#'that's just taylor sitting in the corner she haunts'

[femmesandhoney]

favorite new thing is loey watching spooky ghost videos and randomly at times just saying "that's just taylor swift" it literally cracks me up so much

[writersblockiskillingme]

Peace | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader (fem!District12!Baird!reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow never thought that he would find peace, until he did.

Warning/s: Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, talk about death (reader is alive, don't worry), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Inspired by one and only Taylor Swift.

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly the summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

Coriolanus Snow could swear that the rustling of the grass beneath his shoes couldn't be louder as he walked in the Meadow.

However, even though he felt an odd irritation towards that, he felt good. He was finally able to get rid of his Peacekeeper white uniform which he replaced with a simple white shirt and some gray pants that he found. His dog tag was still hanging from around his neck. He forgot to take it off from all of the haste when he was trying to find you as fast as he possibly could once his shift ended for the day.

The wind was dancing gracefully across the leaves on the trees surrounding the always oh so peaceful Meadow just a little outside of the border of District 12.

District 12.

Coriolanus Snow was still a little bit doubtful when it came to the loser District.

He could remember his hated towards, well, everyone and everything when he found out that he was going to be deported for the Peacekeepers. He could still remember that empty feeling when he sat at, what seemed like, the most uncomfortable chair in the world as someone started to cut his blonde locks away.

He lost everything. Every hope for the better.

That is up until it was reported to him that he could chose any District in all of the Panem that he wished.

Coriolanus could've been deported to a nice, clean District like 1 or 2. Yet he chose the poorest District of all. The words "District 12" left his mouth without the second thought when the authorities asked him where he wanted to be deported. He didn't even speare one single thought as he said it.

He asked himself, why did he do it? The question wouldn't leave his mind. It haunted him every day. It clouded his ever racing mind.

Why did he do it?

Yet now, he finally spotted a figure sitting on a giant rock, playing the guitar while muttering the words as she tried to write yet another masterpiece that he was going to cherish forever.

Your hair was flowing around in the wind as your fingers graced the strings of your guitar that Coriolanus got for you from the Capitol.

He tried to stay as quiet as he possibly could. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want you to stop singing so he froze once he got close enough so he could listen to you for a bit.

Even the mockingjays on the trees seemed to quiet down as you played the guitar. They were soaking up every melody, every note that you decided to grace the word with.

"And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me"

Your melodic voice rang around the Meadow. So quiet yet so powerful. Graced with softness and pure care. He didn't deserve you. He knew that.

Suddenly nothing mattered anymore. The only thing that truly mattered was the fact that you were alive.

Every doubt he had racing, cursing, his mind vanished forevermore as he listened to you sing and play your guitar, when he saw you performing with the rest of the Covey, your family, the night after he got deported to 12.

Right now, nothing was more important to him than you. He didn't care about his deportation, about Dr. Gaul, about Highbottom.

Maybe he was clueless. Maybe it was his fault for letting himself feel vulnerable in this very moment in the Meadow outside of 12. Or maybe he was just young and dumb for finally letting his guard down... but he felt like there was hope for him at last. Because you were here. You were alive, and if he had to mess up his reputation and lose everything once more just so he could here the sweetest of melodies leaving your lips he was sure that he would do it.

"No, I could never give you peace"

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Coriolanus felt himself freeze completely.

His brain nor his body was working anymore as he watched the screen along with the rest of his classmates that were chosen to be mentors for this year's tributes in the Hunger Games.

The scene was tough to watch. He wanted to look away yet he found himself unable to do so.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't rip his eyes away from the screen that showed reaping the tribute he was supposed to mentor.

A girl from District 12.

He felt uneasy the moment he found out who he was supposed to be mentoring, he felt like his hope was lost. His hope for winning the Plinth Prize and repearing his reputation was ruined. He was ruined.

But now, as he watched you step in after your name was called out, he felt unfamiliar feeling of pure warmth growing and spreading in his chest, consuming him completely. The feeling was unknown, it made him feel weak. Out of control. He hated it.

Yet, as Coriolanus watched your hair bounce as you stepped out of the crowd in the middle of the square, he felt like he would fight the devil himself just so he could make sure that you were safe, that you were going to get out of the arena alive.

He watched your expression and your posture. You were trying to appear as calm and unbothered as possible. You were successful in your attempt, but he saw right through it.

Perhaps it was because he found himself in the similar position as he watched you or perhaps he simply observed a bit too closely.

Whatever it was, it did not prepare Coriolanus Snow for what was about to happen.

°

Why am I here? What am I doing?

These are the questions Coriolanus asked himself as he unintentionally, yet at the same time quite intentionally, tried to seek some warmth from his red Academy's uniform in his pathetic attempts to warm himself up a bit in the middle of a very cold night on his way over to the zoo where you were forced to stay before the games started.

The food wrapped in a handkerchief that had his father's initials on it started to feel too heavy in the pocket of his uniform.

Feeling the cold shiver run down his spine he realized that it's not from cold or from the fear of the Peacekeepers blocking his way over to you in the middle of the night. No. It was something else. Something he was aware of, but couldn't yet admit it to himself.

He watched every step he took so as to not startle you in the cage of the zoo.

As he got closer, he realized that he saw a figure in the dark leaned against the bars of the zoo's cage.

It was you, of course. You were looking up at the sky as your hair slightly flew around in the light, cold night's breeze.

At first he thought that his plan to play star-crossed lovers was a dumb call. That it was bad. Mentor falling desperately, hopelessly in love with his tribute was just madness and quite a desperate attempt to draw some good public's attention to give you a shot at surviving in the arena was quite pitiful, truly. Where was his head at, at that moment? Who would ever fall for that nonsense?

But as he saw how the people thrived for a tragic pair of star-crossed lovers and as he realized that good citizens of the Capitol loved a good tragic story, he came to a conclusion that maybe all of this was actually worth it.

More importantly, as he called out your name quietly as to not startle you and alert other tributes he figured that it was a right call after all.

Especially when, even tho a part of him didn't want to, as he came over to you on the other side of the bars, gave you food that he smuggled from the Academy, wiped your long lost tear as it streamed down your beautiful cheek, as he soked in your beauty, admired your gentil kindness and finally as he kissed you like he needs you more than an oxygen that he has to breath over the empty space in the middle of the bars, he wasn't really pretending after all.

Yet when it was time for him to go home just so his absence doesn't go noticed by grandma'am and Tigris, he asked you one thing that was bothering him, eating him alive. One thing that caused him absolute despair from the moment he met you.

"Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" He whispered in the darkness as he held his hand against your cheek like you were the most delicate rose.

Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends

It's like I'm wasting your honor

Coriolanus Snow was hurrying towars the room in the Capitol's Academy in which he will be able to monitor the games along with some of his classmates.

He had to stay at home to help his grandma'am much longer than the would've liked. He was in such a hurry that once he got to the door he literally pushed it open with full force.

He strolled down effortlessly over to his chair so he could look over you as he heard the voice of one and only Lucky Flickerman.

"Now that is an entrance I'm jealous of."

Coriolanus ignored him.

He sat down next to Sejanus Plinth as he reasted his head on his hand as soon as he did that, the look of pure stress overflow his features as his piercing blue eyes locked themselves on the screen watching you.

"I may be wrong." He heard the voice of Sejanus Plinth as he stared at the screen, not looking away. "But it seems to me that you actually, genuinely care about whether or not she makes it out alive."

Coriolanus felt himself freeze for a moment, but he quickly forced himself to gain his composure back.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Coryo."

He kept his mouth shut after that.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough?

Coriolanus Snow could still remember the feeling of slight cold breeze as he hoped off of the train in 12 for the first time ever.

His boots stepped right into mud and he closed his eyes for a moment in slight annoyance. What an amazing way to alive here and do the things he was ordered to do.

He gripped more tightly just in hope to gain more confidence that he could actually pull through with this.

He stepped forward, letting out a puf of breath to steady himself.

Just as he was about to step after the rest of the new recruits as the one who is last in line he heard something that he hoped he would hear again. A voice which belonged to the person for whom he decided to go to the poorest District, paying the last bit of money he owned.

"Coryo!" Your voice shouted and he turned around slowly, almost not believing that you're here.

You ran as fast as you could just to get to him as fast as possible.

Your hair was flying around as your ran, the back of your dress dragging itself after you. The lightness of your steps, the graceful way you carried yourself, your eyes, your lips, you.

You collided against him, throwing your hands around his neck as you gripped on his shoulders as tightly as you possibly could, afraid that he will disappear from your grasp once again.

You looked so out of place. You were like a finest, most beautiful rose of all, but that rose grew in the middle of the mud. It fascinated him.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, gripping your body strongly yet at the same time gently as he brought you to his body even closer. You felt like if he pulled you any closer the two of you would become one person.

He hid his face into your neck, breathing in your flowery scent. It smelled like home. Home which he was forcefully ripped away from, but now he was finally able to return.

"How did you-? What-?" He stuttered, couldn't get the words out.

"Tigris told me you were about to become a Peacekeeper." You got out, still holding onto his arm, your gripp still tight, afraid of losing him again. "However, Sejanus told me that you would arrive to 12."

This took him a back a little.

"You spoke with Tigris?" He asked, his voice not hiding his utter, but non the less happy, shock.

"We wrote to each other." You answered with a smile. "She's amazing, truly."

He couldn't be happier at this moment, he was so happy that it scared him.

But maybe, as he watched your smile and took your hand into his, pressing your palms against each other, he realized that just maybe life in the poorest District won't be as bad as he was afraid.

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

One thing was for sure, life after the games was not easy.

You would have nightmares. He didn't know about them, you wouldn't told him. That is up until the rest of your family met up with him on a picnic day.

You looked so tired, so pale, you weren't acting like your usual self. It scared him.

That's when Lucy Gray pulled him aside after she saw his worried gaze on you the entire day. What she told him ripped his heart and shattered every piece.

"She's screaming at night." Lucy Gray whispered just so you wouldn't catch them, not that you could, you were so tired you were barely awake. "She has nightmares about the arena."

When he later on confronted you about your nightmares just so he could help you somehow you broke down.

You told him that maybe it wasn't the best idea for him to be with her. You were sad a lot more often, the screaming because of nightmares and everything else haunted you.

Before you could say anything else, tho. He kissed you like he would die without you.

"You're safe with me." He mumbled against your lips. "We can have a future here together, that is if you will have me."

