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awrkive · 5 months

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COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (explicit smut, fluff, light angst) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 26.6k

WARNINGS/MISC fwb!au, college!au, basketball player!jk, kinda secret relationship(?)!au, nerdy!oc but not really she’s just very school-oriented, jk is tatted up here and is very yummy especially in his jersey sighs, hes also rich lol, school journalist!reader, jk calls oc a lot of petnames, basketball stuff im not sure are accurate t-t. multiple sex scenes honestly idek where all of these came from but they include: unprotected sex (this is a fanfiction everything tends to be crazy around these areas don’t do it irl pls omg lol), penetrative sex, creampie, cumplay, car sex, jk’s silver chain hehe, slight cockwarming, oral sex (f and m receiving), jk wears those curvy headbands thing (they look so cute on guys in fact he wore it once), shower sex. if there is anything i left out, pls tell me so that i can add them here. jungkooks visual is jungkook at jitb listening party .

NOTES if u have been following me you'll know this is a repost haha! i decided to publish this again so you can read it on tumblr if u dont like to read on ao3! also, please pleasssseee send me guys your feedbacks after reading it even a keyboard smash goes a long way anyway ill shut up now i hope you guys enjoy this monster!! last note, pls be gentle with my cn&bl babies <33

[ CN&BL MOODBOARD ]

The late March weather has been cold these days, so when Jungkook – in his real fuckboy fashion – texted you that his nose could use a heater and he could offer to warm you up in return, you agreed for him to come over even though you pretended to be disgusted by his offer.

“Hurry,” you whimper as aforementioned man manhandles you to get you off his lap, making you bounce on the mattress.

Just like that, the warmth from being pressed against his body was gone, exchanged by the cold immediately spreading goosebumps through your skin as Jungkook makes quick work of spreading your legs, eliciting a bit of an uncomfortable feeling from you as you feel your cum leaking out.

Jungkook swipes a hand through his sweaty hairline as he kneels inside your spread legs, and you have to fight a moan at the sight. You still feel a little delirious from when he made you cum the second time just a minute ago, still lightheaded from the high of it. But you can’t deny that he always looks so good in all his natural, naked form; chest heaving, toned stomach coated in sheer sweat, his biceps – especially the tatted one – bulging as he reaches for your hips to pull you down so he could enter you once again.

It tears a cry from your vocal chords, him thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his pace frantic and inconsistent, a tell-tale sign of his impending orgasm. His grunts, together with your pathetic little moans at the feel of his cock touching every part of your pussy filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groans, leaning down, and as a result, reaching deeper into you, mouth reaching for your breast to your mouth. The kiss is a sloppy act of both of you just breathing in each other’s mouths, as Jungkook drills your pussy faster, his fingers tightening around your waist. A particular hard thrust got you drawing out a loud mewl and that’s what tips Jungkook over the edge. “F-fuck – shit, where do I cum baby? Tell me, tell me.”

“Inside– fuck. Please cum inside me,”

He lets out a sharp breath and after a few more erratic strokes, you feel his hot release painting your inner walls.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed as he fell on top of you. You can feel the way he’s heaving as his skin touches yours, but you let yourself relax on the mattress, breathing shallow breaths.

Since he’s way more athletic than you, he got over it soon and you feel him picking himself up to hover over you, beginning to plant kisses all over your chest and the mole in between them; your nipples, your shoulders, your collarbones.

“Kook,” you call softly, your limp hand patting his ass to get his attention. He always gets so preoccupied with kissing your body after sex.

Jungkook hums, but he looks at you. “Yeah?”

You grunt. “I jwashed my sheets two days ago and I don’t want cum stains on them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he leans down, and even though you were complaining just now, you let out quite a joyful hum when he kisses you. “Let me see first.”

You don’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

Pushing your body back up, Jungkook takes it upon himself to get his body off of you only to watch as you slide two fingers over your pussy, spreading the lips so he can see the combination of your and his cum all over it.

“You need to hurry, Nayeon is coming home in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t even try to look like he’s concerned about the urgency of that matter, just hums absentmindedly and gets his own finger to run over your exposed heat. You shiver at the contrast of the hot feeling of your pussy and the cold feeling of his finger, but it soon turns into pleasure when he gathers your cum and pushes it back into you.

“Are you going to keep it in for me?” He whispers, a thumb now caressing your hip.

“Depends.”

Jungkook looks back up at you, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “On what?”

“If you’re going to be good and say please when you want something.” You grin at him, feeling pretty proud of yourself for catching him off guard. It doesn’t last long very much though as he smirks, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you hear a series of knocks and your eyes widen at that.

You hissed. “Shit, that’s Nayeon.”

You sit up from the bed. Jungkook mirrors your haste, scrambling to find his clothes on the floor and putting them on quickly. You have your robe just nearby so you put just that on, ignoring the tingling sensation of cum trickling down your legs.

“I have to go.” Jungkook whispers, and you nod, walking towards the window on the far end of the room and opening it up widely.

Like usual, Jungkook steps on the frame and easily hauls himself outside. It’s the backside of the building of your complex, and it’s mostly and usually quiet, so it was pretty safe for him to just go out of there without anyone noticing, and most especially at times like this. Because Nayeon can’t know. No one can.

“I’ll see you later, pretty.”

Jungkook winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes, waving him off which earns a laugh from him. He easily saunters through the perimeter though and you find it quite unfair how he still carries a certain graceful energy to him even though he literally just did an exhausting cardio exercise with you for about thirty minutes. Ugh, him and his athletic body.

Nayeon’s voice can be heard across the flat, but before you let her in, you sprayed an unhealthy amount of air freshener on your body and around the room (just in case she enters) and shoved your discarded clothes from earlier in the laundry basket. After that, you finally run towards the door, welcoming Nayeon with a smile as you open it.

“Hi!” You greet rather cheerfully. She immediately hugs you briefly, groaning as she steps back and enters your little abode.

“Class sucked today,” she throws herself on the couch and you give her a sympathetic smile, walking towards the fridge to get water.

“Well, wish me luck. I’m headed out to one.”

“God, I can’t wait ‘til we graduate, I’m tired of this bullshit.” She says, but she’s opening up her laptop for what you could guess as for finishing up an assigned work. “I wish I was having bomb sex like you. Hey, do you want to go to this party on Friday?”

“I – what?”

“Party on Friday? Finals season for basketball starts on Friday and they’re planning a party. We could use free booze and stress-free night.” Nayeon repeats, but you weren’t asking for the party. You tried to ignore it, but you have the tendency to overexpplain yourself so that you do not get misunderstood.

“I’m not having bomb sex.” You say, and that makes her look at you. At that, you realized you shouldn't have taken the bait. Stupid, stupid, stupid you. You could've swerved this topic if you weren't so quick to react at the word sex.

You stare at each other for a solid few seconds until she rolls her eyes.

“Girl, your hair looks like a bird’s nest and your lips are swollen as hell. I might not be having bomb sex in the current moment but I know what I look like after I do the deed,” She wore her eyeglasses and perched it on her nose. “And you kinda smelled like sex when you opened the door.”

“No!” You feel heat coming and spreading through your cheeks. You thought the damn Febreeze would hold up!

Nayeon waves you off. “It’s fine, it’s not like you haven’t caught me before like that.”

“It’s embarrassing.” You insist, stuffing your face with a bread you took from the counter and purposefully not meeting Nayeon’s gaze so you don’t see the teasing smiles you’re sure she’s sending your way.

“That you’re having sex in college?!” Her playful scandalous tone makes you laugh though and that’s when you look at her.

“No, ugh. Just. Sorry. If I smelled like sex. I tried spraying a lot of air freshener earlier.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, is that why you took a long time opening the door? Was your sneaky link here just now?”

“Sneaky what?” You say, laughing.

“Sneaky link. You know, a hook up. Wait, is it a boyfriend? Please say no, because I would be extremely offended if you haven’t introduced your boyfriend to me all this time.”

You could swear you felt goosebumps on your nape when you heard the word boyfriend and saw images of Jungkook in your head immediately, as if you were used to associating him to the word.

“It’s definitely not a boyfriend. Just… someone I hook up with sometimes.”

“Interesting. Do I know him?”

The question makes you nervous. She definitely knows. No one not knows who Jungkook is at your campus.

With a shake of your head, you tell her, straight-faced, “Nope.”

“Okay, which department? Does he go to our Uni?” She asks, now seemingly fully invested in this conversation rather than the assignment before her. You’re happy to be a bit of a help to lessen her sour mood from earlier but you shake your head and let out playful tsk-ing sounds,

“Too many questions, babe,” You teased. “My class is starting in twenty minutes.”

You heard her laughing as you carried your clothes to the bathroom to change and to clean up the mess in your nether region. Damn. Jungkook cums a lot these days… he needs to masturbate or something.

“Fine, fine! You don’t want me to know but I’m gonna find out about the mystery guy one way or another!”

Shutting the door to the bathroom, your face contorts at Nayeon’s words.

Yeah, absolutely not. Jungkook and you made an agreement in the first place that everyone should be oblivious of your situationship, and it’s worked for almost four months now.

You can’t fuck it up now.

As soon as you fixed yourself, you bid your goodbye to Nayeon who went ahead and busied herself by hacking away on her laptop, grabbing your bag and heading out and finally walking to your Uni that was just a few minutes away from your complex. Your apartment is almost like a dorm, to be honest.

The hallway is a little crowded, but you don’t miss a certain brunette in a familiar gray hoodie you’ve had in your closet before.

You meet Jungkook’s eyes but you quickly change your gaze to his friend, Taehyung, who’s walking beside him as he greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, ___!” You return his smile, waving. You had a Philo class with Kim Taehyung at one point and found out that despite your preassumptions about him for being a varsity guy, he was a pretty interesting person to talk with. You’re not super close per se, just acquainted enough to acknowledge each other when you meet somewhere like the campus hallways.

You don’t like the attention it draws, though. So you walk straight to your destination.

Varsity guys tend to be famous, and you’ve chosen to steer yourself away from them. Ironic, though, considering that you’re fucking one. Obviously, you’re not doing a very good job at “steering yourself away from them”.

Maybe it’s the sole reason why it’s a secret. Jungkook is the star player of the basketball team together with Taehyung and a few other guys. You know their usual gist. Famous circle, lavish lifestyle, attractive guys who (unfortunately) know it, skillful at the sports they do, too many people fawning over them. And well… not to be that person but you’re just someone dutifully studying here. Someone in the background. And you love that mostly, but sometimes you think that maybe… it’s why Jungkook seems to never entertain the idea of making your relationship public. Not that you would like that yourself. You took part in the secrecy agreement, suggested it yourself, in fact. You would never admit to anyone you’re fucking him. But, well. It’s just weird.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Someone’s going to end it eventually and you’re gonna make sure it’s you… just so it’s established that you aren’t the one who’s more willing in the relationship. Yeah, that. Just not now. School is stressful. You like sex with him.

When you arrive at the lecture hall, your phone vibrates. A text from Jungkook is plastered all over your lock screen.

[1:15pm] Jeon: hi pretty [1:15pm] Jeon: nice skirt :)

You internally roll your eyes. Him and his literal and figurative skirt chaser tendencies.

[1:20pm] You: Hi.

You get a reply immediately.

[1:20pm] Jeon: wanna grab dinner later

You stare at his text, a little taken aback.

That’s new. Sure, you had grabbed lunch with him at his stupid fancy Benz like, once. After he fucked you in it to ease your nerves about a class presentation you did earlier that day. He didn’t offer, he just bought you Chinese because you passed by a resto as he drove you to your place.

Anyway. You don’t know why he would do this all of a sudden. You fucked three days ago, then the day after that, then earlier this day. You’re not complaining but you never predicted your sex life would be so active like this.

[1:22pm] You: Pass. Studying later

Which is true. You have a Tech Writing quiz tomorrow, though not necessarily hard. Whatever. Your thoughts in the hallway awhile ago are making you feel kind of weird about him right now.

[1:23pm] Jeon: boring [1:23pm] You: ):< [1:23pm] Jeon: cute :) do u want me to order boba ill deliver it to ur place after ur class

Well, that is definitely not new. Jungkook delivers you food, like, every single time.

[1:24pm] You: :))) Yess. Thank you [1:24pm] You: I’m going to venmo you [1:25pm] Jeon: lol yk im just gonna venmo it back to u

True. There’s been a lot of back and forth in that app. One time, he “jokingly” sent you a hundred dollars (a hundred dollars!) after you kept on insisting you pay for the takoyaki he made delivered to you, and that horrified you so much that of course you sent the money back to him, but he made you promise to stop trying to argue with him about the payment thing. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel bad about it still though…

[1:25pm] You: 😤😠 [1:27pm] Jeon: do u also want anything besides boba [1:27pm] You: Noppee, I think Nayeon is going to cook something for us later [1:28pm] Jeon: alright [1:28pm] You: Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? [1:28pm] Jeon: nahh it’s alright [1:28pm] Jeon: besides I can think of other ways for u to pay me back without money involved.. ;)

Ah, there he is. He really couldn’t go on a day without sexual innuendos.

[1:29pm] You: You are infuriating and I’m turning off mh phone [1:29pm] You: *my [1:29pm] Jeon: you like when I annoy you so .. [1:29pm] You: No I don’t and Im so sore i feel like my brain will leak out of my ears from so much sex [1:29pm] You: Also please stop using ellipsis in texts [1:29pm] Jeon: hmm [1:29pm] Jeon: who said anything about sex? [1:30pm] Jeon: not me🤔 do u think i just think about sex all the time [1:30pm] Jeon: what’s worng with ellipsis…? [1:32pm] You: Yes you do think about sex all the time

He reacted to that message with the HAHA emoticon, and you felt yourself having a hard time fighting an eyeroll.

[1:32pm] Jeon: you know me so well [1:32pm] You: Also, nothing wrong with ellipsis they just remind me of how my dad texts [1:32pm] Jeon: ummmmm im sure ur dad is great so im flattered

You snorted at that.

[1:33pm] You: you do NOT know that [1:33pm] Jeon: i thought you were turning off your phone [1:34pm] You: I am right now so don’t reply prof is walking to the lecture hall now [1:35pm] Jeon: good luck baby ;)

Nayeon didn’t convince you enough to join her at the party she mentioned before come Friday night. In a weird parallelism, Jungkook also texted you about a party you could come to, and eventually, you’ve come to realize that it was his party. Their party.

Your Uni’s basketball team held a celebratory one because they won the first game of Finals. You only knew when you went to the school’s publication office earlier. The freshman sports journalist, Ryujin, came to you to ask you some questions about her rough draft about said game.

You see, this is one of those times when you are reminded that Jungkook and you really only have a relationship through sex. Sure, you know some stuff about each other. Like how you are an English major, he’s taking Computer Science, you’re the managing director of the school’s publication, he’s a star player in the basketball team; he knows about your favorite takoyaki flavor (it’s smoked bacon) and your boba order, and you know he likes food that you dislike, namely cheese cake and mint chocolate flavored stuff. He also likes Marvel a lot. He knows you’re obsessed with films from the golden age of Hongkong cinema because you mentioned it in passing. (He doesn’t know you particularly love the Wong Kar-wai ones though…)

But somehow, he never really tells you about his basketball games. Sure, he’d mentioned practices before but it’s something he doesn’t bother to include you in. Not that it would matter to you. It’s not like you tell him all about your stuff in school, either.

Your attention is caught by a ping from your phone.

[12:05am] Jeon: hey you still up?

The text reads. You type a reply.

[12:07am] You: Yes, why? [12:07am] Jeon: let’s facetime [12:07am] You: Why [12:08am] Jeon: i want to see your pretty face

Spoken like a true fuckboy. Really?

Before you could respond, his face is taking up your whole screen, asking to facetime you. Without thinking about it too much, you accepted the call, falling back to your bed.

From the screen, you could see that he’s wearing a black shirt with a long silver chain around his neck. He smiles that adorable smile when you finally make your whole face visible to the camera.

“What is it?”

The audio from his end is a little distorted, probably from the loud music from where he’s at. That after-game party, most likely. He texted you about it awhile ago. Nayeon is probably there, too.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Again with the nickname and the slight way his eyes are hooded as he said it. If you squint enough, maybe you could tell if he’s drunk or not. You’re not sure. But the way that’s his instant words upon seeing you is making you feel a little weird in your stomach. He’s got to stop calling you that.

“Are you drunk-calling me right now…?"

He shakes his head and says something, but you don’t hear it, so you informed him so. The screen shows you dark, pixelated images, making you think he’s probably moving his camera around, and you could make out that he’s walking away from the party as the loud music fades out eventually.

"I’m not drunk.” He says after he settles on a spot.

“Oh, okay.” You nod. You shifted on your side. “Why did you call me?"

He laughs at that. "I can’t call you?"

His laughter intensifies when he sees you roll your eyes. "No. I’m just wondering… aren’t you at a party?"

Jungkook nods his head. "Yes, but it’s getting boring here."

"Oh.”

Another beat of silence, but Jungkook is the one to say another word.

“Hey, do you wanna go out for a drive?"

Well… that sounds good. You just finished a write-up and did some studying a little earlier and you also planned to order food but forgot about it.

"Sure.”

Jungkook smiles at that.

“I’ve been wanting to show you something. I think you’ll like it."

Your eyebrow arched at that. This is getting a little too new. He’s driven you around before but it always involved fucking, not done with the intention to show you something. Not that you aren’t expecting sex tonight, though. You would actually appreciate that.

"What is it?"

You could make out a smirk from Jungkook’s face on the slightly pixelated screen. "I’m going to show you the real me.” The glint of mischief in his tone cracks you up, so you played right into it,

“Ohhh, does it involve dead bodies?"

He nods with a serious face. "Yes, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out."

"Yeah, and don’t you freak out if I tell the police about it.” You squint your eyes, trying to give him a scolding look.

“Ah,” Jungkook leans back. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? You’re always such a good girl."

It wouldn’t have meant anything if it wasn’t for the way his voice drops, giving you a meaningful look again. You could feel the heat in your cheeks but you shrug it off.

"I am a good girl, I pride myself for it."

Jungkook finally laughs this time, finding this conversation hilarious just as you do. "I know, I like it most especially—"

After all this time, you developed a sort of a Spidey sense for when Jungkook is about to say perverted things, so before he could make such remarks, you cut him off.

"If you’re gonna say something sexual I’m going to end this call.” But even you could tell it was an empty threat.

Jungkook thinks so, too, you know that, but he decides to step back. “I was just going to say that I like it most especially because it does good to the world."

The mirth in his eyes tells you otherwise.

"You do not think that.” You say, rolling your eyes.

He laughs once more, throwing his head back as if you said the funniest joke in the world. Weirdo.

“Alright, alright. So I’m coming to your place in five minutes to pick you up. How does that sound?"

"Good. Nayeon’s currently out… just text me if you get here."

He told you to end the call – which you argued you were just planning to do so and he didn’t need to tell you and it earned a laugh from him, how stubborn you were about such simple things. You just gave him a baleful look.

Just as you pick out a sweatshirt and some sweats in exchange for your pajama dress, you receive a text from Jungkook that he’s arrived and so you grab your wallet and keys and your phone, heading out.

You spot his car and knock on the passenger’s seat window and Jungkook immediately opens it for you.

"Hi, gorgeous.” He greets you. “You want to keep the window open?"

"Hello. Yes, please.” You say, fixing your seat belt.

He hums and you press on a button to slide the window open.

“You want to pick up some food?"

You perked up. "Yeah, I was planning to get some but I was too lazy to order in earlier."

Jungkook pressed some buttons again you don’t really understand but it got music to start playing, lights in the car moving into the same beat of the tune (his car was really fancy…). Some mellow ones you kind of liked during this drive on a cold night. He saw a food place from around a corner and you both agreed to get food from the shop.

He parked somewhere for you guys to open up the take-out. There’s some steamed tofu there so you pick it up and start eating.

"I’ve been obsessed with tofu these days,” you shared absentmindedly, chewing on said food.

Jungkook looks at the tofu you were eating. “Really? I remember when you said you dislike it."

"Yeah, but that’s because I cooked it one time and it sucked."

"I should teach you to cook one of these days…” you refused to acknowledge what that entails and laughed instead.

“You know how?” You said to tease, but you also genuinely can’t believe he knows how.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, a faux offended look on his face, saying, “Why do I always get that reaction? Of course I know how to cook."

"Huh,” you pondered. “Wouldn’t have expected it from you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have this friend who’s a really good cook and I kinda learned through him."

"That’s cute. Nayeon knows how to cook and I never learned shit from it.” You laugh at your own words, so does Jungkook. “But hey,"

"Hm?"

"Do you think my boobs got bigger? I think they got bigger.” You put your food down your lap and caress your breasts through your clothes.

You’ve been thinking about it since last week. Earlier, you saw yourself naked in your mirror and noticed a change in their size. You almost thought you were pregnant but your period literally just ended yesterday. But can that happen with pregnancies? But… you’re very diligent with your pills… so it can’t be. Right?

You made a mental note to buy a test tomorrow.

“Look the same to me.” Jungkook says, looking at your chest.

You grab his free hand and put it over a boob. He squeezes it promptly, and you hear an almost dramatic gasp.

“Oh, they are bigger."

You remove his hand over you and nod. "Yeah. But I think it’s just due to some hormonal changes. Also I think I’m putting on weight, I’ve been eating a lot these days… but… it’s stupid but I also think my obsession with tofu has something to do with it,"

Jungkook looks over at you curiously.

"Yeah, they say tofu makes your boobs bigger." You added.

He arches a brow at that. "Really?"

"Don’t look so excited."

Jungkook can’t help but huff out a laugh. "I do not!” You roll your eyes. He insists, “I love your boobs the way they are."

"Geez, thanks."

You finished your food and Jungkook drove around again. It’s still in the vicinity of your town. The music in his car serves as a lulling noise in the otherwise quiet night. There’s still a lot of cars on the streets, some occasional honking sounds, but you feel really, really nice, most especially when the wind blows a little harsher and it makes your hair go crazy. Jungkook laughs at that too.

It’s later in the night when Jungkook slowed down somewhere, and soon, he was parking at an abandoned house.

As if on cue, you looked at him and said, "So you really are going to show me your literal skeletons."

He laughed at that.

"Nope, sorry to disappoint, princess."

Jungkook gets out of the car and you follow, immediately shivering at the wind. You wished you wore a hoodie instead of this thin, knitted sweatshirt, but you didn’t expect it would be this cold. It was nearing summer and the weather has been inconsistent for the last month.

You look at the abandoned house once again. There were wooden planks nailed on the door, plastic covers draped over the windows, and overall, it just looks really old. Kind of creepy, if you were to be honest.

In your assessment of the house, you don’t notice Jungkook coming to you with two bottles of soju. He brings them up slightly, a grin on his face.

"Drinks?”

“Okay…” you squint your eyes. “Where are we going to do that?"

He gives you a knowing smirk. "Inside."

Jungkook went over the fence with ease and you followed his direction but didn’t do the same thing. He looks back at you. "Hey."

"Are you sure it’s safe?” You ask, looking around, wrapping your arms around your middle because of the cold.

Jungkook probably notes the genuine concern in your tone, that’s why he sets the soju down and comes forward to you, the fence serving as some kind of dramatic border.

“Baby, it’s fine. No one comes around here.” He says but you don’t really feel assured just yet.

“What if someone comes here now? I don’t want to be arrested…"

"No one’s getting arrested,” Jungkook insists. You still look hesitant. “Come on. Really. I’ve been here lotta times, haven’t ever seen anyone here since then."

You look at him. He seems to be telling that truth and well, maybe you’re stupid for believing him but he seemed to know this place well and had been going here for a long time and as far as you know, he doesn’t have criminal records, so…

"Okay, fine.” You give in.

Jungkook immediately grins. “Nice. Here, let me help you.” He leans forward and takes a hold of your hips as you go over the fence. It’s not that high, really, but you let him carry you over it until you both entered the abandoned property.

When he puts you down, you tug at his shirt.

“Wait, your car.” you gasp.

“Oh, it’s fine. I parked it at that green house, someone’s just gonna assume it’s theirs.” He says, completely nonchalant about it.

You think he’s being careless about his fucking Benz but whatever.

Jungkook leads you to the back of the creepy house and the eerie place immediately gives you goosebumps. The cold of the night does not help, either, so you cling to him until he sits on the ground.

“Jungkook, that’s dirty.” You tell him, trying to tug him up.

He chuckles. “It’s fine, princess. Come here, I’ll take my jacket off. Sit beside me.” Indeed, he takes off his jacket, and you worry he might be cold with his t-shirt only now but you also really don’t want to sit on the ground…

“You’re not cold?” You make sure as you sit beside him. Jungkook opens one of the soju and offers it to you. You take it as he opens another one for himself.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jungkook starts drinking but even though you have one in your hand, you don’t. He must’ve noticed it as he says, “Hey. Relax.”

“Aside from my fear of getting arrested, it’s also really fucking creepy here.” You retort, scooting closer to him. You got to be honest and admit that you’re more scared of the place than scared of getting arrested.

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh at that. “Again, we’re not getting arrested. And what do you mean creepy? You don’t like it here?"

You look around the place more. "Eh, it’s okay. I just can’t help but think what if there are lost souls around here…” you trailed off, giving him a baleful look when that only made him laugh more. They were quiet laughter, though. Probably to not disrupt said souls.

“You believe those?"

You roll your eyes. "Okay, cool macho guy."

"No, no, I’m sorry,” Jungkook still laughs in between his words and you whisked his hand away in an act of lighthearted sulking when it tried to reach you.

Okay. You don’t exactly believe in ghosts but it’s hard not to when it’s in the middle of the night and quiet and cold and you’re in an abandoned house. You avoid horror movies for a valid reason.

“Alright, let’s cuddle so you don’t get scared.” Jungkook says, but there’s a teasing sound to it.

“Don’t make fun.” You glared at him.

“I’m serious, come here.” He opens his arms wide and you roll your eyes, not moving to come closer. He laughs when even after seconds passed you still didn’t give in. You thought he was giving up but instead he twisted to your direction and let both his legs crowd you so that you’re in between them.

“You’re annoying,” you say but you kind of feel oddly comforted by being close to him like that, and Jungkook must’ve known as well because he just gives you a smug smile, chugging on his soju after.

You did the same. You try to throw away your nerves and scary thoughts, letting yourself relax as he said. When you kind of did a moment later, you find that it’s kind of nice, actually.

“What do you think?” Jungkook suddenly speaks.

“Hm?"

"It’s nice here, right?” He arched his brow at you. “Just try not to think about ghosts."

You pinch his shin through his cargo pants and he gives you a very ingenuine, "Ouch!"

"Except for the ugly house, it’s nice here.” You reply. As you look up, you see stars scattered across the dark skies. It was quite a view, honestly. Makes you a little surprised because it was so beautiful. You almost missed Jungkook’s words.

“Yeah. It’s not exactly beautiful here but it’s a great place to think."

"Think?"

Jungkook sees your teasing smile and shakes his head. "Yes, baby, I do a lot of those."

You chuckle at that and drink more of your alcohol.

You don’t exchange more words after that but you find that it wasn’t awkward. It was just… a nice silence. A comfortable one. With Jungkook crowding you with his legs, you feel like you might be the most relaxed you’ve ever been in the past few months.

You twist yourself so now you’re not facing forward anymore, but to Jungkook. You realize if he’d been looking forward he just had a view of your side profile. You try not to think too much if he just stared at you, although you did feel him do that for a few minutes a while ago.

"Hey, congrats on the game.” You tell him with a soft smile on your face, placing your drink on the ground. It’s still filled in half. You could finish it but you doubt you wouldn’t be drunk by that time. Your alcohol tolerance is not at all exemplary.

“Thanks.” Jungkook sheepishly smiles at you. “You watched it?"

"Ah, no. I just heard about it. I don’t really know anything about basketball so…” you trail off, noting the way he nods at your words.

“Right. I’ve never seen you watch us before.”

You try to joke, “That’s because you never invite me to any of your games."

But it looks like that caught him off guard. "I– huh?” The look on his eyes tells you that he was genuinely surprised at your words, those eyes of him looking like a deer’s when it’s caught in the headlights.

You laugh. “I’m just kidding. I don’t usually watch sports games. Too crowded for my liking."

Jungkook nodded at that, but he still looked taken aback from your words earlier. You really were just kidding. You hope he didn’t take it seriously. But he agrees with you, anyway. "Yeah, it can get crowded sometimes."

Silence and then after a few beats, Jungkook speaks again.

"Hey, let’s make out."

You arched a brow but didn’t really find any reason to oppose it, so you went ahead and kissed him.

Jungkook immediately holds your hips. On the other hand, you snake your arms around his neck, kneeling in between his spread legs. The kiss starts slow but he holds the back of your neck and deepens it.

You whimpered when he nudged your legs with his free hand, and your shock made you break away from the kiss. Jungkook took it as an opportunity to start pecking your neck, though, his hand seemingly coaxing you to open your legs. You got the message and finally straddled his waist, Jungkook groaning and you moaning when you feel your crotches connecting at the action.

He was already sporting a semi, and you also feel your panties getting slick from the way he kissed and bit and licked and soothed your neck.

"Jungkook,” you moaned, searching for his mouth.

He kissed you again, all tongue and so sloppy, his hand reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and creeping inside it to find you not wearing a bra. He did think you weren't wearing one when you put his hand on your boob in the car earlier.

“Ah, fuck,” he squeezed your tit in his hand, you whine. “They really are bigger. Can I see them, baby?"

You nodded, not even giving it a solid thought as Jungkook immediately hiked up your top until your perky breasts were all bare for him to see.

And devour, eventually.

Jungkook went straight to sucking your boob and squeezing the other to tend to it, massaging it in his huge palm. He licked a nipple and bit at it slightly, making you sigh at his action. Your arms went to his head to fist his hair in your hands.

His ministrations on your chest encouraged you to roll your hips against his pelvis, and that elicited a grunt from him. Smiling a little at that, you experimented on doing it a little harder, and as a result, Jungkook tugged at your nipple, making you whine a little too loud.

"Behave."

You pout. "I want to fuck."

"It’s not so creepy here anymore?” He had the audacity to tease, but his hands were still on your breasts, fondling them.

“I didn’t say we can fuck here. Just…” you looked around, not really specifically looking for something.

Now that Jungkook mentioned it again, you get reminded that it really is creepy as fuck here. And you still didn’t trust the ground. There was no way you could stand fucking in this property. And what if something scary happens while you’re in the middle of doing it…

Just as you were thinking it, a strange sound catches both of your attention.

“I think we should get back in your car.” You decided.

Probably seeing the flash of fear in your eyes, Jungkook laughs. “Are you thinking of ghosts again?"

You slap his chest. "No. But I want to cum."

"So demanding,” he playfully scolds but you just roll your eyes and let your sweatshirt fall to cover you up once again. You immediately cling to him the moment he stands up and help him pick up the soju bottles, anxiously praying you guys hurry up to get out of here.

“It was just the wind.” Jungkook comforts you once you were on your way to his car.

As far as you’re concerned, it’s never just the wind. At least those shitty horror movies you and your cousins watched during sleepovers tell you so.

Jungkook opens the door to the backseat and you go in and he follows after you.

You immediately straddle him once he’s seated, earning a chuckle from him.

“Wow, you’re really eager for me to fuck the fear out of you, huh?” He says, sounding smug about the way you reach for the hem of your shirt and removing it from yourself.

“Hm. Your dirty talk these days have been subpar.” you slide his jacket off of him and he lets you remove his shirt as well, laughing more at your impatience.

“Can’t think straight when a pretty girl is on my lap."

Before you could say something about that, he gripped your waist and got you off his lap, manhandling you to lay on the backseat. Your back is against the car door as Jungkook twisted in his seat, hauling himself backwards to pull your sweats down and take off your birkens. Leaning down, Jungkook pressed open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, teasing his mouth on where you need him the most.

But you didn’t want to feel anything there other than his cock, and you tell him so.

"Jungkook,” you whine, catching his attention. When he looks up at you, you whine some more, “Just fuck me. I’m so wet already."

He cursed, caressing the sides of your thighs. "Baby, I need to prep you.”

“There’s no need for that, come on, please. I need your cock."

Jungkook groans. But then he makes quick work of unzipping his pants, pulling it down with his boxers until his dick is out. It’s plenty hard already, the shiny tip catching your attention.

You let out another cry at the sight of him gripping his base, pumping it for a few seconds and finally pushing your panties to the side and slipped inside you. True to your words, it was quite an easy slide, but the burn still stings a little bit. His size was on the little above average spectrum and you’ve always found a hard time taking it in smoothly.

"Oh, god,” you mewl, grasping his bicep while your other hand grips the back seat.

Jungkook tightened his fingers on your waist, a hand coming up to one of your thighs to wrap it around his middle. You follow his silent command, welcoming the hot kiss he gives you.

“Should I move now?” He whispers in your mouth, and you nod frantically, throwing your head back with a moan when he does as told.

His cock was not even pulled out completely before he slipped it in again, slowly, in agonizing deep strokes. Like he wants to feel every corner of your warm hole.

“So good…” you moaned, tightening your thigh around his body.

“You like when I fuck you slow, baby?” Jungkook pressed kisses on your chest this time, and you could only nod your head mindlessly as he repeated thrusting out again.

“I – ah… so good, Kook. I love it,"

The car is cramped and all you could hear are your heavy breaths and the lewd squelching sound of his cock going in and out of your pussy, his chain dangling in between your bodies feels cold when it momentarily touches your chest.

You would tell him to go faster, harder, but the way he was planting fairy kisses on your skin and his tattooed arm popping veins on the side of your head as if he was finding it hard to not fuck you stupid, you found that his deep and precise albeit slow strokes great.

"So pretty,” he says, moving the strands of hair that stuck everywhere on your face.

“K-kook,” you whimper.

“Hm? Baby? What is it?” Jungkook looks at you with an uncharacteristically soft gaze, his dick still continuing its slow pace in your cunt.

“M-my back hurts like this,” you say.

