the same energy he had given me. His reaction was priceless. He started with that same smirk but lost it somewhere around Slide 4: “Top Ten Reasons You’re Moving Out Today.” By the time I got to the “Resources for Finding Your Own Apartment” slide, he was packing a bag.

Now, before anyone worries, yes, he did actually leave. And no, I didn’t even have to threaten him with Slide 12, which was just a photo of me blocking the Wi-Fi router.

So, yeah, we broke up, and I’m single, happy, and cooking meals for myself without any critique except my cat’s judgmental stare. And to those who said I should make a “breakup PowerPoint,” just know your wish has been fulfilled…

I still can’t believe how all of this went down over the course of one single weekend. But I now feel pretty good about myself. Thanks for all of your comments and support!

PS: Oh, and fun fact, some of you were right: he actually is a business consultant, so making PowerPoint presentations is quite literally his day job. I guess he took “bringing work home” to a whole new, unwelcome level.. End ID.

#aita #reddit #new type of guy #drama #satisfying endings #reddit fake stories #fun read

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jackoshadows · 1 year ago

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It’s wild to me that there are folks who confidently state that Sansa personally never saw Joffrey doing anything wrong and that’s why she loved him when we read the entire Trident incident through Sansa’s POV!!!! 🤣 🤣 🤣

Or all the many posts on how Sansa was dragged from her bed drunk and hungover from the day before and that’s why she was unable to come up with the right answer - when that assembly before the King happened FOUR days later!

“Thank the gods,” Ned said. His men had been searching for Arya for four days now, but the queen’s men had been out hunting as well.

It’s been FOUR DAYS since the incident. Four days with Arya missing. Four days with Ned worried sick. Four days of Jaime hunting Arya down to maim or kill her on Cersei’s orders.

And this is Sansa appearing before the king:

“They were not the only ones present,” Ned said. “Sansa, come here.” Ned had heard her version of the story the night Arya had vanished. He knew the truth. “Tell us what happened.”

His eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.

No, she was not dragged out of bed drunk. Four days had passed for her to digest and understand what had happened, that her little sister was missing in the woods all alone being chased by Lannisters out to harm her. Sansa had told Ned what actually happened and she had time to dress well and brush her hair before making her appearance before everyone to recount what had happened.

It was not sudden, she was not drunk, she remembered what had happened considering she had told her father what had happened, Ned called her as a witness because he thought she would tell the truth of what had happened. She had 4 days to think about what Joffrey had done - to Mycah, to Arya - and then decide to support Joffrey over Arya.

It was a calculated move because she was in love with Joffrey Baratheon, thought him handsome and princely, wanted to marry him and become queen, wanted to impress Cersei and therefore decided to support him instead of Arya.

It’s baffling that so many fans want to strip Sansa of what little agency she does have in the books. AGoT is when Sansa actively uses her agency - when she decides to side with Joffrey against Arya, when she tattles to Cersei because she wants to stay in KL and marry Joffrey. From the end of AGoT to AFfC she is a political hostage and pawn with little freedom in her movements and actions, which makes her actions in AGoT stand out - because there she had more freedom in her choices.

And the idea that Ned wracked by grief/guilt over his sister Lyanna would refuse to understand or accept if Sansa wanted to break off her betrothal to Joffrey is truly mind boggling and entirely made up fanfiction. We have Ned and Sansa’s POV and that’s just antithetical to Ned’s character while Sansa was truly in love with Joffrey because her mind was full of princes and the knights of the songs - if anything Sansa’s willful ignorance of the situation can be blamed on her teachers and mentors, the Septa and Catelyn. Still, ultimately it was her own choices and thinking that lead Sansa to make the decisions she did - not Ned, Cat, Arya, Jeyne, Robb or anyone else.