"Of course I will Coryo, but-"

"No but's, then, my love." He told you, taking the handkerchief out of nowhere as he wiped away your tears that continued to stream down your face.

"Here, away from every harm, away from the games... maybe I could finally give you peace."

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

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

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

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

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

wordcount: 18K

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

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes—but you don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure?"

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

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

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

"Go on..."

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

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Very well," he accepts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

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

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

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

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

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

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

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

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night, Kook."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

"Sleep tight!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

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

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

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

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

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

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

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

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

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

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

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh? She was at your place?"

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

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

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It shouldn't.

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

But it does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he does. He always will.

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

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

"I always call?"

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

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

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

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

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

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

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

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

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

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

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

He had your back. You had his.

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

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

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

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

Didn't. Past tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

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

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

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

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

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

But nor does anyone else.

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

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

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

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

Bammie—

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

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

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

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

And so you give him a little grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

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

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

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

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

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

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

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

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

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

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

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little honesty is needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's not.

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

You like him because he's competent.

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's not making this easy for you.

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

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

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

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

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

"You've got to be kidding me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

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

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

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

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

"So if Jiwon—"

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

"Jealous?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's nothing to tell."

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

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

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

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

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

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

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

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

"Kook..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

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

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

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

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

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

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

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

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

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

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

The issue is that yours were, too.

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

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

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

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

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

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

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

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

It's different, now.

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

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

"Do I?"

"You should."

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

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

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

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

"Try me," you'd challenged.

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

That you are different. Are special.

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

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

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

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

At least that's what you tell yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

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

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

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

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

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

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

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

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with you?!

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

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

Why is he still talking about you?!

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

Get a grip!

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

"But I'm guessing...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's probably shitfaced by now.

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

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

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

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! could you possibly do a one-shot where buck and reader are flirting during the dosed episode? like they get high and are handcuffed and are just giggling and flirting and then accidental confession or something and then the next day they’re just like “i’m pretty sure we’re dating now..” thank you so so much!! this idea just made me giggle so <33

you get me so high - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif does not belong to me

a/n: i adore this idea, thank you for sharing <3 i worked on this very sporadically, and i’m not the biggest fan of it but i hope you enjoy!

whoever brought those brownies in was an angel to y/n. yeah, a felony for sure, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t secretly enjoy it.

even though the whole station had been haunted by taylor and her team the entire day, all of the worries of the job seemed to vanish. buck wasn’t sure why, but he just saw everything different than he has before. nature called for him and he was more than excited to be at his job.

he just wanted to laugh at everything, each little girl in front of him was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. he watched y/n from across the room, sitting on the floor and playing with a girl in a massive dress shaped like a pastry.

“where did you get this dress?” she asks, running her fingers down the satin on the side.

“my mommy bought it for me!”

“can she buy one for me?” y/n asks, turning her head to see the grown firefighter skipping over.

“y/n!” he shoots out quickly, jogging over to lean next to her on the ground.

“hi buck! will you buy me a dress like this?”

“only if you buy me one,” he smiles. “maybe we should put bobby in one.” he starts completely laughing at the thought of bobby in a pretty pink dress, with a sash and a tiara.

“what is going on- buck!” chim shouts. “can someone help us over here?”

“how are we not helping?” buck asks, leading y/n to just shrug. they glance over at eddie in the corner, looking at all the pageant girls like they have 5 heads. he almost looks fearful of them, swaying in his spot.

the next few minutes were a blur, and suddenly they were all handcuffed together against a wall. hen, eddie, buck, and y/n were all connected by their hands, being watched by athena like they misbehaved at school.

“ooh, you made him cry!” buck teases, looking at the tears streaming down eddie’s face. y/n just looks closer to athena’s face.

“you’re a hot cop, thena,” y/n speaks airily, just smiling cheekily at the officer in front of her.

“you guys are high as hell and you’re on duty.”

“what?” hen exclaims. “i didn’t smoke anything-“

“well you ate something! someone brought marijuana brownies into the station, so you’re all off work.”

the team just looks around in shock, not fully caring until y/n and buck start giggling once more. “just- just sit down against this wall, and do not move.” athena demands, walking away to deal with the other emergency in the main room.

y/n and buck sat fine against the wall, comparing hands and very lightly slapping each other on the sides. a few spouts of silence would happen for a few minutes while the group of stoners just watched the world pass in front of them.

“buck,” y/n whispers.

“what?” he asks.

“you’re really cute, like i just figured i’d let you know.”

“thanks, you’re a cutie, too,” she giggles at his words, throwing her head back against the wall as he just glances at her. normal, sober buck would’ve had a racing heart and nerves fluttering all over his body because she told him he was cute. he knows he’s not bad looking, but hearing it from her is when he truly believes it. now, he just figured why not? yolo, anyway.

“no, you’re like cute cute. like hot oiled up firefighter cute.”

“that means so much, y/n,” he says, the sly remark almost making his heart clench.

“i want you under my christmas tree.”

“well, i want you in an easter egg for me.”

“well, i want you-“

“can you just shut up?” eddie asks, still distressed about being handcuffed and drugged. “we get it, you’re into each other. and what happens when you’re not high?”

“i don’t remember talking to you,” buck teases, giving eddie a side eye but keeping his head directed towards the pretty girl next to him.

“alright,” athena comes back into sight. “let’s get you all home, maybe sleep off some of this.”

the next morning, y/n remembered every little thing she said to buck, and he remembered every little thing he said to her. they hoped maybe it was like alcohol, making them forget what they may or may not have said, but nope. it was clear as day. it didn’t feel as awkward, though. it felt easier. like a weight was off their shoulders after being weighed down for so long.

when they both arrived at work, the look from the other just told them everything they had to know. buck meant everything he said, and so did she. her eyes lightly wandered over his, and he didn’t even make her say anything. they both knew that those cookies made a great thing burst open.

[mviswidow]

who you are is not where you've been

Blackhill x ex-hydra!daughter!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: After a triggering nightmare about R’s past, her mothers comfort her.

Contents: hurt/comfort, dark nightmare, talk of kidnapping, angst, fluff, Nat and Maria being amazing adopted mothers

From this request.

the title is a reference to taylor swift's innocent

You raced after your target as fast as your feet would carry you. The young girl reminded you of yourself when you’d first been brought to Hydra. She fought hard and was determined to get away from you, but it wasn’t long before you’d cornered her in an alleyway with a dead end.

Her cries for help made your ears ring, and you would have given anything for her to just shut up. You could feel guilt weighing heavily on your chest. It was crushing. You were about to confine this little girl to a life of misery, just like your own.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every instinct you had was telling you to turn around and leave her there, to let her go, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You pointed your gun at her as you dialed a number on a burner phone, giving the person on the other end your location.

The poor girl cried with all her might, tears streaming down her face. You felt like you were going to be sick. You wished she’d been able to get away from you somehow. 

She shrank back until she was against the fence behind her just when you felt a hand on your arm. You kept the gun pointed at her steadily as you took a quick glance over your shoulder.

“You’ve done it again, great work.”

You woke from your nap with a start when you heard a beeping sound. Your chest was heaving. You looked around to check your surroundings and your breath started to even out upon realizing you were safe on the living room couch and your moms were in the kitchen making dinner. The microwave had just gone off.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Natasha came over when she saw that you’d sat up and were awake, running her fingers through your hair tenderly. “You knocked out at the end of the movie. How was your nap?”

“It was okay,” you nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I’m going to wash up before we eat.” 

You needed to clear your head before you sat with them for dinner. There was no way they wouldn’t be able to tell something was up and the last thing you wanted to do was to put your problems on them.

Upon locking the door to the bathroom, your eyes began to tear up. You groaned quietly and pressed the heels of your hands to your shut eyes, willing yourself not to cry. You did your best to steady your breathing and stay quiet, but it wasn’t long before you were choking back sobs while sitting on the cold tile floor.

Your dreams were often plagued by the haunting memories of your past, being controlled by Hydra since your early childhood. You were horrified by what you were capable of. It pained you to think that you had subjected kids to being tormented and ruined their lives. They hadn’t done anything to deserve that. And it was often difficult to convince yourself that you deserved to live in the loving household that you now did, because how could you when many of the kids you’d been assigned to capture probably still worked for Hydra?

Your eyes shot open when you heard a quiet knock on the door. You bit down on one of your knuckles, trying to stifle the sob threatening to leave your throat. 

“You alright, kiddo?” Maria’s voice sounded.

You didn’t say anything out of fear of embarrassing yourself, afraid of whatever noise would come out.

“Can I come in?”

She took the sound of the door unlocking as a ‘yes’ and opened it slowly, sitting down beside you.

“What’s wrong, hm?” she murmured, putting her strong arm around your shoulders.

You turned into her embrace, wrapping your arms around her waist as tightly as you could while your body racked with sobs. 

Maria held you close and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Natasha’s footsteps went unheard but she made herself known when she put a gentle hand on your back, doing her best to help soothe you. 

Your tears fell freely, but the presence of your mothers was beginning to make you feel better. You were getting ahold of your breathing, matching yours to Maria’s.

Once you were calmer, you moved yourself to sit up with your back to the wall and Natasha was now in front of you, tutting when she saw your tear-stained face and your nose red from crying, “What’s got you so upset, honey?” she asked as she leaned forward to wipe your tears away with her thumbs.

You took a couple of breaths before attempting to respond to her, and while you did so, you realized not many people would be able to understand your feelings the way she might. 

“How did… how did you forgive yourself?” Your voice broke as you spoke, fresh tears beginning to fall. “After everything I’ve done,” you shook your head. “I don’t deserve - I can’t - I’m a monster -”

“No, hey,” Natasha took your hand in hers before speaking softly, “You’re working yourself up again. Please don’t talk like that.” 

You put your head down and pinched the bridge of your nose as Natasha sat in shock for a couple of seconds, surprised by your question.

It wasn’t often that the Black Widow cried, but as she saw you in your distress, reminding her so much of herself, she couldn’t help it when her eyes started watering.

She looked to her wife for a moment, and when their eyes met, it was clear they were thinking the same thing. Maria could not count the number of times she’d heard Natasha describe herself as a monster.

There were many nights Maria had held Natasha as she cried, feeling like she could never make up for everything she had done. She still felt that way sometimes. Like nothing could be enough for all the lives she’d taken or destroyed.