His eyes look softer at your words, expression gentle. “Sorry, angel.” He caresses your face and kisses you which you welcomed with a sob when his dick hits deeper after he leaned down. “Here, I’ll sit here. Straddle me.” But he doesn’t even wait for you to move as he hauls you to his lap himself, his cock still inside you, feeling it twitching when you sit on it outright.

“Good girl,” Jungkook squeezes your breasts and laps at them, only to look up at you again. “You okay?"

You nod, pushing him slightly so that he relaxes his back against the seat. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to bounce on his cock.

Jungkook throws his head back, letting you on your own pace, hands gripping your hips to help you move.

"So fucking good for me,” he hissed just as when you mewled when his cock hits a particular spot in you. “Take it easy, baby, nice and slow, okay?” He said, taking a hold on the back of your head and pulling you in for a slow kiss.

You followed his words and planted your knees on either side of him, going down steadily, crying out at the way you feel every ridge of his huge cock inside you like this.

It was so pleasurable, the way he groaned in your ears, squeezing your breasts, tugging at your sensitive nipples, murmuring stupid, sweet nothings, his cock seemingly growing larger in your heat each second passed, and soon, you feel that knot in your stomach ready to burst.

“I-I’m cumming, Kook, I’m cumming–"

Jungkook hummed, and when he felt your movements stuttering, he took it upon himself to press his thumb to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves and fucking his dick up into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm snap.

"So good for me, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.” He kept rubbing delicious shapes on your clit, and you had to bite back a pathetic sob as the pleasure started to become too much.

But he was still chasing his high, and you leaned forward to kiss him through it, letting him do whatever he wanted to get himself there.

And when he did cum, you feel yourself cumming a second time too, Jungkook letting out strings of curses and nonsense as he feels you dripping more juices down onto his cock.

Your head falls on the crook of his neck, Jungkook caressing your back as he relaxes on the seat.

For a while, words were not spoken. He kept kissing your hair while you felt him twitching in your pussy.

“I’m so tired,” you wearily peeled your face from his neck, looking at him. He has his eyes shut close, but there’s a content smile on his face that you leaned down to kiss. You didn’t know what for, you just felt like kissing him.

Jungkook hums. The mess in your crotch starts to feel sticky and cold and uncomfortable.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.” He says, as if he could read that you were about to get off his lap.

You chuckle. “I can literally feel you going soft."

"Ignore my dick. I wanna feel you a little more."

"Okay."

Jungkook does an unexpected thing of kissing your forehead. You choose to ignore the weird tingling feeling in your stomach and the way your cheeks feel hot at the action, just let him slip his fingers through your hair and rest your cheek on his naked chest.

You eventually got off of each other after a few minutes, and you both were quiet as you dressed yourselves back. Jungkook and you got out of his car so he could drive and you could enter the passenger’s seat.

The drive to your place was quiet but the silence was nice and comfortable, just like when you were at the back of that creepy old house. Jungkook occasionally sang along to some of the songs playing from a random playlist he pulled up on Spotify, and his voice sounded kind of nice. You wanted to say something about it but decided not to, in slight fear that he would stop.

When he pulled over in front of your complex, there was a soft, gentle smile on his face when he told you, "Sweet dreams."

Your face mirrored his as you wished him good night.

You locked the door to your apartment, ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach.

You found yourselves at that abandoned house again the next night and Jungkook forewent the booze and brought junk food from Wendy’s. You had a swell time just sitting with each other at the back of the house, talking about the most random things you could talk about like some silly childhood memories. You almost shared your joy upon finding out that you weren’t actually pregnant after taking the test earlier that day just like you said you would the other night, but you found it better to keep that to yourself.

Additionally, you ranted to him about Professor Kang for giving you a C+ on a project you thought you deserved a higher grade for. Jungkook showed blind support by roasting your professor’s haircut. You didn’t fuck that night but did it the next night after a few drinks.

When the day of their second game of Finals hit, your Uni won again and Jungkook ditched the after-game party, picking you up and driving you to that place. Almost like it became tradition.

This time, you think you went overboard with the drinks, but it was probably just your shitty alcohol tolerance because Jungkook was standing still with his third bottle – which you childishly argued was unfair.

Jungkook carried you like a sack of potatoes on your way to his car, ignoring how you slapped his ass. But you were all giggles and hushed whispers in the backseat as Jungkook guided your hips, bouncing you on his cock, just like the other night.

"How does it feel, baby?” Jungkook whispered against your mouth while you gripped his shoulders hard to slide up and down his cock, the tops of your feet resting on his thighs.

“S-so good,” you whimpered, speeding up, feeling yourself getting close to your edge.

Jungkook tightened his hands on your waist but didn’t really do anything to control your movements or pace like he usually would. Like he was just enjoying you on top of him, using his cock to get off.

You leaned down to kiss him, your moan upon feeling him deeper getting swallowed by the way he immediately reciprocated your touch.

You opened your eyes but then you suddenly caught a glimpse of a car. You pulled away from the kiss, but Jungkook took it as an opportunity to kiss your neck instead. While he was busy lapping up your skin, you narrowed your eyes to see clearer, only to realize that the car you saw was a fucking police cruiser.

“Jungkook,” you called him, stopping your movements on his lap.

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice nearly sounded like a whine, understandably confused at your action– or lack thereof.

But you only tapped his shoulder a little harder.

“There’s a damn cruiser in front of us."

Well, it wasn’t actually in front of you. It was more like, parked across from you, beside that abandoned house.

Jungkook seemed to realize your panic though. His car wasn’t lit because you immediately got into it the moment he put you in the backseat. It was a little inconvenient especially when you were slipping him in but it turned to be a blessing in disguise because whoever owned that cruiser wouldn't have noticed what you were doing in his car.

"Shit."

You hastily climbed off of him, quickly finding your shorts on the floor of the car and sliding it on while seated. Meanwhile, Jungkook just tucked his dick in his boxers and zipped up his pants. It was pure luck that you didn’t completely strip each other off earlier because it made for a fast dress up.

"Wait.” Jungkook leaned over the center part of the car and stayed a few seconds hunched over the console. You were just about to ask him what he was doing when the passenger’s seat suddenly reclined back.

“Oh."

"We can climb over here so that we don’t have to go out and have a cop seeing us. It would be suspicious.” He suggested, and you quickly nodded and did what he told you with a little bit of his help.

Jungkook pressed a button once again that had the driver’s seat this time leaning back, just like yours did. He climbed over it just as fast, putting on his seatbelt that you remember you needed to do as well so you followed.

He lit on the car and started the engine. But before he could drive, a knock on his window made you both look at it.

“Fuck.”

You held your breath as you watched his window slowly sliding down, revealing a police decked in his uniform hunching down to see the inside of the car.

“Evening, officer.” Jungkook greets casually. You didn’t know what to do. You reached for the phone in your pocket and turn it on, ducking down as much as you could so as to hide your face, trying to seem busy and casual.

“Oh, it’s just some kids, Hwang,” The cop turned to the side, and that’s when you heard another set of footsteps coming towards you. “You kids live here?"

"Yeah. It’s my parents’ house, I’m just about to drive my girlfriend home.” Jungkook answered, referring to the green house he parked at, not a hint of hesitation or even an ounce of nervousness in his demeanor.

You were too frozen to react to the way he called you his girlfriend.

The other cop nodded. “Apologies. We were just roaming. Be careful, kid, you got a sleek car. There’s some thief on the loose around the street."

Jungkook nodded as well, even did a little salute as he said, "You got it, sir."

The cop patted the top of his car and Jungkook bid them a final goodbye before closing his window again and driving away.

You felt like your soul just went right back inside you after it got out for a moment there.

"Holy shit, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

And then suddenly, you giggled. Actually, like, giggled. Because realizing what just happened, you found every single thing fucking hilarious. You got away from cops!

“Oh my god, Jungkook. That was insane!” You said in between your laughter.

Jungkook looked over at you before training his attention to the road and finally laughing with you, seemingly finding what happened just as hilarious. “Yeah. It was, it was.”

“And they really believed you! I can’t believe it,” you covered your face with both of your hands, your belly starting to hurt with how much you found the whole thing incredulous that it was funny.

“It’s not like we did anything wrong…” Jungkook said but he had a hint of playful tone when he spoke the words.

You snorted. “Well, in between public indecency and trespassing, which do you think they would most likely arrest us for?"

That got Jungkook to laugh again.

During the ride to your place, you complained about feeling too cold at one point. Jungkook asked if you wanted him to turn the A/C down but you shook your head and so he offered his jacket instead because you only wore a shirt. In your defense, when he picked you up, the weather was humid even though it was late at night.

You didn’t stop talking and laughing about what happened earlier, though. You found it hard to let go of it just like that.

"You are so drunk,” Jungkook chuckled as he pulled over. “You’re going to regret it tomorrow."

"It’s Saturday tom–” you cut yourself off with a yawn.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.” Jungkook commented, pulling over, indicating that you were near your apartment. You didn’t even notice.

“Not drunk, just tipsy.” You said, starting to unbuckle your seat belt but you kept on failing. Your tipsiness was starting to kick in again and everything was a little too hazy in your head.

You still definitely are aware about your surroundings, so aware that you felt Jungkook hunching over your side to unbuckle your seat belt for you, so close that you felt his breath fanning your face.

“Thanks.” You smiled, he returned it.

You opened the door yourself this time, though, and was only a little surprised to see Jungkook getting out of his car too.

“Let me walk you to your door."

And honestly, you should be worried about the possibility of Nayeon being at the apartment and seeing you together, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care when all you could feel was odd content in feeling Jungkook’s presence as you walked towards your place.

It was quiet but it was comfortable. You noticed how it’s always been like that with him, especially these days.

When you reached your door, you turned to Jungkook who was a little behind you, probably slowed his steps when you neared your place.

“Thanks for walking me."

"No biggies,” Jungkook grins and then he stares at you for a while.

“What?” You asked.

He leans down, holds your hip and presses his mouth against your own.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really make a big deal out of it in your head when you were supposed to because this has never happened before: Jungkook walking you to your door and kissing you before he leaves has never occurred before.

And yet, it felt so normal. Like it was just something that happens on the daily. Like you were so used to feeling his casual and soft kisses instead of the passionate and hard ones that often led to something.

“See you next week?"

You nod, biting your lip as he lets you go. "Yeah."

Jungkook gives you a one, last small smile before he turns around and goes to his car, entering it and driving away from your complex.

What a crazy night.

You did not want to admit it, but maybe the strange feeling in your stomach the other night was goddamn butterflies.

You really weren’t supposed to come with.

But Juyeon, your editor in chief, told you to accompany Ryujin as she goes to interview the basketball team for their second win at the Finals season today. Your responsibility told you that it was fine, which, really is fine because you were used to monitoring freshmen in the club and that was actually one of your official jobs as the managing director but!

You were basically gonna do a babysitting job because Ryujin apparently fucked a guy from the team after she interviewed them the first time and it resulted to a poor article, and as a result, Juyeon is afraid she’s gonna fuck up her future write-ups so you’re the collateral damage of the whole situation.

Juyeon didn’t tell you that herself, though. Keeping things professional and decent. You heard it from the other members of the club.

Right now, you have to be at the gymnasium to meet people you’ve never really bothered meeting before and have always avoided for obvious reasons.

But it was fine.

You checked Ryujin’s questions on the way there and when you arrived, she immediately tried to spot the team’s coach to talk to him about the interview she was gonna conduct.

Instantly, you felt a prickling sensation on your arms and the back of your neck as the varsity players stopped on their tracks to look at the newcomers. At this hour, you can see no one at the gym seats. You and Ryujin were the only civilians and they noticed that immediately.

It’s as if you couldn’t help it, but you spotted Jungkook on one of the benches drinking water. As if on cue, he met your gaze, and you could see the little surprise he had on his face seeing you. However, you quickly looked away and walked towards where the coach and Ryujin were.

"I’m here with our managing director, too. She’s here to help me with the interview.” Ryujin told the coach, all smiles.

“Good day, sir.” You greeted him. He nodded at you in acknowledgement and turned to look at his team.

“Alright,” The coach loudly said, which got the players to transfix their attention to him instead. You tried not to notice Jungkook looking at you as he walked towards your direction, the other members doing the same. Coach stood straight and elaborated, “The school’s publication is here to interview you about the previous game you’ve had. Practice ends here–” he was cut off by the collective loud cheers from the guys. He shook his head. “But put on your best behavior."

"Guaranteed, coach.” Someone said but you saw how he sent a wink to Ryujin’s way.

Jesus Christ, where even was the subtlety? It was such a boy-ish thing to do. If you could, you would roll your eyes. Wait – was it the guy she fucked on that interview? Ugh. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care. It was her sex life… just maybe she shouldn’t mix it with her journalism activities…

“Careful, Kang. I’m gonna make you do ten laps if you don’t give these writers some good material,” The coach warned and some of them snorted. He then turned to both of you and Ryujin. “These guys are very rowdy but you guys will be fine."

You try to smile at him as he bids his goodbye and leaves the gym. Taejun, the senior sports journalist had already interviewed him so Ryujin only had to do it with the players themselves so they could collaborate on the article.

Ryujin enthusiastically greeted the team and introduced herself, as well as you. You offered them a small smile and was only a little taken aback when Taehyung chirped your name.

"Hi, Taehyung.” you return his greeting.

He grins at you.

Ryujin looks at you immediately. “Oh, you know someone here?"

Yeah, technically you knew of some people here. You knew Taehyung though, and you knew Jungkook. But you chose to just nod instead of saying anything.

Ryujin lets out a happy noise. "That’s so cool!"

Yeah…

"Hey, surprised to see you here,” Taehyung walked up to you. “I thought you weren’t in the sports section?”

You were surprised to know that Taehyung even remembers what you told him a long time ago. You got to know each other that much during the time you were constantly talking.

“Well, yes. Ryujin is a freshman, though. I take care of them sometimes, you can say.” You replied.

Taehyung nodded in understanding. “You’re gonna be here for a while?"

"We’ll see. But I think the interview will be a quick one."

Someone from the team called Taehyung and he looked at you apologetically. You nodded with a smile.

"We always seem so busy whenever we see each other,” Taehyung shakes his head with a laugh. You find that quite funny too. “Hey, do you wanna catch up? Get some coffee around."

"Oh, yeah, sure. But I bet your sched is crazy these days.” you said, alluding to their constant practices for Finals season.

“Nah, I can make time. Unless you have a crazy sched too?” He gave you a playful smile.

You cocked your head to the side, squinting your eyes at him. “Not all of us are trying to get our school a big trophy."

Taehyung laughed at that and his teammates called for him again, this time it was Jungkook. You both looked at him. He had a strange look on his face but you shrugged it off.

"Well, I better get going. Ryujin’s starting.” He said and pointed back with his thumb.

The boys were kind of rowdy in the start, but they eventually scattered around the benches doing their own thing as Ryujin talked to them individually, especially the ones who usually play in court.

You offered to take some of your own notes, too, were kind of bothered that you didn’t really understand some of the terms used and that this was very unusual territory for you to get a material at for writing an article. You never really dabbled on sports writing.

Eventually, you felt your bladder looking for relief so you told Ryujin that you would be back in a minute.

It was a little difficult to find the comfort room but you did see it in the far corner of the hallway, a few steps away from the gymnasium.

You were washing your hands on the communal sink after peeing when the door suddenly opened, revealing Jungkook in his jersey.

Hand clutching your chest, you looked at him with a scandalized expression.

“Jesus,” you squint your eyes. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook closes the door and saunters towards the room. “No greetings or anything?"

You give him an eyeroll and come back to washing your hands as soon as you get over the initial shock of seeing him.

You simply shrug.

In a second, Jungkook was beside you.

"We haven’t seen each other in a while,” he said, giving you a playful nudge.

You whisk your hands, ridding the wetness out of your hands.

“It’s only been three days."

You see him smile at you through the mirror, and he has that soft look again on his face. You get reminded of your last night together. When he kissed you good night as he dropped you home.

"I was surprised to see you there,” Jungkook says, turning around and leaning back on the counter.

You think he’s referring to seeing you at the gym and that makes you chuckle. Why was everyone surprised to see you at the gym? “Why, you think you guys own the gym or something?"

Jungkook found your sass amusing, though.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him but ended up laughing for no reason other than he also laughed.

"Eh, duty calls. Our EIC had me accompany Ryujin, so...” you see Jungkook nodding. You swerve the topic to the next one. “Your big game starts in, like, five days from now.” You mirror his stance and also lean back on the counter.

Jungkook watched as you did so. “Yeah.”

His eyes are trained on yours, and you hold a weird, intense stare until he finally peels himself off from the counter and walks to you. You’re surprised that you’ve never thought about him in his jersey but you were able to see him earlier like this before and right now, in your close up view, damn. He looked good. Especially with his tattoos all out like that. You really like them. They looked pretty.

“It’s probably gonna be the last game,” you said, referring to the fact that they’ve won the last two games and if they win this one, it would be the concluding point of the Finals season. “You’re going to make the Uni proud?” You arched a brow at him.

He shrugged. And finally, he crossed the small distance between you and held your hips. You think you unintentionally let out a happy hum at the contact. You’ve been wanting him to touch you as soon as you saw him earlier. For some weird reason.

“Sure, but only if you’re there for me to give me my personal reward,” The lewd undertone was not lost on you and it made you giggle. Somehow, he’d gotten even closer, fingers caressing your hips in soothing circles. “You look good, by the way. This skirt is new?"

It is new. You try not to think too much about what it says about you that you kind of thought of him when you placed the order a week ago. It was just a blip of thought, anyway. You swear.

"Yes. And you’re kinda sweaty,” He really is. But it doesn’t stop you from looping your arms around his neck and Jungkook is only visibly satisfied at the close proximity.

“Hard at work,” he leans down, but he only nudges your nose. “Can I see your panties?"

You would have scolded yourself for giggling like a school girl at that question, but Jungkook must’ve realized how stupid that sounded too as he laughed together with you.

"I don’t know, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I think.” You whispered, playing into the joke.

You saw his smirk before he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between you and touched your mouth against his. He prodded at the seam of your lips with his tongue and you let him access, his tongue swirling with your own as you shared a rather passionate kiss in the sink.

There was a string of saliva between your mouths when he broke free.

“God, I missed your taste.”

It was his last words before he dove in again, kissing you way deeper now, more frantic as well, as he started getting handsy. At some point, his hands on your hips lifted you up until you were seated on the counter, Jungkook kissing you like it hasn’t only been three days since he had you like this. He squeezed your bare thighs that got you whimpering, your hips, waist. Up, up, and up until he was copping a feel on your boobs through your clothes.

He was kissing your neck when you suddenly felt him untucking your shirt from your skirt.

“Wait, no,” You tried to get your head out of your previous headspace and took a hold of his wrists.

“No?” Jungkook stops, looking at you curiously, lips plump, hair a little wild. And with his stupid basketball uniform, it was extremely hard to discourage his advances.

But…

“Someone might come in,” you say with genuine worry in your voice, pushing him away slightly.

“There’s not really a lot of people who come to this bathroom,” he tells you. Which, you think, kind of makes sense. Him and his teammates have their locker rooms and their own comfort room that was an extension of the gym (which you pointedly didn’t go to for obvious reasons) and this part of the campus was a little quiet.

But then again, you did tell Ryujin you would be back in a minute. And it would be quite ironic if Juyeon told you to monitor her because she fucked someone in the team while you go ahead and fail to do that job because you were fooling around with another someone from the same team.

Jesus. That’s enough crisis for today.

“Ryujin’s probably going to interview you soon,” you said, tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

You jump slightly to step on the floor, turning around to fix your hair, seeing Jungkook stepping back through the mirror. “Why did you leave the gym, by the way?"

Jungkook invades your personal space again and presses himself to your back. "I got excited when I saw you…” he whispers in your ear and your whimper betrays your resistance from literally a few seconds ago as you feel something hard on your ass.

But at the same time, you look at him incredulously through the mirror. He just shrugs as he sees it, gripping your hips again and burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“Kook,” you whine.

Jungkook chuckled and before you can do something stupid like give in to his touch, he leaned back and held his hands up.

“Fine, fine,” he says, still laughing when you turn around to glare at him. “Can I see you later?"

You jab at his chest lightly. "For being annoying just right now, you can’t "

His face contorts and pouts. "Aw, come on,"

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics.

"We can’t get into anything tonight. Nayeon is staying at home and I’m nervous about her seeing your car if you pick me up,” you tell him. “Also, we can’t go to that place. That cruiser might be back again."

"Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “We can just go together to my place after this, though? It would be late by the time your friend is finished with the interview."

You look at him funny.

He sighs. "Damn, I thought I could finally convince you to fuck at my place."

You shake your head. "Never.”

From the start, you both agreed to only fuck at your place (whenever Nayeon is not around, of course) per your request. Jungkook lives quite far from the campus, at least far compared to yours, and it was a high complex building. As far as you know, most of the big shots at school live there and he’s neighbors with Taehyung. You don’t want to risk it.

“Never is a long time..” Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and that breaks you from your thoughts.

Laughing, you push at him playfully.

“Gee. You should go. They’re probably now wondering why you’re taking so long."

"They’re probably thinking I’m taking a shit.” he shrugs. “I think I told Taehyung that before I left.”

“Oh no, is that what they’re going to think about me, too?” You gave him an animated concerned look, making your voice purposely higher in pitch.

“Wait, what? You take a shit?” Jungkook playing into the joke caused you to laugh and you punched his bicep that he just took with a grin.

When the laughter died down, Jungkook looked at you seriously.

“When can I see you again?"

"I don’t know. Sometime this week, maybe? Don’t be whiny.” You smile as you see his pout. “Hey, you really should go now."

He looked a little hesitant but he didn’t really have a choice. And you were also growing more concerned that someone from the gym might think maliciously about you and Jungkook disappearing at the same time for a long time. Hopefully, no one cared enough to think about it.

"Alright.” Jungkook says finally and starts to step out. Before he leaves, though, he asks, “Wait, are you going to the game?"

You hope Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise if it showed on your face. You didn’t expect him to ask that.

But you try to play it cool, pondering on it. It’s Wednesday, next week, and as far as you knew, there was nothing major in your schedule. You still don’t know about that, though. Maybe some of your profs would drop a big project on your heads come Monday.

It’s why you were surprised to hear yourself say, "I’ll try."

Jungkook gave you a wide grin before he left completely.

When you got back to the gym, Ryujin was already talking to him.

Jungkook looked at the door when you entered and did a poor job of hiding a smile to himself, and for what reason, you simply didn’t know. But so as you did not know the reason for why you looked too closely at him to even notice that tiny gesture.

For someone who was adamant to see you last week, Jungkook wasn’t really able to snuck in time to do so. You shared texts here and there, but he mentioned that they’ve been practicing nonstop since the past few days because they are preparing for a big game, after all. Might be the last one if they come through and win it.

Come Wednesday, the day of the third game, Jungkook texted you that he got a reserved seat for you at the venue. Your weird giddiness over that was clouded by the worry at the thought of how he managed to do that without anyone suspecting anything about your relationship. You mentally noted to tell him about it later.

When Nayeon came home after classes, she told you she got two tickets for the game if you wanted to come with. You didn’t really need tickets, though, you could just use your journalist card and they would let you in.

See, you had all these resources to go to the game but the thing is, you have a book review and another assignment due tonight and you needed to get some studying done for a test tomorrow. The game starts at 3 pm and will probably end around 6 or even later than that. It’s not that you never procrastinated in your life but you’ve learned over the years to prioritize more important things over the ones that didn’t really need urgency. And this is why you told Nayeon that you couldn’t come with her because of your packed schedule today.

But worry looms over you as you remember how excited Jungkook seemed over your texts earlier when you asked him what you should expect at the game. He told you about how it could be chaotic and noisy and crowded but it was gonna be fun and worth your while, especially if – he jokingly said – he scores a shot for you if you were to be there.

Looking back, you made it sound like you were gonna come but in your defense, you really were going to but these school activities came to you unexpectedly and you didn’t have the luxury of time to set them aside to watch a basketball game first.

And anyway, was it really a big deal if you didn’t come? You don’t think Jungkook would really mind. Maybe his texts went over your head that you thought he was excited at the prospect of you going to his game. You would tell yourself it didn’t matter, and if Jungkook was going to be shit about it (which you doubt, ‘cause he seemed casual about inviting you) then he was weird for being (hypothetically) weird about it. It wasn’t like this was normal for you both, anyway; you going to his games, that is.

So around 2 pm, you messaged him.

[2:06pm] You: Hey, I’m really sorry I can’t go to your game. Swamped with school works, but I wish you good luck :) Go break a leg but hopefully not literally!

It was hard to focus on writing your book review because you couldn’t help but be agitated as you remembered that they air these Finals games on television and you could literally just turn it on and watch it from there. But the empty document on your laptop was glaring at you, like it was daring you to watch TV instead of finishing it.

Of course, you chose to tend to the intimidating clean white MS word page instead. As if you really had a choice in the first place.

At 10 pm, your book review was mostly done and only needed a few touch-ups. You also finished your other assignment so you finally had some time to eat.

You just reheated a leftover pizza from your fridge when you received a text from Nayeon.

[10:11pm] Im Nayeonie: babe im sleeping over at a friend’s so the place is all yours for tonight. don’t forget to lock up ok [10:11pm] You: Ok! You’ll be back tomorrow morning? [10:14pm] Im Nayeonie: eh probably around 10am but I’ll see

You remember that she was at the game earlier. It actually slipped off your mind eventually when you got your head in too deep with finishing your assignments, but now that you’re reminded of it again, you wanted to know how it was.

[10:16pm] You: Hey how was the game? [10:16pm] Im Nayeonie: oh my ur interested in bb now?? [10:17pm] You: Don’t tease! I just wanted to know if you had fun [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You snort at the ridiculous emoticon.

[10:17pm] You: What the hell does that mean?! [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: nothing lmaoooo [10:18pm] Im Nayeonie: but the game was fine! it was kinda intense but our uni lost unfortunately): they had a three point difference

Oh. You usually didn’t care about any sports games that your Uni has but the news deflated you for some reason.

[10:19pm] You: Ah, thats unfortunate

You replied, finding that you didn’t really know what to say. Should you message Jungkook? But what were you going to say?

[10:19pm] Im Nayeonie: yeah it is it was supposed to be the last game 😖😖 but there’s still 2 more to go anyway im not too worried about it finals went like this last season too [10:20pm] Im Nayeonie: but jungkook’s buzzer beater at game 4 was really insane it’s like all over on twt IK you proly won’t care about it but ill still send you a link HAHAHAH

Nayeon did send you a link and thankfully you were able to see it even though you didn’t have Twitter, but you looked up "buzzer beater” on Google first. You didn’t understand it completely but slowly did when you played the video she was talking about.

The camera was a bit shaky and the background was expectedly noisy. The angle shifted to the timer on top of the ring and you could see that there was only ten seconds left. When the lens panned to the court, you saw a player wearing your Uni’s colors and you couldn’t have mistaken Jungkook for anyone when you spotted the tattoo sleeve. He was a bit far from the ring, at that curved line – the three-point line, you learned through the replies – but he successfully shot the ball quite gracefully into the ring and everyone just lost it. Even the person behind the video was cheering exuberantly. You could also make out that Jungkook pumped the air at his own shot in triumph as a buzzing sound overtook the screams before the clip ended.

Apparently, they were losing in the fourth game, but Jungkook managed to make a three-point shot in the very literal end which got them a chance to play through the fifth.

You scrolled through the comments and found out that it was indeed a tight game and the other team only had a three-point difference with your Uni’s team, like Nayeon said.

It was amazing, in your opinion, but people online could really be shitty.

Some were mocking Jungkook’s buzzer beater in game 4, saying how it was useless and how he could’ve done it again in game 5 but wasn’t able to. You didn’t know shit about basketball but you were very certain it was a rare thing to do in court so the people who were complaining about it could go fuck themselves.

This is why you avoid social media as much as possible. You hope Jungkook doesn’t see those comments.

You were frowning as you texted Nayeon back.

[10:26pm] You: That was cool [10:26pm] You: Hey I’ll talk to you soon I’m gonna go eat dinner. Have fun on your sleepover

You weren’t able to see her reply when Jungkook’s name is suddenly plastered all over your screen. You accepted his call on the third ring.

“Hi,” you say. You can’t help but think about the negative comments on Twitter but Jungkook sounded fine when he answered.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted on his end. “Can I see you?"

"Sure,” you answer almost immediately. You composed yourself before continuing. “Nayeon will be out until morning. Come over?"

You can feel his smile through the line as he says, "Nice. Be there in five."

Per his words, Jungkook did arrive in five minutes and when you heard a knock from your front door, you quickly opened it and ushered him inside.

"Hey,” you greet him as he removes his stompers off. He slides on your extra fluffy home slippers, your old one that you have been lending him whenever he would come over. You think it’s kind of funny on his feet because the sliders were too small. “I just finished my leftover pizza for dinner so I don’t have any food right now. Do you want me to order in?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "Nah, I’m not really hungry. Unless you are? Wait, nevermind, I’ll do that."

He takes out his phone but you stop him.

"No, no, it’s fine. I actually ordered Chinese while you were on your way so I could beat you to it.” You tease. But you kind of meant it, honestly. He needs to stop paying for everything. But also, the pizza didn’t cut your hunger and you needed to eat rice, anyway, so you ordered in right after your call with him ended.

Jungkook frowned but then shook his head. “Alright."

"Water?” You asked, going towards the kitchen.

“Yes, please."

He followed you on your way there and when you turned around to give him the glass, he snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you.

It took you by surprise, but you reciprocated immediately. You mirrored his smile when he broke the kiss. He gazed at you, a fond look on his face, and leaned down to press his forehead to yours and said, "Hi."

You giggle. "Hi."

Jungkook presses his mouth on you again and you kiss some more for a little while. It was weird because your kisses usually lead to fucking, but this time it didn’t mean anything other than plain kissing, just for the sake of it. You were reminded of that time in high school when you and your first boyfriend often made out (sloppily) in your room because it was all you were ready to do. Jungkook was far more skilled than said first boyfriend, though. And it felt way nicer with him.

You were the one to pull away, licking your lips and biting the bottom one.

"Do you wanna watch something?"

"Hm. Hopefully you aren’t going to make me watch Legally Blonde again."

Your frown is instant. "I thought you liked that movie?"

Jungkook chuckles and pecks your lips again but you sulk, especially after hearing his next words, "I do, baby. It’s just I’m getting tired of it…” When he sees your frown deepening, he says, “I’m kidding. We can watch it."

"No, I feel betrayed now.” You break free from his hold and down another glass of water.

He laughed and was about to say more when your doorbell rang, indicating the food delivery just arrived. Jungkook was the one to volunteer.

“I’ll go get it."

You turned on the TV in the living room and sat on the couch.

Jungkook followed almost as quickly after you, placing the bags of Chinese food on the coffee table.

"Oh, I think we should watch an Adam Sandlers movie. Just something not so serious.” you said just as when Jungkook sat beside you, remembering about his game earlier. You noted that he seemed to be in a good mood when he came in but you never know, maybe he was good at hiding his real emotions or whatever. And, well, maybe you were a little happy to see him laughing like that with you, despite losing an important game.

“I thought you hated him and his movies?"

You shrug, appreciating that he even remembers that.

"Eh, it’s fine. It's... camp, you know? Sometimes shitty movies are funny because they’re shitty."

After a while, you get reminded why you don’t watch Adam Sandlers movies. Even Jungkook who laughs at the most stupid jokes didn’t find the supposed punchlines of the movie you were watching funny. But somehow, you found yourselves eventually laughing at how unfunny the film was and only a little surprised when you went through the whole Chinese take-outs not even 30 minutes in the movie.

"His movies always make my film maker dreams die.” You comment absentmindedly, drinking your water.

Jungkook looks at you with a surprised expression. “Filmmaker?"

You try to remember if you mentioned it to him in passing before. By the look on his face, it was probably his first time hearing it.

"Yep."

"Oh,” Jungkook nods in thought. “I see you didn’t pursue it."

"Eh, film school is expensive. Also, it’s not a very generous industry for women, so.” You shrug nonchalantly.

It’s a dormant dream for the most part. Sometimes, you want it a lot, but most of the time, not really. Fresh out of high school, you were supposed to major in it but it was way more you could afford, and your family didn't exactly support it. So study education it is. Besides, teaching was a secondary dream that you decided you could pursue, and well, you were doing well with it. These days though, you were planning to go to law school but it's still something you aren't very sure yet.

It’s a drama you don’t want to bother Jungkook with, though. You never had a discussion like this before… and you weren’t really sure if you were ready to open up to someone like that.

“I did videography in first year,” he shares. You arch your brow at that. Obviously you didn’t know. “I liked it and I was going to major in multimedia arts but dad said it was either be a lawyer or a doctor if I don’t do tech."

Ah. An overachiever family, you think. His dad owns a really huge tech company – he didn’t tell you that himself, you just heard it from other people in your school. He probably doesn’t even know you knew that. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he told you right now that his family was full of successful professionals.

"You went with tech.” You say.

Jungkook chuckles. “I did. But I made a bargain and said I would only take it if he lets me play basketball. He did let me, but he only tolerates it because I’m passing my classes."

You nodded, relating a bit. you wouldn't say your parents were particularly strict – but they were extremely practical people who wanted practical lives for their children. They weren’t over-controlling that they smother you with decisions you could make yourself.

"He really hates it, though.” Jungkook continues.

“Basketball?” You ask.

He nods. “Yeah. He thinks I’m thinking of going professional after I graduate, he doesn’t want me to do it."

"Are you?” You ask, curious. “Going professional, I mean.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I love playing. I'd also like to do tech after college, but it feels like I’m just following in his footsteps if I do that," And as if you didn't know already, he humbly adds, "My father’s in tech, by the way.” -- as if his dad was just a regular guy in the field.