#I really think most of these people have not read the books #How does one say that Sansa did not see any of Joffrey's wrong doing? Or that she was too scared to tell Ned?!#- where is all this in Sansa's POV #maybe write AU fanfiction for all this

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soulprompts · 12 days ago

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I had a few quick thoughts in the middle of the night when i read your prompts and comments, so, i thought: ''Just made this roleplay blog a week ago and i'm too insecure to ask anyone for roleplay''

But here i am, reading to get some inspiration even if i don't roleplay right now or have mutuals because everything is foreign to me, thank you very much, at least i can daydream about silly scenarios :")

hi my friend! let me start by thanking you for sending this in, i'm so glad you like my prompts, and i'm very touched that you reached out! i also wanna say that you can absolutely skip the next two paragraphs, i'm waffling, i love waffling, i refuse to change this about myself!

now i wanna respond with a few little-known facts about myself. when i first joined tumblr, years and years ago, i made a natasha romanoff blog because i thought it'd be the best way to start up in the rpc. it took me a month, a MONTH, to so much as follow another soul on that blog. and it was a mess, like i didn't have a rules page, i didn't have a bio, i had very limited understanding of the rpc, i was just this teenager who was beyond pumped to write with people! then i realized my anxiety outweighed the excitement and i did nothing for a solid month.

then, after that month, i guess i just chose a rare moment of confidence to start following people, and they helped me massively, i still write with them to this day! but part of the reason that i wasn't hitting it off with a lot of people was because i really didn't feel comfortable writing natasha romanoff. like, it felt like an obligation. and i suppose i picked her to please people, and i'll always stand by this, it was the dumbest thing i ever did! so then i started writing my female OC, and i am still so lucky to have surrounded myself with friends who love and support her to this day, and because i was passionate about writing her story, i began to gain more mutuals! bc people can pick up on that, yk? they can always tell when you're really invested in something. i wrote five paragraphs about my OCs moisturiser (nivea) and honestly i'm very proud of it!

'blue, why are u talking about this?' excellent question! it's because in the month i was literally taking a vow of silence, i still scrolled through the dash. i wanted to understand the rpc in my own space! i read prompt lists, headcanons, ooc posts, threads, drabbles, metas, you name it. and while i was reading them, like you mentioned, it DID feel foreign!! and that's the BEST way to describe it! it's a whole new language, a whole new set of rules and norms and systems to understand! isn't it absolutely wild how we just expect people to figure it out over night?? madness! you're doing so so well just by being here and getting yourself familiar with this place! even if you spend the next year just reading prompts and thinking of scenarios, you're still doing a fantastic job!

tumblr can be a fantastic place, but it's still a brand new experience, and most of us have been here for so long that we understand the general gist of what's going on. we know the good, the bad and the ugly sides of everything. and what i always strive for in this particular blog is to have a space where people can ask for help and support one another, because let's be honest, if we can't do that, then why on earth are we calling ourselves a community? so if you have any questions, or if you want some help, please don't be scared to ask! i can already tell that you've got the perfect mindset for the rpc!

#ooc.#pearlylamp #( i just finished work and i'm very sleepy but this seems like a smart thing i've written! )#( basically don't take anything too seriously here )#( i think we're all prone to doing that )#( and that's just never gonna amount to anything )#( be sure of what you want! set boundaries! block those who don't respect them! )#( and surround yourself with people who you like and are liked by! )

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blueraineshadows · 1 year ago

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Hello! I have come to your page, and I am in love with everything you wrote! Especially the fluff/Nsfw happy family ones! Can I request something similar like that but with Amit Thakkar! It's your choice on how many and the names of the children/child :)) I'm here to support and love your work!!! 💕✨

Aww thank you so much for the support!! 💜

I was a little nervous with this one, I don't feel I know Amit as well, but I will give it a go. I hope Team Amit enjoy 💙 🌟

Amit Thakkar x F!MC - NSFW 🔞 fluff, smut

The soft, gentle tones of Amit's voice drifted from the bedroom as he read a bedtime story to Rian. MC was in her own bed nursing baby Isha, her fingers gently stroking the soft black hair on her head. She gazed down at her daughter, the love in her heart so powerful for such a tiny bundle.

She thought of her life before Hogwarts, an orphan in a London workhouse, and how the small minds of the people there would have shunned her for having a mixed race child. How could anyone not love the faces of her children? She had been truly blessed.

As she burped baby Isha, and settled her down in the wicker basket crib, MC smiled fondly at her memories of her courtship. How Amit had swept her off her feet with his quiet charm and thoughtfulness. He had made it so easy for her to fall in love.