But you? You might be enough. Natasha felt more sure of that every day. The love she had for you consumed her. It came with an innate need to protect you. Getting to love you felt like healing from her past, something she once never thought she’d feel.

You had a long emotional journey ahead of you in order to come to terms with the reality, which was that you were a victim of circumstance, just like Natasha was. Neither of you asked for the hand of cards you were dealt, but you had to play them.

“Why don’t we go to the couch and talk about this there? Let’s get you off the floor,” the redhead suggested, helping you up.

As you made your way to the couch with Natasha, Maria went to the fridge and brought you water, which you took gratefully. 

You sat between your mothers, busying yourself by fidgeting with the edges of the blanket, not feeling too inclined to look at them while you felt so vulnerable, preparing yourself to start speaking. “I have a lot of dreams about my time being controlled by Hydra, some can be really bad.”

Your mind raced as you mulled over how much you were going to tell them. You hadn’t spoken very much about what happened to you while you were being controlled by Hydra. You figured they knew enough from reading your file and Natasha being there when you were taken into custody by SHIELD. 

Still, there was a lot you didn’t want them to know. You were ashamed of yourself and terrified that they may not look at you the same way after they knew what you’d decided to tell them.

“I was mostly assigned to kidnappings for Hydra,” A lump grew in your throat as you spoke. “I was having a nightmare about this one girl named Marcy, she was the youngest target I ever had. She was also the last.” You could feel the anxiety you were having in every part of your body. You weren’t sure what you expected them to say but the longer they said nothing the more anxious you became. 

“You aren’t going to start forgiving yourself until you’re able to acknowledge that what happened was not all your fault,” Natasha finally said, which made your brow furrow.

When you didn’t say anything, she continued, “You know you didn’t do any of the things you did because of your own volition. Hydra was using a formula very similar to the one the Red Room utilized. You weren’t able to make any decisions yourself. Until you’re able to let up on yourself and come to accept this, you won't be forgiving yourself anytime soon.”

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds before nodding, “I’ve never not blamed myself.”

Natasha offered a soft smile, “I know how that feels. It took me a very long time to get to where I am now. And a lot of help from Maria.”

“And you have both of us every step of the way,” Maria chimed in.

Your eyes watered as the corners of your lips turned up, “Thank you. I love you guys so much.”

Natasha pulled you in for a hug and it seemed like she needed it almost as much as you did, “We love you too. More than you know.”

When you pulled away you turned and hugged Maria, “Thanks for finding me.”

The brunette shrugged with a soft smile, “Of course. But next time why don’t you let us know when something’s bothering you? You scared us there.”

“I’ll try my best. I’m still getting used to the whole asking for help thing. I’m sorry.”

“Ehh, that’s alright. We both know what it’s like to be a little emotionally stunted,” Maria snickered. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and playfully kicked Maria’s shin, pretending to be annoyed by her comment as you laughed.

Everything was going to be okay.

[soapoet]

how are you, october?

+3 Taylor Swift songs each because she's striving and so should you.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

Soapy scribbles: I already did a general energy reading for this autumn season here, but there's quite a bit of energies at play this autumn, so I felt the need to look at October specifically as it feels very important.

01.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift ‐ Don't blame me, I did something bad, Red.

How long have you kept the light on? Sitting there, staring at the door, waiting for someone who never seems to come? The radio is on, playing two stations at once. The flower petals all say maybe, not he loves me, he loves me not. You are frustrated and confused, yearning for clarity but outside the sun just won't rise and the only light is the one lit outside your house. Have you given your time at a discount, or is the free trial still running? Someone needs to draw the line in the sand further from the waves that keep washing them away. You want more, and for love to not feel like agony. Red is the colour of passion, both love and hate. I see you wearing their white t-shirt, your heart bleeding and staining it red as you watch them sleep. Safe and sound, whilst you howl to the moon. You're growing territorial. A desperate act to ward off the wolves that prowl your prey. You saw them first, but they don't seem to see you.

It seems as though your thoughts and feelings are silly until somebody else echos them, word for word, and then they're liquid gold. You're not a ghost, but you feel your outlines blur. Where do you end and where do they begin? You haunt their halls, but they're fast asleep and never notice a bump in the night. You've felt powerless, like the quietest poltergeist, unable to move and shake the silverware, never able to rattle the cupboards or the picture frames. Somebody treats you like they would give you their last name, yet make no such commitments, not a single step in that direction. It is all up in the air, and you feel like the rug beneath your feet will get pulled at any moment. Is it not tiring to lie awake, watching the shadows, wondering what beasts may strike if you let your guard down in slumber? Without certainty, you're the one in fear under the covers, certain it wasn't just the wind. Because in your experience, it never really is.

Do not sign the dotted line without examination of the fine print. Better yet, do not sell your heart and soul to someone who will keep you on a shelf, saved for a rainy day, but will not puncture breathing holes into the lid and care for you truly. Do not let yourself be kept for a season, wings clipped and left to asphyxiate in a jar. You have given enough benefits of the doubt, but nobody is so daft, so oblivious, they would not embrace love they find worthy and good. Do not let yourself be kept as an option or as something good enough until something better, new and shiny, comes along. Close up shop and demand full subscription for your time and effort. If they won't pay the price, you'll find better in no time whilst karma chews them out. Especially if you feel like you can't do better, or have felt like love keeps avoiding you and you're somehow faulty and too broken to be loved, there really is someone around the next few corners who won't play you like a game or stick around only in fair weather but your storms too. So don't settle, you deserve better than okay and fine and good enough. For a select few, there really is love here, but may be drowning in addiction or fears of some kind. Remember that you can't help someone who doesn't want help, because change is made when they want change. This change may very well be coming up in the near future, and wrongs may be made right slowly. If this is somebody you love, whether romantically or platonically, even in a familial sense, make sure you keep your head above water and put your own oxygen mask on first before helping another. You can extend a helping hand, but do so when they ask, not because you're expected to do it because you always have. New beginnings in old relationships are possible if you want it.

Additional details: Amethysts, Ayurveda, moths, mixed signals, love languages, uquizzes and other such tests, purple, blue, red, bus rides, tattoos, job offers, writing, poetry, thesis, message in a bottle, missing an ex, addiction, healing, birds and squirrels, starting over, second chances, reminiscing, old photos or journal entries or ig posts, synastry charts, girl in red, Phoebe Bridgers, Noah Kahan, Bishop Briggs, YA book series, maladaptive daydreaming, BPD, lighters, short trips, parties or other get togethers, double dates, life path 8, birthdays, sanrio, studying, Scorpio/Aries/Virgo/Capricorn/Pisces, 3H/4H/5H/12H, Saturn/Mars/Uranus, Lilith/Chiron, 25/89/222/555.

02.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift - Gorgeous, Paper rings, I think he knows.

Luck seems to be on your side, or it soon will be. After a long drought, you have stumbled upon an oasis. Prayers whispered in the dark, sometimes choked out by tears, are now proven to have been heard after all. Endless night and harsh winter is over, even though seasonally speaking it's right ahead of us in the northern hemisphere. In your life, however, you're coming out of a very long and hard winter. You have felt cold and lost, sometimes frozen in place, as though your icicle bones and frosted skin wouldn't let your body decompose when you thought you were dead. You were stuck up to your thighs in snow. Every step was a challenge, and harsh winds threatened you like frail branches bending and snapping in storms. Now the snow is melting, trampled into slush beneath your boots and making way for spring flowers to bloom.

Forward movement is happening in many areas of your life. New beginnings are popping up like wildflowers in a meadow for you to frolic in. You're making changes and changes are making you. Immovable objects begin to roll down the hilltop where you've felt stranded like a lone celltower sending and receiving signals. You may have felt in your heart and soul that the winds are changing. Your intuition has been wide open and receptive for some time now, hasn't it? But rooted in place unable to move you have felt unable to take action. That is changing now as not only can you move forward, but things you have wished for begin to arrive like ships to your shores. You sowed and nurtured the seeds and it is time to harvest your crops. If you have dealt with mental terrors and grief, you should see those slowly begin to heal, circumstances improve, and help becoming available to you and you finally feel ready and able to take it.

If you've been engaging in some good old fashioned yearning, know that it's a case of mutual pining. Someone whose freckles, birth marks, or scars you have mapped out like an astronomer the night sky in stolen glances has stolen just as many of you. Either one of you, perhaps both, have been closing doors as of late, gone through endings and made space for the new and found the keys to the doors once shut and chained and locked. There is a distinct sense of leveling up here, like entering a new region in a game at last when the requirements have been met, and you're now free to explore new and unknown territory. I see unwavering eye contact where before it was a game of cat and mouse. I see a church, two people side by side in the pews sharing quiet confessions. Words previously only thought find a voice and get spoken, not to the moon but the heart they were meant for. There can be some secrecy involved, but less like the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet it's keeping something sacred between two souls, keeping each other like an oath. Sheltering a flame, for some of you one rekindled, between four hands and promising to meet in the woods at night. This secrecy is not one grown from shame, but one of dedication. A solid foundation, a home and sturdy fortress is being built or rebuilt in the dark of the night so its eventual beauty and intricacies may be admired by all in the sun. You may have manifested this, or simply known this was inevitable. All you really had to do was accept it as fate and wait for it to unfold. This is a cozy kind of love, but also devout like two souls looking upon each other in reverence. It feels as close as it feels free. There's something to lean on but also room to grow. You hold each other tightly, but loosen the grip as needed, and always ready to catch the other if they fall. For some of you this marks the end of a third party situation, an entirely new love, and for others this is reworking an existing or past love with a new set of rules and making magic together after tough challenges.

Additional details: Full moon, abundance, sudden income, lottery luck, gifts, receiving or giving flowers, dancing, swimming, guided meditations, listening to higher frequencies, therapy or counselling, lists and plans, entrepreneurship, editing, finishing tasks, cats, rabbits and ferrets or rodents, pancakes and waffles, sunflowers and dandelions, espresso, heavy rain, holding hands, nostalgic scents or environments, coughing, PTSD, neurodivergence, artificial intelligence, fidget toys or stress balls, colouring books, arts and crafts, dainty jewellery, body language, law of assumption, dreams, blue, green, black, glasses, kpop, punk, indie, Stray Kids, Ateez, Dreamcatcher, Daft Punk, Sabaton, Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, Virgo/Leo/Cancer/Aquarius/Sagittarius, 1H/3H/5H/11H, Jupiter/Moon/Mercury/Pluto, North and South Node/Ceres, 12/13/33/555/888.