He didn’t say it directly, but you feel like he’s probably being pressured by his dad to do this and that. And that makes you feel bad. Jungkook was always so easy-going, so laidback in a way that you would think he was just some varsity casanova asshole with zero care about their future because they think their looks could get them by through their lives, but he really wasn’t anything like that at all. He joined basketball because he loves it, maybe he gets a high from people admiring him for it but you could say he does it mostly for himself. That’s why he trains so hard and plays so hard in court. Aside from that, he was also really smart – which gets overlooked quite often because of his jock persona, and you know that because you were one of those who did overlook his intelligence before because he was a varsity. But he was smart, alright. He takes his studies seriously just as basketball.

Jungkook is admittedly a lot of great things. And it was sad that his family seemed to not support him, the way you see it.

But…

You didn’t really know what to tell him. Is he opening up? It’s just that… you never really talked about these things before and what he’s saying right now is so far from your usual lighthearted and casual conversations and interactions. You drew a conclusion that he probably has a tight relationship with his dad, but you don’t know what to do with that entirely new information.

“Uhm, you’re good at it, basketball,” And his studies, too. You wanted to say but didn’t. You add, “I saw your beater buzzer from the game earlier. It was really cool."

"It’s buzzer beater– hey, how did you know about that?” He says with an amused smile. You feel slightly embarrassed at how you mixed up the term but it was kind of complicated, alright! And you were kind of nervous. You find it comforting that he doesn’t tease you about it, though.

“Oh, well. Nayeon texted me about it. Also, you’re like, trending on Twitter.” You just told what Nayeon said. You actually didn’t know if he was trending because you didn’t have an account in the first place. “But don’t go look there, though, you’ll have a migraine."

Jungkook chuckles and leans back on the couch, relaxed in that position. "Yeah. People on the net can be real assholes."

That comment makes you frown. That probably meant he saw the negative feedback, right? Was he used to it? That would be… upsetting if he was. You knew about the local popularity of the athletes in your school, especially the football and volleyball and basketball players. Jungkook is obviously included in that circle but you feel bad that he has to deal with unnecessary hate. Jobs really are needed for chronically online people, you think bitterly.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook’s phone rang and you didn’t mean to look at his screen but you saw "Dad”. He declined the call.

“He’s talking my ear off about the game earlier,” Jungkook shakes his head. “He acts real concerned over my loss for someone who’s very unsupportive of my basketball career.” He was grinning while he said it but you could hear the annoyance in his tone, how he shut down his phone to probably dodge future calls from his father.

You turned to the movie in front of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go.” You said, effectively changing the subject.

“Hm?” You meet Jungkook’s gaze. He smiles a little. “Ah, I read your text earlier, it’s fine."

You nodded and tried to focus on the movie again, but you haven’t been following the plot and so you had no idea what they’re showing you now.

Jungkook suddenly speaks.

"So are you planning to teach once you graduate? Or take law? You mentioned it before."

Oh. Is he…?

You could feel his genuine curiosity in that question. But you find yourself hesitating to engage in any more deep conversation with him. It’s not that you didn’t want to share… you’re just not that kind of person. Is he expecting you to lay out your personal drama?

You choose not to.

"Not sure. I don't want to talk about it."

You didn't mean for it to come out the way it did; clipped and annoyed. As if you didn't want to talk to him. And you could see that he was taken aback, surprised at the sudden change of your tone. But why? You didn’t feel like sharing. And anyway, you were only fuck buddies, right? Are you suddenly becoming bestfriends who tell each other about everything?

You awkwardly shifted in your seat, eyes trained on the screen in front of you but you felt Jungkook’s stare even while you weren’t looking at him, his eyes boring holes in your side profile.

You decided to not think too much about the awkward silence throughout the next few minutes, but Jungkook suddenly stood up, looking at his phone.

“I... should get going,” Jungkook announces.

And you didn’t expect to feel so bummed about it. But somehow, you were relieved. There was suddenly a certain strange energy around and you didn’t know if you could take any more of it.

“Ah, yeah, it’s kind of late…” you trail off.

Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You delude yourself into thinking it was not fake. He’s never faked a smile with you before.

“Thanks for the food and for inviting me over.”

“No biggies.” You say as you follow him towards the door.

It’s silent again when he wears his shoes, and once he was set and ready to go, you could feel that your smile was hesitant as he bid his goodbye.

“See you around."

He didn’t offer anything more – he would usually tease you as he goes out, just to rile you up before you part ways. Jungkook just gave a final wave and went on his way.

You had a hard time sleeping that night.

It wasn’t hard to avoid Jungkook all week when he himself seemed to be outdoing you in it.

For the record, you weren’t actually avoiding him for all sense of the word. You needed your space to collect your thoughts from that night and were trying to recover from the awkwardness of the situation because Jungkook and you might not be the best of friends but you’ve never been awkward with each other like that before.

But maybe you should be a little relieved that he hasn’t been texting, or that you haven’t heard from him. Because you weren’t sure if you were able to manage getting out of your shell so soon.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t sting a bit when he didn’t even spare you a glance the other day as you passed each other in the hallways and perhaps you should be celebrating, because yey, he finally did not acknowledge you in some way like meet your gaze and give you a small smile with so many people around that might notice and make a big deal out of it?

But you wore the black skirt he liked so much! He was supposed to text you something stupid like "nice skirt :) i wanna see it pooled around my lap” by the end of the day but no! No such thing happened.

Was he mad at you, is that it? Why would he be mad though? Did he seem mad that night? Did you do something that guaranteed this... Whatever this is? As far as you knew, you did not say anything that warranted a silent treatment from him. Did you? Wait, is he actually giving you the silent treatment?

Ugh.

When Thursday came, you found yourself watching their fourth game on TV together with Nayeon. You got a slight whiplash because it felt like your first time seeing Jungkook’s face in a long while. Somehow, he looked even better on TV, and he was so serious whenever the camera caught him. You supposed he ought to be, but you’ve never seen him that serious before. He would smile whenever they scored, and maybe it was a little embarrassing for your heart to do a little jump when you saw that toothy grin again, after so long.

You were slow to understand shit about the game, but you got the whole gist of it eventually.

Unfortunately, though, the tight game resulted to your university losing in the end.

You wanted so badly to text him something, anything, but you felt like you weren’t on texting terms, so you went to your Instagram and sent Jungkook a direct message.

[11:58pm] ynblips: Hi! I watched the game on TV and it was really tight and you did so well :)

You were mostly not expecting a reply, so you were only a little disappointed when you indeed didn’t get one even after a day passed. But he liked it, only liked it. Which kind of pissed you off.

What was his deal? You’ve gathered that you, apparently, weren’t on speaking terms, for some reason. But this was ridiculous. If he had a problem with you, he should be upfront about it. Not make you guess with this stupid giving-you-the-cold-shoulder thing when you didn’t even deserve it. For god’s sake, you knew that last meeting was awkward but you both usually do a good job of swerving those situations and moving on and acting casual! You’ve been casual for four months! This relationship was supposed to be easy. Smooth-sailing. So what changed now?

Nayeon noticed your crankiness earlier this day, and it concerned you, how much this whole thing was affecting you.

But you’ve grown tired of not knowing anything. You were tired of guessing why Jungkook was being like this.

So you were a woman with a mission today. You planned to talk to Jungkook so he could finally be a big boy and talk to you about his obvious problems with you. Because it had to be that, right? He wouldn’t talk to you because he had issues with you.

Later that day, your quest was made easy when you saw him at the library.

You’re only a little surprised with yourself when you walk towards his direction with the presence of many people around. Yeah, whatever.

“Hey,” you called.

You could see Jungkook’s eyes widening a little as he turns around to see you, his hand stopping from taking notes on his iPad as he looks up at you.

“Oh, hey,” he greets you, but you can see he is a little confused as he takes out his airpods. You never talked to him on school grounds whenever people were around. He neither did, though. It was a mutual agreement.

“We need to talk."

Jungkook looks in between you and the book and notes he was doing, and you would understand if he tells you to fuck off because he was busy – maybe not with those exact words because you’d probably take it to heart and cry about it, but he’s taken you by surprise when he says,

"Okay. Let me just fix this.” Jungkook closes his book and his iPad, stuffing them in his bag.

You anxiously tap your shoe on the floor, though not with sound, aware of the people looking at your interaction with the school’s basketball star player.

“Where to?” He asks as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

“Just, uh, follow me."

He surprisingly does without further questions, and you begin to second-guess yourself about being kind of mad at him for seemingly being mad at you. Maybe you were reading too much into these past few days? Maybe he really wasn’t mad at you and you just assumed so because he suddenly stopped texting you? It’s not that you needed an explanation for why he wasn’t talking to you suddenly. He had a life outside having a friends with benefits situation with you and you know that.

Jungkook stopped when you halted your steps at the far end of the library. It was the old theology section and no one really comes around here anymore so it was quiet and free of lingering, poorly hidden stares from other strangers, who you prefer to not be included in this conversation you are about to have.

Shit, should you have just texted him and told him to come over so you could talk more in private? But you doubted he would reply, and anyway, Nayeon would be home so you had no private space to do that.

"Okay,” you start. “Let’s talk."

Jungkook quirks a brow, leaning back on a cabinet.

You look at him one more time and sigh.

"You’ve been avoiding me.” You didn’t really mean to say it in such a heavy tone, but it came out that way and you couldn’t take it back.

Jungkook is caught off guard.

“Huh?"

You frown. "You’re avoiding me. And I don’t know why and I couldn't care less, usually, but I'm confused and I don’t want to guess anything with you so just say it now."

There, you’ve blurted it all out.

Jungkook took a long time, but you feel yourself getting angry when he only says, "I’m not upset with you."

Really? Really?! Is he really planning to to do this right now? What’s next, is he going to call you crazy for thinking that he was mad at you because he suddenly stopped talking to you altogether? Un-fucking-believable.

"I know you are, just say it.” You say, trying to balance your emotions. He really is gonna call you crazy if you lash out.

“I’m just busy with practice.” but the way he said it so dismissively, like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, makes you frown even harder.

“You can’t even text me?” You called out. You didn’t know why you said that, because you did just tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t text you. But it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when he confirmed it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation."

You bite back your tongue. Wow, is he going for asshole today? But it hurt, because it was true. He didn’t need to give you an explanation. You weren’t anything important, and nor was he in your life, in any way, so why are you genuinely hurt by this?

When Jungkook noticed your silence, a flash of conflict in his expression, he decided to add, "Look…” he trailed off, as if not really having any idea what to say next. When he gave you that placating look, you knew he was about to say something that will completely piss you off.

“Is it about the sex? I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do that the past few days. Do you want to have sex today?”

You felt anger boiling in your chest as soon as he said that.

He really is going for asshole today.

What in the actual fuck? He thinks you’re confronting him because you haven’t been having sex? Why would he say that like you were just some desperate whore frothing in the mouth to bed him? Does he think of you so low like that? Did he not consider that maybe you were just genuinely concerned of feeling so distant to him right now?

You swallow the lump in your throat and scowl at him.

“You know what, fuck you. I asked you nicely what’s your problem with me.”

Jungkook was visibly surprised with your outburst, and you were disappointed in yourself to even show an ounce of reaction to that bullshit he just said.

But he just looks away, eager to avoid the look on your face. “You didn’t ask that, you went ahead and accused me of avoiding you when you’ve been doing the same thing."

"Oh, so you are admitting to avoiding me. What’s the issue? Say it.” You demanded. But Jungkook wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t have a problem. What’s your problem? Why are you acting so upset about all of this?"

To even throw that on your face was cruel, and you think you saw a flash of hesitation on his face when he said that, but it was blank after a split second. It’s blank until now, like he doesn’t really give a shit.

Great.

"I just want you to talk to me if you’re upset with me about something.” You say, even though that wasn’t really what you intended to say. It felt like defeat.

You feel pathetic all of a sudden, remembering his words. Why are you so upset about all of this? Because clearly, you care. And apparently, he did not. He didn’t have to put that to words. He didn’t have the right to hurt you like this.

“Talk?” Jungkook repeats. “The last time we did that, you didn't seem to want to."

His words have a bite to them, like he means more than that. And that night flashes in your head. When he was opening up to you, and you chose to disengage by being cagey and avoiding it all together because you felt weird about it.

When you don’t answer, Jungkook sighs.

"I have practice in five minutes. I’ll see you around."

He doesn’t even say goodbye or spare you a last glance when he walks away.

You are a turtle.

Obviously, not literally. But turtles, when bombarded, reflexively duck their heads inside their shells to protect themselves before any damage could be done to them. And the same could be said about you.

You avoid problems like a champ. It’s the only sport that you’re really great at.

Growing up, you’ve never really had a lot of friends. You had a small circle in high school but you didn’t see a significant value in your connection. Maybe because you grew up in an environment where love was non-existent and the relationships in your house were transactional at best, still are. Until now, you have no idea if your parents loved each other at one point or if they were always like that; like two different strangers working jobs during the day that just happen to have the same house to go to at night so you and Jini have some people to call "mom” and “dad”. You guessed you’ll never know, but it was hard not to think that their relationship has always been the latter. Your relationship with your sister mirrors that of your parents’, though, so you can’t really criticize them for not acting like partners enough.

When you were young, you hated the way you approached friendship or any sort of relationships a lot. You hated how it was so easy for others to befriend one another, how it was easy for girls your age to have a life outside of studying. You hated how easy it was for other people to not build these sturdy walls whenever someone approached them. But you just kind of grew into it along the way…

Social networking is important for college, though, and you were forced to have friends but you did make friends willingly along the way. It was not that you are a total sociopath, nor do you think you are one. Nayeon was a sweetheart who was very likeable and you’ve had the pleasure of being roommates with her for two years now. You are close to a certain point, but it wasn’t like you were best friends. She was two years older than you and was on her last year of college and had her own close circle of friends. The closeness was a result of living a domesticated life with each other because you lived in the same house. But you genuinely like her.

And you’ve actually met more people you genuinely liked when you went to college, not just her. Like Taehyung. He was a fun conversationalist, and you feel like you could totally hit it off only if you weren’t too hesitant to befriend him. Juyeon is probably the most hardworking woman you’ve ever met, and most of your liking towards her has a lot to do with the respect and admiration you have for her. And then there was Namjoon. A guy two years your senior during your sophomore year who you've had a short fling with. He was a great guy whom you actually saw yourself dating, but it was a bit complicated. And then Jungkook…

Well… he was everything you imagined him not to be.

You still remember the first time you saw him during orientation day. He wore this huge white sweatshirt and light-washed cargo pants with some stomper boots, hair curly and so fluffy as he slung his bag over his shoulder, talking animatedly with a friend. You’ve had crushes in high school (like that one senior guy from the debate team who turned out to be an asshole so you got over it pretty quickly) but it was the first time you’ve ever felt so strongly like that. Your crush faded eventually though when you learned he was a jock.

However, the universe made different plans. You both had the same code for your first term Philo class and got partnered on a project, and unexpectedly, he turned out to be smart, kind, witty, so unbelievably handsome and attractive and actually wasn’t an asshole like you thought he was when you found out he played in the varsity team. That was the start of your pathetic minor pining over the guy and then four months ago happened.

You hit it off at a random party Nayeon told you to come with her to. Had enjoyable sex. And then another. Until you both talked about the agreement – the stupid agreement that you have now still.

You like him a lot. Always have. In more ways than one.

You were an expert at hiding your feelings so it never really got in the way. And anyway, you aren’t ready for a relationship so the arrangement has always been perfect for you.

But you hated that. Because, really? This part of your life feels like some pages taken out of a shitty young adult fiction book. Falling for the popular jock at school at the same time your fuck buddy. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You weren’t supposed to like him more than you already have because you were both clear at what you wanted when you started it. But it happened and all those fun times with him at the abandoned lot and the soft kisses and gentle smiles and fond gazes and funny conversations and his stupid teasing are most likely going down the drain because you hurt him with your inability to face your feelings.

You aren’t stupid. You know Jungkook likes you too. You know the past few weeks have been dangerously teetering outside the line of being fuck buddies but you went along with it because who wouldn’t? What were you to do, anyway? Confront it? You’ve never been confrontational.

So when Jungkook tried to get to know more than your outer surface by opening up to you about things that probably no one other than you knew, you cowered.

You cowered because you were afraid of what that would entail.

You’ve never done it, opening up to people. You’ve never known anyone to a point like that. You just weren’t the type to get too close to others, them letting them you in their lives just as you let them in yours. That wasn’t who you were and you’ve always been contented with that for most of your life.

But it wasn’t fair to Jungkook and it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook because he deserved to know that you care. He deserves to know that you want to know him, too. You want to be close to him more than just the physical, sexual aspect of your relationship. You want to know his intentions behind the overly kind, almost special way he treats you, his caring words, the meaning behind his soft kisses after sex, the purpose behind those kisses that didn’t lead to sex.

And lastly, you want him to know that you were sorry for the other night.

So when another Friday rolled, you finally mustered up the courage to go to his game. It was the last one, after all. You wanted to show up.

The venue was crowded and chaotic and you wanted to ditch but you decided it was fine. You were gonna endure it if it meant you finally got to see Jungkook physically in court.

And saw him, you did. Even though you were in the middle row seats and wearing a cap because you oddly felt unwelcomed and didn’t want to be seen by him – as if he would even want to see you. But it was whatever.

Jungkook was… amazing. That was really the only adjective you could use to describe how he was. Maybe you were a little biased but he was the greatest out of all the ten people running around the court. He just stood out, even when someone else did the good job of scoring.

And people around you seemed to think so too because whenever he did get to score or was the one holding the ball or his face got shown on the huge screen, everyone just lost it.

The match was tight again so it bled into five games. Your Uni just needed to win the last one and they would successfully bring the trophy home.

You found yourself silently cheering for your team, specifically Jungkook, though it felt strange to you because this was your first sports game, after all. But it felt good to do it. It also felt good to see other people so passionate at cheering him on as well as his team, especially after you read all that hate against him on the internet the other week.

And it felt especially great when they did win in the end of it all.

The stands went wild as the game finished with your Uni scoring a solid 105 and 96 for the other.

You’ve stayed long to see Jungkook being awarded the MVP title, but not long enough to find it difficult to get an Uber as you went home.

Nayeon got to your place later than you, but you learned that she wasn’t at the game earlier but was in a study group instead.

You ordered dinner for the both of you, just some Chinese that you quickly finished up.

By 11 pm, you were panicking.

You had a solid plan yesterday. You were supposed to go to Jungkook and apologize to him and whatever but how the hell were you going to do that when you had no idea where he was now? Ugh. You should’ve approached him after the games earlier! But you didn’t feel comfortable doing that with so many people around…

You saw your phone on your night stand and got an idea to just text him. But you didn’t know if he was going to respond. If he was going to tell you to fuck off, you at least didn’t want to receive that through text.

So you opted for the last and craziest option you’ve got.

[11:08pm] You: Hello, Taehyung! I know we haven’t talked in a while and I’m sorry for texting you now, I just have some questions if you don’t mind :) Congrats on winning Finals by the way, it was a great game.

You anxiously wait for his reply that you received not even a minute after you sent your text.

[11:08pm] K. Taehyung: hi __ HAHAHHA im a bit surprised to see your name on my phone!! we’ve never gotten around having that coffee 😅 but thank you for the congrats! hit me with those questions i don’t mind [11:09pm] You: It’s a real bummer that we’ve both been so busy ): [11:10pm] You: But I was wondering if you know where Jungkook is? Last week he lent me a jacket when he saw me pour a drink on myself at some cafe, haha. So I was thinking I should give it to him now but I have no idea how to

Listen, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. You indeed needed to find Jungkook, and he lent you a jacket weeks ago which you needed to return but you forgot about it and conveniently remembered it just earlier when you were trying to conjure up an excuse to see him.

[11:10pm] K. Taehyung: oh i was actually just talking to him awhile ago. he wouldn’t go to the after-game party. said he was gonna stay up all night to play overwatch or something [11:10pm] K. Taehyung: I can text you his address if you want to come over like right now

You feel like you aren’t supposed to just give your friends’ addresses away like that but it is flattering to think that Taehyung must trust you enough to not assume you were a psychopath serial killer or something.

[11:11pm] You: Yes, please. Thank you so much, Taehyung. Catch up on that coffee hang another time

You got an Uber to drive to his place. You tried not to think too much about the fancy complex and how there were elevators instead of just stairs like yours but you managed to get to Jungkook’s place through Taehyung’s text.

You pressed a button upside the knob. It created a loud buzz and you tighten your fingers around the ribbon handles of the paper bag that got his jacket inside.

It was the perfect excuse. You did need to return it to him. And if you got too flustered or scared to talk to him further, you were just going to leave right after he takes it from you and just accept the fact that he probably really hates you now because you were mean and—

The door opens, revealing Jungkook. A shirtless, wet Jungkook.

“Oh."

Jungkook has a hint of shock in his eyes when he comes face to face with you. You’ve never been here, for the record. And he was probably wondering how the hell you got his address.

"Uh,” you start. You thrust the paper bag towards him. “Here. It’s your jacket from weeks ago. I washed it already. Thanks for lending me it.”

You see his hesitation when he takes it from you, and it makes your nerves go haywire.

Jungkook mumbled a little thanks. He stood there for a moment, probably still not getting the shock out of his system. As each second passed, you felt the need and the urge to go, but his voice cut that idea in your head.

“Uh. Do you wanna come in?"

"Yes.” Maybe it was too much of an immediate answer, but you needed to. If you were to stand outside much longer, your courage will wear down and you might miss an opportunity to talk to him.

Jungkook stepped aside and further invited you in. Your steps were a little shy as you followed him inside, watching as he took a pair of Nike sliders and offered it to you as you removed your birkens off your feet.

“Thank you.” You tell him, sliding your feet on the slippers that were definitely too big for you.

He gave you a small smile in return. That gave you a bit of hope that it would go well tonight.

“I’m just gonna go and change into something. You can sit here,” You followed behind him into the living room of his rather huge flat. Really, this was more of a condo unit than an apartment. “There's– sorry. I wasn't– it’s kind of messy here right now but I was busy the past few days. It’s not usually like this here."

Jungkook hastily arranged the scattered throw pillows on the couch. You even hear him hissed as he picked up a bowl and some take-out trash on the coffee table. He reached for something in the tight corner of the couch, holding up a remote awkwardly for you.

He quickly looked away from you though, turning to his huge TV (it was literally a jumbotron) and making it light up. It showed some kind of game on pause.

"I’m sorry, I was playing something earlier. Uh, do you want to play anything? I have a lot of games.” He continued to say.

And you realized Jungkook was panicking. He was rambling, talking words over his own words, jumping from one thing to another and hastily cleaning up the space in the living room.

It was… adorable. The way he was kind of scrambling… to accommodate you? Eh. But it was nice. Nice to know that you aren’t the only one panicking.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really play anything.” You say honestly. You don’t like gaming. It’s stressful.

“Oh…” Jungkook trails off then his eyes set on the kitchen. “Oh shit wait, do you want water? Tea? I don’t think I have tea but I think I can look for something?"

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out from your mouth but you quickly cut yourself off.

"Sorry. Uhm. No. I don’t want anything.” Truthfully, you wanted water but Jungkook needed to change into something immediately. You may not exactly be talking talking right now but his body and tattoos were nice to look at and you didn’t want it to distract you too much. It felt wrong to admire him like that when you were not exactly in great terms.

“You sure?” When you nodded, Jungkook did the same too, but more like to himself. “Okay. I’ll just get to my room."

You sat on his nice leather couch and looked around as Jungkook changed.

It was such a nice place. You could see that it was indeed expensive. The space was definitely, like, three times larger than your own and it even seemed to have another room on the far end. You didn’t know if Jungkook lived alone, he never mentioned anything about it.

You still didn’t find yourself completely relaxed as Jungkook emerged from his room.

The fringe of his bangs are still wet from his shower, but he’s now changed into a grey hoodie with matching shorts.

"Hey,” he said as he walked towards you and sat on the couch. The distance was far but not totally that you end up being on the opposite sides.

“Hi,” you greeted him back. “You have a nice place."

He smiles. "Thank you."

The atmosphere was incredibly awkward, you could feel that. But you pushed yourself to go through it.

"Congrats on the game earlier.” You tell him sincerely.

“Ah… thanks."

"I went there."

"Really?” You could see the understandable surprise in his face after hearing your words. “I didn’t see you."

You chuckle lightly. "Hm. You were too serious and busy in the court to see me.”

Jungkook shyly looks away.

“I– well. You should have told me. I could’ve gotten you a nice seat. Did you get a nice seat?” The sentiment was cute but surprising at the same time. After that time in the library, you wouldn’t have expected him to get you a nice seat.

“It was okay."

It didn’t look like he would say anything more, but you were a little relieved to have a break from the atmosphere when the door buzzed again, indicating someone coming.

You feel your heart jump.

You didn’t know why your mind went to such dark places like him having someone over to do– what? Ugh. Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Honesty was what you agreed on when you started this agreement. You promised to tell each other right away if you start sleeping with other people because of health reasons.

"That must be the pizza.” Jungkook murmurs as he stands up.

You almost sigh in relief.

Okay. So no other women coming over.

Jungkook comes back a moment later with three boxes.

“I thought we could eat something,” he said as he sat on the couch again, this time a little closer than earlier. He looked at the TV, still on that game he was playing. He placed the pizza on the table and took the remote to exit out of his game, pressing some buttons on it and eventually the screen loaded to Netflix. “You wanna watch something?"

That would be nice, actually.

"Yep."

"Okay… uh. Legally Blonde?"

You couldn’t help your eyebrow from raising.

Jungkook laughs a little. You’re a little surprised to hear it. It felt like eons ago since you’ve heard it.

"I like it a lot.” He shrugged and then looked it up on Netflix, clicked the movie poster and pressed play.

You start eating the pizza on the couch. You were obsessed with Legally Blonde probably an abnormal amount but this time, its entertainment didn’t affect you full force because at the back of your head, you’re still trying to figure out how to speak up the words you really wanted to say to Jungkook.

“Hey…” you suddenly speak. You hesitate for a while but then let out a heavy breath. Jungkook looks at you because of that. “I’m sorry."

His confusion was anticipated. He face looks like he was ready to ask, but you continue,

"About the other night. Uh. When you went over. I’m sorry. I made you feel like I didn’t care but…” you train your gaze to the remote on the corner of the couch. “But I do, Jungkook. I care about you. It’s just that, it freaked me out, you know? People never felt comfortable enough with me to share such personal things and I’ve always been okay with that because I’m not exactly—” you cut yourself off, trying to organize your thoughts. But you give up because there was no use in doing such. You wanted to be honest as much as possible. “I know I don’t exactly strike people as someone who can care. And, well, that’s true, you know? People always tell me that I almost function like a robot. So, uh, I freaked out, because I thought you trusted me enough to do that and I felt like I didn’t deserve it, your trust I mean. And so I acted like that because I didn’t know what—”

“Hey,” Jungkook stopped you before you could go on a full spiral. You didn’t notice because of your rambling earlier but he was closer this time. “Breathe. It’s fine. I have all the time to listen to you."

It was such a sweet sentiment, paired with his charming smile. You feel your heart jump and look away from his gaze.

"Baby,"

There. He’s calling you that name again. Has he forgiven you? Were you both on that terms again? But he couldn’t have forgiven you that fast!

"Baby, look at me,” you did, because he held your face in his warm hands, making you look at him. You could feel your cheeks tingle in his hold. “I’m actually so glad you came here tonight. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” He says, voice sounding so sincere.

You looked down, feeling like you don’t deserve it at all.

“I’ve been thinking, you know?” Jungkook lifts your chin up with his fingers, smiling, such mirth behind it that you think he was probably thinking you were going to tease him about his words. But you didn’t feel like joking with him right now. “I totally didn’t think things through that night. I shouldn’t have told you all about my personal drama—"

Oh, no. That’s exactly what you thought you made him feel that night, and for him to verbalize it, it hurts you. Because you knew you truly made him feel that way. It wasn’t your intention but you knew your reaction –or lack thereof– threw him off.

"No, no. I should have—"

"No, ___, I shouldn’t have dumped all of that onto you expecting you to have a say about it and be disappointed and extremely hurt when you didn’t. We don’t know each other a lot, I know that." He gives you a sheepish smile. "I guess I just... I wanted us to know each other a little better you know? But I must’ve freaked you out instead and made you uncomfortable with me telling you all about those when we made it clear that this relationship was never going to be like that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dumping. I kind of… realized that... maybe you just wanted some lazy time with me that night. So I’m sorry. I believe you're also apologetic about it, but I’m saying don’t be. It was all on me."

Jungkook’s words were a jumbled mess in your head that you were surprised to even get them.

"I–no, no. Kook– I… told you, I care about you. I—” you felt a metaphorical block in your head, and it made you cut yourself off. But then you remember his words and so you continue, “I didn’t just– look. It was unexpected, and I told you I just freaked out because I didn’t know where we stood and I just felt like I wasn’t deserving to know you like that. But I care a lot about you.”

Jungkook was quiet for a while, and you feared he was contemplating and thinking you were just lying to get over everything with. But then his face softens at your words. “I care a lot about you, too,” He says, and then it contorts a little, as if he remembered something. “That’s why I’m also… I’m also sorry about that time at the library. I was a complete asshole to you. I wanted to be mean because I was hurt but none of it was your fault. I really am sorry."

Your head takes you back to that time in the library. He did hurt you with the harsh words he’d spoken, but his apology sounded sincere and you believe it.

"Yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry about cornering you there. I should’ve texted you that I wanted to talk but I wasn’t sure if you were going to reply."

Jungkook looked a little shameful for reasons that you couldn’t think of.

"I’m sorry about that. I acted like such a boy about the whole thing. You don’t deserve to be ghosted suddenly because you hurt my feelings without you even really knowing why. I should’ve talked to you properly."

You bite your lip, feeling like you were suddenly going to cry.

You know it was the bare minimum, and even though he said you had nothing to be sorry about, you still feel oddly emotional about someone apologizing to you. You’d never been apologized to sincerely even when a lot of people have done you wrong and hurt you before. They always thought you didn’t care or just got over things quickly because apparently, people had the impression that you weren’t the type to feel anything.

"I like you a lot.” You blurt out.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to say that in the middle of this conversation, but your mouth was running faster than your brain and you couldn’t help it.

“Really?” Jungkook grins, and it was quite big. Your heart beats faster in your chest. “I really like you, too. Like, a lot. Probably more than you do.”

You meet his eyes finally. They hold such fondness for you, and you’ve always noticed. But you brush it away just as it shows. Regular, old, __. Always pushing away people who like her.

Right now, you’re berating yourself for pointedly ignoring that before, but his dark eyes serve as a distraction. They were so ominous and so big and looked like they had the stars in them. And he was so handsome. Suddenly, your gaze falls to his lips and quickly trains to the mole under the bottom one. You’ve always wanted to kiss it but never did so because… because, well. It would be weird, right? But then you remember that Jungkook always kisses that mole in between your chest...

You blush at the thought and look away.

“That’s nice.” You said, not really knowing how to respond.

Jungkook chuckled and twisted himself to look forward again, at the TV playing Legally Blonde.

It was like that for a while and you found that the weight you’ve been carrying all week on your back felt like it’s been lifted, finally.

This night was going really, really well.

And so well it went.

Legally Blonde ended and you and Jungkook somehow ended up being closer. So close that his arm just found its way around your shoulders, your leg across his, his other arm wrapped around that leg to pull you impossibly closer to him onto the next film.

It’s been half an hour into the new movie but if you were honest, your brain wasn’t really on it. It was on how Jungkook held you delicately, his mouth pressing kisses on the crown of your head occasionally, almost absentmindedly. Your thoughts were filled with the soft, gentle caresses of his hand on your leg, and how you would feel his eyes even when you weren’t looking. It was all so tender and just so, so incredibly nice.

When you yawned, Jungkook immediately checked on you with a light chuckle.

“Sleepy?” He asks.

You shake your head but another yawn forced its way out of your mouth again. You let your head fall dramatically on his chest as he laughed.

“I gotta go…” you said, thinking that it’s probably late as hell and dark outside. But you found that you really didn’t want to. The material of his hoodie was so soft and his presence was so calming and it sounded undeniably cheesy but you wanted to be held by him a little more.

“You could stay."

That made you look up at him.

"Huh?"

"You can stay here, if you want. Sleep over."

"Oh."

A flash of hesitation on his beautiful face.

"Only if you want to, of course. I’ll drive you home if you wanna go.” He offers quickly, as if embarrassed to even suggest the thing he said earlier.

But you did want to stay. But… he never stayed over at your place. You didn’t let him and he never expressed a little bit of desire to do so, anyway. Would it be unfair if he never slept over at yours but you would at his now? What did your conversation today change? When he said “I like you”, did that mean it was okay for you to stay the night?

“Uhm, I’d like to stay here, if it’s okay with you.” You said, throwing your inhibitions away. There was no room for more denials in your heart.

Jungkook’s bright grin made your worries subside. He definitely wants you to stay as much as you do.

“Okay."

"It’s okay for you? Sorry, I don’t have a lot of pillows…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you sheepishly.

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Hey, come here now."

Jungkook did a poor job of hiding a big grin again as he slid on the bed with you.

When you twisted yourself so your back was facing him, about to reach for your phone on the night stand to see if Nayeon replied to your text telling her you wouldn’t be home until morning, Jungkook also did the same and wrapped his arm around your waist, basically spooning you.

And you realized that oh, he’d mistaken you for wanting to be a little spoon…

But it was cute. And you really like him holding you, so you pretended it was your intention all along and mentally noted to check your phone tomorrow morning.

"You smell good.” He said against your ear. You smiled at the way it tickled a bit.

“I don’t think I do anymore, but thanks.”

You showered right after coming home as the game ended but that was many hours ago, so surely Jungkook must just be speaking nonsense. And anyway, he was the one who smelled nice because he did just get out of the shower. He smelled like that certain apple scent he always did.

“No, really. Like flowers. I always liked that about you."

"Eh, it’s probably just my bath and body works body wash."