Entering the Wizarding World had been an exciting but terrifying time, MC had found herself having to dig very deep to summon the strength and bravery to face all of her trials. Her friends had tried to help her, but it was Amit who provided a guiding light through it all.

He was her very own star in the darkness.

With Isha settled, MC went to the kitchen to make some tea. She liked to have a nice cup before bed. As the water boiled and she made up the pot, she heard the creak of the stairs and Amit appeared. He saw the pot on the table.

"Oh, lovely. I could do with a cup," he said. He yawned and stretched. "Rian had so many questions for me tonight, and he tried to talk me into one more story. He has quite the inquisitive mind," he said proudly.

"I wonder where he gets that from," MC smirked.

Amit came to press a kiss to her cheek. "He has your thirst for rule breaking though, don't think I haven't noticed."

MC gave him her most innocent smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

He slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck. "You have a wild streak within you my love, it was part of the attraction," he said. "You were so wild and carefree, like some fairy tale creature who came to save us, and then you stole my heart."

MC glowed under his words and fiddled with the front of his shirt. "If you are trying to seduce me, Amit, then it's working," she smirked.

"Really?" His eyebrows lifted and his hands dared slide a little lower, over her bottom and hips. He kissed her neck again.

MC smiled. "Hmm, keep talking."

"Talking? Surely, there are far more fun and intriguing things to do with my mouth than talk," he murmured. He gently sucked at her neck, moving his mouth downwards, still sucking.

MC gave a little gasp, her head tilting to allow him more access. His hand dragged up her nightdress and he smoothed his palm over the skin of her thigh and hip. Amit was a very considerate and gentle lover, it was not often he did anything to surprise her. But he seemed rather fiery this evening.

"Are you feeling naughty, my love?" She teased.

He moaned in agreement and slid his hand between her thighs. "You are so beautiful, skin so tempting," he groaned. He slid two fingers inside her and MC felt her desire begin to spiral into a lovely burn. "I love how your body welcomes me."

He shifted and grabbed her about the waist, lifting her to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, pushing up her nightdress to expose her to him. He licked his lips, his eyes glazed with desire. "Amit!" She gasped, surprised.

He sank to his knees, gripping her thighs and buried his face into her folds, his tongue swirling and teasing. MC gave a quiet cry of surprised delight, her hands gripping the edge of the table. What had come over her husband? He was not usually like this!

As his mouth worked, sending shivers of delight through her, she tried to recall a time when they had done anything like this anywhere other than a bed. Amit was quite proper, and could be shy, sweet, when it came to sex. But this? Wow. And MC was certainly not complaining.

Her fingers reached to comb through the silky softness of his hair, her breaths coming quicker as she climbed to a release. As she shuddered around him, panting softly, she expected him to take her up the stairs. But he did not.

MC watched, amazed as he undid his trousers just enough to release the swollen shaft of his arousal. He lined up to enter her, right there at the edge of the table and she moaned as he filled her.

She let her head fall back, ready and willing for the familiar feel of him, but then had to grab the edge of the table as he began to thrust, hard. Her mouth fell open and she stared at him, at the intense look of lust on his face, the way his lips parted as he panted.

"Amit," she breathed. "My goodness!"

"Gods, my love," he groaned. He picked up the pace, his hands gripping and pulling her closer as he thrust again and again.

She was teetering on the edge of the table, the tea cups rattling in their saucers. She was breathless, aroused beyond belief at her husband's lust. Her gaze flicked towards the stairs in fear of waking little Rian, her ears attuned to the sounds of little feet. But they were not disturbed.

Amit climaxed, burying himself deeply inside of her with a groan. He wiped a hand over his face, beads of sweat had formed at his temples from his rigorous pace. "Forgive me, my love," he panted. "I was quite overcome with desire for you. I could not wait until you were abed."

MC pulled him close to press a soft kiss to his lips. She smiled, brushing her nose against his. "It seems I am not the only one with a mind for mischief," she whispered. "I quite like your naughty side."

He blushed a little. "You do? I was afraid you would think I was behaving like a rogue," he said.

"Oh, believe me, it was very roguish," she grinned. She kissed him again. "Maybe next time we can try it out with a different piece of furniture. What say you to that, my lovable rogue?"

His cheeks were blushing, but his smile was quite curious. "I say that might be a fine idea. But, may I have my cup of tea first?"