03.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift - The archer, Mean, Anti-hero.

Narcissus and Echo, a tragedy of old. You may have been at the mercy of fluctuating between the two. This can be a dance between you and another, or you and your own reflection. You may have pushed someone away. A friend, a family member, yourself, or an authority figure of sorts. Demanding they leave you alone, left them on read or never bothered to open their letters at all, after so long of clinging to their every word. Certain of your independence, a need to put yourself first, desperate self love wholly unrequited. Or perhaps you fought viciously for yourself, but your voice was never heard. As though you always needed someone else to speak your words for them to be taken as right and true. Perhaps you were sent on a glitched quest, "ask your mother" only met with "ask your father", leaving you in the uncertainty of the in between, alone and filled to the brim with unanswered questions and no sense of direction.

You have sought help, asked for assistance, asked all the right questions and really pushed your own cart forwards though it has been uphill. And something or someone always cast stones on your path forward, shoved stick between the wheels to make the process feel so hopeless. There are wounds that you bear that have been left unhealed for years. Still raw and bleeding you dry whilst you try to keep yourself together like cupping water in your hands as it spills through your fingers. But though your path is full of traps and spikes and is uncertain and winding, you know the way forward all within yourself. Because you carry with you the only light you need to find your way. You may cross paths with kind advisors who unseathe their swords to fight for you, and some of them may already be in your life. Those who see the injustice and tear down the thicket ahead to make way for you and protect you whilst you stitch your wounds and ready yourself for battle yourself. Accept the help, encouragement, and follow these kind mercenaries when you get lost. Allow them to carry your burdens when as Atlas you need a break from carrying the world upon your shoulders. Soon you'll be strong enough to do what you need to do. Be better, stronger, healthier, if not for you right now then for those who need you and cherish you and want you by their side in the quests of life. Eventually your actions will prove to be the best for you, and a faint portrait of a future you smiles upon your present self for your decision to keep moving forward.

If you need to put your foot down, do so in earnest. Shoo away guilt and shame, and let go of the idea that you must suffer in silence and weather unnecessary storms, speak when spoken to and follow another's commands so often not in favour of your own well-being. Fight your inner demons, but know you need not fight them alone. Dip a quill in ink and rewrite the rules. Break into the library which holds the book of life and black out that what does not serve you, and take ownership of your own story. If Narcissus treats you poorly, trample him under your foot on your way out the door. He is only a flower now and seasons change, and he will wilt and wither away as you no longer shine upon his petals.

Additional details: Violins, literature, art galleries, sisters and fathers, divorce, babies or children, psychotherapy, CBT, law, changing your name, lgbt+, jazz, classical music, Regina Spektor, Kate Bush, Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, borzoi, dog videos, playing instruments, writing a book, storytelling, unknown address, exotic animals, spiders, ED, OCD, teddy bears, squishmallows, studying for a test, doctor's appointments, funerals, chill covers/lofi, slowed/reverb/acoustic versions, subliminals, affirmations, lace, fuzzy socks or woolen socks, bruises, house plants, monstera, ivy, pothos, tea collection, cold hands, Taurus/Gemini/Libra/Scorpio/Capricorn, 2H/6H/8H/10H, Saturn/Pluto/Neptune/Venus, IC/MC, 17/23/95/11:11/000/444.

[homoirrealis]

Alex Savior & Alex Turner

Alexandra Savior in a 2016 interview to NME “And opening up to a realm where there’s a bar– and there’s nobody in it, it’s dark, and there’s just a dark red light in the corner.”

“And then there’s a woman crooning in a long, black dress”

"Shades" music video vs "TBHC" music video moment... - The shabby film... (sorta homemade)... in both videos... On directing the video for the "SHADES": I recorded it with a camcorder and edited it myself—that's why it's so shitty. [laughs] ... I had no concept. It wasn't like, "Oh, what aspect of this was inspired by the song?" or anything. It was just that my best friend and I wanted to go to Death Valley for free. I was like, "I can write this off on my taxes!" So we went to Goodwill and bought a cheap suit and a wig. - the red fucking light that she refers to 2016 interview... - crooning singer? Lounge singer-shimmer? - “Dress me like the front of a casino, push me down another rabbit hole” Alexandra Saviour - Mirage - "Handsome dictator of my crimes I can't tell if they're yours, I can't tell if they're mine." Alexandra Savior - Howl

I honestly don't know what I'm trying to say... Just need your demons to respond to mine I guess... - Has he inspired her? Has she inspired him? - Was she the reason for TBHC's haunted sound? - Why so many parallels? - Where does Miles fit in this all? Taylor? - Is it me or does Alexandra look suspiciously like Louise Verneuil?

Do you know what her stage name was to begin with...? Fucking sitting down? Alexandra Semitone "I can lift you up another semitone" Arctic Monkeys - 4 stars out of 5 And this is a milex blog... and will stay that way... but do you see the logic in my madness?

[mystic-writings]

right where you left me (no choice but to stay here forever)

PAIRING — wilbur soot x fem!reader

SUMMARY — wilbur sees you, his ex, at your favourite café three years after breaking up with you

WARNINGS — angst, hurt/no comfort, a little fluff

WORD COUNT — 2,281

SONG — right where you left me - taylor swift

NOTES — this was supposed to be a reggie peters fic from two years ago but uh. well now it’s this i guess

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It’s been ages since Wilbur’s been back to the Harbour Café - over two years, to be exact. He felt like he was an entirely different person compared to the last time he walked through the door, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or for the worse. 

The last time he was here, he was with you. Just a boy, barely a man, with the woman he loved. There was nothing special to the outing - classes were cancelled due to a strike and you both slept in, spending an hour just laying together in bed before getting breakfast here. You had insisted on getting a cupcake despite it being mid-morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if things would always be like this for him. 

Now, he was walking in as a famous streamer, working on an album with his band. It was the entire reason he was in town, after all. Well, that and to visit George. 

Near silence filled the cafe, aside from the chatter of the few patrons and employees that mixed with the music and machinery operating behind the counter. It felt odd to be back, like Wilbur didn’t know where to stand, put his hands, or what to do with himself. His eyes wandered for a place to sit, and in the back corner, he spotted someone he didn’t think he’d ever see again.

You were sitting in a booth at the back wall, tucked closely into the corner of the cafe, near the pastry case. The sun shone in through the windows, highlighting you as you turned the page of a book - one that Wilbur recognised instantly. It was your favourite. In fact, it was the special edition he bought for you for your birthday; the last one you spent with him. The only thing on the table in front of you was a mug. 

Like there was some invisible string pulling him along, Wilbur moved past the counter entirely, and quietly slid into the seat across from you. It was an idiotic thing to do, especially with how things ended, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to talk to you, even if it didn’t end well. He needed to have just one more conversation with you. 

You barely registered that someone had sat across from you, but when you finished the page you were reading and glanced up, an immediate shock of pain jolted through your chest. Your mouth ran dry as you tried to process the sheepish look on Wilbur’s face as he sat across from you with his hands tucked into his lap. 

Swallowing, you finally gained the will to say something, but all you could say was his name. It broke coming out, quiet and breathless, like a final whisper of a life left behind, haunting. 

“Didn’t know you were still around,” he said, voice small. 

You nodded, sliding an old receipt into the book and placing it on the table, next to your full cup of coffee - definitely cold by now. You had yet to touch it. You never did. You never would. “I, uh, decided to stick around. Couldn’t bring myself to go, I suppose.” 

“I get it,” he nodded, gnawing on his lip and avoiding your gaze. When he finally did look up, you could barely maintain eye contact. “How’ve, uh-” he cleared his throat, speaking louder, “how’ve you been?”

“As good as I can be.” You shrugged. 

“That’s good.” Wilbur muttered, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. He didn’t know what to say. “How’s everything been?” He said it slowly, like he was unsure of his words. 

“Uh- good, I think. I’m working now, doing well with that. My sister’s married now; had a baby in June.” 

Wilbur’s brow raised, a smile slowly taking over his face. “Has she? I always liked Mark. Wonderful lad.” 

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the cold mug before you. “Yeah. He’s been wonderful to her this whole time. And me. Helped me get work. Their daughter looks just like him.” 

“That’s lovely.” Wilbur said as he leaned forward, placing his clasped hands on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing pretty good, myself. That streaming thing sort of took off, and I’m making music now.” 

“I know.” You admitted with a shrug, smiling sheepishly at Wilbur’s confusion. “I’ve always supported you, Wilbur, you know that. No matter what. I knew you had it in you. And I… I’m proud.” 

“You’re proud?” 

“Yes. I’m proud of you, Wilbur.” You told him. “It doesn’t matter how we ended or… what happened. I always will be. And I like your music, by the way.” He downturned his gaze, a blush forming on his face. “Though, I have to say, the melody for Jubilee Line sounds familiar.”

He could see the knowing look on your face. He’d played the melody for you a few times before, but he never read you the lyrics. He didn’t have any for a long time, not until after you’d broken up. But he could see that shine in your eyes. The one that told him that you knew. You were imbued into that album. Every line, every note, every beat, you were there. And so was his pain. His regret. The regret he still had for leaving you. 

He only nodded, letting the silence settle for a moment. He didn’t know what to say anymore. He never did with you. You were so high above him, so wonderful and ethereal to him, that even in the years you spent together, he never felt like he was able to appease you. To make you happy. But he did. More than he could ever know.

“So, other than all that, how’ve you been?” You asked, picking at the skin on your fingers. “When things… I mean, you weren’t in the best place.” 

“Better.” Wilbur said. The word was so final, punctual. “I sort of… I dunno, I realised what a shitty person I was after you were gone.” He shook his head, almost scoffing. “It took a lot to get to a point where I was okay with going to therapy, but I did. I still am. And I’m sorry, for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it.” 

You reached out, resting a hand on his clasped ones. It was the first contact he’d made with you in years, and it still radiated comfort. Your hands were cold, and Wilbur recalled how they never were. He remembered how you always stuck them under his shirt or into his own hands, just for a semblance of warmth to comfort you. “It’s okay, Wilbur. I understand, more than anyone.”