"Really?” You felt him sniff up your arm and you giggled. That reaction encouraged him to do it more until his nose reached your armpit. It tickled so much that you thrashed and turned and bit his arm. His laughter got louder as you did so, but you only pouted at him.

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” Jungkook said but he didn’t look like it. You didn’t expect it but he suddenly kissed your forehead. Your eyes reflexively closed at the feel of his lips on your skin.

You open them once again only to see Jungkook staring into your eyes again, quite intensely that you feel like he was there looking right into your soul.

“I missed you.” He whispered, his hand that was around your waist tightening, the other clearing up your face from stray hairs.

“I really missed you too.” you said as sincerely as you could. Because you really did, and you hope he could feel it and believe it just like you did his words.

A few seconds after and then his lips finally touched yours and it was such a relief that you sighed against them. It was a slow kiss. Sweet and too short but you didn’t really mind when Jungkook looked at you again like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Let’s sleep baby, turn around for me again.” He said and you wanted to reprimand him for ordering you around but you didn’t really feel like you needed to. You didn’t really have complaints about being the little spoon in this cuddling session, anyway.

It was only about a minute of silence when Jungkook suddenly spoke.

“Babe, I know I’m probably going to ruin this wholesome moment but can I hold your boob while we try to sleep?"

And you couldn’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t.

"Go for it.” You said, settling against his chest, getting more comfortable. Jungkook was only too happy to let you, letting out a low happy hum as he held you tighter, another hand wandering inside the worn out shirt you were wearing that he lent you for the night.

The contact was cold to the touch at first, but when he gave you a squeeze and finally rested his hand over there, it got warm eventually.

Having a weight on top of your boob while sleeping was definitely a new concept for you, but you found that it was oddly comforting.

There was nothing sexual to it, not really. And you thought Jungkook didn’t really have any sexual intentions to begin with.

It was just nice to have his hand on your breast.

“So soft,” Jungkook whispered at some point and you just chuckled in between putting yourself in slumber.

It’s been hard to settle in bed peacefully the previous nights after that debacle weeks ago, but that moment, you slid to dreamland quite easily; and you were certain it was due to Jungkook’s warm body all over yours.

EPILOGUE

( ONE MONTH LATER )

You have awoken in a feverish feeling brought by the dream of a certain man drawing all kinds of shapes on your clit with his skillful tongue. At first, the sensation felt far away, like it was just a distant memory, but you suddenly feel a seemingly too real grip on your thighs and a tentative swipe over the length of your nether region.

When you blearily open your eyes, the sunlight intruding through the seams of your room, you caught a sight of a very real man’s head in between your legs, his dark hair pulled by a headband as he determinedly pleasures your pussy.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, blindingly reaching for his head.

He hums in your pussy, and it sends a jolt right up your spine. He felt you jumping a little, and that earned a chuckle from him. The vibration of it in your aching heat made your legs quiver.

“Good morning, baby."

It was a little disorienting to wake up to Jungkook eating you out so early in the morning, but the pleasure overrode it as you throw your head back on your soft pillows, twisting your face to the side and burying it on the fluffy material as Jungkook sucks on your clit, his finger teasing over the lips of your pussy.

”Ah, that feels so good…" you moan, thrashing on the bed at the delight brought by his tongue. But Jungkook’s strong hold kept your legs wide for him to have complete access to your wet cunt which he’s licking like it was a meal he’s always wanted to have.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he said, beginning to place open mouthed kisses on your pussy that delivered delirious shivers all over your body. He emphasized his sentiment by bringing two fingers in your hole, sliding them in and out quite easily as you felt yourself gushing every second from his actions. “So wet. You love this, angel? You like what I’m doing?"

All you could give him was a pathetic little whimper that you hope he understood as he didn’t bother to wait for your response and proceeded to wrap his mouth on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with the steady way his fingers slipped in and out of you, lewd squelches filling the otherwise quiet room except for the chirping bird outside.

And it sounded oddly poetic.

So peaceful. Oh, to wake up like this everyday.

Your grasp on his hair tightened, bringing his face closer to your pussy that you even got a hold of his headband, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how delicious Jungkook is speeding his fingers in your entrance, long and bony digits touching every ridge of your pussy, slowly but surely sending you to your edge. Your breath quickened every second passed, and now you could say you were fully awake.

Jungkook broke away from you and you were just about to reprimand him about it when he suddenly licked a long, slow stripe over the wet length of your entrance and you cried out.

You were nearly brought to tears when he dove in your core again to repeat his actions from earlier, but this time, he went for messy. So sloppy; his head moving around your pussy, sucking your juices with enthusiasm and making your arch your back on the mattress, his finger rubbing your clit to bring you to your orgasm.

And he did successfully bring you to it. He did with what seemed to sound like a painful groan of your name from his throat, a husky sound that made your pussy and legs quiver. But that didn’t stop Jungkook from lapping at the cum that dripped out.

You let out a big breath, making yourself bounce on the bed as you fell to it. Exhausted. Spent.

"Kook,” you nudged Jungkook with your foot to his bicep because he was doing that thing again.

“Wanna clean you up."

You roll your eyes. It was so counterproductive but you let him be for awhile, relaxing on your back as he quite literally slurped the gush that came and is still coming out from you. That was why him "cleaning you up” was useless.

“Let me suck your cock.” You said, nudging him again. Jungkook peeled his head from between your legs and looked at you, and you nearly moaned at finally seeing his face. He looked insanely hot with his hair around his sweaty hearline pulled by that head band, but the sheen gloss all over his mouth to his chin made you feel just a little shy.

“Really?” Jungkook asked again, eyes wide, like he was a kid about to receive his gifts from Santa on Christmas morning.

You only hummed, bringing your body in a sitting position. Jungkook grabbed your waist, about to kiss you, but you pushed him on the bed and slid your leg over his thighs, leaning down to make quick work of pulling his boxers down that had a little wet patch on the front and a huge boner that was just begging to be freed.

Jungkook sighed when you get a hold of his length, not wasting time to tease because as much as you wanted to, you were impatient to taste him and make him cum.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook curses as you pumped his cock, your thumb pressing on his leaking tip. “You’re so pretty, baby."

His groan is elongated as you finally put him in your mouth. You make yourself comfortable by kneeling inside his spread legs, leaning down closer to his crotch and twisting your head to the side so that you could gather your hair in one side. It was always hard to reach deep, but you make do of your hand, twisting your fingers around the remaining length that your mouth could not take.

It didn’t take too long for Jungkook to shake and start speaking sweet nonsense in the wake of his impending orgasm, probably because he had been holding back since he ate you out. But you worked as hard, sucking on his tip, brushing your fingers over his balls here and there, pumping his wet cock in your hand, ignoring the tears that’s forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I’m cumming,” he warned, holding the back of your head to try and get you off but you insisted and let him release in your mouth.

Jungkook hissed, and you leaned back to jerk his cock for any more cum, swallowing the one in your mouth that you felt had gotten to some parts of your face so you try to lick over your mouth, tasting cum there. He was still cumming, though, just a little, it spurting on your chest and chin.

You giggled as Jungkook groaned. When you were sure you milked him dry, you let yourself flop on his naked body, draping yourself over it even though he was kind of sweaty and sticky… but you don’t really mind. You were just gonna shower later.

“You’re a minx.” He said, chuckling, his arm going around your waist and the other resting over one bare ass cheek.

“I live to make you suffer.” you replied, rubbing your cheek against his chest then pressing kisses to it.

“You’re winning."

That made you laugh.

After a while, you remove your head on his chest and look down on him. He arches a brow, waiting. And then you dropped your mouth to the mole under his bottom lip. You giggled because Jungkook wasn’t expecting it, shown by the confusion on his face. Before he could say anything, you lock your lips with his, sighing when he reciprocated your kiss right away.

The kiss takes a U-turn as Jungkook flipped you over so he was the one hovering over you now, hands roaming around your body sending tingles all over your spine to your toes and heat between your legs as he squeezed your breasts.

He squished the both of them in his huge palms, and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh when he did so, so as the gush of wetness coming from your pussy as he finally dropped his mouth to suck on your pebbled nipples.

”___, are you—oh my god I’m so sorry!“

Jungkook and you quickly looked over your door, catching Nayeon just as she scrambled to close it.

"Shit.” You hissed.

Jungkook looked at you. And then you both get off of each other, him going for the sweats he’d folded on a swivel chair in your room, and you putting on your robe and messily tying your hair in a bun with a hair tie.

“I’m just gonna go outside and talk to her…” you trail off, watching as Jungkook puts his pants on.

“Okay,” he went over to you, holding your face and leaning down to kiss you. “Sorry."

You licked your lips as he broke the kiss, couldn’t help but smile.

"It’s fine."

When you went out, Nayeon is at the kitchen drinking water. When she saw you, you gave her an awkward smile.

She frowned. "I’m really so, so sorry, ___. I swear I didn’t know you had someone over. I just got back from the overnight study group I texted you about last night and it’s 8 am so I thought I could wake you up for class."

You find yourself smiling genuinely at her explanation. You wave her off and went over to grab a drink of water as well.

"It’s fine. Our prof actually emailed us last night that our 8 am class was gonna be cancelled today so technically my first class is gonna be at 10. But I’m also supposed to be getting ready, so…"

Nayeon hummed and drank more of her water.

You were just waiting for it. You knew she was so gonna ask you about it. You were kind of nervous but you found that you actually didn’t care that much to tell her all about Jungkook.

So when she finally did ask, you only looked sheepish.

"So, Jeon Jungkook, huh?"

You nod.

"I should’ve known!” Nayeon exclaimed. “You were suddenly interested about basketball and– no, I’m not gonna lie. I did not expect that."

You bit your lip as you hid half of your face behind the rim of the glass. "Yeah…"

Nayeon suddenly narrowed her eyes at you, and you hold yourself to prepare for what’s next.

"He was your sneaky link all this time?"

Your eyes widened. "No!” But then you quickly remembered that, technically, he was. But… “but not really. I mean, not anymore?"

You weren’t sure, though. Your relationship with Jungkook for the past month had undergone a shift. You were purely fuck buddies before, and now you fuck and see each other for more than that. You sleep over almost twice a week at his place, have movie nights. He let you know about this game Animal Crossing and you’ve been obsessed since so sometimes you really just go over his place to play it. (Your island was seriously becoming pretty.) Also, you started grabbing lunch regularly these days in his car and go on what you can call dates if both your schedule aligned and it’s not that you were actively keeping other people from knowing about this sudden change in your relationship, including Nayeon, it was just — your time together was really just spent for pure enjoyment with each other. It was just like: if people saw, then they do.

Despite that, a label still wasn’t put to it.

You don't mind.

"Oh, so–your boyfriend?!” Nayeon’s tone is laced with surprise, and you flinched at hearing the word boyfriend but you shrugged it off.

“Uhm, it’s very new.” Was what you replied. It was the only thing you could offer, honestly.

Your friend looked at you for a few seconds and then nods, as if understanding – what? you have no idea – and then turned to the direction to your room.

You see Jungkook popping out from your door when you looked over.

“Hi, Nayeon."

When he emerged, he’s fully dressed and it was a bummer that he’d taken out his head band. Whatever, you’d make him wear it later. It was really cute when he wore it.

"Ohh, here comes the sexy man."

The casualty of it threw you off a bit but then you suddenly feel grateful to Nayeon for not making a big deal about the whole thing.

So you laughed and joked, "Don’t say that! You’re going to stroke his ego."

Nayeon’s right eyebrow raised. "Oh, his ego is definitely getting stroked, alright."

Even Jungkook burst out laughing at the crude implications of her words, and you found the whole thing atrocious. Nayeon only shook her head, but she was smiling.

"Sorry for interrupting your time together, lovebirds. I brought something for breakfast but I don’t think it’ll be enough for two people.” She said, pointing towards a take-out bag on the kitchen counter.

“It’s fine, thanks Nayeon."

She waved you off. "I’ll just be in my room. Eat first before you do cardio, guys."

You huff out a laugh at her words again, and so did Jungkook. He walked towards you as Nayeon disappeared in her room, and you smiled at him as he did so.

Jungkook held your waist and pressed you a little to the refrigerator, but you have no complaints in the way he leaned down to share a slow and soft kiss with you.

"Breakfast?” He whispered, kissing your cheek. And then your nose.

You giggled, circling your arms around his neck. He hummed at the contact, like he’s always so content and peaceful whenever you touch him.

“I think I’ll just get coffee on my way to Uni.” you told him.

That made him frown, though. “That’s really not…” you arched your brow as you wait for him to finish his words. He sighed. “Okay. But at least eat some toast? I’ll make it for you."

You nod. "Okay. I’m gonna go shower first, though. I stink."

As if prompted, Jungkook quickly buried his face to the crook of your neck and whiffed out your scent, dramatically smelling you and then peeling his face away, saying, "Nope, still smell like flowers to me. But I agree, we need a shower."

"We?"

He gives you a serious look. "Yes. Water conservation is one of my goals this year."

You jab on his chest lightly. So stupid. But so handsome and cute that you can’t help but pull him close to you and kiss him again.

Suddenly, Jungkook grabbed your thighs and make you hold on to him as he carried you across the living room. You stopped your own squeal before you could scare Nayeon with it. Jungkook laughed at that and you slap his chest in retaliation.

He went straight to the bathroom and put you on the counter with all the intentions to keep making out with you by the way he was swirling his tongue deliciously against yours, hands squeezing your sides.

But you really had to shower.

He whined when you put your hands on his shoulders and broke free from his kiss, pushing him away a little.

"Don’t be a baby. Let’s shower,” you said, giving him a stern look. He looked petulant for a while, but then suddenly smirked. You narrowed your eyes, pretty sure he had dirty things in his head right now. “No funny business. You literally have class in an hour."

"I could make you cum in less than that."

"Jungkook!"

He laughed, kissing you. "I’m kidding.”

“Behave. Nayeon is here."

He only nodded and began taking his clothes off. You also removed your robe from your body, going over to the towel rack to hang it there. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and shamelessly ogled your naked form and you rolled your eyes, not waiting for him as you stepped in the shower first. He followed right after, smiling at you as he offered to wash your body.

Jungkook assured you he had no funny business in mind, but you didn’t really mind when his hands suddenly got grabby, when he told you that his hands could lather your body wash more effectively than your loofah just so he could massage your boobs in his soapy palms, staying a little too long over there. But you didn’t complain when his finger ghosted over your pussy, and you absolutely weren’t mad when he kissed you hotly as the shower ran and water soaked the soap suds out of your body.

In fact, you enjoyed it a lot when he pressed you against the wall while his strong arms held you tight as he fucked you open, gasping in your mouth, grunting about how pretty you were and how much you were such a good girl for him.

He spoke more nonsense in your ear when he turned you around, an arm tight around your breasts, his other hand gripping your waist as he slid his engorged cock in and out of you from behind while you tried to minimize the sound of your cries until you both came.

You know Jungkook knew his goal to conserve water was doomed from the very start, especially when you ended up taking a second shower because you felt sticky and just unclean.

But it felt great to come out of the bathroom and have Jungkook dressed the same time as you with the clothes he left in your closet from the other times he’s spent over here.

"I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss on your mouth.

“Okay,” he smiled and you failed to resist the urge to kiss him again for the last time. “I’m coming over to play Animal Crossing."

"You only like me for my Nintendo…” Jungkook jokingly narrowed his eyes at you and you laughed.

“It took you a long time to figure out?”

Jungkook pouts. “As long as you curl up in my lap while you play it, I can accept that.”

“You’re cute, baby. But you’re late to class, go scram.” You shooed him and he chuckled.

“Okay, kiss me again?” You did. Jungkook smiled and kissed you but on the forehead this time. “Bye, pretty."

You leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed as you watched him slowly disappear from your pathway with (certainly) a fond look on your face.

Blurring the lines with your fuck buddy might be cliche, and confronting it might have been hard, but you did it. And he was just as willing and honest with you about his feelings.

And it was worth it.

#fic: cn&bl #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader

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allbuthuman · 2 years

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i am actually none of the official types of neurospicy but a secret new one that they made just for me

#/j obviously but also i am genuinely perplexed #feel free to ignore this but i will type it out just because #when i was young from what i remember i acted quite neurospicy but then i somehow trained myself out of it #but i don't know if that's what happened or i had some childhood ocd traits and i genuinely grew out of them bc i know that's common #i was very socially unaware like i wasn't very anxious yet but i could not figure out how to act #like i was trying but i was getting it wrong #i was always very fidgety and stimmy since i was a baby #never has my hand not been doing some rhythmical motion #my brain feels very all over the place but i do remember a period of at least a whole year when it didn't feel that way #i'm very obsessive but only a specific brand of obsessive (aka with fiction/characters/certain people) that's been the same forever #i'm like almost the opposite of rigid thinking sometimes i feel like i think more in metaphors than in actual literal thoughts #i never had any problem with like. reading subtext and such. i love subtext #i'm absolute shit at communicating emotion at this point when i'm for example sad i have to consciously think of #how i or generally a person who is sad would act and do it on purpose #but i don't know if that's innate or i'm just constipated #absolute shit at eye contact and i wasn't even aware of that until i was told #i have a very specific fixation with things like certain numbers and it's constant for many years to the point where it doesn't bother me #it's very contained it's not a general thing just this one thing across contexts that just runs in the background at all times #most of these have been present for a long time but i remember periods where it's like they didn't apply?#like my memory isn't that good so idk how i acted or felt but it was never addressed by anyone i think #i had never even thought of some of these in my 25 years of life until i was told by a couple of people #that hey this isn't how most brains work actually #but again they're not therapists maybe they don't know better maybe they were just trying to be validating who knows #i should probably stop thinking about it this isn't getting me anywhere #maybe i'm just worse than usual bc it's a very transitive people so it makes sense to not have it all together right now #maybe i should think about it again in a year or something? no clue #if you've reached this point wow why i'm literally rambling this doesn't make any sense to me #but i'm keeping it ffr if only to dismiss myself later on #σ #δ

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venuszn · 5 months

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☆ : 100 Days

Summary / Bada asks you to give her one hundred days to make you fall in love with her.

Cw / Best friends to lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Nipple play, Cunnilingus (Bada and reader give and receive), Scissoring, Dom!Bada, Fem!reader, Emotionally constipated reader, Whipped Bada, MDNI

Author’s note / Thank you for 100 followers ahhhh ! This is my gift from me to all of you. Thank you for liking and reading my fics ! I took inspiration from the movie ‘500 Days of Summer’ and mayhaps a little bit of dialogue inspo from the Netflix show ‘Queen Charlotte’ - if you can spot it then great. I hope you enjoy and as always feel free to let me know your thoughts 💗

Wc / 8.5K words

Day 7

Bada took your hand into hers, locking her fingers inbetween your own. The warmness and firmness of your hands together gave you an unfamiliar feeling as the taller girl walked ahead of you, shopping basket in one hand and you on her other as she snaked her way through the busy aisles muttering small ‘excuse me’’s and ‘thank you’’s as she went. You let Bada guide you and your gaze fell to meet her hand as it protectively gripped yours. You brushed the feeling off, deciding that it was normal - you were friends after all. It’s normal to feel certain emotions around your friends, especially friends who held your hand with such care and warmth as Bada did. It was a simple and cute gesture, that's all it was - cute. Nothing more.

“I don’t know why this has to be a two person job. I could have done the shopping, Bada.” You said as you both finally emerged from the chaos of people around you, your brows slightly furrowed at the busyness around you. Bada adjusted her speed and walked beside you, feet matching your pace and hand remaining firmly in yours.

She looked down at you with a small smile, “Well, this is what couples do,” she said your name with a hint of amusement at your small frown. “They go shopping together. It’s cute and it’s domestic.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Right, sure. Well, you don’t need to keep on holding my hand. I’m not a baby.”

Bada let go of your hand as she reached to add another item into the basket. She didn’t make a move to reconnect your hands but teased, "I could argue that you actually are my baby now.” You scoffed and jokingly smacked her arm and she laughed.

The cold breeze brushed against your once warm hand and you slightly missed the feeling.

As you walked Bada cleared her throat, “I know you’re used to being independent - doing everything by yourself. But you have me now, so let me be here for you.”

Your eyes fell to the floor as you digested her words. You knew you had your defences up. Your walls were impenetrable towers and Bada had made it her mission to scale upwards in hopes of reaching the top. She was prepared to defeat any fiery beast, whether it be of doubt and fear, that guarded you. Bada wanted to rescue you.

You said nothing but reached for her hand, eyes avoiding her direction as you took a hold of her palm in yours. You then muttered, “My hand was cold.”

Bada gazed down at you, a small smile on her lips as she adored you. She thought that you were the most adorable thing ever as she raised your intertwined hands and pressed her lips gently against the back of yours.

“You’re so cute.”

You felt a strange feeling rise up your body and your face felt warm. You ignored it and followed your instinct - to deflect.

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

Bada chuckled and squeezed your hand gently.

“Wasn’t it obvious ?”

Day 0

You stumbled through the front door, heels in one hand and bag in the other as you managed to twist the handle open with your elbow - a talent you had perfected due to your frequent walks of shame. Although, ‘shame’ wasn’t what you usually felt after such encounters. Sex was nothing but transactional to you, you had sexual needs that needed to be met and then you would repay the favour. You had mastered the act of separating your emotions from intimacy in all forms - especially romantic relationships. However, this time you did feel a little bit of shame and perhaps a little bit of rage as you kicked the door shut with the back of your foot before your body fell slack against it in defeat.

Your tired eyes scanned the apartment, there was no sign of your roommate apart from a steaming cup of herbal tea that sat on the kitchen island waiting for you. You smiled to yourself at how attentive she always was toward you. She always did small gestures like this, despite not being in support of your nightly escapades, she always made sure you came home to your go-to hangover relief. You dropped your bag and heels and made your way over to sit down before a distant voice you recognised called your name.

You turned to see your roommate, Bada Lee, as she speedwalked down the hallway to you. “You’re home. Good morning.” She quickly greeted with a small smile as she hurriedly beelined around your shared apartment, picking up her keys and then putting on her trainers.

“Good morning. Yes, I'm home. Thank goodness.”

Bada paused in her actions as she heard your words. “What happened ?”

You laughed dryly before taking a sip of your tea. “She had a girlfriend this entire time.”

It almost sounded like a cruel joke hearing yourself say it.

“Fuck. How did you find out ?”

“Long story short - I was hooking up with a sleazebag that couldn't go two weeks without sex. So she decided to lie and say she was single whilst her girlfriend was actually away visiting family . . . I feel like shit.” You groaned into your palm before running your fingers through your hair.

Bada walked over and sat beside you.

“I hope you know that’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should have been more aware. This is exactly why I don’t do relationships - it gets messy. I should have cut it off after the first couple nights like I usually do, but I got comfortable thinking we could also be friends.”

Bada stared at your deflated frame and internally prayed for the moment that you would finally notice her. She had been by your side ever since you both met a couple years ago in college and had become roomies. You both became inseparable; but she saw you in a light which you did not reflect with her - she was in love with you but you had an aversion to the emotion.

“Anyways,” you said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You have somewhere to be don’t you ? I don’t want to make you late.”

Bada immediately interjected, “It can wait. It’s fine, if you need me to stay I will.”

“Go, Bada. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You said as you stood up and gave her shoulder a squeeze as you walked past her. “I’ll be going to sleep now anyway. See you later.”

Bada watched you leave - a recurring pattern that she was becoming sick of. She was sick of watching you leave to go and spend the night with other people. She was sick of watching you leave to go and isolate yourself. You had your walls high up and you only ever depended on yourself - nobody else. But Bada knew that you deserved better. She knew that you could be happy with the right person.

So she decided that she would take a chance and try to be that person for you.

Later that evening, you found yourself on the couch in your bestfriends arms as you cuddled, her arms wrapped around you from behind and you both laid there - a gesture that wasn’t unusual to the both of you. You both lay in relative silence as she played with your hair, your eyes trained on the television in front of you but hers focused on you.

She swallowed her nerves and cleared her throat, “How are you feeling ?”

Her fingers twirled strands of your hair and her grip on you tightened slightly.

“I’m okay now. I’m over it. Shit happens but life goes on.”

Bada lightly called your name.

You hummed.

“Give me one hundred days.”

“What ?”

“Give me one hundred days and I can make you fall in love with me.”

You nearly burst out laughing, thinking she was joking but when you turned to face her you saw seriousness written on her face.

“You’re not joking ?” You said as you removed yourself from her arms and stood up; taking a couple steps back.

“No. I’m not.” Bada rose to her feet, her tall frame exceeding yours by inches as she stared down at you with eyes full of determination. “I am tired of watching you be miserable. I’m tired of sitting back and watching you leave and spend the night with random people that don’t care about you. I know you, and I know that you’re not happy. I know that you could be happier and I know that I can do that for you. I'm your best friend but give me one hundred days - give me one summer to show you how you deserve to be treated. I want to show you that you deserve to be loved and you deserve to feel it too.”

You stood there, words dying on your tongue as your head spinned. “Bada, where is this coming from ? You know how I feel about relationships . . .”

“I do know yes. But I know it’s because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

Bada took a step toward you.

“But you don’t have to be afraid with me,” your name fell from her lips as she gazed down at you. “I would never dream of hurting you. I’m not perfect, I know. But I can promise you that I am worth taking the chance with. Just one hundred days, spend the summer by my side and if you want to stop at any moment you can. We can end it at any time and forget it ever happened.”

“But the fact that you’re my best friend scares me even more, Bada . . .”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to make a decision right now. I just thought I'd put it out there. If you ever decide to give love a chance, I'm here to guide you through it.”

The next day you woke up, wondering if it was all a dream. That your best friend had not basically admitted to being in love with you. You had love for Bada, but it wasn’t romantic. She was your best friend. You loved spending time in her company, you loved how she would always make you laugh, you loved how she would hold you in her arms as you both laid on the couch watching a series that the both of you knew you would never finish. You loved how her fingers felt in your hair when she would mindlessly play with it and you loved how you both seemed to complete each other. But Bada was your best friend - it was simply platonic. And that is what you planned to tell her that morning when you made your way out of your room; but a familiar voice grabbed your attention.

“I know she’s here. Just let me see her, I want to apologise.”

“I told you to leave. She’s not here and even if she was, there’s no way I'd let you speak to her,” Bada’s chest puffed out slightly as she glared down at the girl standing at the door.

“Go home. Now.”

Goosebumps rose on your skin. You had never seen Bada like that before, her intimidating aura completely caught you off guard as you stood and watched the encounter unfold.

“Or what ?” The girl scoffed.

“Or I'll shove those shitty roses down your throat. And I mean what I say - which might be a foreign concept to you. So get lost.”

“Who the fuck are you ? You’re not her fucking girlfriend, let me speak to her for fucks sake.” The girl cursed, quickly losing the last ounce of her composure.

You knew Bada wouldn’t stand down and you quickly walked over and poked your head from behind her tall frame.

“Hi. You’re speaking to me now and I'm telling you to go home. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You lied - end of.”

Your eyes immediately caught the sight of the bouquet of roses in the girl's hands and you scoffed at the audacity.

“There’s no way. Please, go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The girl gripped the roses tighter as she held them out to you. “I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened and how things played out. I’m single now and I want to win you back. I hope that we can finally date now-”

“Of course you’re single, you're a liar and a cheater !” You laughed bitterly.

You hadn't noticed, but Bada had taken a step back, allowing you to take the reins. She stood to the side, hands in pockets and a small smirk on her face as she admired you right in that moment - your rage making her fall harder.

“And if I wanted to date someone it most certainly would not be you. Now leave and don’t come back. Don’t contact me either.”

You slammed the door.

You let out a breath and turned back to face Bada.

“Can you believe her ? Bringing me roses and asking me to date her . . .” You scoffed as the anger slowly sizzled within you.

“If only she knew that your favourite flowers are tulips.”

Her words extinguished any flicker of anger left within you.

You both stood there, looking at the other for a moment.

“Bada, are you in love with me ?” You breathed out.

She paused for a moment before responding.

“I am.”

You were so dazed that you weren't sure if your heart skipped a beat or sank into your chest.

“For how long ?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

You exhaled.

“What you said yesterday . . . Did you mean it ?”

“I did. I want to be the one to make you happy.”

You breathed out a nervous breath, “Bada, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise that I actually will fall in love with you at the end of the summer. I can’t promise that I won’t self sabotage and maybe ruin our friendship in the process. That’s if I agree to this.”

Bada took a tentative step toward you.

“I won’t let our friendship be ruined. I won’t give that up but if you choose to then there’s not much I can do. But just know that whatever you decide, right now or further down the line, I’ll respect it.”

You took a deep inhale and played with your fingers as the nerves crawled up your body. Disbelief in yourself at your following words.

“Then, okay.”

“Okay ?”

“You’re right, I am scared of being hurt and of love. But I also trust you - you’re my best friend and there’s nobody else I'd rather try this with.”

You took a step forward.

“So, okay. I’ll give you one hundred days to make me fall in love with you.”

Bada’s heart bounced around her chest in a dance of glee and she smiled down at you, her hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And that was how it began - Day 1.

Day 16

Hushed laughter and giggles filled the summer evening air as you and Bada walked arm in arm down the dimly lit street.

“You are definitely drunk.” Bada laughed as she held onto you tighter, steadying your footsteps.

“I am not !” You gasped overdramatically as you snapped your head to face her. “I’m a little tipsy, that’s all. And so are youuuu.” You sang as you poked her chest, giggling as the alcohol made you feel light and free as a feather.

Bada grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside.

“Watch where you’re going. We only had about two drinks, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are.” She teased.

“You’re a little tipsy too, don’t lie.”

“But I’m not a lightweight like you.”

You whacked her arm jokingly and detached yourself from her hold, attempting to walk ahead of her but she chuckled and swiftly caught your arm, gently tugging you back.

“Now where do you think you’re going, hm ?”

“Away from you.” You stubbornly replied but allowed her to place her hand in yours once more.

“Did you enjoy dinner ?” The older girl asked, fingers now locked with yours.

“I did, yes. It was nice. Thank you again for taking me out.”

“And again, it’s my pleasure. I'm glad you had a good time.” Bada smiled down at you and you avoided her gaze.

Suddenly the night sky rumbled as thunder rippled through the air. Almost instantaneously, raindrops began falling, accelerating in speed as the heavens opened up.

You squealed with laughter and Bada’s grip tightened as she pulled you through the rain.

“Bada, run !” You laughed as the both of you picked up speed and ran for the trees in hopes of shelter.

“You just had to suggest that we walk.” You laughed as the raindrops fell mostly around the both of you now that you were under the protective umbrella of a tree’s leaves, the occasional droplet slipped its way through the gaps of the branches.

“I thought a moonlit walk would be romantic.” Bada laughed as she wiped her face, her fringe stuck to her forehead.

You smiled at the sight of her.

Bada smiled back as the both of you stood there, held hostage by the plummeting raindrops.

You tore yourself away from her gaze, cleared your throat and turned your back to her. The sight of the gleaming full moon stole your attention and you pointed to it, “Bada, look. We can still watch the moon.”

“Uhuh.” The taller girl muttered as she was, instead, watching you.

“It’s so pretty.” You gushed as you continued to face away from her.

“It is.” Bada wasn’t talking about the moon.

Bada reached out and gently took a hold of your fingers and turned you to face her.

“You know how you always said that kissing in the rain was overdramatic and overdone in the movies ?” Bada muttered as her fingers grazed over your knuckles.

“Yeah . . .”

She licked her lips and your heart thumped in your chest.

“Do you wanna be really overdramatic with me right now ?”

You swore it was the alcohol in your system but the rain had sobered you up.

“Ok.” You whispered.

Bada took a step out into the rain and pulled you against her, foreheads meeting in the middle as the rain showered over the both of you. You licked your lips in anticipation, and Bada let out a small hum before her thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You reminded yourself that it was just a kiss.

“Do you want this ?” She said in a breathless whisper.

“I do.”

Bada didn’t hesitate as she grabbed your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to her, your lips collided in a desperate dance of both certainty and uncertainty. Bada was certain that right at that moment, you had completed her. The way you fit so perfectly in her hands, the way your lips melted together and tongues danced - she was certain.

You, however, were uncertain. Uncertain of if you had just felt a crack form within the walls surrounding your heart. It was impossible. You imagined it.

Because it was just a kiss.

Day 18

“Achoo !”

You sneezed into the tissue and Bada passed you another.

“This is your fault.” You coughed out before letting out another sneeze.

Bada sat beside you and draped a thick blanket around your frame. “You’ve said that five times already.”

You curled into the blanket and Bada wrapped an arm around you, her other hand holding a bowl toward you.

“Now, drink your soup. I just made it.”

After your date in the rain you had fallen sick and despite your persistent arguments that you were fine and could take care of yourself - Bada was right beside you, nursing you back to health.

You had threatened her with the likely possibility that she too would fall sick but Bada responded by driving to the store, buying your favourite snacks and then making you a hot bowl of soup before she settled beside you on the couch, arms wrapped around you as they usually were.

You took a sip of your soup and you groaned.

“You’re making it so hard to stay mad at you.”

“You were never mad at me.”

Day 21

Bada groaned as she staggered into the living room, her duvet trailing behind her and swallowing her frame.

“I'm sick.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up.

“I told you you’d get sick. You didn’t listen, and you say I'm stubborn.”

Bada responded with another groan and a cough as she glided across the room in the oversized blanket before dramatically collapsing onto the couch.

“Go back to bed, Bada. You’ll be comfier there.” You said as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for your roommate.

Bada raised her head to look over to you.

“Is that for me ?”

“It is.”

“You’re so - ACHOO ! - cute.”

She wiped her nose and you snorted.

“Go back to bed.”

Day 48

You stood, fingers gripping the rubber basketball as you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the target.

A few feet away from you stood three basketball hoops, and a row of soft plushies hung besides them on either side. There was only one last shot that stood in between you and your chosen soft toy. And you were aiming for the winning shot.

Bada stood behind you, her hands rested on your hips as she chanted words of encouragement into your ears.