MC chuckled and held him close. "Of course."

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #amit thakkar #amit thakkar x mc #amit thakkar smut #blueraineshadows

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 2 years ago

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Worth a Thousand Words

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie reflects on the pictures of you over the years

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: Just fluff. I believe this can be read as gn reader (please let me know if I'm wrong), but just as a heads up, the reader is described as more feminine (being beautiful and wearing a dress, etc.)

A/N: First time writing from Eddie's pov (ish), and I loved it. I'm a sucker for head-over-heels men, so this was very heartwarming and fun to write. As always, reblogs and comments are wonderful — I love hearing your thoughts!! Thank you for reading <3

The first picture Eddie had of you was a school photo. Lame, he knew. But it made him smile hard enough even thinking about it: the Hellfire Club photo of the whole group.

In between him and Dustin stood you. Being friends with Nancy, you had plenty of contact with Mike over the years, meaning you had contact with his friends and their wild D&D conversations, eventually leaving you intrigued enough to join in on a session here and there when Nancy was drowning in newspaper work.

Eddie had never been so thankful for Mike in his life. Before anyone knew it, the flash went off, signing into memory your wide smile and bright eyes — one arm slung around Dustin’s neck but your body leaning toward Eddie’s. And he knew you’d done it because he leaned first, trying not to focus too much on the way your arm touched his but unable to keep himself from leaning anyway.

Other people always tried to demonize the group, throwing that photo in his face, but every time he saw it, his eyes only went to you wearing that shirt and grin. And there’s no way it could be bad if it made you look that heavenly.

—

The next photo he had of you was actually a series of pictures. Eddie, Nancy, Robin, and you all dressed up in your graduation gowns and caps, holding diplomas and each other. Steve even peeked in a couple as support, especially with how much he helped Robin through her math class (or tried to anyway) during their shifts together.

Some of them didn’t come out as well, squinted eyes in the late spring sun or uncontained giggles distracting someone else in each take. In one, your face scrunched up as you batted away Eddie’s hair flying into your mouth, eyes, and everything it could touch. Though a secret favorite of his was the one of you screaming as a bee came near, your body running into Steve’s to escape. It was all chaos and left Eddie laughing looking at it. You’d wanted him to get rid of it. He just hid it instead.

But his favorite of the bunch was all five of you. No one was really looking at the camera. Steve looked to be in the middle of fixing his hair and batting away Robin when she tried to help. Nancy stood in the middle, her eyes beginning to roll but a genuine smile still unable to leave her face. Eddie looked off to the side, always leaning into you, as he made some joke he couldn’t remember now. Not that it mattered, it was just to get you to laugh, like most of what he said. And you did.

But you… you shined as bright as the sun beaming down on them, toothy grin and all as you giggled at whatever stupid thing Eddie had said. You barely could keep your eyes from shutting as a hand came down to hold your laughing belly, but you kept them open, determined to. They looked at Eddie, not trying to miss a second of him on this day. That one he had hung up in his room, right by his bed.

—

The next picture was another group picture — he often chided himself for not getting more photos of you earlier, but he hadn’t grown the balls to do it for a while after meeting you. Still, he was grateful to somehow capture you in this memory forever.

Nancy had actually taken it. You’d convinced her to come to The Hideout to see Corroded Coffin play, insisting that she could do a story on them with The Hawkins Post, as the band had been gaining more popularity lately.

The bar was dark, the only real lights coming from the small stage. It illuminated the band, catching the wispy frizz of Eddie’s hair as he played his guitar, his baby. Maybe his eyes should have been on his fingers or paying attention to the other members of Corroded Coffin, but no. He looked to the crowd.

In the moment, he hadn’t noticed Nancy snapping the picture. He hadn’t noticed anyone but you. It wasn’t in the photo — just the back of your head and arms raised high in the air — but he’d be damned if he forgot the way you looked at him. Until then, he’d occasionally catch you staring at him while performing, loving the way you turned your head or hid the blush rising to your cheeks. But this time, you refused to look away, swaying with the music and having a permanent smile to give to him with hands outstretched.