Wilbur unclasped his hand and took yours in one of his, unable to stop it from shaking as he did. His large hand wrapped around your smaller one, and almost instinctively he tried to warm it up. His mind was reeling, wondering, thinking, of where you would be if he hadn’t done what he did. If he hadn’t forced you out. 

Would you be married? Would you have been considering kids by now, or would you already have one? Would your life have mirrored the perfect picture of your sisters? He had plans for you both. For your future. But he let his own mind get in the way of it. 

It didn’t help that he was planning to propose. The ring sat, every day, at the bottom of a drawer in his desk where he streamed from. It gnawed at him 24/7, feeding his already poor mental state with constant anxiety. It tore at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. And he regrets it every day. 

“I’m sorry.” Wilbur whispered, voice trembling as he hung his head. “I’m so sorry.” 

You gripped his hand as tight as you could manage, reaching your other one out as well. Hearing his voice, so thick with tears like it had been so many times before you broke up, tore at your still broken heart. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I forgive you, Wilbur.” 

He gulped, squeezing back, sniffling and clearing his throat before he looked back at you, eyes a little more red than they were before. “I, uh, I feel like I’ve got some things to tell you. I think you deserve to know them, you know?”

Your heart jumped and your stomach twisted, waiting for whatever Wilbur had to tell you. It didn’t sound good, or like it would benefit you in any way, but you nodded anyway, clinging to Wilbur’s hands and the warmth they provided like a lifeline. 

You nearly died when his thumbs started stroking the backs of your hands. 

“I had plans for us. For the future. With you.” He told you, and you froze. “There was a ring, I was hiding it in the bottom drawer in my desk for months. Four feet from where you slept. And sometimes I considered just proposing to you in the middle of the night, just to get it over with and be happy with you, you know? But I never could, and it made things worse, all that anxiety.” 

You stifled a noise, a mixture between a laugh and a sob caught in your throat. 

“And I was gonna wait until I got more money from streaming to have the wedding, so I could give you as big of a wedding as you wanted and we wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” He gulped, pausing for a moment to blink tears away. “And I wanted kids with you. A house, a cat- or whatever animal you wanted, really- and a life. Something that meant something to us. Whatever you wanted. And I just- God, I was an idiot. And I threw it away.” 

This time, you laughed, wet and sad, soft and quiet. You squeezed Wilbur’s hands, short and bittersweet. You were the one to pull away, wiping a tear from Wilbur’s cheek, hand lingering on his skin. He leaned into it, breathing deeply as he did, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on the corner of your palm. 

For a moment, Wilbur could believe he was back there. Before he ruined everything for himself - for you. He could trick himself into thinking he was back in that old apartment, sunset painting the bedroom walls gold, your cold hands warming his heart even with the simplest touch. 

But he couldn’t be there forever. Neither could you. Both of you had people that needed you, that loved and cared for you, independent of one another. And Wilbur had someone he cared about, too. 

And she wasn’t you. 

As much as he wishes she was. 

So, he pulled back, taking a second, clearer breath in and opening his eyes. His hand pulled away from yours, landing back in his lap. The cold leeched back into your skin immediately, missing the warmth Wilbur provided. You shrunk back, too, and the moment was over. It was like the conversation you’d just had with Wilbur didn’t happen, and you were back to the beginning. 

You knew what he was trying so hard not to tell you. It was written within the guilt on his face. “How’d you meet her?”

Wilbur looked up. “What? How did you-”

“Don’t worry about it, Wil. It’s fine.” You lied, shrugging your shoulders with casualty as if some part of you didn’t just break down within. “It doesn’t surprise me, you know. I mean, it’s been two years.” 

“We met a few months after I left.” He muttered, pushing the hair from his eyes. “I remembered that you told me about how you got your feelings out with art sometimes, and the university offered night classes. So I went. She was there, next to me, and we had a lot of fun.” He told you, and you felt another piece of the heart you worked so hard to rebuild fall off. “We got each other through lockdown, too. We started dating last May. I mean, she doesn’t quite approve of my career, but it pays the bills, so,” He shrugged, and your heart tore in two.

“That’s,” you started, clearing your throat when you felt your voice about to betray you. “That’s nice, Wilbur. I’m glad.”

The man before you only nodded. The silence settled between you again, neither of you two knowing where to go with the conversation anymore. Neither of you looked at the other, the guilt and heartbreak that was resurfacing and healing all at once being too much for either of you to stomach. 

Until, the bell rang at the top of the door and shoes squeaked against the tile. “Wilbur! Jesus, man, when you said this place was hard to find, you weren’t wrong. Google maps rerouted me twice, and I was walking.”

Both you and Wilbur looked up at the brunet that was approaching your booth. His cheeks were flushed and his smile wide, until it faded seeing you with your ex. 

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay, George.” Wilbur gave the man - George - a tight smile. “Y/n’s an old friend.” 

“I should get going,” you said, grabbing your book from the tabletop. Offering a tight smile to Wilbur and a polite one to George, you slid from the booth. “It was nice to see you again, Wilbur. Really. I wish you the best.” 

He smiled back at you, sad and slight, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

With a nod to George, you turned to leave the cafe, catching the whispers of George asking Wilbur who you really were. You were just glad you didn’t hear his answer.

hba taglist: @z0vamp @blancastans

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[vintage-rose-fiction]

In The Line Of Fire - Aaron Hotchner

Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, a haunted ex-MI5 sniper finds herself thrust into the world of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. Diana Taylor, grappling with the ghosts of her past, is drawn into the fold by an unexpected ally: the absent Jason Gideon, whose abrupt departure leaves a void within the team. As she navigates the complexities of her new role, she encounters Aaron Hotchner, the stoic leader of the BAU, whose apprehension towards her being in the team is palpable. Meanwhile, Hotchner finds himself grappling with his own demons, recently divorced and struggling to balance the demands of work with his desire to be present for his son. Diana's presence becomes a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Her sharp intellect and unyielding determination offer a glimmer of promise in the face of uncertainty, her resilience a testament to the strength forged in the crucible of adversity. However, beneath Diana's exterior lies a streak of self-sacrifice that often leads her into dangerous territory Aaron Hotchner often finds himself at odds with her reckless nature.

Content Warning for graphic violence and future smut, this is part one of a series posted on Wattpad and Ao3.

Chapter One- Doubt

Gideon was acutely aware of the price his job demanded from him, a realisation that had taken root in him since his earliest days as a young, ambitious agent climbing the ranks of the FBI. He knew, deep down, that one day the weight of it all would become too much to bear; The doubt, the judgement, the ever-looming cloud of anxiety that settled in the pit of his stomach was a burden he carried with him every day.

Sitting in the dimly lit room of his cabin, the pen in his hand felt heavier than usual, each stroke of ink carrying the weight of a thousand more words he wished  he could say, with each carefully constructed word, every letter meticulously formed, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his own responsibility, the lives he held in his hands with each case. Sarah. Her memory hung heavy in his mind.

“I just don't understand any of it anymore, I'm sorry.”

The outside of the cabin shrouded in a blanket of darkness, with only a warm, dim glow emanating from the front window and a subtle glow from a put out cigarette on the porch. Gideon moved silently through the cabin, his steps cautious as he gathered his belongings; His decision to leave the BAU stirred a hopeful feeling, no matter how much the letter in his palm caused his hands to shake as he placed it on the table. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine, the feeling of being watched.

"Diana."

Gideon turned, his gaze searching the darkness until he spotted her form nestled in the shadows. He hadn't expected to find her here, in this remote corner of the world where he sought solace amidst the chaos.

"Diana" he repeated more accusatively, his voice tinged with surprise. "What are you doing here?" She always had an intimidating presence despite her petite frame; there was a certain intensity to her dark eyes, the combination of her sharp angular features and long dark curls adding to her unwavering ability to command the space around her.

Diana remained seated, her posture relaxed yet alert as she regarded him from across the room with a simple nod as her hand gestured for him to sit down. "You’re being stupid right now Gideon" she replied simply, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken words between them. Gideon nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes as he took in the gravity of her words. He had always admired her tenacity, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for her finding him, oddly a sense of relaxation soothing the doubts he was feeling washed over him.

“You always had such good potential in MI5 Diana.” He started deflecting from her statement, sitting opposite her leaning forward, his hands grasping together.”you’ve been here six years, an agent for five” he paused before continuing again “Tell me why do you go from an agent to a bounty hunter”

“Shit goes south” She trailed off momentarily in remembrance “At least I'm trying” Her voice harsh, glancing up at him looking at his posture.

Gideon leaned back, absorbing her words with a thoughtful expression. "Trying to what, Diana? Find your version of Justice?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing. "Or trying to escape what happens when you close your eyes?"

Diana's gaze flickered, a hint of vulnerability slipping through her facade of stoicism. "Both, maybe," she admitted with a small scoff and a smile, her voice softer now, tinged with a note of resignation. "But mostly, I'm trying to get out, I don't need the bullshit rules and regulations of federal investigations."

Gideon nodded in understanding, she was almost like a mirror reflection of himself after ‘The Boston Shrapnel Bomber’. "I know the feeling," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But running away won't make them disappear, Diana. Sometimes you have to face your demons head on."

Diana met his gaze, her eyes darkening with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And what about you, Gideon?" she challenged, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "Are you facing your demons, or are you just running away?"

Gideon's expression hardened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he quickly masked his expression into a mask of melancholy. "I'm not running away, Diana," he replied firmly, his voice tinged with endearment. "I'm choosing to step away, to find a different path, maybe I'll finally find peace."

Diana studied Gideon's resolute expression, a fond absolute smile on his face. “And I want you to move on and find stability again. That's why I sent a letter to Daniel Mikealson, and Erin Strauss recommending you as a Sniper and geographical profiler for the BAU” 

Her face fell momentarily “You know I left that shit behind, I can’t go- I can’t do it again-” she pressed her fingers into her temples “Why Gideon, why the hell would you do that?”

“Help yourself out please Join the FBI, you have this chance to change everything not many people get a second chance and even less have your strength Diana.” Her harsh gaze faltered, her mouth opening and then closing as if she was going to say something “Strauss will contact you soon.”

Diana nodded, her expression solemn as she took in the weight of his words. She knew she couldn't convince him to stay, couldn't erase the scars that still haunted him from years of hunting monsters in the darkest most depraved corners of humanity. But she also knew that while he believes it's her atonement that that sort of work is also how she ended up falling so far from grace.