“You got this. Just one last hoop.”

You took your stance and raised the ball slightly above your eye line, you then perched it on your fingertips as you aimed and then launched it at the hoop.

The basketball hit the backboard and then bounced onto the ring.

It edged along the circumference of the hoop almost in slow motion before it finally fell through the middle.

You cheered and jumped and Bada scooped you up into her strong embrace, spinning you around.

You laughed and she kissed your nose.

“Now, what will the lucky lady choose ?” The man working at the stall grinned as his arm stretched out, showcasing his collection of prizes.

You immediately pointed to a big dolphin plushie and the guy handed it over to you. You thanked him and then spun around before holding the cuddly toy out to Bada. She raised her brow slightly and you gently pushed the toy into her arms.

“It’s for you. A dolphin goes with the sea.”

Bada stood there, slightly taken aback but touched. She took the dolphin plushie from you and held it to her chest before she grabbed your chin with her thumb and index finger, angling your face upwards to face her.

“Thank you, baby.”

She closed the gap and softly kissed your lips.

Bada had taken you to the annual summer fair and you were honestly having a great time. There were times where you would forget the circumstances in which you were under - that your best friend was trying to make you fall in love with her. And days like this, where you both seemed to revel in each other’s company, overpowered the blaring sirens in your head each time you shared yearning touches and gentle kisses. You chalked it up to the fact that you were best friends, so of course it felt the way it did - so right.

Evening approached and you and Bada found yourselves in the carriage of a ferris wheel as it steadily travelled skywards. You mentioned that you wanted to see the fireworks and Bada took it upon herself to ensure that you did - from the sky.

The evening sky bled to a deep blue. You watched as remnants of the summer sun, still lingering in light brush strokes, soon faded into the darkness as the night sky took command.

Bada’s body pressed up behind you, her arms on either side of you as she held onto the railing. You absentmindedly leaned back into her chest and she placed her chin on your shoulder, before ghosting her lips against the skin of your neck.

Shivers ran down your spine.

You parted your lips to say something but a bright shooting light rushed up into the sky before exploding into thousands of spectacular sparks. Countless more followed as the once empty canvas, that was the night sky, became an artwork of shimmering colours.

The romantic ambience of the night didn't escape you and neither did the pestering butterflies that fluttered around your stomach.

Your carriage was nearing the top and Bada placed a hand on your waist and turned you around. Face to face with inches between you, ‘Have her eyes always shone like this ? Were they always this pretty ?’

“Bada . . .” You breathed out onto her nearing lips.

“Hm ?” Her hand snaked around your waist.

“I-I think I like you . . .”

Your words halted Bada in her motions and she stared at you as her eyes scanned your face.

“You do ?” She said with a hopeful breath.

You nod your head, swallowing hard.

“Don’t think about it.” You whisper to Bada but also to yourself as the realisation of your words hit you.

“But-”

“Just kiss me.”

You leaned in, eliminating all distance between the two of you. Your lips crashed against Bada’s and you felt her immediately pull you flush against her, in return, your arms found their way around her broad shoulders. Bada nibbled on your bottom lip and you parted them, making way for her wet tongue to explore your mouth. You felt her tongue meet yours and a moan escaped your lips. Hearing your desperate sounds, Bada’s hands slided down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before sliding back up your back and over your body as she worshipped you.

“Fuck. You’re so perfect.” The taller girl groaned before desperately reattaching her mouth to yours.

Sparks flew as your lips spoke in a dance of tenderness and yearning. Likewise, the sparks of fire that cascaded down the night sky fell around you both in a glistening waterfall of explosive vibrancy as you reached the top - lost in the hunger for each other.

Bada had never kissed you like that. She had never touched you like that or looked so deeply into your soul with such desire and the events and emotions from the night played over in your mind as you now sat besides her in the passenger seat as she drove the both of you home.

You entered into your shared apartment and Bada followed behind you, shutting the door. You turned to face her and she took a step toward you, eyes never breaking their contact.

Your heart wrestled with reason as you fought the urge to jump back into her arms.

You saw Bada bite her lip slightly as her eyes scanned your body.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I’ll be going to bed now.”

“O-oh yeah. Me too, it’s late.”

“Yeah.”

You quickly set off for your room and shut the door behind you, body leant against it as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was the right call, for sure. The tension was too high right now and you didn’t want to cross any lines that you couldn’t go back on.

You sighed and then dragged yourself to your bathroom, ready to wash off the thoughts that plagued your mind.

Bada sat on the edge of her bed, face in her hands as she fought the urge to go over to your room. The last thing she wanted was to go too fast, especially after you had just confessed to harbouring some feelings for her; she didn’t want to overwhelm you. But Bada swore that she didn’t imagine the look in your eyes or the way you held onto her as you kissed and touched. Did you want her the way she wanted you ?

Down the hall you paced around in your room. Picking at your fingernails as you deliberated the consequences of walking down the hallway and knocking on your best friend's door.

A brief moment passed.

“Fuck it.” You said under your breath as you strode over to swing open your door.

But before you stood said best friend, with a hand frozen in motion as if about to knock.

Your heart skipped several beats and found its way into your throat. Words failed to leave your lips as you stood frozen, eyes locked with Bada’s.

“Hey.” She muttered, licking her lips slightly as her chest rose and fell with anticipation.

“Hey.” You whispered back, heat rushing through your veins.

“I thought you were going to bed ?” You breathed out.

“I thought you were.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.” Bada’s gaze intensified.

Your body took over your mind and you took a slow step backward into your room, eyes never leaving Bada’s.

She followed your lead and took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her with her foot, eyes never leaving yours.

“What are we doing ?” You whisper as the suffocating tension stole your breath away.

“Tell me to leave.” She breathed out as she stared into your eyes.

“I don't want that.”

“What do you want ?” Bada gazed at you with want.

“Stay . . . Please.”

You took a step forward.

“I’ll stay.” Bada muttered as she admired your features and took in the slight crease of your brow and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. She knew you were nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bada said as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“What if I want to . . .”

Bada’s eyes darkened slightly and she cupped your face in her gentle hands.

“What do you want to do, hm ?”

“This.”

You pressed your lips against hers in a fervent passion, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers grabbed onto your hips as she held you impossibly close. Your breaths mixed and small moans fell from your tongue as it danced along with hers.

“Are you sure about this ?” Bada said in between kisses as the both of you stumbled across your room in the direction of your bed, lips refusing to part.

“I’m sure, Bada.” You whisper before Bada gently lowered you onto the bed.

Bada climbed on top of you and you lay there, lashes fluttering as you held her stare.

She licked her lips and leaned in to press a kiss behind your ear. You shivered and she began a tender trail of kisses down your neck muttering gentle whispers onto your warm skin as her hands slid under and up your shirt, fingers grazing your delicate body.

“Relax for me.”

Time seemed to stop as you and Bada laid there exploring each other's bodies. With the barrier of clothes and fabrics long gone, your bodies pressed together merging into one as her fingers slid in and out of you. Your hips bucked against her, desperately chasing the pleasure but Bada’s grip on your waist firmed as she held you in place.

“You’re so sensitive aren’t you ?” Bada muttered, her gaze deep with craving as her fingers continued their relentless pounding into your dripping cunt. She licked her lips. Your body was beautiful and she struggled to comprehend that the person laid bare before her wasn’t actually a being - heaven sent. But to her you were one and the same.

Moans and whimpers of her name fell from your lips and you grabbed onto her arm. “I-I'm close, Bada.”

She smirked down at you and lowered her head down to meet your aching core. Bada wasted no time and attached her plump lips to your clit, sucking and licking it as her fingers pumped in and out of you - speed increasing.

Your back arched and your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you as an earth shattering wave of pleasure crashed through your body causing your legs to shake. Bada moaned onto your clit as she sucked on it; the feeling of your walls contracting around her fingers turned her on even more and she lowered her tongue before licking your cunt dry as it dripped with your sweet release.

You laid breathless and legs twitching as you came down from your climax. Bada ran her hands softly over your sides as they travelled up your body. One hand rested on your neck and the other took your left breast into its palm before gently massaging it.

“You’re so beautiful.” She muttered before pressing her lips to yours in a messy open mouthed kiss, your tongues fought against the other as you tasted yourself on her.

You broke away from the kiss and sat up. “I wanna make you feel good too . . .” You looked up at the taller girl with pleading eyes.

Bada felt her heart flip and she bit her lip at the thought of you touching her.

“C’mere then, princess.”

Bada pulled you up on top of her and you straddled her waist. Her fingers dug into your hot skin and yours trailed along her chest, grazing over her nipples.

She inhaled a sharp breath and you smirked a little before taking her nipples in between your thumb and pointer and began rolling them. You felt as they quickly hardened and you lowered your head to her chest, gazing up at Bada as she gazed back down at you. Your lips parted and took Bada’s erect nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you licked her chest, savouring the taste of her skin and the sounds she made above you.

Bada moaned a little, hands gripped your waist as she pushed her chest out further into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Your tongue feels so good.” She whispered breathlessly. “You gonna let me use that pretty little mouth of yours ?”

You hummed in response and began a trail of kisses down her chest and torso. Bada smirked down at you and leaned back on her elbows as she spread her legs apart for you.

Your heart hammered in your chest and you didn't question why. You kissed Bada’s thighs, inching closer to core. You looked up at her through your lashes and her intense gaze bore into you, turning you on impossibly more. You held her gaze as you leaned in, your fingers slid up her wetness and then parted her pussy lips exposing her dripping hole to you. You stuck out your tongue and pressed it against her clit circling it in steady motions.

Bada jolted above you and she moaned out a curse.

Her noises and breathless moans fueled your tongue as you began sucking and licking her clit, moaning as you did so. You kept her lips parted, determined to taste every part of her as your wet muscle travelled down to her aching hole. You prodded your tongue against it, circling it and lapping up her juices as she jerked her hips onto your face.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Eat my pussy like the pretty little slut you are.” Bada groaned as her fingers reached down to tangle in your hair, gripping it in her palm as she held your face against her aching cunt.

You moaned at her words, sending vibrations onto her sensitive skin as you continued to lick her folds. You felt yourself grow wetter and you stretched your hand between your legs and began rubbing your clit, matching the pace of your tongue against her.

“Are you touching yourself ?” Bada breathed out as she pulled you away from her by your hair, making you look at her.

You paused in your actions and nodded wordlessly.

Bada’s eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “Such a needy whore.”

Bada flipped you over. You laid on the mattress and she perched above you. She grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to her, angling you on your side and then lay on her side before sliding her legs in between yours - your wet cunts inches away from touching.

“You wanna come again, hm ? Well come with me, princess.”

Bada gripped onto your ankle as she held your leg over her shoulder and then slid closer to join her pussy with yours. Your wet cunts rubbed against each other as Bada took control of the rhythm, jerking her hips forwards as her pussy lips kissed yours. Your clits bumped and slid against each other’s and whimpers and moans danced from your lips and hers.

“You feel so good, baby.” Bada moaned.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop . . .” You whimpered.

And Bada didn’t stop. The both of you spent the night tangled in each other, moaning praises as you worshipped each other’s bodies.

Day 73

The music boomed from the stereos and cheers and excited whispers danced alongside it in the air. Bada stood in the middle of the practice room as students gathered and watched from the sides. The tempo built up and Bada began to move her body to the beat, her aura of swagger encompassing her as she moved.

You had invited Bada to your dance class and everyone begged her to do her iconic choreo to ‘You Got It’. So there she was, dancing as the crowd around her ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’.

You watched from the front of the crowd, arms crossed as your eyes followed her every move - as if in a trance. A small smile sat on your lips as you watched the way she emulated the vibe of the lyrics through her body and expressions, you felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched her and blushed at the way her eyes flickered to you at certain lyrics.

Bada held your gaze as she continued to dance, she then smoothly made her way over to you as the beat came to a low point in the song. You laughed and shook your head at her - knowing exactly what part of the choreo she was about to do next. Bada smiled back at you and took your hand in hers, bringing you to the dance floor with her as she danced the lyrics to you.

Oh yeah, it's time to mix it up and get ya glow girl.

Bada slid right up to you with a smirk as she grabbed her pants and jerked her hips, eyes not leaving yours.

The practice room broke out into squeals and screams and you laughed and moved your body along with the music as Bada continued to dance around you.

I want you to know that girl you got it.

Bada ended her dance with her hands on your hips and yours around her shoulders.

The room exploded into chaos and you stepped back, laughing to hide the nerves that bubbled within you. Bada, on the other hand, just gazed at you with a grin on her face - you were all she saw in that moment.

Day 90

The morning sun poked through the curtains and you tossed and turned, opening your eyes slightly. Beside you laid Bada, snoring lightly. You smiled to yourself and brushed her messy fringe with your fingers as you found yourself admiring her peaceful face. The way her pink lips parted slightly, her long lashes that rested against her soft skin and cheeks tinted with a slight pink hue. You loved waking up to the sight of her. You don’t know when it began but you had been sleeping in her bed, regardless of sex. You enjoyed coming home and climbing into her warm embrace as she would cuddle you and kiss the top of your head - a usual practice between the two of you. You loved how she would hold your hand when in public and you loved how her fingers slid perfectly in yours. You loved how she still made you your favourite cup of herbal tea each morning and then would kiss your forehead after handing it to you.

You paused.

Realisation washed over you like an avalanche of repressed emotions.

You immediately got out of bed as quietly as your nerves would allow. You then picked up your clothes that were scattered on the floor and hurried out of Bada’s room.

If Bada was awake she would have heard the front door shut. But she wouldn’t have known that that would be the last time she saw you that week.

Day 97

Bada opened your messages and saw that you still had not responded to her since three days ago when you sent her a brief, ‘Busy all week. Don’t wait up.’

She sighed in frustration and gripped her hair in her hands. Thoughts weighed heavy on her mind, she wondered if she did something wrong, she wondered if she hurt you. Bada decided that enough was enough and she would speak to no matter what.

Later that night, you softly unlocked the front door, opening it in small intervals to avoid making any sounds. You had been avoiding Bada all week and as far as you were concerned you intended to continue, until you snapped out of whatever delusion you believed yourself to be in. Because that's what it is - delusion.

You creeped down the hallway and gently opened your room door and entered, you faltered in your step because before you sat your roommate. Bada looked up at you from her seat on your bed and stood up.

She said your name in a soft manner and you recoiled.

“What are you doing ?” You asked.

“Waiting for you. You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve been busy. I told you.”

Bada’s eyes scan your frame, eyening your choice of attire.

“Busy going out in short dresses and heels and then coming home late at night ?”

Bada stepped forward.

“Whilst also reeking of alcohol ?”

You scoffed. “And so what ? Since when have you cared about what I wear or do ?”

Bada frowns. “Since you decided to ghost me for a week after things were going so well.”

“Things were going well for you.” You folded your arms.

Bada scanned your face, she knew you were lying.

She took another step forward, now in front of you, breaths away.

You stood your ground and stayed firm in place, trying your best to keep your walls upright and strong.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t like the way I held you.” Bada whispered as her hands moved to rest on your waist, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You gulped and cleared your throat.

“Bada . . .”

“Or the way I touched you.” She tightened her grip on your waist and pushed you back against the door, trapping you in her arms.

Your heart pounded against your chest and you cursed at it.

“Tell me to stop.” She whispered as she looked at you with darkened eyes.

Your eyes flickered to her lips and you found yourself closing your eyes and leaning in.

Bada met you halfway and crashed her lips into yours. She pressed herself against you and your arms flew to her shoulders, securing your bodies together. The taller girl bit your bottom lip and groaned into your mouth before her tongue slid in and you let out a small moan in response.

Why did kissing your roommate - your best friend - feel so right ? You had spent the past week arguing with yourself and begging your heart to stop its yearning for the older girl. You liked her, that was it. It wasn’t love. It would never be love, because you did not do love. It was messy and it always ended in pain. You couldn’t fall in love with your best friend.

Your hands removed themselves from Bada’s shoulders and you roughly pushed her away. Breath heavy and lips slightly swollen as you blinked at her for a moment.

“Leave.” You whispered.

“What ?” Bada muttered, unsure of if she heard you correctly,

“Get out of my room, Bada.” You begged, eyes glossing with tears.

Bada’s brows twitched and she reached out for you.

“Get Out ! Now !” You cried out.

“I don’t love you. I will never love you. Fuck, I don’t know why I agreed to this,” You ran your fingers through your hair as you paced around your bedroom.

Bada’s eyes never left you as she stood frozen.

Your head snapped to look at her. “You deserve better. I can’t love you. So leave Bada.”

You had Bada’s heart in the palm of your hand. For as long as she could remember she knew that her heart belonged to you. But you had now grabbed the organ that beats for you and crushed it between your delicate fingers.

So Bada honoured your wishes and she left.

Day 99

Bada had been going out every night since that night. You knew this because you would hear the slam of the front door each evening when she left and then hours later when she came back home in a drunken state.

However, tonight was different.

Your phone rings and you see Bada’s name flash up on your screen. Your heart skips a beat and you stare at it for a moment.

“Hello ?” You say into the phone, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello ?” A muffled voice you don’t recognise responds as it asks your name to confirm.

“Yes, that’s me. Who are yo-”

“Can you come and get Bada ? She’s completely wasted.”

That's how you found yourself guiding a very drunken Bada back through your apartment doors and into her bedroom.

Bada stumbled onto her bed and you took a step back. “I’ll be back. I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

You returned to see Bada had kicked off her shoes and laid face first into the mattress.

“Bada ? Here.” You say, handing her the cup.

“I didn’t think you would actually come back.” She mumbled turning to face you. “You hate me.”

Your heart ached. “I don’t hate you, Bada.”

“I’m sorry for being in love with you.” She slurs as tears brim in her eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat and move to sit on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be sorry. Please just drink this and try to sleep.”

Bada takes the cup from you. “ Will you leave ?”

“Um, I-I can if you want me to.” You stammer, playing with your fingers nervously.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want my best friend to hate me. I don’t want to lose you . . .” You watch as a tear falls from Bada’s eye and your heart cracks.

As if by instinct you move closer to Bada and you hold her in your arms, comforting her with a hug. “I won’t leave you, Bada. And I don’t hate you . . . It’s the opposite.” You whisper the last part under your breath.

Bada wraps her arms around your waist before allowing her body to relax in your arms. Her eyes flutter shut and you stare down at her as she dozes off - this particular scene forcing memories and emotions back into your mind.

You then try to remove yourself from her hold but she grips onto you tighter.

“Stay.” You hear a small whisper and so you do.

You wrapped your arms back around Bada and you stayed.

Day 100

Morning came and your eyes fluttered open. Bada now lay behind you, arm slung over your body as she pressed up against you. Events of last night still clear in your mind, you intended to slip out of Bada’s arms and back into your room in hopes that she didn’t remember much.

You gently took Bada’s arm and raised it, slipping out of her hold and then inching closer to the edge of the bed. You let out a hushed exhale and then stood up, gently treading as you made your way to her door.

“Are you leaving ?”

A sleepy voice halts you in your tracks.

You swiftly turn and see a messy haired Bada rubbing her eyes as she sits up.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “I’m just going back to my room.”

“Oh, alright . . . Thank you for staying when I asked.”

Your stomach drops a little. “You remember asking ?”

“I remember a little bit.”

“O-oh, okay. Well I hope you feel a little better now.” You rushed as your hand grabbed onto the door handle and swung it open.

“What did you mean when you said that you didn’t hate me, that it was the opposite ?”

Your heart stopped.

“I didn’t say that. You were drunk, Bada.”

“I know what I heard,” Bada says your name firmly. “Why did you push me away ?”

Bada slowly rose to her feet, gaining her balance.

“Because I can’t love you.” You muttered, eyes avoiding hers.

Bada stepped forward. “And why can’t you love me ?”

Your feet refused to move.

“You deserve better than me. I’m not meant to love or be loved . . .”

Bada took another step closer.

“Do you love me ?”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Bada, I can’t-”

“Do you love me ?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not the one for yo-”

“I can decide that for myself, if you’re the one or not. You don’t get to make decisions regarding the both of us and how I feel toward you.” Bada breathes out as she takes another step, now standing directly before you. “My heart beats for you. It belongs to you like it was carved and sculpted to beat to the rhythm of your name. I know you and I know that I love you. Do you love me ?”

“I love you.” You choke out. Tears glossing your eyes. “I-I do love you. But I'm afraid, Bada.”

Bada takes you in her arms.

“You can love, so you’re meant to be loved. It is scary, yes. But I'm here and I love you in return.”

You cried into Bada’s chest as she held you to her heart as it pumped just for you.

The once impenetrable towers that stood mighty around your heart now crumbled. The remaining bricks fell away as Bada tamed the fiery beast that guarded your fragile heart, forcing the doubt and fear into submission as she held you and wiped your falling tears. Bada had rescued you.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bada mutters into your hair as she traces mindless patterns on your back, still holding you dear. “You deserve to be loved.”

“You make me happy.” You sniffle.

“And I'm glad. You make me happy too.” She whispers before you pull away from her embrace, wiping your teary eyes.

“I think I've always loved you, Bada.” You whisper, eyes locked with hers. “And that’s what frightened me.”

Bada took your face in her palm, thumb gently rubbing your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you and I don’t think I'll stop anytime soon.”

“Please don't stop.” You plead in one breath.

Bada gazes at you with eyes full of adoration.

“I won't. I love you,” your name gently falls from her lips.

“I love you too, Bada.”

Bada smiles and brings you closer. She leans in and joins her lips with yours in a tender exchange of love - love that the two of you always shared.

Tag List / / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! [OPEN]

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada imagine #bada lee swf #bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee smut #grammar n punctuation always gna beat my ass

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Safe Keeping | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1

The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.

He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.

Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane.

Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.

Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.

The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.

Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.

It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.

He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.

The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.

The Hound is perturbed.

"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"

"You saved our sheep!"

"You saved our families!"

"You saved our lives!"

The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.

The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.

"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"

"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."

"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."

"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"

Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.

The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.

When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.

A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.

She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.

Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."

The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."

Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.

He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.

Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.

The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.

Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.

Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.

He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.

The Hound begins his march.

Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.

He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.

She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.

The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.

His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.

He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.

He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.

He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.

He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.

He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.

She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.

He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.

Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.

She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve.

I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.

I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.

I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.

It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."

The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"

I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."

The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"

"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."

"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.

"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."

The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"

I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.

My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.

I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."

I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."

"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."

My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.

"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.

I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."

Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."

My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"

The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."

I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."

Sandor watches me closely.

I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."

His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."

I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.

A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.

"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."

"Like a dog?"

I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."

"That makes one of us."

We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."

His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."

My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"

I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."

My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.

The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."

I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."

He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.

"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."

I flinch when he calls my name.

I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.

Sandor holds back from stepping forward.

"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"

"No, I do not," he says coldly.

I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.

I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.

Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.

Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.

But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.

He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.

He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.

He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.

He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.

He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.

He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.

Fuck it.

He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.

When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.

Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."

"Where is she?"

Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."

He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.

They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.

Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."

The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"

Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.

"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"

Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.

Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.

The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.

Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.

The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.

"Lucy?"

Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.

I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.

I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.

The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."

He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.

"Daisy!" I call.

She ignores me.

Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"

Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away.

"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.

"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.

I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"

I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.

"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.

I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.

The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.

I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.

A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.

Sandor goes to them.

When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.

The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.

In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.

He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.

The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"

The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"

Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.

He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.

His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...

He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.

The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.

Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.

One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.

By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.

He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.

He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.

He's losing his breath.

The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.

The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.

Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.

But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.

He follows the sound of heavy breathing.

His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.

The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.

Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.

He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."

Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.

He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.

Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."

Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.

He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met.

Fearless.

He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver.

So afraid.

"You're a good dog."

His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.

The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.

He screams.

He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.

He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.

He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.

He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.

"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.

His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"

I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?

The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.

It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.

I let out a horrified cry.

The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.

Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.

Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.

"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"

"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."

"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.

The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.

I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"

Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment.

Sandor marches out of the estate.

I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.

After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.

I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.

Boots skid, "fuck."

I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.

"What are you doing?"

I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak.

"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.

I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."

He scoffs.

"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."

I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."

"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"

"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.

"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"

The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.

I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.

"What fucking pie?"

I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"

Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.

I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"

Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"

"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.

I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.

He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."

My jaw slacks.

I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.

My eyes water, "my lo-"

"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.

"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"

He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"

I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."

Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

He kisses me deeply.

"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."

I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."

I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.

I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.

The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.

I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.

I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.

He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.

I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.

With a barely audible creak, the door opens.

And it was also empty.

I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.

I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.

I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.

I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"

I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.

I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.

I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.

A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"

The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.

I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.

I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"

He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."

I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"

The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"

"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."

He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."

"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.

"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.

I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.

He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."

I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.

The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.

I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."

"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.

"Polly's father."

"The stable boy?" he turns to me.

"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.

He says nothing.

I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."

The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.

Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.

"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"

"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."

I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.

I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"

Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.

I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.

I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"

"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."

I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.

Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.

My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."

Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"

I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.

He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle.

I finally look up at him.

He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"

I raise my brows, "maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Do something in the brothels."

His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.

I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.

"It's not a trick, I swear it."

"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"

"I want a baby," I mutter.

Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.

"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."

His lips part.

"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"

He shakes his head once more.

"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."

He takes my hand, "I desire you."

I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.

I place a hand on his cheek.

His knees go weak.

"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."

He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."

I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."

The Hound is pierced through his armor.

He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.

I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.

Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.

And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.

What do you say to that? How do you fix that?

You don't.

He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.

And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.

"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.

The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.

They have to get out of here.

Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.

The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task.

Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.

The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.

"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"

A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."

Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.

"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "

Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.

He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?

"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."

Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.

He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.

He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?"

Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."

She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."

"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want to feel."

She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"

"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."

Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.

She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.

He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.

"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.

Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.

"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.

His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."

"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."

His lips twitch. He looks away.

She tightens her grip, "please."

He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.

"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"

"Everything."

The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.

He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.

When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.

"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.

Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.

She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."

The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.

"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.

He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."

"Then will you let me go now?"

No. No, no, no, no-

"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."

Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. "Do you want to stay?"

"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."

Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."

It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."

Please don't go.

"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."

Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.

Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.

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yunjinified · 7 months

Text

Jeonghan fic recs

✿=personal favourites

note: this list will constantly be updated. In all of these fics the reader is either gender neutral or female. Posted this for Jeonghan's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEONGHAN

red horn by @himbocoups warnings and genre: devil!jeonghan, innocent!reader, fantasy, supernatural, smut, pwp, flirting, food mention, office, bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, jeonghan fucking you with devil horns, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms. word count: 5400

manipulative by @sxfthannie warnings and genre: yandere!jeonghan, mild manipulating. word count: 780

angel of the night by @00angelyoon warnings and genre: husband!jeonghan, established relationship, newly weds, smut, fluff, pet names(darling, baby, pretty girl, angel), mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, degradation, slight praise kink, multiple orgasms(fem receiving), oral(fem receiving), fingering, lingerie, swearing, teasing, mentions of food. word count: N/A

we get along infamously by @seungkwansphd series warnings and genre: coworker!jeonghan, smut, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, emotional constipation, secret relationship, meet cute ugly, makeup sex, dad!seungcheol, dad!dk, college friend!joshua. word count: N/A, 3 chapters, 2 prequels.

23:48 by @sluttyminghao warnings and genre: smut word count: N/A

blueberries by @sunnylovespickles warnings and genre: yoga instructor!jeonghan, smut, impact play, public sex?, multiple orgasms, dom-sub themes, counting, sadist jeonghan, multiple positions, pull out method, recording, controlled orgasm, use of 'sir'. word count: 2000+

beef by @wondernus warnings and genre: one shot smau, humor, e2l. word count: N/A

pathetic series by @leejihoonownsmyheart series warnings and genre: dub con, smut, frat boy!jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!jeongyeon, soft dom to hard dom!jeonghan, mean!jeonghan, submissive!y/n, heavy degradation, light masochist!y/n, sadist!jeonghan, mild pain kink, vaginal fingering, cunnulingus, creampie, spitting, slapping, mentions of safe words but they are never used, big dick!jeonghan, blowjob, slight public play, phone sex, y/n has a humiliation kink, mentions of aftercare. word count: N/A, 8 chapters, 1 bonus content.

heaven angel by @jeonghantis warnings and genre: university au, frat boy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a bit of angst, language, house party scene, gossip, bathroom sex, unrequited crush, reader has commitment issue, reader is a bit mean, mentions of piss and shit but not in a sexual manner. word count: 4100

call me by his name by @sweetlemontart warnings and genre: smut, established relationship, fluff, sub!reader, angry hard dom!jeonghan but actually soft dom, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degradation, choking, hair pulling, spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial?, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol. word count: 8600

rain and kisses by @babyleostuff warnings and genre: fluff, drabble. word count: N/A

mirror, mirror on the wall by @ikigaisvt warnings and genre: dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, smut, mirror kink, dirty talk, begging, mean!jeonghan, teasing, orgasm denial, overstimulation, masturbation(male), use of vibrator, cum, talk of exhibitionism, pet names(reader: doll, slut/my slut, sweet thing, baby, poor thing, pretty angel / jeonghan : hannie, baby). word count: 1000

Seungkwan's and Jeonghan's friend swap Pt.2 by @bitchlessdino warnings and genre: smut, mature themes, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of substance in drink, bathroom sex, dom!jeonghan, mirror sex, fingering, standing back shots, praise kink, one night stand. word count: 2700

no one! - 11:55pm by @kaespas(deactivated) warnings and genre: smut, degradation, mentions of porn, masturbation. word count: N/A note: because this account has been deactivated, i had relogged the original post and used that reblog as the link for this fic, if you get what i mean.

4:59pm by @sunnylovespickles warnings and genre: incubus!jeonghan, smut, drabble. word count: N/A

blame it on me by @onlymingyus warnings and genre: brothers bestfriend!jeonghan, joshua's sister!reader, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, banter, pet names, hair pulling, eating food, alcohol, fluff, humour. word count: 5400

lucky girl by @horangare warnings and genre: model!jeonghan, smut, angst, fluff, fake dating, unrequited love, friends to strangers to lover, public sex, couch sex, oral(m and f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, cockiness, mentions of rehab, crying, arguing, jealousy, pining and yearning. word count: 14 900

my guardian demon sucks at his job (not clickbait) by @shuaflix warnings and genre: smut, fluff, humour, angsts, supernatural au, demon au, demon!jeonghan, not biblically accurate, profanity, slow burn, found family, banter, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), fingering, palming, unprotected sex, ft. demon!shua and demon!wonwoo word count: 23 610

I Hate U, I Love U by @wonusite warnings and genre: enemies to lovers au, rich kid au, college au, model au, fake dating au, angst, fluff, smut, rich boy!jeonghan, frat boy!jeonghan, former rich girl!reader, model!reader, classism, asshole parents, drinking, scheming, mild violence (1 slap), repressed feelings, jealousy, fake relationship, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, pussy drunk!jeonghan, cockdrunk!reader, multiple creampies, squirting, overstimulation. word count: 20 800

little miss naughty by @hoshzone warnings and genre: established relationship, idol!au, smut, thigh riding, begging, oral(fem receiving), breast play, orgasm denial, dirty talk, manhandling, voyeurism, use of pet names, dom!jeonghan, innocence kink. word count: 4300

#jeonghan smut #jeonghan angst #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan fluff

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jungkookschin · 2 months

Text

demigod trials: fates intertwined | two

synopsis: you met jungkook at camp half-blood when you were 10 years old. since then, your fates have been infinitely intertwined.

word count: 10k

pairing: son of ares!jungkook x daughter of hephaestus!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, childhood friends to lovers, exes to lovers , enemies to lovers, jungkook is sooo in love, jungkook is emotionally constipated, THEY FALL INTO TARTARUS TOGETHERR, jk and y/n are supposed to be reminiscent of percabeth, y/n can wield fire 😳 , ANGSTYY, taehyung as a son of poseidon, namjoon son of athena, mingyu son of jupiter, mina daughter of venus,

warnings: death, angst, blood, kinda gruesome, SMUT (not explicit at all- it's told more in a poetic way), v card loss, many percy jackson references, character death (she comes back to life)

author’s note

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 3.5 | chapter four

That morning, Jungkook, Namjoon (son of Athena), Taehyung (son of Poseidon), Jinyoung (son of Hermes), Jennie (daughter of Hades), Jaehyun (son of Apollo), Jisoo (daughter of Demeter), Mark (son of Hephaestus), and Yeri (the satyr) gathered around the ping pong table in the Big House, as called by Chiron.

The purpose of the gathering was to address the need for camp expansion. With the current cabins unable to accommodate all the demigods, it seemed impractical to have 22-year olds like Jungkook share living quarters with ten year-olds.

Namjoon unfolded the blueprints across the ping pong table, revealing intricate architectural designs for every cabin, along with plans to make space for adjacent cabins to accommodate all the demigods.

“So,” Taehyung begins, “We can separate the cabins by, like, minors and 18+?” he shrugs, to which everyone murmurs in agreement.

“Gods, that sounds good,” Jinyoung asserts, “My eight year old brother pulled condoms from my bag and kept asking me what they were! Can you imagine how I felt?”

Jennie swats Jinyoung’s chest. “Seriously? In front of Chiron?”

Jinyoung shrugs, “We’re all grown, I’m sure Chiron is aware of- that we… you know,”

Chiron sighs. “I’ve experienced worse with my brothers the Party Ponies. If anything, this is all the more reason to push for expansion. We must ensure the children are not inadvertently exposed to your... daily activities,” he finishes, eliciting laughter from the cabin leaders.

Jisoo plants her palms on the ping pong table and looks over the blueprints for the Demeter cabin. She bats her lashes at Namjoon. “Any way you can expand our garden, too?”, to which Yeri the satyr joins and uses her puppy eyes on him.

When Namjoon sighs and acquiesces, Jisoo and Yeri interlock fingers and squeal in excitement.

“In that case, can I get a pool in my cabin?-”

“Taehyung, shut up.”