And Nancy did write the story, using that picture for it. You had run over to his place, newspaper in hand, and excitedly showed it to him. You hadn’t seen that you were also in the photo, but he did. Of course he did. He kept the paper, especially after your insisting to cut it out and frame it for when he was famous. But he kept it for other reasons.

–

The first photo Eddie ever took of you was just you, no one else. It was the one he kept in his wallet. It’d been behind his driver’s license, still too scared to admit his feelings just yet, but there was no way he’d go somewhere without you by his side.

You had gone to Robin’s birthday party, one where she requested everyone dress up. As she’d explained it, all in her fast and excited tone, “We’re finally adults, with adult money! C’mon, for me?”

And there was no way any of you were resisting her pleas, not with those puppy dog eyes. Eddie offered to drive the two of you there, him coming by your apartment with a new car that barely worked better than his old van. It nearly felt like prom, if he had ever bothered to go. He waited in the lobby after buzzing your apartment, his palms sweaty and chest pounding like this was a date.

He’d pulled his hair back, cursing at the mirror when trying to tame it, and even tried dressing up. He still kept his dark jeans and jacket, but he’d found a wrinkled button-up deep in his closet to have on under. Wayne had just shaken his head when Eddie had called about how to smooth it out. Certain the boy didn’t have an iron, he just told him to hang it up in the bathroom while running a hot shower. A chuckle rolled from his mouth when Eddie hung up with a hurried thanks, and Wayne spent the night wondering who had got him worked up like this.

And Eddie looked as good as he was going to, because maybe this was a date. God, how he wanted it to be a date, and he probably would’ve been speechless to hear you wishing the same thing in your own head as you made your way down.

You’d paid extra attention when getting ready, knowing Eddie was at the bottom of those stairs. The red dress Nancy had convinced you to buy for a special night now hung off your shoulders. You also knew he wasn’t the type to judge like that, but your nervous pacing had turned to nervously fixing your appearance this way and that, straightening out your dress until you were sure you’d be making it worse if you touched it any more.

Eddie hated himself when you breathed out a kind, “Hi” as you walked through the lobby door. He just stared and stared, willing his mouth to say something, but nothing seemed quite worthy enough for you to hear. And that sounded corny in his head too, but the way your face looked so soft did nothing to prove him wrong.

Maybe it had been a date. You’d stuck to his side most of the night, unable to stop looking at the way a few strands of hair had come out and curled around his face or how his arms looked when he shrugged off his jacket in the hot living room. Even finding him when dancing with Robin and Nancy or laughing at Steve’s terrible moves.

Eddie should’ve taken a picture of you out there, but his mind was too focused on finding the right balance between staring at you and looking away so it wasn’t obvious. By the number of times the two of you made eye contact, he knew he’d been way off, but he couldn’t stop watching you.

Before, in your apartment lobby, he’d seen your tense shoulders, your hands clasped tight around each other (praying it was because you were just as nervous as he was), but now, you looked so carefree. Your body moved to the music, and if he weren’t so scared, he would’ve joined you, his fingers itching to wrap around your hips. Even Steve came by at some point to tell him he should get his butt over there, but he couldn’t.

It was when you came back, taking deep breaths and a large gulp of cold water, that he thought to take a picture. You had returned to him. After looking as happy as you had, you still came back to him. He picked up one of the couple disposable cameras Robin had set out for guests. As soon as you saw what he was doing, you hurried to fix anything gone askew while dancing, though he wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful regardless.

And you did. Though the photo could never do you justice, it captured the curve of your shoulders and the skin dipping beneath the dress that fit just right, though he thought the same of anything you wore. Your face glowed, like you were meant to be here, with him. And he hadn’t noticed it immediately, not until months later after he’d made Robin give him a copy after she developed the photos, but he could swear that your eyes weren’t at the camera, but just above. Maybe it just showed your mind was elsewhere altogether. But you knew you weren’t looking at the camera, but at Eddie. Always.

–

After that, you left.

Only after having one picture he’d taken of you, you were gone, and he didn’t take any more for a few years. You’d gone off to college out of state while Eddie stayed back in Indiana. The two of you talked on the phone here and there and saw each other during breaks, but he found himself staring at the few photos he had of you more and more often.