"I still think you’re being thick.” She stated plainly, with a certain affection a single raised eyebrow.

“Promise you’ll answer that damn phone call.” He moves forward on his chair placing a warm hand on her exposed shoulder squeezing it tightly, his eyes glimmering with an indistinguishable emotion.

She sighed, almost groaning “I’ll think about it.” She says her eyes falling to the floor, her tone softer than ever.

[hopefulromances]

maybe prompt 43 “You always come here when you’re upset.” with jamie? like him and reader have known each other for a long time and she follows him throughout his career and he goes to one of their favorite places maybe either after jamie has his encounter with his dad or something that happened to the reader and she goes that somewhere instead? (and my pronouns are she/her) also i love your writing so much it’s amazing

Thank you so much <3. I think I know what you're asking for! I hope you enjoy!

Also I cannot stop myself from putting Taylor Swift references into everything I write I'm sorry.

43. “You always come here when you’re upset.”

You kicked the grass in the open field, aluminated by the tall stadium lights in the corners of the field. It'd been a while and you weren't sure if Jamie would show up. It had been a few years since you'd seem him last.

You grew up in Manchester, just down the street from Jamie's house. You'd been there for him everytime his parent's fought or his dad came home drunk. At one point, you'd even convinced him that his house was haunted, and that was why his dad was always mad. The two of you would hide in the closet and pretend to fly away to India or some other country that seemed so far away when you were young.

As you grew up, you remained close and soon found a place outside of the house to run to when something happened. An old abandoned pitch just a few miles from town. It hadn't been used in at least a decade but the lights still turned on every night for the ghosts of football games that came to life under the stars.

But Jamie was different recently. He had been since he'd been picked up at Manchester City. He'd gotten arrogant and rude. He was acting just like his father. And you'd told him as such two years ago. That was the last time he'd talked to you. But you'd read the news. He was being sent back to Manchester from Richmond, where he'd been playing on loan for a while.

Ted Lasso. Who knew someone so different could make such an impact on a team. But he was the first person to bench Jamie since... well maybe ever. Something had to have shifted in him. But being sent back to Manchester. Back to his father. It had to have hurt him. If your intution was right, and you hoped it was, he would make his way back here tonight.

It was getting late, and you were chilly. You were about to give up when you saw the headlights you'd been waiting for all night. Jamie got out of the car and leaned against it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You shrugged, approaching him slowly. "You always come here when you're upset"

He scoffed at you. "You think you know me?"

"I think I do," You shot back. "I think you're afraid to go back to Manchester. Cause your dad is going to be sitting there waiting for you."

He snapped his head over towards you. He was angry. Angry at you, angry at his dad, angry at the world.

"Oh, fuck off," he spat, pushing himself off the car and turning on you. "I'm pissed off, cause I played Lasso's stupid game, burnt my mum's boots, and actually felt like I was making a difference at Richmond and what the fuck did it do?" I didn't really know what he was talking about but I didn't care, at least he was talking. "It did fuck all. He still sent me away. Just like everyone else in my life."

You let the statement hang in the air for a second. Waiting to see if he would continue or say anything else.

"I didn't send you away," you said quietly. "You left me... if you'll remember."

"Yeah, fucked that up too, didn't I?" he muttered.

Against your own will, you felt your feet moving you forward, lurching in Jamie's direction. When you reached him, you took his face in your hands.

"You didn't fuck that up? Okay," You shook his head gently, making your point. "You didn't fuck that up. I'm here, Jamie." He grabbed onto you, wrapping himself around you tightly. "You didn't fuck that up." You kept repeating that, over and over, as he held onto you like a lifeline. "I'm here, Jamie... I'm here."

[ultradelusional]

Stop you’re loosing me! Miguel o’hara x wife reader pt2 - “Wildest Dreams”

If you haven’t seen pt 1 it’s on my profile @ultradelusional

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Summary: after you left him for a relationship break (talked abt in pt 1) he can’t stop seeing you in his wildest dreams

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It had been 3 days since Miguel and you fought, 3 days that you had be out of his life. At this point he couldn’t take it anymore those 3 days felt like 3 decades to him as a million questions crowded his sleepless nights. “Why did I keep comparing her to Martha she’s nothing like her” “why didn’t I say something when I should’ve” he kept thinking of what he would’ve done different, what he could’ve done different and what he should’ve done different.

But for the past day peter B. Parker had been comforting his loneliness trying to get Miguel to sleep but alas it hadn’t worked yet

“Miguel you really gotta sleep you can think rationally after a good sleep then you can come up with something to get her back” Peter said tiredly as he was tired of Miguel’s resistance to sleep.

“I can’t sleep because why did I do that? Why did I just let her go!” Miguel said tired yearning in his voice

“I know I know Miguel but you gotta slee-“ Peter said as he got a brilliant idea to get Miguel to bed

“How about I make you soup Miguel you’ve barely been eating” Peter said as Miguel had been looking skinnier since you left him

“Sure” Miguel said grimly

After Peter B. Parker had finished the soup when Miguel wasn’t looking he slipped sleep pills and crushed them into the simple carrot soup before serving it to his friend

“Thanks” Miguel said hastily as he hungrily poured the soup into his mouth strong hunger blinding him from the option of using a spoon.

“Feeling anything?” Peter asked as Miguel started looking drowsy

“I feel…I feel tired. Fine. I’ll sleep” Miguel said grumpily as he couldn’t even keep himself upright needing peters help to get into you and Miguel’s shared bedroom.

As Miguel laid in bed the absence of you next to him haunted him as he drifted off to sleep.

Next thing Miguel knew he saw you in front of him in a nice green dress. Sitting on the corner of the bed as he stood in the frame of the bedroom door.

(He was clearly dreaming)

“Y/n I-“ he was speechless as he saw you beautiful as ever in that green dress he had never seen you wear before.

You look up to him a smile on your face “hey honey!” you say standing up to lock your arms around his neck playing with his hear on the back of his head.

Miguel leans his forehead on yours then pulling back to take your right hand to his cheek to kiss it.

“What’s wrong my love?” You say noticing held back tears in his eyes

“Are you still mad?” He asks you tears now streaming down his face

You cup his face whipping his tears as you say “about what?” Concern on your face

“It’s-it’s nothing” Miguel says as he just wants to enjoy your presence “Come to the kitchen mi amour” he says guiding you by your hand in his to the kitchen

“In a dress like that we need to dance to something!” Miguel remarks turning on the radio as Wildest Dreams by Taylor swift coincidentally plays

As you two dance in the kitchen time feels nonexistent Miguel’s eyes only seeing you in his arms not the world around him as the only thing that matters in this perfect moment is you and the music.

Radio: “you’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night burning it down…someday when you leave me I bet these memories follow you around”

The music starts to fade repeating the words “follow you around” as you start disappearing as well until Miguel’s left in the silent dark kitchen alone.

Miguel instantly wakes up his bare chest full of sweat as his brain’s racing thinking about you as he realizes it was all a dream and you hadn’t forgiven him yet. He needed to get you back.

PT 3 OUT NOW

[daisyswift3]

The Alcott Analysis

So now that The Alcott has officially been released I wanted to do an analysis of some of the lyrics and how I think they might relate to Taylor. Disclaimer: I know Aaron said Matt wrote the main parts of the song and Taylor only added the dialogue parts so many of these connections might be a coincidence, but I also think it’s possible Taylor could have had more input on the song than they’re letting on since there are so many themes and motifs that perfectly relate back to Taylor’s music. This is just meant to be a fun clown theory

Like many others pointed out, the whole first verse is very “Help I’m still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross legged in the dim light, they say ‘what a sad sight’” and seems like the opposite pov of RWYLM

“It’s the last thing you/I wanted, it’s the first thing I/you do, I tell you that I think I’m falling back in love w/ you” // “I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard” // “Uh oh I’m falling in love, oh no I’m falling in love again”

“I had to do something to break into your golden thinking” // “Lost in the labyrinth of my mind…you would break your back to make me break a smile”— this is directly related to the following ⬇️

“And there you are sitting as usual w/ your golden notebook, writing something about someone who used to be me…I sit there silently waiting for you to look up” // “Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen, time moved on for everybody else, she won’t know it, she’s still 23 inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be…and you’re sitting in front of me” -> Taylor is stuck in her own head reminiscing and writing about the past (the golden age) and this person sitting in front of her is trying to break her out of this nostalgic escapist mindset. I think this may be a direct reference to the film Midnight in Paris which is all about nostalgia and escapism--much like the song Paris on the Midnights 3am edition--and specifically to golden age thinking, a phrase used in that film. Here are some tidbits that I think are worth noting

@chickawah23​ made a really great post about the possible Midnight in Paris connections. Here’s a screenshot from that post that does a good job summarizing the important parallels

There definitely seems to be a connection between Midnights, the stories of 13 sleepless nights, and the folklore chapters that were released in Aug 2020, specifically the sleepless nights and escapism chapters. I think it’s interesting that exile is the last track of the first chapter and first track of the second chapter--almost like the second chapter is a direct continuation of the first which again links Midnights to this escapism theme. And there’s been a lot of exile references lately (exile ends, doors, 8/3, etc)

Even though the back and forth dialogue between Taylor and Matt at first sounds argumentative, I think it could also be read in a positive way. This person is going to ruin and wreck Taylor’s plans and Taylor is going to gladly let them. She welcomes the curse on their house. “I’m begging for you to take my hand wreck my plans that’s my man” // “For you I would ruin myself a million little times” // “I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed...He’s gonna burn this house to the ground...So yeah it’s a fire it’s a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it” // “Dear reader, burn all the files, desert all your past lives” // Taylor is the one that chooses to burn the lover house down. She’s the one holding the lighter on the Midnights album cover and striking the match in the lavender haze mv (here’s a really great post about what that might signify). Furthermore, the willow performance and description make me think that the curse on Taylor’s house was actually her own doing--she’s not only letting this person wreck her plans but is helping them do so. So the burning, wrecking, ruining, cursing/spell casting are all metaphors for the same thing—destroying Taylor’s closet and possibly her career as a result of that

Honorable mention: The beat almost sounds like a heartbeat no? Wildest Dreams??

[em-prentiss]

passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long

This work is inspired by the lovely flowersinapril’s beautiful series, the Taylor drabbles!! 

Just a little warning, number 8 contains implied cheating, so if that’s not your thing please skip it!!