Mark steps through and rapidly scans Namjoon’s blueprints before stepping back and nodding. “The Hephaestus cabin can do this in two weeks min and a month max.”

Jungkook dealt with weird emotions each time he crossed paths with Mark, your younger brother. Seeing Mark earnestly step up to lead the Hephaestus cabin, carrying the responsibilities you once shouldered, filled Jungkook with indescribable pride and sorrow.

“Anything we can do to help, then?” Jungkook offers to which Mark nods

“Namjoon and I can organize a list of materials we need for each cabin to gather. But beyond that, it would be best if you all stayed out of our ways, erm- respectfully, of course,” Mark responds.

Jaehyun laughs at that, throwing a lazy arm around Mark. “I’m so proud of you,” he nuzzles his forehead against the side of Mark’s head, “Our baby is all grown up.”

“Eww, get off me,” Mark responds, lightly nudging Jaehyun away.

Later in the day, Jungkook started collecting the materials Mark had instructed the Ares cabin to gather. He ran into the woods to start cutting wood when he senses another presence.

A monster, maybe, or perhaps a nymph or satyr wandering about. The sound of footsteps rustling through the dry leaves Jungkook further concerned, and he unsheathes his Celestial Bronze knife. “Show yourself.”

You step out from behind a tree in a fresh set of clothes and Jungkook drops his knife.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

In an instant, Jungkook's pupils burst into flaming orbs as he draws his sword, swiftly advancing towards you. The sheer disdain etched on his features is unforgettable, and you quickly realize that he likely mistook you for a monster taking on your appearance.

You turn around and run. You sprint towards the camp barriers, screaming for your life before you trip on a rock, sending you sprawling onto the ground, your face meeting the cold, hard earth.

Confusion clouds Jungkook's features as he slows his pursuit. He looks you up and down, uncertainty written across his face as he assesses the situation.

“Jungkook! It’s me! It’s actually me! Stop!” you scream, desperately trying to make him recognize you.

He assumes a defensive stance, but his voice quivers. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook,” you respond breathlessly, “I can explain. Did Rosie tell you guys about the Physician’s Cure?”

Jungkook comes to a sudden halt. "I... just..." His brain malfunctions, leaving him at a loss for words in your presence.

He pulls himself together. “I’m going to arrest you and take you to the Big House… just in case.”

You appear a little stunned but you nod, reaching into your magic toolbelt to pull out handcuffs, grinning at him a little when you toss them to him.

News of your return spread through the camp like a wildfire. Jungkook guides you to the Big House while a crowd of people formed around him

His heart insists that it’s you, and his soul is screaming at him that it’s you, but after all this time he refuses to believe it.

Camp Half-Blood achieved a new milestone by hosting the highest number of meetings in a single day: 2.

The ping pong table has been folded and moved to the side, leaving a single chair in the empty space for you- or a monster pretending to be you.

All the cabin leaders sprinted to the Big House once they heard the news.

Taehyung and Namjoon, sweaty from sprinting from the pegasi stables, stand in the doorway to catch a glimpse of you.

Taehyung instantly falls to his knees and Namjoon drops the notebook in his hand.

The seas of people part at the sound of Chiron’s hooves, whose face morphed into exasperation at your appearance. “My gods, it can’t be. Y/N?”

You smile shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your air before waving with your fingers, “Hi?”

Jennie peeked from behind Chiron, gasping, and she tried to run towards you until Chiron stuck his arm out to stop her.

Jaehyun stepped forward with a bow strung on his arrow, ready to fire at any moment. “Explain,” he seethes.

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, combing through your hair with your fingers, “What a warm welcome.”

A horn blows throughout the camp, signaling the arrival of the Roman demigods, who were alerted of the news immediately after Jungkook made the announcement.

Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood established a teleportation portal between the two camps, allowing instant and seamless communication.

Rose passed through the crowd, gasping when her eyes landed on you. Ignoring Chiron’s warnings, she ran to you, her hands falling on your shoulders.

“The Physician’s Cure?” she asks, breathless.

You nod, and she embraces you tightly, tears streaming down her face. “Fuck, Y/N. It fucking worked It’s a miracle.”

“Rose Park,” Mina’s voice echoes throughout the building, and she assumes an offensive stance with her Imperial Gold spatha. “You’ll be under arrest for treason if you don’t explain what’s going on.”

You rise abruptly, shielding Rose with your body. “I’ll explain. I am Y/N L/N, and it’s true that I died, but I was brought back to life with the Physician’s Cure.”

“On the ship, after Jungkook and I returned from Tartarus,” you begin, your eyes flickering towards Jungkook, “Rose and I began developing the Physician's Cure, an injection that can bring anybody back to life. It was formulated by Asclepius, son of Apollo and the god of medicine.”

Rose nods sternly. “I’d been researching the Physician’s Cure for years,” she adds, “Y/N was the only one I trusted with its formula, and we did it. I thought we had failed, but Gods, it worked.”

You vigorously nod. “And I had this idea- this idea that I had to be the one to kill Gaia. To storm or fire the world shall fall,” you state, recalling the prophecy, “I’m fire. It had to be me. So Rosie and I devised a plan to kill Gaia for good. And I knew the risks, I knew I could die- but when Rosie told me about the Physician’s Cure I knew I had to do it. It was a sign from the fates. I had to get rid of Gaia by burning her to death, and the only way I could do it was burning myself to death. We would fly Gaia away from her home court, burn her to death, and Pulchra would bring me back with the Physician's Cure.”

Jungkook’s features twist in pain, in betrayal. “So it wasn’t an accident? You planned on dying without telling us?”

His attention turns towards Rose. “And you knew?” he seethes, “This whole time, all this pain could have been avoided-“

“I thought she was dead!” Rose responds, “You were so depressed I didn’t want to give you any false hope! That injection had a 10% chance of working- I didn’t know!”

“So you knew Y/N was going to die and did nothing about it,” Taehyung seethes.

“It was my choice,” you interject, “It was for the mission. Gaia is gone and that means it was a success.”

Jungkook scoffs. “To storm or fire the world shall fall,” he recites the prophecy. “Storm would have sufficed. Mingyu and I had a plan, Y/N. We could have avoided all this.”

“But Mingyu would have died!” You respond.

“I wouldn’t have!” Mingyu interjects, “With all due respect, my body could have taken it,” He puts a hand on his heart to convey his sincerity. “You should have told us. Can you imagine how Jungkook and I felt when you fucking died in front of us? And we couldn’t do anything about it?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? Why does it matter?”

Mingyu looks at you with an especially crestfallen expression and your stomach plummets. You shift your gaze to Jungkook and he looks arguably worse, eyes turning red as he stares at the ground, shaking his head in disbelief.

Chiron steps in the middle to intervene. “That’s enough, everybody. Let Y/N finish her story. Where have you been the past two years?”

Your face falls and your knees buckle. “T-two years? What?”

Rosie hooks her arm through yours. “It’s been two years. Take a minute to process everything.” She leads you to your seat, and you inhale so deeply your chest hurts.

Two years? It was just yesterday that you incinerated Gaia.

“I-I woke up on an island,” you explain, “I don’t know where exactly I was, but it was somewhere in the Indian ocean. I made some tweaks to Pulchra’s GPS system and flew back here as fast as I could.”

Jungkook nods bitterly, tears streaming down his face as he addresses you. “Yea Y/N, it’s been two years- two fucking years. We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re adults and we take responsibility for our actions,” he bitterly states.

“Kook, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Did you know that we spent six months looking for you? Traveled every sea, walked every country to find you, even though the Hades kids confirmed your death?” Jungkook adds, voice quivering. “So this information would have been nice to know when were on that ship for six fucking months,” he seethes, redirecting his attention to Rose.

“Don’t blame her,” you interject, “She was in a tough position, she couldn’t have-“

“Oh don’t worry, inferno princess, I blame you too. I must’ve meant shit to you if you were planning on dying without telling me. Did everything…” he trails off, gazing at you with such profound betrayal, “Did everything mean nothing to you?”

You shake your head, unable to conjure a proper response. “I-I thought I’d only be gone for a few hours Kook- I didn’t know-”

“And if the Physician’s Cure didn’t work?” Jungkook asks, staring at you incredulously, “Rose herself said it had a 90% failure rate, so if it didn’t work, you would have just died and expected me to live with myself? To live without you?” The pain in his chest is nearly unbearable, and sadness envelopes your entire being.

“I’m sorry,” is all you say.

“Sorry? Sorry? So that night when we- when you- with the candles, did you know? Did you know you were going to die?” Jungkook asks.

Your face falls, and Jungkook bitterly scoffs at that. “What you did wasn’t heroic, Y/N. What you did was cruel. You’re- you’re crueler than the gods.” And with that, he bitterly stomps away, the crowd parting for his exit.

Chiron clears his throat, walking towards the middle of the room before he announces “Campers under the age of 20, you are dismissed. Return to your daily activities immediately.”

You gaze at your trembling hands, struggling to comprehend everything, when Namjoon engulfs you in the most intense hug he's ever given. In his embrace, you crumble and break into tears.

“Gods Y/N, I’m just- I’m glad you’re back.”

You embrace him with the same intensity, crying into his shoulders.

You refuse to let Namjoon go until you’re ripped from him from the hem of your shirt and pulled into Taehyung’s embrace. He’s crying harder than you, body trembling as he holds you and at that moment, you would do anything to ease his anxiety and calm the tremors coursing through his body. You sniffle, rubbing his back up and down with your palms, and the only thing you can say to him is that you’re sorry.

Mingyu is up next, and as pissed off as he was, he holds you tight and cries into your shoulder. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says and all you do is cry.

Mina, dropping her Spatha, rushes towards you, throwing herself into your arms. She buries her face in your hair, letting out guttural cries

For hours, you and your childhood friends stay in the Big House, crying, hugging, and catching up.

That night at dinner, you reconvene with your siblings in the Hephaestus cabin, who ardently welcome you home with a toast to your father.

Mark, your younger brother who is now the head of the Hephaestus cabin, receives the biggest hug the moment you spot him. He laughs and returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, saying, "So, does this mean I don’t have to be head counselor anymore?"

You shoot him a playful glare. “Don’t even. You’ve been doing so well. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

“Of course, sis,” he adds, “It’s water under the bridge- you did save the world anyway,” he shrugs.

During dinner, your gaze involuntarily wanders towards the Ares table, and Jungkook is noticeably absent.

The thought of what you did to Jungkook makes you sick to your stomach. Back then, your focus was solely on the quest, and you didn't want him to intervene because you believed the mission had to take precedence.

The mission carried immense stress, and you had to devise a strategy to eliminate Gaia. The fate of the world hung in the balance, dependent on your actions. Your friends would've intervened if they knew, and Gaia might have fully come back to life.

Everything he said was true. You were selfish. You knew you were going to die and you pretended like everything was okay because you desperately clung onto that sense of normalcy you had with him.

You were selfish, and you were a coward.

While dying for a noble cause sounds heroic- Jungkook was right, you were selfish. You would rather die than deal with the grief of losing your friends.

Nobody says anything about your encounter with Jungkook, until Jaehyun approaches you after dinner.

As you walk back to the Hephaestus cabin, he scares the shit out of you when he appears from the shadows, “So, Jungkook? Were you guys like …?”

You’re a little taken aback, but you can’t help but notice the crestfallen expression on Jaehyun’s face and all you can do is nod. “He’s it for me. It’s him or nothing,” you respond.

Jaehyun tightens his lips and gives a nod. "I- well- alright. If you ever change your mind... just let me know," he says with an awkward smile. He offers to walk you back to your cabin, and you oblige to catch up with him.

Walking past the Ares cabin, you can’t help but notice two figures convening by its side, one on their tiptoes to kiss the other. You tilt your head and momentarily pause.

“Wait Y/N- we should just go back-“

Your heart drops when you realize it’s Jungkook and a girl, a girl you definitely don't recognize. She’s got her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing his skin soothingly, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off her as they speak to each other.

You shake your head, immediately backing away before you stumble and fall onto Jaehyun. He catches you, gaze immediately sweeping over your face. You collect yourself and wipe the dust from your clothes.

"It-it's fine," you say, but tears are already streaming down your face. You sprint back to your cabin before Jaehyun can say anything.

That night, you can’t sleep. You and your younger brother Mark spend the entire night in the main room of the Hephaestus cabin, poring over a blueprint of a prototype he's working on for the new 18+ Hephaestus cabin.

"Obviously, I'm not sticking to Namjoon's blueprints for our cabin," Mark declares, as if it's the most evident statement, “Since you and I are the only 18+ kids in our cabin, we’re gonna make that shit the best building Camp Half-Blood’s ever seen!” he expresses with a twinkle in his eye.

You smile at his enthusiasm as you scan over his blueprints. “Jacuzzi tub for every bunk?” you express, “I like how you think little brother.”

For hours, you and Mark review blueprints, constructing the best cabin to ever be built.

The next morning, you and Mark look like death, but you insist on heading to breakfast anyway.

Your expression darkens as you catch sight of Jungkook and his girlfriend walking towards the dining hall. Mark instantly notices the shift in your mood and attempts to divert your attention by sharing another idea he had for the cabin.

Throughout the night, you had confided in your brother about the details of your past relationship with Jungkook, and now he fills you in on the information he gathered about Jungkook's new girlfriend.

A descendant of the Roman Apollo, Sofia traveled all the way to Camp Half-Blood to visit Jungkook.

In Jungkook's eyes, Sofia became a symbol of unwavering support, a pillar of unconditional devotion, and Mark’s verbiage makes you feel infinitely worse, considering that you disappeared after three weeks of dating Jungkook.

You know, maybe you weren’t so in the wrong. Ironically, considering he has moved on, perhaps you weren't as significant to him as you thought, not enough for him to hold on for two years.

Instead, you direct your attention to Mark’s plans for magical laundry chutes throughout the new Hephaestus cabin.

Taehyung and Namjoon join you for breakfast at the Hephaestus table, eagerly spilling everything they’ve accomplished the past two years.

Namjoon is now Chief Architect for Mount Olympus, and Taehyung discovered an underwater Camp Half-Blood for mermen. Mina and Mingyu join later and you immerse yourself in conversation, learning that Mina and Mingyu are the Praetors for the Roman Legion.

You smile at everybody, eagerly chatting and listening along, perceiving exactly how much you missed the past two years, as happy as you are for your friends, you’re heartbroken by the realization of your prolonged absence.

You’re pulled from your trance when Mina makes a damning statement. “Rose is on probation. She’s going to be put on trial for treason against the Legion and conspiring for your death.”

You freeze.

“What?”

Mina sighs. “I’m sorry Y/N, but that’s the law. I can’t bend rules because she’s my friend.”

The tension at the table is palpable, and you stare at Mingyu and Mina with a tenacious reflection in your eyes.

“Where is she?” you ask, adrenaline surging through your veins.

Mina and Mingyu exchange glances, imploring the other to answer the question. “She’s in a jail cell back in Camp Jupiter,” Mingyu finally answers.

You gasp, abruptly rising to your feet before Taehyung grabs your hand to stop you from going anywhere. “Y/N, sit,” he says through gritted teeth.

As you stand, eyes searching for answers, you catch Taehyung's grip on your hand and the subtle shake of Namjoon's head. You glance around and notice the curious and concerned gazes of fellow demigods in the dining hall. Innocent children, still unaware of the haunting reality of being a demigod.

These are the demigods you once swore to protect. You can't afford to disrupt the fragile peace that binds them together, even if your heart screams for justice.

Feeling the weight of the collective gaze, you reluctantly sink back into your seat. The metal chair feels cold against your skin, mirroring the chill that has settled in your heart.

Immediately after breakfast, the head counselors for every cabin meet at the Big House for yet another meeting. You’re back in the middle of the room, all eyes on you as you implore your friends to stick up for Rose.

"You can't go through with this," you express with exasperation, directing your gaze at Mina and Mingyu.

Mina dismissively shakes her head, her expression resolute. "It's not just about you," she emphasizes, "Well, it is but it's also about the principles we stand for in this camp. Trust, transparency, and accountability are crucial, especially when lives are at stake. Rose's actions have raised questions about the very foundations of our community."

The weight of Mina's words hangs in the air, and you can sense the gravity of the situation settling in the room.

“Killing Gaia my way was the only way, and I can prove it,” you counter. “Rose did the right thing. She saved the world.”

Mark, your little brother, steps forward and places a comforting shoulder on the small of your back.

“Jungkook is right,” Mina adds, “We were on a quest for six months to find you. She should have said something, but she didn't. She committed a crime against the Roman Legion."

At the mention of Jungkook's name, your gaze shifts toward him. He's leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, eyes trained downward.

You shake your head. “The Physician’s Cure was a prototype. We both knew that it probably wouldn’t work. What’s the point of bringing it up? To turn the six month quest into a year long quest? You have to understand her-“

Jaehyun grimaces, biting his lip, immediately speaking up. “Y/N, you don’t get it. After you died, it was rough. Really rough. Rose is in the wrong. She should have said something. She alone could have provided us more clarity, more closure.”

"And this isn't just about you; it's about the entire quest, the well-being of everyone involved,” Namjoon adds, his expression grave. “Hiding the details of your death is a serious offense in the eyes of both gods and mortals.”

You pause. “I get it. I really do, but what was she supposed to do? Would she have gone to jail for ‘conspiring in my death’ if she said anything? The reason we planned it out without telling you guys was because we knew you would stop me. The quest takes precedence. We had to put the quest first. And that’s what we did.”

Jisoo intervenes. “Y/N has a point. If Rosie mentioned the Physician’s Cure, would that have made a difference? It would have just left us with uncertainty, and we would have gone in circles around the world clinging on to hope. Isn’t it good that we moved forward?”

The room stills at Jisoo’s comment, silently acknowledging the validity of her point.

Ignorance is bliss, and Rose left both camps blissfully ignorant, free to move forward with the closure that they exhausted all efforts to find you.

You venture to ask something at that moment. “If I told you guys what I was planning… would you have stopped me?” You finally ask, eyes flickering to the demigods present on the quest.

Mina shakes her head almost immediately. “I wouldn’t have. You’re right Y/N. The quest takes precedence and the prophecy clearly states ‘To storm or fire the world must fall’.”

“I would have,” Taehyung states. “100%, and I wouldn't do anything differently if it happened today.”

“I-“ you look around, “I can prove why it had to be fire and not storm. Mingyu, your plan would have never worked in the sense that there would have been too much collateral damage.”

Mingyu tilts his head at your comment, and you whip out a white board marker, approaching the white board on the wall.

“Do you know how hot I burned to incinerate Gaia?” you ask everyone, and everybody’s eyes follow you- even Jungkook’s, listening and watching intently.

In bright red letters, you write 1,200-2,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

“That’s how hot lava burns,” you explain, pausing before you write another figure on the board.

10,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

“I burned at 10,000 degrees when I finally incinerated Gaia,” you state, and everybody looks dumbfounded at the number, unable to comprehend how hot 10,000 degrees actually is. “That’s as hot as the surface of the sun. At 10,000 degrees, matter does not exist, atoms do not exist- it simply implodes.”

The next thing you write on the board is

Saffir Sampson Hurricane Wind Scale.

Pointing to it, you explain, “This is how we measure intensity of storms. It rates hurricanes from Category 1 to Category 5 based on wind speeds. The deadliest hurricane on this scale was Hurricane Mitch in 1998, with wind speeds exceeding 155 miles per hour,” you explain, writing 155 MPH on the board.

Everyone appears to be aware of the direction you're heading, yet you still need to articulate it to drive your point home.

“Hurricane Mitch resulted in 11,000 to 19,000 fatalities, and I’m not even talking about injuries or displacement. So imagine the devastation of a storm with an intensity equivalent to 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit!”

Namjoon tilts his head, rising. “I get what you’re saying but that argument won’t hold up in court. Conversion metrics between temperature and speed don’t exist in Science- but hypothetically, a storm strong enough to kill Gaia would also kill a lot of people in its wake.”

You nod vigorously. “So Rose, by keeping a secret, killed Gaia and potentially saved the lives of thousands! Beyond that, you’re free to question her moral integrity, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyways!”

The features of Mingyu, the man who is responsible for stirring this hypothetical storm, morph into deep contemplation. “You’re free to argue that in court, Y/N. Our job is to uphold Roman law. I’m sorry.”

Your testimony for Rose in court reveals to be successful. The charges are dropped against Rose, and she is reinstated as the Official Healer for the Roman Legion.

However, Rose’s acquittal fails to supersede the animosity, hatred, and damage that have infiltrated the once-unbreakable bond among the seven demigods who triumphed over the Earth mother Gaia.

While the evil primordial goddess was physically dead, she successfully sowed her seeds of disdain within your group of friends.

The tension between Rose, Mina and Mingyu is more palpable than ever. How can a friendship be repaired after your best friends send you to jail? Rose refuses to talk to Mina and you can’t blame her. Nor can you blame Mina and Mingyu. You understand the rigidity of the role of Praetor, and Mina and Mingyu were simply fulfilling their duty.

At the same time, Jungkook still refuses to acknowledge your existence. If he sees you, he turns the opposite direction, not batting a lash at you.

The hurt in his eyes and the bitterness in his actions show how horribly he feels betrayed, and it makes you sick to your stomach. Despite Namjoon and Taehyung's assurances that he'll eventually come around, your intuition tells you that Jungkook's actions aren’t a choice he’s making willingly, but rather a burden too heavy for him to bear.

The bonds that once held your group together are now strained with secrets, regrets, and the harsh realities of the decisions you made.

You can’t even fathom how or if your friendships will ever be repaired. The wounds go deep, leaving scars that aren't just physical – they're emotional and psychological, ingrained in the very essence of your shared history.

It’s only three months after your miraculous return that Jungkook speaks to you.

By this time, the construction of the 18+ cabins were complete, meaning that all demigods over the age of 18 were given their own quarters separate from their little siblings.

Jungwon, a thirteen year old kid from the Ares cabin, established his name amongst Camp Half-Blood as the next best swordsman after Jungkook, of course.

Last month, he ventured on a quest now dubbed the Quest to the City Stuck in Time. Eldritch Haven, a quaint city in Maine, became seemingly stuck in time. The Oracle only called for a 13 year old Jungwon, calling him to eradicate the threat of the Lamented Souls- vengeful spirits ensnaring the city in a temporal web.

As requested by Chiron, you forged Jungwon a brand new Celestial Bronze blade called Kataklysmós, or Cataclysm, the forthbringer of destruction.

Armed with the freshly crafted blade, you secure it in its sheath and make your way to the Ares cabins. Of course, Jungwon resides in the cabin for minors, so you politely knock on the door to present him with his newly forged blade.

The door knob turns and to your surprise, Jungkook greets you.

He gazes at you, his expression devoid of any emotion, and his eyes pass from your face to the sword held in your hand.

“Come in.”

You abhor how he addresses you with such formality.

You follow Jungkook to the living room within the cabin, gingerly taking a seat on the leather sofa before Jungwon pops out from the adjacent room. He greets you with a firm and brief handshake before sitting on the couch in front of you.

Jungkook looms behind his younger brother, arms crossed as he scrutinizes every inch of your face. Gods, as handsome as he was, he also is the most terrifying and intimidating man you’ve ever encountered.

You clear your throat and unsheathe the blade. “Jungwon, I present you with the Kataklysmós. Henceforth, this blade shall be your weapon of choice on quests and your primary tool against monsters. Your skills were recognized by Chiron, and he prompted me to design and construct the finest sword I’ve ever created.”

Jungwon's eyes gleam as they lock onto the sword, sparkling against the silver reflection of the blade. Anyone could tell that this kid has fallen in love at first sight.

Honestly, you feel the same. This blade is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Kataklysmós is a celestial bronze blade adorned with intricate engravings depicting scenes of Jungwon slicing through the Lamented Souls. Its hilt, crafted from Stygian iron, features a blood-red gemstone at its pommel, a gemstone embedded with divine magic.

“Not only does this sword enhance the weapon's slicing capability, it is magically embedded with divine magic. So, long as you form a soul link with your weapon, Kataklysmós will absorb the essence of fallen enemies, temporarily enhancing the wielder's strength and combat prowess.”

A small gasp leaves Jungwon’s lips and his gaze shifts from the sword to you. “What?” he asks like his breath has been taken away.

“A soul binding link,” you clarify, “You have to form a bond with your weapon for its celestial energy to be channeled,” your eyes flicker towards Jungkook whose features are twisted in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, and his face slightly disorients you so you clear your throat.

“This is new technology. My little brother Mark, Chiron, and I have been working on forging weapons with magical enhancement,” you elaborate.

“Weapons with divine energy from ancient times exist, but creating one has been a significantly challenging process” you continue, looking back at Jungwon, “So I don’t know exactly how you’ll form a soul tie with your blade, but I know you can do it. Chiron chose you to be the first wielder of a magically enhanced weapon for a reason.” You offer Jungwon a sisterly smile, and he appears like a fish, unable to comprehend your words.

“If this is the first weapon, doesn’t Cataclysm run the risk of causing harm to Jungwon?” Jungkook jumps in, question stern and abrupt.

You shake your head, locking eyes with him. “Magical enhancements don’t work that way. It only runs the risk of not working. It can only cause harm to its user if I enchanted it with some evil spell,” you confirm.

“Gonna pull out a whiteboard to explain that too? We have one in the other room,” he shrugs.

You wish there was someone you knew to exchange uncomfortable glances with, because was he cracking a joke after not acknowledging your existence for three months?

“Um-“

“Excuse my brother,” Jungwon intervenes, “It truly is a blessing to be the first candidate chosen to weild an enchanted blade. Thank you, Y/N.”

Observing Jungwon fixedly gazing at you with earnest eyes, you can’t help but think that 13-year old Jungwon is a stark contrast from 13-year old Jungkook. Jungwon is polite, a sweetie pie if you’ve ever seen one. 13-year old Jungkook cursed at Chiron, was a fireball of impulsivity, wreaking havoc everywhere he went.

You smile. “Yea Jungwon. I know you can do it. Congratulations on your last quest.”

“However, I do need you to keep a log of your progress," you add, retrieving a small notebook from your pocket. "Every day, as you work on forming a soul tie, fill out the form in this book. It's straightforward, covering things like the time you spent practicing with the sword and your thoughts during the process."

Jungwon nods, taking the logbook from you before flipping through it. “Got it, Y/N, and can I find you in the Hephaestus cabin if I have any questions?”

You nod. “Any time.”

With that, Jungwon gives you a final handshake before hurrying off to the dueling arena to practice parries and strikes.

You're on the verge of leaving when Jungkook clasps his arm around your wrist. His touch feels electrifying, and you look up at him.

"Let's talk."

Jungkook takes you to the 18+ Ares cabins, where so far, he is the only resident. The cabin looks different from how you constructed it, littered with his own personal Jungkook touch.

A sleek flat screen TV sits in the front of the room of the TV, a leather black couch you don’t recognize is littered with Hello Kitty plushies, probably from his girlfriend. The thought makes you nauseous.

You sit on the leather couch, watching as Jungkook whisks towards the kitchen to fill up a glass of water before handing it to you.

He sits next to you, his hands resting on his thighs. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he states, and you’re a bit taken aback.

“Do you.. do you know what my fatal flaw is?” he continues, addressing you directly, not looking away even when you fail to meet his eyes.

Despite the years of separation, the answer is clear to you. With Jungkook, it was painfully obvious, and you caught on immediately during your adventures in Tartarus.

“Yea,” you respond, “Love. Your fatal flaw is love.”

He nods, seemingly a bit taken aback before releasing a relieved laughter. “Of course.” He smiles cheekily to himself, a wave of nostalgia seemingly crashing over him.

“That’s why..” Jungkook trails off, “That’s why I was so sensitive to… to your death,” he finishes. “I led the quest for six months around the world, and when we couldn’t find you, I left Camp Half-Blood for a year.”

You nod. You heard from the others what had occurred during your absence, but hearing it from Jungkook still makes your stomach drop. “I’m sorry Jungkook-“

“No,” he cuts you off, “I get it. You were right. Mine and Mingyu’s plan would have never worked. In the end, it was my fault,” He looks forward, a gleam of despondence reflective in his eyes, “I couldn’t protect you. It was my weakness that forced you to do something so dire, and you paid the price with your life.”

“This whole thing,” Jungkook continues, “This whole thing is a mess. The more I think about it, we were so young. Why did we have to go through all that?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“If you told me about your plan, I would have gone ballistic,” he describes, face twisting with emotion, “And- and if Rosie told me what actually happened, gods, I would have destroyed Apollo’s shrine with my bare hands.”

“So maybe you were right to hide it from me. It sucks to say it, but our relationship was a small price to pay for saving the world, and as demigods we have to bear that burden.”

Your hands still, and this impulsive little demon living inside you is screaming tell him you love him, tell him you want him! Instead, you shakily exhale, blinking tears from your eyes.

Usually, when you cry, Jungkook wipes your tears or counsels you with his embrace.

This time he does nothing.

“We were kids,” he concurs, “The gods put us in this situation. You did your best, Y/N. Thank you for serving diligently.”

Unknowingly, your hands grasp onto the Hello Kitty plushie by your side, mistaking it for a pillow to hold. When you realize what you're clutching, you quickly set it down. “Sorry. That’s from... your—your—“

“My girlfriend?” Jungkook finishes, “My girlfriend…” he trails off, “Do you think I would even be speaking to you if I still had a girlfriend?”

You blink at him. “Did you guys.. break up?” You don’t realize you're holding your breath until you sigh in relief at his response.

“Yea,” he agrees. “Sofia’s a good girl. She needs someone who can love her, take care of her. I guess a kid of Ares isn’t that guy. She said I was too emotionally unavailable and found some other guy in Camp Jupiter.” He shrugs it off.

You’re a bit taken aback by that. Sofia seemed so enamored with Jungkook; you can’t fathom that she was the one to break it off.

Jungkook bitterly laughs. “The gods fucked us up so bad no one in our generation will ever get married.”

You know Jungkook is doing his Jungkook thing by coping with humor, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh along. Looking down with despondency at the Hello Kitty plushie, a sad “Yea,” is all you’re able to conjure.

As you both stare at the Hello Kitty plushy, Jungkook breaks the somber atmosphere with a casual tone. "So Y/N, friends?" he asks, a small smile playing on his lips. "It sucks to not talk to you—I mean, I still use this stupid knife all the time," he says, pointing to the Celestial Bronze knife you crafted for him all those years ago.

You smile, nodding at Jungkook. “Yea,” you concur, “Friends.”

Rebuilding your friendship with Jungkook was a lovely experience. You loved him and wanted him in any way, and if that was to be platonic, you would take it.

Countless hours were spent in the 18+ Poseidon cabin, immersed in the cool waters of Taehyung’s pool. Jungkook joined you in the forge, learning how to craft magically embedded weapons, and for an Ares kid, he wasn’t so horrible at it. As counselors for your cabins, you both emerged as pillars and leaders for the young demigods, echoing the very positions you once occupied years ago.

Neither of you dared to cross the boundary between friendship and love, and maybe it was better that way. It was too painful to love. There was too much at risk.

At 23, Jungkook embarks on a one-year journey to Camp Jupiter, assuming the role of Assistant Commander for the Roman Legion. A Greek in the Roman Legion was almost unheard of, but Jungkook who was highly respected for everything he accomplished, seized an unprecedented opportunity.

At 24, you find yourself presented with the opportunity to work in your father Hephaestus's forge for a year. Immediately, you accept it and bid goodbye to your friends in Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood.

And at age 25, you return to Earth, reuniting with Jungkook at Camp Jupiter for a meeting- a meeting of seemingly great importance, considering that the most powerful demigods have been summoned to gather.

25 years old

As Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook, and you meander around the grounds of New Rome, you explore the coffee shops, savoring the thrill of the bustling city and immersing yourselves in the rich tapestry of its culture.

You’re standing by a statue of your father in his Roman form Vulcan, posing with Namjoon for the photo while Jungkook snaps a shot.

You skip over to Jungkook, looking over his shoulder to view the photo before you’re tackled to the ground.

“Y/N! You bitch!” Rose, daughter of Apollo, is on top of you, holding her Imperial Gold dagger to your neck. She’s fuming, her face scrunched in hatred, and you already know what this is about.

Jungkook, Namjoon, and Taehyung aren’t sure if they should intervene; perhaps this was the cute new way you girls greeted each other (?)

Namjoon intervenes only when Rose starts drawing blood from your neck, and somehow, Rose has acquired monstrous strength, as she doesn't budge an inch when. Instead, she elbows him in the crotch and Namjoon falls to the floor with a thud.

Apollo: 1. Athena: 0.

“Y/N, you fucked my dad?!” Rose seethes, threatening to push the dagger further into your neck.

“Get off!” You employ your feet to push her away from your body and start wiping the blood from your neck.

Romantic entanglements between gods and demigods weren't uncommon. In various stories from Greek mythology, gods were known for their pursuits of mortal beings, including demigods. Quite frankly, the gods didn’t care that demigods were children of the other gods- they really had no decency. Anyone was free game.

“I did not fuck your dad!” you enunciate, “He came after me. I turned him down every time.”

“You liar!” She hisses, and suddenly she eerily resembles Lamia- the same demon who tried to kill you multiple times- before she pounces after you. Before you can comprehend it, you’re sprinting away.

Thank the gods Taehyung, your knight in shining armor, restrains Rose, locking her wrists behind her back. “Gods Rose, it’s not Y/N’s fault your dad is a slut,” Taehyung murmurs, looking up and raising his brows in amusement.

Rose quite literally growls at that, trying to release herself from Taehyung’s grip, and honestly you’re scared she’s going to kill you.

“Y/N, I swear to the gods- if you fucked my dad, I’m going to murder you,” she hisses, fuming from her ears.

“I did not fuck your dad! Are you insane?!”

“Taehyung, let me go!” Rose screams, “I’m not going to do anything, just let me go!” She screeches. Taehyung obliges and she falls on her face.

Her chest rises up and down while she catches her breath. She looks up at you, murderous intent still in her eyes. “Tell me everything that happened.”