You sent a couple pictures through the mail to him, but he couldn’t look at those for long. Most showed you with multiple people, looking as happy as you had back here at home, and he couldn’t help the twisting feeling settle into his stomach. He had no right to be jealous of any of them, but he was. They had no idea how lucky they were to have you there every day. And Eddie should’ve realized that sooner.

–

Each time Eddie had a new photo of you, he declared it was his favorite. There was no way there’d be another he’d stare at for as long or make him miss you as much when you weren’t together. Yet, he was happy to be proven wrong each time.

After coming to accept how he felt, Eddie needed to fix this, deciding he had to do something the next time he saw you or bury the feelings forever. That summer, with a slightly new look but the same old smile, you came back to him.

And Eddie had done it. He’d finally done it and asked you out. Eddie steeled himself for a laugh or disgust rather than the kindest look he’d ever seen when the question left his lips. And he declared a hundred new photos to be his new favorite, but there was always one.

He wanted to do every dorky thing couples did, every cheesy activity that would’ve made him roll his eyes before he met you. So when a nearby carnival had come to town, he took you there the first weekend you had free. And when a worker came up to you both with a polaroid camera, Eddie pulled you close, ready to pay whatever they asked for the photo.

Though the camera wouldn’t be able to show it, his heart swelled at feeling your body against his, the warmth of your palm resting on his chest. You squealed when seeing the picture, the sound enough for him to let you keep it. But you’d seen his face, a sad sort of happy, and pulled the worker back to take another just like the first. You reached into your wallet before Eddie could grab his and handed it to the worker, giving Eddie his own photo to keep.

There were slight differences between the two, but they looked similar — flashing lights and crowds moving behind a couple too enveloped in each other to care or notice. You loved the way his hand sat at your waist, the way his eyes lit up, his chin held high at having at his side.

Busy staring down at the images, you hadn’t seen that Eddie wasn’t doing the same, not until you glanced up to find him already looking. Those lights passed across his dark eyes, leaving you entranced, or maybe it was just who he was. Before you could say something teasing, his lips pressed to yours, soft and like amnesia, making you forget about anything else besides him. Though the photos hadn’t captured it, Eddie still thought of the feeling of your mouth on his whenever he looked at it, wishing he could live in that moment forever.

But making new memories worked as a second option. After that, you had bought your own camera and filled the edges of your bathroom mirror with pictures of the two of you. Other summers, you might have spent the months at your parents’ house, but you loved spending nights at Eddie’s and waking up in his arms. When fall came around, you used to find it exciting before to return to your college life, but this year was harder, more painful.

The two of you existed between late-night calls and letters — and photos Eddie could stand now that you were his, and he was yours — and that was enough for him to make it through.

–

As with cheesy romantic gestures, Eddie hadn’t really believed in marriage either. “Why get the blood-sucking government involved in my love life?” he’d ask. But the way you spoke about your future with him and the way you looked at flowing wedding dresses in bridal shop windows, Eddie could feel himself finding you were once again the exception.

Up until the day, his favorite photo of you, besides the bee one, was any of them that showed the cheap ring he didn’t feel good enough to even propose to you with — though, he couldn’t afford better and found himself getting antsy at the idea of waiting years and years until he could get to start his future with you.

But of course, you wore it proudly in every photo since his proposal. And Eddie couldn’t help a rising emotion in his chest every time he looked at one of those pictures, knowing you were proud to tell the world you were together.

—

And then, there you were. Right there with him.

Eddie’s eyes gave slow blinks in the morning sunlight, the world still far away in his half-asleep state. Yet, he was aware of you. Always was.

You laid on his chest, curled into his side still fast asleep. Your head rose and fell softly along with his dipping breaths, and his eyes found your form with a softness in his heart.

He brought his arm down to wrap along your back, letting the early air wash over him. Over you, together, in your shared apartment. Looking around the room, he spotted in the cracked closet his shoebox of photos.

Besides the pictures framed and hung up, he hadn’t looked at any of his favorites in months. Eddie still loved the memories, the easy moments captured in time, but he didn’t have to live through them anymore — didn’t have to wish he was in those moments or feel that terrible ache of you being gone. He glanced down as you stirred against him, catching your eyes as they fluttered open, making him smile. He had the real thing right here, and he couldn’t wait to make new memories with you.

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