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Unrelated snippets of hotchniss based on every song in folklore

He moves without feeling it. His feet carry him to the end of the hall, his head screaming Emily, Emily, Emily, with each step he takes.

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1.

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though

Emily makes her way through the mist, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other adjusting her hood over her head. She shivers at the water droplets that have clung to her hair, wetting her neck.

“He rolled his eyes at me, Em. I swear, he’s turning into you.” 

She laughs, the sound of Aaron’s voice warming her up from the inside out. His words make regret stir in her stomach, that she’s not there to see it for herself. She wishes he were here next to her, his shoulder brushing hers and his body heat warming her up. Emily swallows against the sudden lump in her throat.

The rim of her hood hangs into her eyes and she adjusts it as she approaches a bus stop. Emily gives it a passing glance as she walks by, sweeping the dark out of habit. 

She sees him from afar. A man in a suit holding a phone in one hand, briefcase in the other. She hears a deep voice, a familiar American accent, and Emily’s heart jumps in her throat. It doesn’t matter that he’s too short to be him, his shoulders not quite as broad. Her feet carry her faster to him and she suddenly finds herself in front of the glass divider, heart racing and hand extended to the man who’s definitely not Aaron.

It falls from her lips anyway. “Aaron?”

“Yeah?” His voice is crackly through the phone and she closes her eyes, grateful that she has the rain to blame for the water on her cheeks.

“Nothing.”

2.

But I knew you

Playin’ hide-and-seek and 

Givin’ me your weekends 

July 1999

Aaron sighs when yet another day passes and she’s still gone. He lasts until sunset before climbing into his car and trying all her usual haunts.

He finds it on the third try; the French name of the bar catches his eye, tucked into a quiet corner at the end of the street.

He feels all his frustration fizzle when she looks up at him and smiles, setting down her book on the table when she sees him approaching.

“Do you like having me chase you?” Aaron asks as he sits down and takes a sip of her wine.

Emily shrugs coyly. “Maybe.”

It happens twice more before she admits to loving his attention. Jokingly, of course—they’re still keeping up the facade that this is just a fling. But he knows she means it.

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“Isn’t it your day off today?” Emily asks as she plays with his hair. 

“Days off,” he mumbles into her bare shoulder. Her fingers in his hair make him drowsy and he’s almost asleep before she speaks up again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go home?”

I like it here, he wants to say. With you. But she scares easily, too easily. 

“There’s nothing worth it back there,” Aaron says.

He hopes she hears what he doesn’t say, and when she links their fingers and soothingly murmurs, “Go to sleep,” he thinks she does.

3.

And the town said, “How did a middle-class divorcee do it?”

She’s dazzling. He sees right through her smile but he knows the others won’t, distracted by her dimple and her big brown eyes, their gazes drifting to her exposed cleavage despite his arm very firmly around her waist.

She sweeps through the room with her mother, charming men older than her father as they leer at her, undeterred by Aaron’s presence when she proudly introduces him as her husband, rings glinting on her slender finger. 

He doesn’t deserve her, he knows he doesn’t. They know he doesn’t, too. He sees the thinly veiled smiles and their widened eyes—he is a profiler after all. But he hears them too as they whisper.

“He’s been married before. What was Emily thinking?”

“I hear he doesn’t even have a trust fund.”

“Widowed, with a son, too. It’s a wonder he even got her to look at him.”

Emily picks up on it. And she hears them, too. She kisses him so fiercely it steals the air from his lungs, makes him gasp as her hands tightly fist his hair. She doesn’t pull away until they’re both breathless.

“Fuck them.” She spits out viciously. Her eyes are heated and furious, but when she cups his face it’s whisper soft.

“Do you hear me, Aaron? Fuck them,” she presses a gentle kiss to his lips. The whispers fade away as he looks at his wife, her eyes now soft as she touches him reverently.

“You’re worth a hundred of all of them,” she holds his cheek, slides her fingers in his hair. Her love shields him, as do her not so subtle glares, no longer polite now that they’re targeting someone that’s not her, someone she loves.

He feels ridiculous for ever believing those words himself.

4.

I can see you standin’, honey 

With his arms around your body 

Laughin’, but the joke’s not funny at all 

His arm is around her shoulders. 

That’s all he can think about. Not that the unsub is dead, not that they saved the lives of a father and his daughter. Aaron’s eyes are drawn to the leather clad arm that covers Emily’s shoulders.

She feels the heat of his gaze on her. Her blood thrums from it, from the adrenaline that still lingers after her brush with death. It makes her cheeks flush, makes her reckless and daring.

Emily looks up and catches his gaze. His eyes are dark, brows pulled tight despite their victory. She picks at the sticker on her beer bottle and leans further into Mick’s side, feeling his heavy arm on her shoulder. Aaron looks away.

He hears her beaming laugh seconds later. His stomach twists and he dumps his beer in the trash, heading for the door before anyone can stop him.

He feels her gaze on him as he walks out.

5.

And you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed

“Dad, when’s Emily coming back?”

Aaron’s smile grows stiff. He adjusts the blanket around Jack’s ever growing body.

“I don’t know, buddy.”

Jack sighs. “I miss her.” His brows are furrowed as he looks up at his dad.

Aaron swallows against the lump in his throat, briefly closing his eyes and cursing her for leaving. “I do too, Jack. We can talk to her tomorrow, alright?”

His son’s eyes light up as he smiles and nods excitedly. The noose around Aaron’s heart tightens. “Okay. Bedtime now,” he kisses Jack’s forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles.

He leaves Jack’s room and pours himself a drink, his son’s innocent question cutting deeper than usual. Aaron closes his eyes as he tips the scotch back, feeling her all around him despite her year long absence.

He feels the phantom press of her head between his shoulder blades, her soft hands around his waist.

When tears blur in his eyes he blames it on the alcohol.

“Damn you, Emily.”

6.

I’ll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful 

She stumbles into the booth and practically on his lap. Aaron steadies her, practiced hands finding the dip of her waist easily.

“Dance with me, baby.” Her hair falls in a dark curtain, covering them both when she kisses him. He’s just enjoying the feel of her lips against his when she pulls back impatiently.

“Come on,” Emily stands and tugs him up, her fingers linking with his and insistently pulling him to the dance floor. 

“Okay, okay,” Aaron chuckles, letting her drag him between the throngs of people. Emily turns to him, her eyes shining, and slots between his arms.

She shimmers, sparkles under the light, and when she catches him staring she giggles, a bright, airy thing he’d never have heard if it weren’t for the alcohol.

Aaron spins her around and brings her into him, hearing her surprised laugh as he wraps an arm around her waist. Emily feels his pounding heart against her back.

His palm is splayed on her stomach, spanning the whole length of her ribcage. Aaron feels her racing heart beneath his fingertips, matching the beat of his.

7.

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won’t tell no other 

His arm is warm on her shoulders, heavy and sticking to her hot skin but Emily doesn’t pull away. She’s spent too long aching for his touch, wishing she could have it back so it can shield her from the unforgiving cold in Paris. Now that he’s here, she won’t squander it.

He pours her more of the sweet tea and she smiles at the sight of the delicate porcelain teacup in his large hand. She takes it from him and raises it to his lips, prompting him to try.

Aaron dutifully drinks and hands her the teacup back, barely suppressing a shiver at the sweetness of the tea. 

“What do you think?” She hides her smile in her cup as he stifles a wince, the sugar hurting his teeth. He smiles at her, the corners of it just a little too tight.

“It’s delicious,” he kisses her lightly, trying to distract her. She would’ve believed him if she didn’t know him so well. Emily laughs.

“You’re a scarily good liar,” she murmurs and pushes his hair away from his face, her touch soft. His smile slips at that and hers does too, her words suddenly pulling them out of this dangerous bubble they’re in.

He’s not supposed to be here.

8.

Your back beneath the sun 

Wishing I could write my name on it

She spends hours propped up on her elbows, admiring his strong back and broad shoulders as he speaks softly to her, his words hushed and syrupy in the afterglow. His skin glows, shining golden beneath the warm light of her lamp.

Emily runs the tips of her fingers over the smooth skin. She feels the muscles shift under her touch as he moves, adjusts himself so he can see her.

She presses her lips to the smattering of freckles on his shoulder blades, feels the bone pop out under the skin as he tenses then relaxes. Not for the first time, she wishes she could leave a permanent mark.

She drags her nails over his warm skin, watches as thin white lines appear and turn red. They fade in seconds. 

“No marks,” he tells her, his voice sleepy. Emily nods. “I know.”

She turns off the lamp on her nightstand and he gathers her back into his arms. The room is dark, save for the glint of his gold wedding band on her stomach.

9.

And maybe I don’t quite know what to say 

But I’m here in your doorway

He needs to see her. The sight of her covered in blood and bruises is burned into his brain, and as Aaron closes his eyes and sees it again, his chest tightens painfully.

He moves without feeling it. His feet carry him to the end of the hall, his head screaming Emily, Emily, Emily, with each step he takes.

He knocks, too loudly, his knuckles tapping out the excess energy in his body on her door. He almost falls forward when she opens it, eyes hazy with pain and confusion.

“Hotch?” She rasps out. 

She’s still wearing the shirt. He forces his gaze from the dark spots of blood on it and looks into her eyes.

It’s then he realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

10.

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

She gasps into his mouth when he kisses her in Dave’s library, her back pressed against the shelves and her lips curving into a smile against his.

“I’ve always wanted to be pressed against a bookshelf like this,” she murmurs when she pulls back, eyes shining and cheeks flushed in the warm light.

“Oh, yeah?” Aaron laughs. Emily nods and he crowds against her, pressing his body firmly against hers until the wood digs into her back again.

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“It’s not working between us.” Her eyes are cold, flat in the fluorescent light of the Quantico parking lot.

Aaron’s heart stops. He gapes at her in disbelief. “Did I do something?” He moves to close the distance between them, his hand outstretched as if reaching for hers.

Emily steps back. Her stomach lurches at the look on his face but she forces the words out of her mouth; better to rip the bandaid off all at once. “I don’t love you. I never have.”

She turns on her heel and shuts herself in her car. He’s still there when she pulls away, looking after her as she leaves. Emily forces her blurry gaze forward and finally feels hot tears roll down her cheeks.

She wipes them away and focuses on the road. Ian Doyle is lurking in the shadows.

11.