During your time on Olympus, the god Apollo approached you in the forge multiple times, attempting to coax you into sleeping with him. You weren’t flattered, nor were you offended. It was Apollo being Apollo.

Under the protection of your father, you were able to pretend that he didn’t exist. Hephaestus soon got fed up and engineered a metal net to put an end to Apollo’s visits.

That’s how you, Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook and Rose end up at a nearby cafe, chowing down on pizza while you retell the story.

“Why are you blaming me for this?” you deadpan, “In what world would you be blaming me for your dad trying to sleep with me?”

Rose slams her face on the table, “I had a dream, Y/N. Not a dream, a fucking nightmare. I had a very vivid and repulsive dream of you and my father and I- I- Gods, my daddy issues are so horrible,” she mutters into the metal surface.

Jungkook places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Yea, me too,” he concurs, blankly staring into the atmosphere.

Taehyung dismisses the notion with a wave of his hand, “You should’ve known it was a dream and not a vision. My Y/N’s a good girl- she doesn’t do stuff like that.” Teasingly, he inches closer towards you and drapes an arm over your shoulder.

Your features twist in disgust and you whack him in the head with a rolled up newspaper.

Jungkook shrugs, "Y/N is beautiful. We all know that. It was bound to happen eventually," he takes a sip from his iced coffee, so nonchalant, like he doesn’t know how you desperately cling on to his every word, dying a little inside at his little compliment.

Namjoon side-eyes you.

Rose scoffs, glaring at Jungkook, “My father. My father tried to fuck my best friend. That wasn’t just bound to happen.”

Taehyung grins, “Y/N kissed your brother and then fucked your dad. Are you sure she’s your best friend?” he muses, so blatantly trying to trigger another cat fight between you and Rose.

Instead, you both frown deeply at him.

“So are you going to apologize to me for elbowing me in the balls or-”

“Gods Namjoon, I’m sorry. I was in the wrong. Blah, blah, blah,”

While Taehyung, Namjoon, and Rose bicker amongst each other Jungkook turns towards you, pointing to his neck, prompting you to look down at yours. “Want me to bandage it for you?” he mouths, to which you shake your head.

Rose didn’t cut you that deep. A sip of ambrosia would do the trick.

“You sure?” he mouths.

You nod. “It’s all good.”

The Senate House is home to important gatherings, crucial decisions, and the collective wisdom of the Roman demigods who shape the destiny of New Rome.

As you enter, you can feel the palpable tension in the air, making it seem colder than the rest of New Rome.

Jennie, daughter of Hades, stands at the podium, her stunning features clouded with pure exhaustion. She looks like a walking corpse with her cheekbones caved in and a gray shadow casting over her face. The aura she exudes is so dark that you can feel its weight from meters away.

She locks eyes with you but quickly averts her gaze, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead. She begins trembling intensely, and Mina, daughter of Venus and the Praetor of the Roman Legion, rushes over to hand Jennie a bottle of water.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Mingyu conversing with another soldier in the Roman Legion. He seems taller and more muscular, his usual playful demeanor crushed under the weight of a serious expression on his face. He oddly resembles Atlas, a titan forced to hold the weight of the sky, and it sends chills down your body.

Timidly, you take a seat in the audience and wait for the meeting to be called into order.

Mina and Mingyu step in front of the podium. "Senators and esteemed demigods of Rome and Greece, your immediate attention is required. We gather here not in routine matters, but in the face of an unprecedented and dire threat. Our very existence is under siege, and the safety of our camp hangs in the balance,” Mina begins

“I beseech you, lend me your ears and hearts, for what I am about to reveal is of utmost gravity. Recent developments have uncovered a menace that surpasses any we have faced before. The threads of fate are unraveling, and the forces that threaten us are ancient, powerful, and malevolent,” Mingyu continues before glancing at Jennie.

With a gulp, she addresses the assembly through the microphone. “Hades, my father, has lost his reign over the Underworld. The primordial god Tartarus has plunged the Underworld into chaos and is plotting to ascend to the surface, aiming to annihilate both demigods and gods.”

Her gaze shifts towards you and Jungkook. "He has somehow taken control of my body, sending me vivid and disturbing dreams. He's furious and demands a sacrifice – a sacrifice of the demigods who once intruded into Tartarus six years ago. If we don't comply, he threatens to rise to Earth through the surface of Camp Jupiter, annihilating Camp Jupiter completely upon his return."

thanks for reading this far :) if u want then check out the

author’s note

#demigod!enhypen #demigod au #demigod!jungkook #demigod!bts #jk fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #heroes of olympus

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beanghostprincess · 3 months

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Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)

#i absolutely loved this i have no words to explain how much i love this #one piece #buggy the clown #silvers rayleigh #red haired shanks #cross guild #shuggy #< target audience #i mean it's obvious i was taking it as romantic for them

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risenwrites · 4 months

Text

Warning: Angst, Blade is emotionally constipated, mentions of wanting to die

Blade could never understand why you were insistent about helping and knowing him. You shouldn't have even met him in the first place. This planet was supposed to be uninhabited, the perfect place for him to have undisturbed rest until his next mission.

Yet you were here.

When you found him, you dragged him to the pitiful excuse you called a home despite how many times he told you to go away. You bandaged the wounds he ignored, scolding him for not caring tending to them sooner. You spoke to him like an old friend, never noticing how he glared at you or didn't answer your questions. You gave him warm food and fresh water while calling him your guest. You were kind to him.

It was infuriating.

You were infuriating.

But for some reason, he still agreed to stay with you until his wounds healed. He wasn't sure why he decided to stay. Maybe it was because you reminded him of an old friend. That filled him with too many emotions he didn't want to feel, so he tried to distance himself from you. He tried to have you only interact with him whenever his bandages needed to be changed. His attempts always failed because you followed him around like a baby duckling.

Blade never spoke to you, but you always talked to him. You told him about your relatively uneventful life story. Apparently, you grew up on this planet alone, rarely getting visitors. That explained how you didn't know he was a wanted criminal. If you knew who he was, the life he lived, he was sure you'd be afraid of him. He was sure you would stop being kind to him. Deep down, he didn't want that.

The kindness you showed him was something he greedily consumed. It'd been so long since someone treated him like a person, only ever being seen as a monster or a weapon. He thought of himself as such and still did despite how much he craved the peace you gave him. Because deep down, he knew he didn't deserve your kindness because of all the sins he'd committed.

Blade never reciprocated the kindness you showed him. He treated you coldly, hoping you would stop trying to know him. That would stop giving him your love and charity. You never did, even after his injuries were completely healed and he planned to leave without saying goodbye. If he did, then maybe he would forget you, forget the love you so freely gave him. However, there was a question he wanted to ask.

"Why did you help me?" was the question he asked, the one tearing him mind apart.

When he asked that question, you looked at him with a big smile. "It's hard for me to turn a blind eye to someone in need. Plus... you seemed like you wanted to die. Seeing you like that had my heart aching. Maybe I'm arrogant, but I wanted to give you at least a little reason to live. Besides, spending time with another person is always wonderful; spending time with you made me happy. Even if you don't say much," you told him.

Your answer pierced through Blade's stone heart, making it gain the tiniest crack. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve to have the privilege of knowing you, yet at the same time, he hated you. All he wished for was to die and stop the endless cycle of eternal life he endured. Now, after knowing you, his conviction was wavering, and he was questioning what he wanted.

That's why he left your home without saying goodbye and returned to the life of a Stellaron Hunter. But in quiet moments, you would come to mind, and he would wonder if you finally learned to hate him after he broke your heart.

©following works belongs to risenwrites, do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

#risen.writes #hsr blade #blade honkai #blade star rail #blade honkai star rail #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade hsr #blade drabble

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jiminrings · 2 years

Text

four seven eight

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 12k

glimpse: you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.

alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ major angst (pls take a break when necessary!!), no cheating happens here btw, some rlly cute moments i swear, jk’s a cold lover, emotional constipation + breakdowns, allusions to anxiety + anxiety attacks, self-deprecation n loathing, miscommunication, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex, eventual redemption in the next parts :) ]

notes: it’s finally out and i can’t wait for you to read!! this piece is my baby, the rightful successor to heartburn <3 i’m aware that the last time i wrote a mini-series it was rlly heavy, but please trust me when i say that this would be lighter <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

It takes little effort to love Jungkook.

Loving him specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Loving Jungkook isn’t hard when he serves as the solace that remains in your heart and not in your pocket. He manifests into the comfort you look for in all seasons, and into the love you look for at all times.

Loving him isn’t hard when he proves time and time again that he’s neither fussy nor high-maintenance. He isn’t simple but loving him is, the motions of your commitment remaining uncomplicated.

Jungkook doesn’t text you every hour of the day while you’re out working, but he will wake up to see you get picked up by your driver, wait for you to text him that you’ve reached your filming location, and knock himself back to sleep right then.

It’s easy love — one that couldn’t be grasped by everyone, but one that’s still just as precious to the both of you.

Your husband’s neither as affectionate or as vocal as you are. He’s a man of few words, really, and you wouldn’t lie and say that Jungkook’s perpetual state of coldness didn’t bother you at first. He just seemed so unattainable, one that couldn’t fit with your otherwise animated personality.

He was unattainable in a way that even if you’ve amassed a huge crush on him, you tried to be as unbearable that you could be by the second date he asked you out to; tried to worm your way into each available space beside him and treated his bicep as your handbag, but no matter how much you clinged to him — Jungkook never budged you away.

He felt too unattainable that when he asked you for a third date, you felt tempted to craft an elaborate lie to ward him off. The massive crush you had on him didn’t even decrease in size no matter how much you kept bringing down the opportunity of the two of you together, only increasing in depth.

You used to think that Jungkook needed to be with someone more well-suited for his pace; one that wouldn’t hold his hand like their life depended on it, or one that wouldn’t say “I love you!” atleast seven times before ending the call, even if he only went on an errand five minutes away from your place.

Perhaps in an honest sense, loving you isn’t so simple but Jungkook makes it appear like so, one date at a time.

He broke down the door to a portalet when you accidentally trapped yourself in it at the fourth date, all because you hurriedly ran from what you thought was a snake on the ground in the hot air balloon festival you dragged him to. It obviously wasn’t a snake (it was a stocking moving from the wind), but Jungkook still pretended that it was, intentionally muttering about your sightings of a snake amongst event-goers. Not only did he raise safety issues and rattle event organizers, but he also got to ease your embarrassment, perching his sunglasses on your nosebridge so you wouldn’t dwell on your incident too harshly.

He initiated to hold your hand under the table when he introduced you to his parents. You were uncharacteristically formal and stiff that he had to sit you down by the closed toilet seat in the bathroom and make you drink Pocari Sweat from a wine glass because you were just too parched and pale when his mother kept glancing at you. You thought it would be the end of your relationship with her son because she probably thinks that you’re not good enough for him, but really, she just found you gorgeous and wanted to hug you.

He trembled by the knees when you walked the aisle and even if he attempted to steel his eyes, it was no use because he was hiccuping from tears before you reached halfway down the path. It was an intimate wedding attended only by the closest family and friends, completely discreet to the media because it was just a regular Saturday break from your schedules as far as they knew.

Jungkook’s cold but he isn’t relentless.

He doesn’t coo and awe at every single thing you utter. You can go on and on about the menu at a critically-acclaimed, fully-booked-for-the-next-six-months restaurant without a single peep from him, but you will get the same meal you’ve been raving about without question.

He doesn’t squeal when you shower him with affection. He barely bats an eye even when you’re giving him the tightest embrace in front of his friends, but that doesn’t mean he’d complain about it. He still puts his hand at the center of your back, patting and rubbing circles until you let go of him.

He doesn’t gasp at every dramatic line in your script that you practice with him. He says the opposing role’s lines, observes your pacing and critiques your emotions, and doesn’t break from character one bit even when you do. He only smiles when you laugh but he feels like crying when you do, only breaking his character for the times he’d wipe your tears with his thumb — belatedly realizing that your acting was that good for him to forget in the first place.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much you know. Love isn’t always a matter of ease anyway and it’s always stuck to you, but perhaps coming home to Jungkook everyday reminds you that it doesn’t have to be difficult either.

Jungkook makes love the simplest thing.

( ♡ )

It’s never been your intention to come home late.

These days, you don’t promise a specific time to Jungkook and instead encourage him to sleep without you. You’re tired from work but you’re sure that it’s somehow tiring for him to wait for you to come home, day after day for months at a time.

Granted that he doesn’t wait for you to come home every single night (he sends you a smiley face text when he lets himself to succumb to sleep alone), it’s still the thought that makes you want to leave work a little earlier; makes you a little more rested despite being worn down to the bone.

It’s nice to have someone wait for you to come home. Nice enough to think that your walls are warm despite not spending enough time surrounded by them. Nice enough to think that there’s no echo in your home when you speak into it, even if the furniture is only good for two people.

Jungkook holds down the fort for both of you and he doesn’t mind.

“Baby?”

Your fatigued eyes try to adjust to your husband’s newfound obsession with ambient lights, because in his words, the use of overhead lighting is one of the top brainwash phenomenons in society. Maybe he didn’t really say that word for word, but one look at his eyes when he urged you to come with him to go ambient light-shopping was more than enough to know his sentiments.

It’s a mixture of soft pink and purple in the living room — homey despite the initial shock your eyes go through from having been exposed to studio lights all day.

Jungkook’s groggy in the nest that he’s made on the couch, eyes starting to blink open because in a haste but his head can’t just seem to lift from the dense pillow that keeps calling his nape. Even Miso, your cat, is curled up and fast asleep on the crook of his neck. His position seems lived-in already, the clingy part of you already knowing that if you just try to squeeze in now, the imprint of your husband would still be warm.

“Did you wait for me?” you mumble in a chuckle even if he could already pick up that it’s devoid of the playful tone, completely toeing off your shoes in the entryway so you could pad through the cold floor to get to him quicker. “Let’s go to bed.”

You weren’t planning on carrying him to the second floor but you make it seem like that anyway, mustering all your remaining energy to playfully crouch as if you were gonna piggyback him.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Jungkook pertains to his service of waiting what, a mere four hours overdue than your usual 7 PM dismissal. His eyes land on your form and it reminds him why he held out (or atleast attempted to) for a particular reason. “Wait.”

Jungkook stands up from the couch completely and walks to the kitchen, making you fall back immediately to cushions because your knees were close to giving out. Miso’s grumpy as per usual from being woken up from her nap, but her tail brushes your arm before scurrying to sleep somewhere else. True to your assumptions, your husband’s place on the couch remains warm and it audibly makes you sigh — warm enough to placate you.

He spares a look at you because you’re grunting a little too differently, belatedly learning that you’re lying in the same spot that he did, an indication that you really, really needed to sleep. Jungkook grabs what he’s been saving for you from the freezer, walking a little more determinedly before you doze off completely.

“Wake up for a sec,” he jostles you by the shoulder, effectively making you peel your eyes open but this time with a tiny hint of irritation between your brows. He holds the container behind his back and shakes it before bringing it to your view, face still unnerved but eagerly waiting for your reaction.

You don’t know exactly what you’re looking at besides the given that Jungkook’s holding a clear container, and you can’t exactly tell shit either because atleast with overhead lights, you’d know the color of what’s in there in the first place.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat from the lack of a reaction because he swears that by now you should be squealing and kissing him on the cheek. His breath hitches but he tries to steel his pride, opening the container for you to see better. It takes one, two seconds for you to register the familiar smell because you still can’t clearly see what it is, but judging by the awed gasp from you, he already knows he’s won.

Jungkook saved you the ends of the ice cream cones that’s filled with chocolate, the accumulation of it starting just this morning. He simply wanted a snack and although there isn’t a law that prohibited from eating your favorite snacks without you, he still felt guilty. He was cautious enough to only bite until the demarcation of the chocolate, putting it into a container upright by some crumpled tissue used as a stand, and stashing it in the freezer before it melts.

Then it hits him that one ice cream cone wouldn’t do, and he knows for a fact that you don’t even care much for the ice cream itself, so he gets to eat up another one.

“That’s the best part! Why didn’t you eat it?” you exclaim and although your words tell him that he should’ve eaten them, your tone suggests otherwise because you’re entirely giddy about the situation.

“Saved it up for you.”

His heart leaps at your mood change, the trivial discomfort in his mind awhile ago from not eating the chocolate part of the cone dissipating instantly. You look so pretty grinning up at him, coyly looking at the container.

“There’s two,” you point out, taking one cone for yourself while waiting for your husband to pick up your cue.

“You don’t want two?” he asks, humming when you shake your head. “Good. I wanted one too.”

Jungkook plops to your side the moment you snort, turning his head to look at you already biting to the cone bit by bit because you just didn’t want to swallow it whole, wanting to indulge in the cold treat after a long day.

“I love you,” you say in between chews, leaning your head on his warm, broad shoulder. “You’re the best.”

There’s a gentle smile that grazes your husband’s lips. He doesn’t say the words back but he brings your hand that’s clutching the cone back to your lips, eyes flickering towards you briefly.

“Shh. The chocolate’s gonna melt.” In other words, I love you too.

“I love you. I mean it,” you reiterate, swallowing the last of your snack before briefly cuddling to his side, kissing the dimple on his cheek that’s prominent as he silently chews.

Jungkook couldn’t resist as he only bites into half of his cone; you’ve already finished yours. He takes one good look at you before parting your lips with his thumb, shoving the other half of his cone to which you giggle happily at. In other words, I mean it too.

“Love you too,” he says out-loud while you chew, standing briefly to get you a glass of water because after all, the chocolate was sweet and he’d hate for your throat to get itchy.

Jungkook waits for you to finish before heading up the stairs together, letting you hold onto his bicep while you take step after step with little conversations in between — towards the bed that he had already made hours in advance, in anticipation of you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook loves in increments.

He doesn’t love all at once; never has been the type to act irrationally in the name of his impulses. He’s sensible but that doesn’t mean every decision he’s ever made is the smartest move he could’ve done in that situation. He was quiet but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sensitive.

He didn’t love you at first glance because looking back, you were perhaps too bright for him. He didn’t love the way you laughed when he first heard it because it seemed too loud for him. Honestly, Jungkook didn’t even love the way you looked at him because the way you did it, you made it seem like you’ve known him forever and would continue to for the next lifetime.

He used to clench his jaw when you held onto him by the elbow and grind his teeth when you held his hand. He used to lean his head away to look at anyone but you when you buried your face to his neck. He used to think that he hated you and the change you brought because as shitty as it may sound, you are not the person he loved first.

It was wrong, beyond wrong, for Jungkook to compare you to his ex in his mind when the two of you were just starting out, no official label to your relationship yet. It wasn’t right of him but it was realistic — if you knew someone for almost half of your life and were in a relationship with them for three years and in love for longer than that, only for you to break up later on, wouldn’t you be accustomed to them?

Jungkook already moved on from his ex but it didn’t happen overnight. He no longer harbored love for her and accepted that you’re different from her. And as much as it scared him initially, he’s grown into your love completely.

The two of you are different and there’s no changing it. There’s no drastic changes the two of you request from each other. You and Jungkook aren’t two peas in a pod but rather, you’re two different flowers in the same garden. You neither have the same seeds nor the same bloom but you’re bred by the same soil, nurtured by the same sun, and comforted by the same moon.

You and Jungkook aren’t parallel but you’re perpendicular; intersecting at some point even in the furthest distance.

At some times, you seem to mirror Jungkook and it haunts him. He’s unused to you only standing for a few words and lacking the initiative to start affection, anything, that was the pinnacle of your dynamic.

You never required him to change; it’s just that maybe, just maybe he wants to do it himself. He wants to be more like you, preferring it a hundred times over than you wanting to be more like him. Somewhere along the way, maybe you’ve grown used to him rarely asking about your day (because you already narrate it before he could) that you don’t tell him about it lately.

It’s probably just because you’re tired, noticing that you were more likely to shut off if you’re at your wit’s limit considering your hectic schedule. He can’t read your mind or know what you’re thinking about at just one glance like how you could do with him, but Jungkook still tries his best.

There just seems to be something bothering you these days and as much as he’d like to talk to you about it, you shut off as soon as you come home. You take a shower, eat the dinner he prepared if you hadn’t already on set, and go to bed.

Lately, Jungkook misses the way you’d sit on his lap and tell him about your day, especially missing how your voice would pick up at the parts of it that you liked most. He misses your insistent pleading of taking his shirt off right at that moment because you wanted to wear that particular one in that exact time.

You’re unavailable to talk to him (which is unlike you) so he does the next big thing — talk to you in your sleep.

“You have blisters again.”

He frowns as he looks at your feet, telling you about his day as he tucks you in that he got to take a closer look. He winces at the sight, figuring that it must hurt from wearing heels since according to you in verbatim, your character’s main personality trait just has to be wearing heels that are a size too small for her.

“Do they hurt? I bet they do,” he answers his own query, turning on the actual overhead lights this time because in all honesty, he can’t see much shit with the ambient lighting he’s been trying so hard to love these past few weeks.

“I keep telling you that my friend’s a dermatologist. You could get Botox on your feet so you wouldn’t feel a thing,” he reminds you and for a moment did he expect that you’d actually answer, talking to you so fluidly that he forgot you’re actually asleep.

Jungkook makes quick work of cleaning your ankles up, rubbing some ointment on it before putting on the softest pair of socks fathomable in this world on your feet.

You’re still fast asleep and he’s thankful that he was nimble enough to not wake you up, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before he turns off the lights.

“Night night. I love you.”

( ♡ )

This project would be the biggest break of your career.

Technically, your debut was two years ago, the first drama you worked on being fortunately successful enough that it kept the ball rolling and it hasn’t stopped since. You’re well-known enough to have pictures taken of you and your autograph sought-for, but what you thought was already famous doesn’t even come close to this.

This being the most-anticipated drama of the year — with you as the main lead starring alongside Min Yoongi, the most talented and in-demand actor the industry has ever seen.

It’s a powerhouse production all-over; Kim Namjoon as the acclaimed screenwriter whose latest work pushed him to bag the coveted Lifetime Achievement Award, Kim Taehyung as the executive producer who’s notorious for only picking one project per year (and all his past five projects are famous and praised worldwide), and Jung Hoseok as the celebrated director credited for changing the entertainment completely because of his unique direction.

The preliminary audition tape you sent in was just sent without any expectations that you’ll be picked, knowing that you’d compete with hundreds upon hundreds as soon as Jimin, your manager, relayed the details.

The tiny piece of the script sent to you was already telling that both the production and forthcoming impact of it are bigger than anyone could ever imagine. Jimin pressed record, the emotions flowed right through you, and the tape was sent in without any reviewing nor correcting whatsoever.

You immediately got the callback the next day, was very nicely asked (more-on demanded) if you could come to the studio within the next hour and a half, did a screen test on the spot with Min Yoongi who you then learned was picked as the main lead all this time (and even before the script was finished) — and got it.

What seemed to be extreme luck for you at first turned out to be fate because you could distinctly remember how you couldn’t pick up your jaw from the floor when the big three; Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok, revealed that they didn’t even pick anyone else but you. To be exact, five hundred seventy-one people auditioned for the female lead and a grand total of one got the callback.

“This script is as good as trashed if it isn’t you giving life to it,” Namjoon simply told you with a shrug, getting resounding approval from the rest of the group.

“To be honest, I don’t see myself clicking with anyone else. They get me if they get you,” Yoongi said his truth as confidently as he could, discreetly crossing his fingers under the table to not jinx anything.

“Right! I’ve literally never seen chemistry this good and acting this real,” Hoseok added his input, mouth curling in a chuckle to see you floored from them bouncing off their reassurances for you.

“Trust me, I’ve seen tons of scripts from this month alone. If I had to pick one project to put all my money in, it’d be this,” Taehyung sealed with a grin, his excited knocking on the table making you jolt in place.

This project’s so big that it’ll practically serve as your second debut.

Technically, In Terms of Eternity hasn’t even been released yet but it’s already famous from the get-go. The unofficial announcement of the drama release from a news agency was enough to create more hype than any other drama that’s been released the past year.

Only the teaser has been released and even with that alone, the trajectory of your career skyrocketed overnight. Your followers tripled, brands were scrambling to give the highest bid to get the commercial feature in the episodes that haven’t been filmed yet, and even previous works featuring you (no matter how small your role is, e.g. you rolling your eyes in the background for approximately two seconds) were resurfacing.

This is the biggest thing to ever happen to your career and you need Jungkook with you.

Two days from now would be the drama’s press conference, set to be attended by a record amount of media staff that a show’s ever clocked in. Only six of the sixteen episodes have been shot in advance with the rest scheduled to film as the series airs, and with that said, the pressure’s completely off the charts.

Your outfit’s already decided on, your makeup’s already been put on a test run, and you and Yoongi have already been briefed for the possible questions. Everything’s almost set to go —

All you need is Jungkook there with you.

“It’s on Saturday,” you try to add casually as if you hadn’t checked the calendar three times before, gauging your husband’s reaction to see if he was onboard. “You’re not doing anything on Saturday… right?”

Jungkook stares back at you with his mouth parted open, eyes a little dry from unblinking while he weighs the logistics of it all.

It’s reasonable for you to want him there. He takes a certain pride knowing that you explicitly told him that you’d feel more relaxed if he’s there with you. You want him there and need him there more than ever.

Your marriage isn’t a secret. It just happened that it was never brought up.

Your agency knows, of course. In fact, they signed you even before you got engaged and even Jimin was invited to the wedding. You’re given the free will to announce your civil status to the public and have the company draw up an announcement for you. You aren’t obliged to reveal your relationship and most of the time, retaining it undisclosed gives you more job opportunities.

There’s no other person you take pride more in having besides your husband, but given your line of work, the ball’s in Jungkook’s court. You had no qualms letting it be known that you’re indeed married, but he was the one who advised you otherwise. Not once did you either make or respond to a comment regarding your relationship status, always finding a way to dodge the question.

Jungkook wants you to not acknowledge his existence — he denied the opportunity to be known as your husband. Even more, he denied the opportunity to make it known that you’re married in the first place.

For him, it’s because he thinks that your relationship status isn’t and shouldn’t be paramount to your jobs. He may not fully grasp your line of work like you do, but he doesn’t want to hold you back in case it’s a major factor in keeping you from your passion.

He wants you to be known for your skills and not from a bit of your personal life.

Jungkook doesn’t want his privacy, or anyone else related to him in that matter, to be unnecessarily hounded for the mere sake of it. More than ever, one glimpse of him is all that it could take for your bigger and newer base of fans to dissect his identity.

He knows that it pains you every now and then that you can’t show him off like how you used to before all the fame rolled in. Now, you’re not as comfortable with initiating PDA in front of your closest friends even if it’s in private spaces, in the suspicion that anyone could have their eyes on you with malicious intent.

It may be your career on the line but it’s Jungkook’s life that you’re more concerned about. You’ve grown to have thick skin under harsh lights and you don’t want to test if that same hypothesis works on your husband — you don’t want to risk anything that he doesn’t want to.

The ball’s in his court now when you ask him if he can be there for you in a press conference for the biggest thing in your career; in the same way that the ball was in his court if he wanted to let everyone know that he’s your husband.

“I can’t,” Jungkook kisses his teeth at the way your face falls immediately, even your quick work of trying to mask it doesn’t work because two seconds later, you realized that you’re allowed to be upset. “I have a thing on Saturday.”

This is love.

You don’t have to make love hard — as much as you can, you want it to be easy. This is supposed to be easy love.

“Okay, I understand.”

You’re only gonna wallow on Jungkook’s rejection today and once the clock turns for tomorrow, you’re gonna let it go. You’re gonna allow yourself to be upset and after that, you steel your nerves and just let it go.

Sometimes, love means that Jungkook can’t always be there for you when you need him.

Sometimes, love means that both you and Jungkook are busy with your own things on a Saturday.

( ♡ )

"I wish-"

"You wish Jungkook was here — yeah, I know," Seokjin sighs before you could even finish your sentence, having heard your profession of longing atleast thirty times before within the past hour.

Jin's entertaining to be with, much more talkative than his cousin Jungkook. You're close with your staff but he's perhaps the only one you could talk to without reservations, sparing no details with anything. Your husband only told you in passing three months ago that his older cousin finished his master's degree in cosmetology, and before he knew it, Jin was already hired as your head stylist.

"That wasn't what I was gonna say," you huff, crossing your arms across your chest but immediately retracting when he swats at them. He just steamed your top and you're already wrinkling it to his annoyance.

"Hm? What were you supposed to say then?"

He's talkative without being obnoxious, something you appreciate deeply. Jin was just sometimes too slippery with his words that you're taken off-guard sometimes.

It’s the day of the press conference and there's no point in denying that you need Jungkook here with you. Any type of caffeine in the morning was forgone but your fingers still shake, sweaty no matter how many times Jin wipes at them with a towel.

You've been part of this industry for years but this is the highest peak you've ever reached so far, the rational part of your brain thinking that it's realistic to become beyond nervous. The rational, realistic part of your brain also thinks that it's reasonable to miss Jungkook; perhaps to be even a little bit upset that he couldn't be here for you.

Jin waits for you with a raised brow, already smiling smugly when you release a defeated sigh.

"I wish Jungkook was here."

“I figured,” he solemnly smiles, about to pat the top of your head but upon realizing that he spent two hours perfecting it, settles for kissing his finger and tapping it on your cheek.

It's obvious that you've been out of it since this morning. You're not as bubbly or accommodating and you haven't even bantered with your co-star Yoongi, the playful tiffs already cemented as a staple within your genuine off-screen dynamic.

Jin recognizes that he's put in a semi-difficult spot between you and Jungkook, considering that the three of you are related to certain degrees. He gets your side but he also gets Jungkook's side of the equation too; it just happens that he chooses to empathize with you more.

“Chin up. It might seem like Sora still has that effect on him, but trust me, they’re really just friends.”

The gigantic dressing room you and Yoongi share never quiets down. It's hectic with everyone coming in and out of it, the buzzing serving as white noise to your thoughts. You're barely even listening to be honest, but at the mention of her, your breath hitches automatically.

Her, as in Sora.

Sora, as in Jungkook's ex he’s known for almost half of his life, and the woman he was in a relationship with for three years.

She was harmless as far as you knew. She was a memory of the past and reminded Jungkook of the simplest, happiest, and even the worst times of his life prior to meeting you.

You don’t feel insecure but if you must look at the time — you’ve known Jungkook for five years; four you know him of as a boyfriend, and one you know him of as a husband.

Sora doesn't intimidate you but the mark she left on him does. She's a memory that's timeless no matter how faded and bitter because she's your husband's first love. The two of them are cordial with each other, considering that they were friends before they became a couple.

You trust Jungkook.

What you don't trust is the overwhelming feeling of being overlooked in favor of her, no matter the context.

“Seokjin,” your blood runs cold because the grip you have on your chair loosens, the sudden stiffness of your body making Jin aware that this is only the first time you've heard of it.

You feel so much for your husband but none of it is of love at the moment. Your teeth grind together but it isn't because you're mad. Your eyes prick but it isn't because you're upset. Jungkook's unbelievable but it isn't the kind that makes your heart leap.

The composure retains in your body but you're certain that you're bound to lose it sometime. Maybe you're bound to lose it when you're about to get your pictures taken with Yoongi and you hold on to his forearm and realize that oh, your husband isn't watching. Maybe you're bound to lose it when you bow in front of the media panel and scan the room and realize that oh, your husband isn't here for you.

There's no exact time to when you're gonna lose it but you feel the bile rising in your throat. You weren't gonna puke anytime soon, but the bitter taste doesn't leave the roof of your mouth no matter how much you clench your jaw; you're losing it painfully slow.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

( ♡ )

It’s only meant to be a little tradition.

April 23 was only meant to be a tiny celebration. It used to be his and Sora’s day, a silly occasion they’d get together for. There’s nothing extravagantly special about the date — they just happened to be teenagers at one point, and did something monumental at the 23rd of April, then collectively decided that it was a date to remember.

That “monumental” occasion was as simple as them going to a tent bar. There wasn’t anything in the air that night besides the clear fog from both rain and the cold, but Jungkook remembers that night to be warm.

They were friends at the time, and although none of them tried to tiptoe the line by then, Jungkook could recall every single thing they discussed despite being drunk. Sora made him laugh so much over something mundane and he doesn’t know why he laughed that hard, but he could still remember how his throat hurt so much from giggling.

April 23 was already a special date before it coincidentally became the same day he formally asked Sora out. It just happened to be their anniversary later on, but even without the occurrence of the latter, it would still be dear.

Jungkook’s long over Sora and it’s evident. He’s completely moved on and he doesn’t have any bit of hate tied towards her.

It’s just recognition, he figures. He recognizes that the particular date, for several consecutive years, was the happiest day of his life. He recognizes that at one point, Sora was the woman he loved most and made him the happiest.

When Jungkook celebrates April 23, he celebrates a fond and warm memory he had at a tent bar with Sora.

When Sora celebrates April 23, she relishes the memory of her best friend becoming her boyfriend; the love of her life at both phases.

The date was at a Saturday, as in the same exact weekend that your drama’s conference was on. Jungkook didn’t even realize it at first that both dates coincided, and although he did tell you that he wouldn’t be able to be there for you and you understood, he can’t help but feel guilty.

The press conference is available for livestream and even if he’s just one click of a link away because you sent it to him, Jungkook couldn’t even stomach to open your message.

In hindsight, he doesn’t even know what exactly he’s scared for that he denied the opportunity to be there with you. He can’t recall anything now; were the concerns he initially had so troubling that he couldn’t be there for you?

He vaguely remembers that it’s his concerns for his privacy. In actuality, Jungkook could’ve strolled in there with a staff ID and no one would’ve questioned his identity. He could’ve been there with you disguised as anyone but your husband — but he chose not to.

He’s oblivious to your turmoil because if he were to switch on the livestream now, he’d know that your gaze is distant while Namjoon’s discussing his inspiration behind this screenplay. He’s talking about love and commitment and labels and if Jungkook were to look at your blank yet weighted gaze right now, he’d know what you were thinking.