One single thread of gold tied me to you

He meets her for the first time when she’s still in college. They talk a few times, he offers her his jacket when she spills a drink on herself, throws out a jackass who was bothering her.

That’s as far as they get, but he still thinks about her. She thinks of him, too.

It takes him a minute when she enters his office, but she remembers him instantly. Their start is rocky, unlike before, but it only takes a few months before she has him falling.

He asks her on a date, just before Foyet. She agreed with a blush on her cheeks, but the bloodstain on his rug put the thought right out of her head.

They gain their footing after a few months, and he finally kisses her, feels her soft lips against his after years of dreaming about it. But then Doyle takes her away.

She’s not in the right headspace when she comes back. He tries to get her to stay, but she gives him a soft kiss and a sad smile before she leaves.

He accepts it for three months before he hops on a plane to London. He knocks on her door, the rain soaking his hair, and shifts from foot to foot until she opens the door.

“Aaron! Wh-”

“Emily, I love you.” He cuts her off. Her eyes widen and she grips the door. For a moment he’s scared she’ll slam it in his face. 

“I don’t want to let you go again.”

She laughs breathlessly before launching herself in his arms, knocking him backwards. “I love you too.”

12.

And you’ll poke that bear ‘til her claws come out

He stands behind her and presses his lips to her temple, guard dropped now that they were alone in the kitchen. Emily sinks into him and sighs, a yawn escaping her as his hands soothingly rub her hips.

“Tired?” He murmurs. She nods. “I got used to moving, but you’ve got so much shit,” she teases, “you’re a hoar—”

“Moving?” Morgan’s voice comes from behind them. Aaron tenses. “Into a new house, I presume,” he says sarcastically. Emily feels Aaron back away from her.

She turns to face Morgan, the accusatory look on his face sparking a fire in her blood.

“Anything else you want to tell us, Emily?”

She’s held her tongue for too damn long. He’s been throwing comments at them for weeks, and she accepted it for Aaron’s sake, aware that it was still a shock to the team. But she’s done taking his shit.

“Get over yourself.” She snaps. “You’re not entitled to our personal lives, Derek. Do you see any of us having a hissy fit because you keep your private shit private?” She fumes.

He gapes at her, as if surprised she’d had enough. “No.” Emily spits out before he speaks.

She grabs Aaron’s hand and pulls him out of the kitchen, leaving Morgan staring after them.

13.

Watch you breathin’

Watch you breathin’ out 

Out 

He can’t sleep. He used to exhaust himself by running it out, but now he has something better.

Aaron turns on his side and smiles at the sight of his sleeping wife. The sound of her slow, even breaths soothes his soul, and when he looks down, his smile widens.

His shirt has risen over her swollen stomach, exposing a sliver of it to the cool air. Aaron gently tugs the shirt back down and covers her stomach, careful not to disturb her hand that rests on her bump, protecting their baby even in her sleep.

He watches the steady rise and fall of her chest and brings his head closer to hers so he can feel her warm breaths skip across his skin. He doesn’t know how long he stays there like that, watching her. 

She shifts in her sleep, seeking him out. The hand that was on her stomach wraps around him now, keeping him close. Her head falls into the crook of his neck. Aaron sighs at the sweet scent of her shampoo.

She warms him up, her hand slipping under his shirt to rest on his skin. Eventually he grows drowsy, his eyes heavy, and he falls back asleep.

14.

Right now is the last time 

I can dream about what happens when

You see my face again

She’s thought about it a million times. How he’d greet her when she came back—if she came back. Her hope had been hanging by a thread when he called, spoke out the words she’d thought of every day since she left.

She almost lost it at the sound of his voice.

But she forced herself up, grabbed her bag that she’d packed months ago for this, (her bag that she had almost started unpacking), and hopped on a plane to DC.

She chews on her nail now as she sees it for the last time in her head. This is the last time you’ll have to wonder. She imagines him wrapping her up in those strong arms, holding her against his sturdy chest and murmuring, “I missed you, sweetheart.”

Emily sees him pressing kisses to her hair, his warm fingers digging into her hips, and she almost loses it right there on the plane because she can’t bear another second of being away.

She never imagined the beard. It scratches against her forehead when he holds her, and she allows the few tears in her eyes to leak out onto his shirt.

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

She laughs shakily.

15.

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other 

She’s sitting in the lone seat on the jet, head against the cool window.

Aaron heads to the kitchenette and fixes her a mug of tea, stirring in the sweetener she keeps in the drawer.

He walks over to her and presses it into her hands. Emily wraps her cold fingers around it and breathes in its cloud of steam.

He sits down opposite her, a file and pen in his hands. Aaron feels her gaze on him and looks up. Her lips turn up in the slightest smile, her mug held to her lips as she takes a sip.

Thank you.

He smiles back, a full one that showcases his dimples. Aaron looks back down at his file.

Her ankle slots between both of his. Aaron presses his knees against hers. 

I’m here.

16.

Don’t want no other shade of blue 

But you 

No other sadness in the world would do

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, bending his head as he roughly wipes away the tears from his eyes.

“Shh,” Emily tilts his face up and kisses his forehead. His hands hold on to her waist, fingers digging roughly into her skin. 

“It’s okay, baby.” She whispers, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Aaron closes his eyes and feels the hot tears roll down his cheeks.

“It’s okay for you to miss her,” she slips her hand to the back of his neck and pulls him against her. His tears wet her skin. She rubs his back and he shudders, quiet sobs escaping him.

Emily tangles her fingers in his hair, anchoring him to her. “Let it out, honey.”

17.

I don’t belong, and my beloved neither do you 

She looks out of place in this giant empty ballroom, clad in leather from head to toe, pin straight hair and a cigarette dangling precariously between blood red lips.

He does not. With his pristine suit and neatly parted hair, he seems to fit right in. But she knows he doesn’t belong, and neither does she.

“We’re not meant for this place,” she tells him as she looks at the papered walls in distaste.

They’re meant for action, movement and adrenaline pumping, sitting in interrogation rooms with their guns heavy on their hips. 

He’s halfway there already. But it’ll take her longer.

He sees her ten years later in his office, a box on her hip and a glint in her eyes as she dares him to send her away.

“We’re meant for this place.” He says softly. Emily beams at him, cheeks aching. “You and me.”

[tennessoui]

Have you heard Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift? I listened to it today, and now all I can hear is Obi-Wan in time and tide. (Awesome chapter, smacked me right in the feels, repeatedly)

"Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt"

"Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there"

"Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy"

These lines especially, I was like Obi-Wan, that you?

oh these lines are so time & tide obi-wan dang I don’t recognize the song but definitely can compare it with time & tide obi-wan 🙏

fr fr sometimes you have that relationship when you’re young (19-23) and it just freezes parts of you ☠️ that’s so much obi-wan in time and tide so glad to know there’s a song that applies lol

[hawthornesbiggestfan]

this is my 3rd alisa post, but who tf cares.

here are songs that remind me of her and why! (mostly taylor swift but u should've seen that coming)

1. you're losing me (from the vault) by taylor swift.

“and i wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her„

tell me thats not alisa. tell me alisa doesn't feel insecure bcs of how her relationship w nash ended. tell me she isnt a people pleaser who does every for the validation of others. go on, ill give you time.

2. right where you left me by taylor swift.

“help, im still at the restaurant, still sitting in the corner i haunt, cross-legged in the dim light, they say 'what a sad sight'„

other than grayson, alisa is probably another tig character who's still stuck in the past. just like how grayson still thinks abt emily, im sure alisa still thinks abt nash. u can see it in the way she acts arnd him or when shes talking abt him. she is literally right where he left her!!!

3. champagne problems by taylor swift.

“she could've made such a lovely bride, it's a shame she's fucked in the head„

i have a major hc that alisa used to get a lot of hate before, during, and after being together with nash. ppl probl gossiped abt how the break up was her fault and everything. its probl one of the reasons why alisa is so salty abt it.

4. midnight rain by taylor swift

“he was sunshine, i was midnight rain, he wanted it comfortable, i wanted that pain„

nash wanted to leave 'everything hawthorne' behind and get comfortably married, alisa wanted her career and her job to tobias hawthorne. she knew it was be painful, she knew what it costed, but she did it for her job. she did it for herself!!!

5. your best american girl by mitski

“your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me, but i do, i finally do, you're an all-american boy, i guess i couldn't help trying to be the best american girl„

smth i realized a lot of ppl forgot (or just dont know in general) is that alisa wasnt white. yk how xander kinda expressed that being the only coloured hawthorne had its difficulty cz people never considered him like his brother? i bet it was the same for alisa. i bet that she always felt like she wasnt good enough to be a hawthorne's wife bcs she was black and ppl were constantly racist.

6. the only heartbreaker by mitski

“but i think for as long as we're together, i'll be the only heartbreaker„

can we talk abt how throughout the entire series, alisa was blamed for a lot of things? to the point where she even blamed herself for getting kidnapped? the poor lady was so used to being at fault, she even took blame for a situation that could've gotten her killed? everything that she did was legal and extremely reasonable according to law, bcs idk if u remember, she was a lawyer...?? people act like she purposely did things for the sake of doing it. the girls doing her job!! let her live!!!

7. cedar by gracie abrams

“breaking up is funny, i forget you aren't mine„

does this need explanation? i think it was obvious that alisa felt jealous in some parts when she saw libby n nash together, can u blame her tho? no. no you cant.

making this post made me kind sad. i could go on and on abt alisa ortega. feel free to message me if u wanna talk abt lee-lee, cz i legit love her sm.

🎀

[tayloralisonswift]

Paris, my beloved!

Me, anytime she sings about shade: SHADE NEVER MADE ANYBODY LESS GAY

i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you. but what if i kept the secrets and still couldn't keep you? what if i stepped into the daylight and let it go and you stayed in the shade and i had to go back in? what if you had to hide in the closet and i had to have faith that our love would be passed on like a folk song? what if freedom felt like summer once but now the sun burns my heart? what if i'm still at the restaurant, sitting in a corner i haunt, cross-legged in the dim light? what if you're my eclipsed sun and i want no other shade of blue but you and no other sadness in the world would do? :(

(hypothetically speaking!!!)

(also, i can't help but laugh at the 'shade…the kind under where a tree has grown' line - it always reminds me of that pic of tree looking cross and asking taylor, 'the monsters turned out to be just WHAT?')

HYPOTHETICALLY LOSING MY MIND BTW <3