Is the prospect of being known as your husband so unappealing to him?

Jungkook’s guilty enough to swallow the fact that you’re too understanding towards him. If the roles were reversed and you told him you had a thing on the same exact day he needed you, he’d be upset beyond reprieve.

Maybe you were upset at him, but you just didn’t tell. Maybe if the roles were reversed, Jungkook thinks he’d only be upset at you for a maximum of a whole day, and attempt to not think of it for any longer.

Jungkook’s guilty, but not guilty enough to let the remorse he has to take over his whole day. Last year, he celebrated the day by buying twenty-three things for himself, no matter how self-indulgent it felt.

The twenty-three things he bought were a mix of both necessities and luxuries, one being a bigger bottle of shampoo and one being a designer pair of sneakers.

You were out of the house that day, distinctly remembering that you were taking new headshots the whole morning. Jungkook, however, felt too selfish that he bought all these things for himself so he made sure to grab more than a couple of items for you, having to take two trips to his car to load all the bags in his hands.

You laughed, asked playfully what was the occasion, and when he didn’t answer — you didn’t push.

April 23, for the last five years, was celebrated by Jungkook alone.

He’s guilty, but not guilty enough to look at his phone when it rang and the caller ID belonged to Sora.

He’s guilty, but not guilty enough to take on her invite for a café brunch because she was in the area. She was familiar in the sense that even if her presence in his life is no longer constant, the moment he sees her, it’s as if they’ve met everyday.

Sora’s familiar to the point that Jungkook knows about her quirks and flaws. The said traits of hers have long changed and evolved and although Jungkook doesn’t know the current versions of them, the remaining knowledge he has about her makes no move in losing his mind.

The two of them are old, casual friends that are merely catching up. Jungkook doesn’t yearn for his past with Sora nor long for any future with her, but whatever it is that they’re doing now, placates both of them.

“So? How’s everything going?” Sora asks with a laugh across in a restaurant they used to frequent years ago. It’s changed through the years and although the lighting has been changed and the menu has been swapped out, it’s still the same. It’s old and outdated, but it’s familiar.

Sora didn’t ask him what he wanted and instead, ordered what the two of them always used to eat. Jungkook isn’t even sure if she realizes that she did it out of routine, but when platters of both lasagna and chicken wings are dropped onto the table, that’s when Sora’s face flushes at the recognition that she didn’t even think twice.

The lasagna tasted more sour than the last time they ate it years ago. Jungkook grew out of his fixation on cheesy, melt-in-your-mouth, twenty-seconds-to-chew lasagna. The chicken wings tasted less of fresh cooking oil and more of battery acid than the last time they ate it years ago. Sora lost her affinity for marinated in butter, heavily-seasoned, too-hot-to-eat chicken wings.

They grew out of it.

They grew out of each other in the same way that their used-to-be favorite restaurant evolved. The establishment was modernized but in certain ways, it was still outdated. The cushions in the booths have been re-upholstered but the foam is still lived-in; the chalkboard menus have only been painted over but the chips on the frame are still visible.

“Everything’s been good with me,” Jungkook says with affirmation, a dimpled smile present on his face. It’s not like Sora would ever doubt his answer because notably enough, Jungkook himself knows that he looks and feels the best he’s ever did.

“How about you?” he returns the question politely, earning a laugh at his promptness.

“Everything’s been great with me too.”

For two hours, the two of them catch up for the past years they haven’t accounted for. There’s patches of silence here and there but it was needed, serving as a comfortable reminder that they’re only here for April 23.

Jungkook has a habit of playing with his wedding ring during conversations but it was only then did he realize that you took both of your bands to get it cleaned yesterday. He realizes it now, unsure to whether it’s a blessing or not that out of all days, it had to be now when he’s in front of his ex, at this exact date.

They’ve perhaps caught up with everything but one, the topic of their current relationship statuses off the table. Sora doesn’t ask and Jungkook doesn’t bring it up either.

Jungkook doesn’t know if his moral compass directed him the best it ever could today. He doesn’t feel the guilt when he’s driving home, but he does feel it when you come home a little later at night than what you’ve promised him, the tinge of alcohol slightly stuck to your clothes. There should be no intense guilt that he knows of because the way he justifies it in his head, you trust him completely and Sora’s merely a friend.

The guilt that sticks with him tonight is that he should’ve told you what April 23 means to him, why he chose not to come to your press conference, and that he met up with Sora today — and that those three things intersecting today was unplanned.

He asks you about your day, you answer, but you don’t ask him about his. Jungkook knows you’re upset at him for not coming out to support you today, but he figures to apologize to you and come clean about his day tomorrow. You’re irritable tonight for an additional reason more that he doesn’t know of so he doesn’t push it. Tonight, Jungkook doesn’t know that Seokjin accidentally ratted him out to you this morning; he doesn’t know that you know he met up with his ex.

You hold it together tonight. You hold every bit of your building insecurity and anguish because frankly enough, holding a conversation after today would make your head explode. Confrontation is avoided for tonight because if you think about exerting your mind for longer than a minute, you would be physically sick.

The guilt sticks with him when your back is turned to him and you only hum when he greets you good night. You must’ve already been knocked out when he tells you he loves you, but either way, the lack of the words echoed back to him haunts Jungkook a little more.

The bedroom’s pitch black and it’s enough for the guilt to subside momentarily, but a single stray thought passes Jungkook’s mind and his inability to answer it is jarring enough to make it seem like the room was on fire, his lying figure going tense beside you.

If Sora had asked him if he was married, Jungkook’s unsure if he would’ve told her the truth.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has an ex.

Her name’s Sora, something that just slips right off the tongue but doesn’t make it anything less than unforgettable. You don’t know her personally but you know of her — you know her in the light of your husband’s eyes.

She's pretty. A humble type of pretty that still hates her nose and the back camera, the type that doesn't know just how beautiful she is. Jungkook spared you the details of what she looked like, but from what you’ve heard from his cousin and his friends, both her features and aura are exactly what would sound like Jeon Jungkook’s first love.

She's funny, in the same exact way that effortlessly makes Jungkook snort under his breath. They were a lot like each other, you’ve figured. You haven’t seen any photos of them but if you were, you bet everything that Jungkook would have the biggest smile you’ll ever see.

She tries, but she doesn't try too hard.

He’s told you about his past relationship in passing, affirmative that he might have glossed over some details to spare you from any hurt. Jungkook speaks about Sora like she’s a memory and not merely an ex-girlfriend that took up years of his life.

Maybe it’s because Jungkook talks a little more and enunciates a little louder when he talks about the things he loves. He told you about Sora in the same way he told you about his recollection of his first international trip with his parents as a child: fond and unyielding.

You know Sora in the way that Jungkook described her to you — there’s no other way. There’s no anger you can harbor nor distaste because in any way that you look at it, you don’t know her.

You know Sora as the girl who had helped Jungkook through the tough times he had growing up — she’s his first love for a reason. He told you about her and you accepted it; even thanked him for being open because not everyone would willingly talk about their past relationships to their current partners. He had told you about her when you were just his girlfriend at the time, pleasantly surprised that you didn’t react adversely by the time he was finished.

There's nothing you can do about it. Sora belongs in Jungkook’s past, while you belong to both Jungkook’s present and future. In a way, you're grateful for her — in some somber, reminiscent, slightly odd way, you’re thankful for Sora taking care of Jungkook before you came into his life.

The weight of Jungkook refusing to be with you at an important milestone in your life in favor of celebrating his anniversary with his ex hasn’t fully materialized yet. It hasn’t weighed down on your bones yet, nor has it filled up your lungs.

The hurt you accumulate shows up as rocks, filling your pockets with each one to hide them. It isn’t heavy yet but it’s a heaviness that you notice, the weight enough for you to function slower but not enough for you to pour over.

It’s been two days and Jungkook still hasn’t admitted it to you.

Jungkook wanted to tell you as soon as you woke up the next day but you weren’t there the moment his alarm rang and he chalked it up to your schedule. He figured it was a blessing in disguise because he needed more time reformulating what he was about to say to you, thinking of the best way to deliver the truth in the most casual, non-hurtful way possible.

He figured it was a blessing in disguise until you came home that night much later than you usually did. He waited for you all night and consolidated with himself that he was about to tell you no matter what happens today, but the moment you come through the door, he reconsidered tremendously.

You came home to him with your physique evidently tired, manifesting into a scowl on your visage that makes him avoid eye contact. Better yet, you weren’t even giving any eye contact to him and despite the scowl on your face, Jungkook tried to chase your eyes even if he felt discouraged for a reason.

You looked like you were deep in thought and irritable at that. You looked like you were about to be set off any minute now, and while reconsidering what he was supposed to say, Jungkook’s certain that his supposed confession wouldn’t lighten your mood the slightest bit.

His worry for you trumped the guilt that he felt, welcoming the feeling of concern because even if both things made him feel at unease, it was the one he’s more willing to bear.

Only for tonight, he thought. I’m keeping this with me only until tonight, he mumbled to himself in the bathroom because while you were fast asleep, he had to get away briefly because the guilt was starting to consume him little by little.

It’s the second day and Jungkook still hasn’t come clean to you.

You don’t wait for him to approach you, though. You don’t give him any easy openings as if it’s just him asking for cuddles and you’re lingering by the couch, popping the question so he wouldn’t have the trouble of asking for it. For two days, you don’t give Jungkook the ease you normally would.

The easy-going nature of your dynamic, or atleast what came from your side, has basically dissipated in the past forty-eight hours. You don’t wait for Jungkook to come around; you move.

You move as if you live alone in the moments of whatever’s left of you that hasn’t succumbed to your career. If Jungkook wanted to tell you, he would squeeze himself into your schedule somehow. He would be stubborn and plead you to hear him out. He’s already done this before, and it was for the aftermath of a fight that isn’t even as big as this impending one is.

You haven’t lost it completely. Not yet.

There’s a timer that’s ticking at the back of your mind and you don’t know how much longer you can take — of how longer can you take the weight of your insecurity growing, and the weight of Jungkook keeping things from you.

You have to destress yourself somehow because the resumption of your shooting doesn’t begin for another two weeks and you don’t know if you could hold out for that long, wanting to bury yourself in actual work so a single thought that bloomed into everything much more ugly wouldn’t consume you.

There’s only one thing you could think of.

“And what exactly are you doing here?”

Visit your parents in the shop.

Your dad has his nose playfully upturned, pretending to grimace when you hug him with his apron still on but later returns your embrace. The shop you grew up with still stands as it was the day you left your hometown, the charming family business that put food on the table never weakening.

Your family ran a film developing shop, initially supported only by your neighborhood by the time you were born. It grew into something bigger gradually by the time you could walk and your head could peek out past the counter, when people who needed their headshots taken were accommodated; when orders started rushing in from the city.

It grew bigger that by the time the store accommodated family portrait shoots and you could manage the register and work in the darkroom, a loyal customer surprised your family by making a website and orders started coming in twofold.

It grew to the point that your family’s shop was considered a marvel, until your parents had to hire actual employees and not just you. You grew with the shop; it got you through elementary and paid for your acting classes in high school. You worked the darkrooms until literally the only thing you could see is red; you’ve slept on the floors and kicked out rude customers before; the stepping stool you used as a child to operate the register is still alive to this day.

The shop’s become a part of you, one of the only safe havens you have that no one could bother you. No fans could reach you here; no prying media now that you’re overwhelmingly getting more and more famous as the nights pass. The thought of Jungkook with Sora can’t follow you here.

You’re supposed to be safe here.

“I’m helping out,” you roll your eyes at your dad, intentionally bumping him with your hip as you toddle over to your mother who’s patiently waiting for your hug.

The space behind the counter is still a tight fit with the three of you behind it, having to walk sideways to maneuver if you really wanted to function normally.

“Where’s Jungkook?” your mom asks, handing you your apron that they specifically kept by the back closet. There was only fifteen minutes until opening and you could see a forming queue outside, the thrill of working at the shop coming back steadily.

“He’s busy,” you reply without a second thought, the answer suspiciously coming out fast of your mouth before they could add any additional sentiments. She nods in understanding, although it isn’t lost in you that she’s nodding to herself behind your back, seemingly keeping her confusion at bay for the meantime.

You have a lot of homes. One’s with Jungkook, one’s with your parents. The shop is your home. When your husband drives and it’s night outside and the airconditioning’s a perfect amount of cold, the car becomes your home. When Seokjin does your hair and makeup in an outside shoot and he puts heat packs on the chair for you to sit on warmly, the chair becomes your home.

Almost everything could be your home. With the people you love, with the weather you like, and with the worn-out things you find comfort in.

“You’re back!” Mr. Kim exclaims as soon as he makes eye contact with you, recognizing you who was once the little girl that could barely rip out receipts that later grew through the years, despite the mask you wore as a precaution in case anybody recognized you.

“Only for the day though. I still have that other job, y’know?” you grin from underneath your mask but he returns it right back, supplying an exaggerated wink to get your point across.

“Oh, of course, of course! Whatever that other job might be!” Mr. Kim throws in a wink with a force that’s enough to make both eyes blink, pulling out a chortle you’ve been keeping in since he walked in. “By the way, employee I’ve never seen in my life, can you perhaps sign the back of the receipt? My granddaughter is a very big fan of receipts.”

“Is she now?” you laugh, taking in the meal container he puts his film rolls in (he’s done this your whole life) and swiping in your card sneakily to give him a discount. “Does she take A4 receipts too? There’s no invoice though, only signatures.”

Mr. Kim’s grin takes up his whole face, kind eyes about to cry from how giddy he is to give it to his granddaughter. “Of course! She loves the receipts with inspirational messages!”

Your dad who’d been watching your whole interaction urges the both of you to sit on the side before your whole conversation could possibly be any more obvious, attending to the next person in line. It’s smooth from there, your head feeling unbelievably light because the thought of Jungkook doesn’t cross your mind even once.

If anybody notices you, no one says a thing. A customer or four lingered around even when you gave them their receipt, but not one of them asks you who you are.

It’s nearing lunch break when someone comes in and you’re the only one up front, your parents working the darkrooms to process orders and the other employees working the studios to take portraits.

“Hi,” the tall man greets, grabbing a handful of canisters from his tote bag to place neatly on the counter. He feels familiar to you, his tall stature bringing a few people into mind. “All of these, please. There’s only – ah, wait, sorry! There’s more.”

He’s sheepish, growing embarrassed at the amount of canisters he’s pulling out. He’s at canister number nine now, fishing the last one. “Sorry, I can’t even remember when I took these. I just recently cleaned out my room the other day.”

The guy finally stops rambling and pulls out his wallet, giving you the idea that he must be a regular at the shop with the way he’s casual in making conversation. “By the way, is there-…”

The words lodge at his throat when he makes eye contact with you, your train of thought instantly halting when you make the realization.

“Eunwoo,” you say his name, nodding politely when he does the same in a haze. You recognize him as Jungkook’s friend, one that neither of you have seen in years. The two of you aren’t particularly close but being courteous wouldn’t hurt.

“Y/N, hey,” he smiles tightly, slightly bowing. There’s an awkward air of silence between the two of you, the thought in your head simmering that now that you think about it, you don’t even know why he and Jungkook fell out.

“I didn’t know you… worked here?” he trails unsurely, gaining a breathless chuckle from you because he’s perhaps the first person outside of your closest circle of friends that knew of your connection with the shop.

“My family owns this shop, actually,” you hum, tilting your head down to his films. “Are you a regular here? I haven’t really been home for years.”

“Yeah, yeah. I am,” he nods, scratching the back of his head. He hands you the exact amount of money plus extra, the words coming out of him before you could ask. “Rush order, please. Whenever’s the earliest.”

Eunwoo felt off. More off than the last time you saw him because frankly put, he isn’t exactly the warmest with you even if you’re with Jungkook. At your first meeting he came across as someone who didn’t even want to sit in the same table as you, pursing his lips whenever you talked or addressed him.

“My number’s already in the system. Please text me when it’s finished. Bye,” he wraps off whatever miniscule moment the two of you shared for in under three minutes, seemingly in a hurry to get out of the shop.

That’s awkward, he thinks to himself. After all, Sora’s his cousin — not to mention, he used to look up to Jungkook as a brother.

The whole interaction was off but you don’t want to dwell on it any further, instead switching up the signs and locking the door. If only you knew that the guy standing in front of you just seconds ago would be Sora’s cousin, maybe you wouldn’t be as eager to process the negatives.

Maybe if you knew that your husband and Eunwoo used to be close, with Sora as their initial common denominator, you wouldn’t be as eager to go to the darkroom to process his orders in an instant.

Maybe if you knew that your arrival in Jungkook’s life would unintentionally make his friendship with Eunwoo fall out, making the latter unabashedly angry at you, you wouldn’t be as eager to process memories.

Maybe if Jungkook was just a little more honest and sensible, and maybe if you were more shameless in confronting him all the time — you wouldn’t be as hurt as you are now.

This shop’s your home; no one should be able to harm you here.

There shouldn’t be any bit of anguish or insecurity you should feel because this is supposed to be your safe space. You shouldn’t feel the urge to throw up and clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying because this is your space. This was supposed to be a space that you’re free from insecurity.

You’ve gone through all of the rolls until it was late afternoon and had them developed and fixed within the timeframe. You go through the motions of work and hang them out to dry before you get to scanning and printing them later. You go through the work you’ve always done and it’s only when you return later on to double-check everything and assess your work. To see if there’s any flaws in your work because it’s been awhile since you’ve last developed film. To see if you had to make any apologies in case any of the prints were processed wrong.

There’s nothing wrong with your work.

You wish there’s something wrong with your work.

Out of the hundreds of pictures you’ve developed from Eunwoo’s ten rolls of film, there’s one picture that stands out to you. It stand out like a sore thumb from a sea of unfamiliar places and lousy shots of flowers. It sticks out from the lines of pictures in the darkroom, the picture clear as day even if you thought your prescription needed updating.

It’s Jungkook and Sora.

It’s the two of them sat next to each other at the beach, Jungkook’s hand around her shoulders and Sora’s hand around his waist. They’re close even if they’re sitting on a log together, flowers perched on top of their ears. They’re beaming with pride and the flash highlights their happiness even further — Jungkook having the biggest and happiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. There’s a timestamp at the bottom right corner, reading clear as day; April 23 ‘XX.

The year reads out as the year before you met him. The day reads out as the exact day of your press conference, only years before. The same exact date a few years forward to reach this year, reads as the same day that you needed Jungkook the most — but it just happened that he was with his first love, Sora, someone who isn’t you.

There’s only so much you could take.

Your anger blinds you and renders you to just move. You pluck out the picture from the line with no regard of who you’re taking it from. You just move and leave the shop and drive with no regard to anything besides the anger and despair that you feel.

The picture lays on the passenger seat and you have to resist the urge to look at it because doing so makes you want to rip it apart; to see it made you feel embarrassed. To see Jungkook so affectionate and physical with his love, even in front of people at a fucking beach party of all places, puts you to shame.

It’s perhaps the anger clouding your head that dismantles your memories but you think that Jungkook’s never been this way with you. He hasn’t smiled at you this hard nor shown you off this good.

It’s perhaps the thoughts that beat down on your head that it forms a migraine because you're so fixed on your lover's past love, you seek out what he once loved.

Never have you had the urge to search Sora up and tonight was the the first time you’ve ever seen her, in a picture with your husband no less. You always wondered what she looked like but now that you know, you wish that urge never materialized.

You seek out what he once loved in the hopes that if only you looked like her a little more or acted more like she did, maybe Jungkook would love you the same way that he loved her.

Love’s grounds shouldn’t only be founded on reciprocity but there’s no other time than now for you to desire to be selfish. There’s a desire in you to account for every single thing you did for Jungkook and every single thing he didn’t do for you. It feels like you love him more than he loves you and in your mind riddled with nothing but anger, it sickens you.

The all-consuming thought that perhaps Jungkook doesn’t love you enough because the bigger, more-loving part of his heart doesn’t belong to you, but to Sora instead, makes your body shut down.

When you slam the door open to your home and you’re looking at Jungkook, devoid of patience and every ounce of love you tried to give him, there’s a haunting realization in his spine that settles: you know. You knew even before he could muster the courage to tell you.

There’s no accusations that fall from your lips even if you’re seeing red. There’s no assertions that you make, the question that leaves your lips reflecting how you looked at the entirety of this.

“Why did you even marry me?”

Jungkook’s mind goes into overdrive when you point a stern finger at him, filled with nothing but rage when you thrust something to his chest shakily, albeit gently.

He doesn’t know whether to speak first or grab whatever it is that you put to his chest, sputtering over nothing when he glances down and sees himself — him and Sora, on April 23, a few years ago.

“Why did you even marry me when you don’t smile like that when you’re with me?” you seethe, the tears pouring angrily down your cheeks with no cue at all. “Why did you marry me when you’re happy with her?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” he whispers under his breath, the furrow in his brow settling when he crumples the picture in his hand and throws it to the table.

“Oh no, no, Jungkook. You don’t get to avoid this,” a pained laugh escapes you, leaning to unfold the picture and show it to his face more closely this time, the bitterness evident in your voice. “Does Sora even know that you’re married?”

The question makes his jaw clench, the instinct to play with his wedding band that’s now been picked up from the store just awhile ago coming up to the surface. It reminds him how he hadn’t been wearing it when he met Sora, all the way down to the flawed slippery slope that she didn’t ask, so he didn’t tell.

“No.”

He says it in a meek mumble but you hear it loud and clear, eliciting a scoff that’s pure out offended. You don’t know if you’re surprised at all because hell, even some of the friends that Jungkook’s in good terms with don’t even know that he’s married.

It was no longer a concept of whether they asked, it was him about not wanting to make it known at all.

“I’m protecting you,” he adds sternly, glossing over his concerns for your career and safety. You don’t see it at all because it sounds like static to your ears, all coming down to the conclusion and the truth that when Jungkook didn’t tell Sora that he was married, it was for every other reason besides that.

“You’re protecting me from what? From who? You’re protecting me from your ex-girlfriend?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Or are you protecting her?”

You’re not outright accusing him but it seems like that way to him, making his jaw tick. He’s blinded by his pride, one that didn’t know how to deal with you when you were angry at him. Rarely did you ever feel so mad at him, but with the reasoning behind it, perhaps mad wasn’t even the word.

“Why are you so worked up about this?” he seethes in defense, hot on your heels when he follows you.

“Fuck, Jungkook! Are you really asking me that right now?” you exclaim, gripping your hair in frustration. He’s too shallow to argue with you, not even grasping how serious it is. “You wanna know why I’m so worked up about this?” you laugh, the sound coming off as patronizing that it makes his jaw clench.

The weight that builds up in your head is too much, too much that you feel your head physically lulling backwards. The insecurity that forms from the top of your head all the way down to your toes wraps around you too tightly that it felt harder to breathe by the minute.

“Because I’m not your first love, Jungkook.”

When you speak, you don’t know that you tremble. When you point your finger to Jungkook, you don’t know that you feel smaller by the minute.

When you convince yourself that Jungkook loves you the most, more than he had ever loved Sora, the image of her along with your husband looking the happiest appears in your head.

“I’m not your first girlfriend! I’m not her,” you spit because you can’t even stomach saying her name now, the two syllables enough to make your eyes shut in anger. “I’m not your first kiss, I’m not the first girl you introduced to your parents!” you raise your voice, seething because when you think of red, Jungkook’s image of happiness becomes the darkroom of your insecurities. There’s an inkling that you’re hitting deep but you can’t find it in yourself to care, the lump finally unlodged from your throat. “I’m not your first fuck.”

“Stop.”

His voice is hoarse, clearly warning you to not go any further than you did. He’s hurt, the pride he tried to keep just minutes ago completely missing.

“You loved Sora first.”

“I love you,” Jungkook counters. If you won’t listen to him then he atleast needs to say something so mundane, but something so intimate to knock you off-guard. He doesn’t say it much but he means it whenever he does, hoping that it’s sufficient.

It’s not.

“You don't love me enough."

You say it with such a finality that Jungkook staggers on his footing even with no external force to it, the anger you felt transitioning into the sadness you’ve been harboring. You’ve thought about it non-stop especially for the past two days, the words finally being uttered for him to hear. "We should cool off."

Jungkook’s face pales, his previously clenched fists going limp at his sides. The voice is caught on his throat and he doesn’t even know if there are any words to say.

"Let's break up for a month,” you propose in a lighter tone, the roles being reversed because you’re the one looking down and Jungkook’s the one who’s desperate to keep your eyes on him. “I want to break up with you because maybe you'd love me more by then."

You beat him to his thoughts because it’s clear that he’s spiraling, your voice a complete turn as it’s gentle, no longer coated with anger. “We’re not divorcing. It’s just a break.”

Jungkook suddenly snaps out of it seemingly because he shakes his head fervently, not once breaking eye contact.

“I’m not hearing this.”

If he stares at you hard enough, maybe you’d admit that you were being irrational. If he stands still enough for you to notice that he’s crying, you’d retract what you just said.

If Jungkook prays hard enough that the two of you could avoid this and head to bed tonight with no irrational thoughts, you’d tell him that you aren’t pushing through with your proposal.

“I’m not fighting with you.”

He says it with finality, leaving before you could do so and heads to your shared bedroom. He thinks it's just the heat of the moment, that you're not actually going through.

You go into bed with him, and even if you don’t face him, Jungkook relishes in the warmth you provide. He wills himself not to sleep just to be sure you wouldn’t leave him, but somewhere along the way of him being too distraught that his body forced his mind to shut down, you were gone before his alarm went off.

It’s probably just your schedule. This is routine. You wouldn’t push through with what you said last night.

You go into schedule that morning with your eyes bloodshot, with Jimin excusing you immediately to ask if everything was okay. You go with your day with Seokjin looking at you with utmost concern, handling you like you were fragile because you didn’t talk the whole time. You start your day with your stylists poking each other in the eye intentionally to try and see which eyedrops would work the best on your eyes, to conceal the fact that you’ve cried the most you ever did last night.

You start the day with a televised interview, with Min Yoongi right by your side.

There’s no briefing at all for the interview, no cue sheet that made it more nerve-wracking for any celebrity that had a slippery mouth. There’s no holding back, especially coming from the interviewer that spared no tact.

“Do you have a husband or y’know, perhaps a boyfriend? Anyone special at all?”

You think of saying that you have Jungkook — that you have a husband but the answer gets caught in your throat. You remove your wedding ring for work, and only then do you realize that you haven’t been wearing it at all for the past three days.

Your pause is evident, unbeknownst to you. Your manager Jimin knows it, the interviewer knows it, the live audience knows it.

Your parents know it. Jungkook knows it.

You try to open your mouth again but it’s only a chuckle that leaves you, unintentionally raising more commotion from the crowd. You try to rally everything within your mind, the hurt that manifested as rocks in your pocket increasingly become heavier by each second of silence that you let pass; your husband still celebrates his anniversary with his ex; Jungkook's ex doesn't know that he's married to you.

The answer’s clear — it’s as clear as the articles of speculation that would pop out even before this interview wraps up, garnering more unwanted attention to yourself.

The bitterness of regret is proof you’ve atleast tried something.

Jungkook’s heart belongs to you but you failed to consider that the first one who built it has perhaps already settled there. If your love belongs to the ground floor then perhaps her love belongs to the basement. If your love is the ceiling then maybe her love is the foundation.

If Jungkook’s heart is a newly-built house, then maybe the more that it settles into the ground, the closer he becomes to his roots.

You aren’t his roots. Sora is.

Jungkook watches your interview from home, the hurt that bubbles up from the tip of his head coming down to the weight on his hands that tries to placate him by playing with his wedding band. He counts the digits that make him calm, willing everything in as the clamor from the crowd gets more fervent.

Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.

Seven seconds. Hold it.

Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.

You beam at the interviewer as if you haven’t spent a lifetime thinking of your answer, shaking your head with a poised gesture of your left hand, devoid of any proof that tied you to Jungkook.

“I’m single.”

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wixenburr · 4 days

Text

Saw some ppl talking about Reverse Robins and i had thoughts

Talking abt u guys @eldritchdreamss @brucewaynehater101

Why kill Tim when you could kill baby Jason? What I want is for all of them to keep their own backstories and personalities (Developed in line with the story of course) So ofc i had to write a 1,000 word brainrot abt it.

(Also i'll only be going over the main 4 batbros for now i will add more later but these guys are the ones im most passionate about so here we go)

Damian

Let Damian come in, desperate to be of use and be worthy of his father, only for a softer, less jaded bruce (since jason hasnt died yet) to help him open up his heart and let him act as a kid. With no competition for so long, I imagine he and Bruce get along very well while he works with him. Yeah, they need to work on the no killing deal and Damian's... i guess impulse control? But i think it would be easier with very intensely focused reparenting; no distractions of other kids you know? No favoring or anything.

I see Damian growing up as a stoic, jaded adult. He's had a rough life. Maybe he sticks with the vigilante business. but I really love headcanons where he gets out of it, and focuses on something calmer, like his art. (I do appreciate and love the veterinarian Damian AUs, but im going for FULL calmness, you know? And doctor/vet work is Not calm lol)

So yeah, maybe he grows a real passion for heroism, maybe he doesn't? Maybe he goes on to be an artist and that's just what he does. Bro is ready to settle down as a scarred, veteran trophy husband and i adore him for that.

(Sorry lol i just love Damian and i love the idea of him growing out of both of his parent's legacies. Let him live his own life!!! He fights so so hard for at least 15 years. ALL 15 years of his life. He deserves to have some peace.)

Tim

Tim i think would need a much different story to join the Batfam. He still starts out as a stalker who follows batman and. . . . . . . Redimar (meaning Redemption iykyk (I just spend 17min researching names rip)) at night, takes photos, etc... Since Damian doesn't die, maybe he finds Tim? and like, tim is like 11 and Damian is 17 or 18. He's started going out as Redimar less and less, not that B really minds? In fact hes probably happy for his son so...

But then Damian finds Tim, and now he has to keep going out because he can't let this kid get himself killed like this. He would hold himself accountable since hes the only reason Tim keeps going out so much- also i imagine Tim follows Redimar more than Batman.

Cue a classic Tim Joining The Batfam plotline. They get to know each other better, get a grasp on Tim's situation, Damian finally introduces Tim to Bruce... (Probably something like Dami: "Father, this is my new brother. Timothy, say hello to Father," Tim: "Hello, Father," Dami: "Perfect." Bruce: "*falls off the batchair*)

Anyway, so, Tim ends up kinda just merging with the Waynes. They start training him, its all good and nice, and Tim makes his own little hero team unlike Damian, which is actually pretty interesting here; its Tim who made the first young hero team. Damian only ever had Jon (Superboy 1 in this!!) and he finds Young Just Us and becomes a great leader and its all fine and dandy.

Tim and Damian get along well. Damian is the sage older brother whos kinda distant, but only because he has such high emotional walls (but secretly a softy). He is very much like Bruce- nope, nevermind, hes definitely worse than Bruce in this AU, since Bruce is depicted as being much more agreeable before Jason's death, you know? So yeah, Damian is the emotionally constipated bitch in the fam and we love him for that. But hey!! Tim does manage to get through his walls! And Bruce does sometimes too!! (Tho i imagine Bruce and Damian's relationship to be very.. idk let me try to expalain. Dami: "Father." Bruce: "Son :)" Dami: "Tt." Bruce: *nods* "Hrn." Dami: "Hmph." Bruce: "Hm.") DO U PICK UP WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN--- lmfao. They hardly need words.

Tim ends up growing up very very capable. Once his parents die, he gets a little jaded, but hes still Tim. He and Damian become kind of an... ice prince duo? If you get what I mean. But Tim is the one whos actually the ice prince, Damian is secretly a HUGE softie. He is Delicate and Tim protects him lmfao.

Jason

Jason comes along like he does in canon. Has the same backstory. Tries to steal the Batmobile's wheels. Tim is sleeping over at Damian's flat for the night, so its just Bruce. They bond. Shit happens. Jason joins the fam.

I don't imagine them not getting along, but they don't immediately hit it off either. Jason is wary of all of them for a time, but he ends up warming up to Damian pretty fast after realizing what a softie he is. He pokes fun at Damian and Damian just freaking takes it lmao. Hes an adult he cannot be disturbed. Bro has seen too much and he finds Jason adorable. (Dami: "You were never this cute, Timothy." <- he is lying. Tim: *offended* "What the fu- flip!?" Jason: "Lmao Tim just say fuck." Dami: *deadpan stare* Tim: "JASON NO DONT SAY THE FUCK WORD-") ahem.

anywho and then Jason dies rip skill issue ratio.

The whole batfam is heartbroken. Genuinely shattered. Jason was a light in their lives. Not that they were WITHOUT any light, but Jason was the epitome of a sunshine child.

It's been too long since Damian has killed someone. Bro's god oodles and oodles of trauma. He can't bring himself to kill the Joker.

but Tim can.

It's a whole dramatic thing; Damian feels awful that he made his- now only- little brother kill. Bruce is hella upset but feels responsible for not seeing how badly both of his kids were handling the death of their brother. Tim goes a little off the deep end.

Things turn out.... okay. sort of. but not really. Tim changes his hero name to Red Cardinal. He feels pretty lost. Maybe he stumbles into Ra's al Ghul or smthn idk maybe smthn happens there perhaps. Maybe Damian has to put on Redimar again and rescue him? But its less of a rescue and more of a "Stop joining the dark side Tim jesus christ-" (and it does work).

They go home. Tim gets a boyfriend or two. Damian falls into his art. Bruce is throwing himself into work. They're all kind of a mess, but they keep moving.

and then

Dick

(lmao that sounded wrong)

ahem; and then the circus comes to town. The batfam- well, Tim, Damian, and Bruce- all decide to get together to do something fun. Take the opportunities given, yk? So they go to the circus together.

Wham bam rip the falling Flying Graysons.

They see Dick, breaking apart, and they know they have to do something. Bruce is the first to move. Then Tim. Damian is the last.

It's pretty quick getting Dick home, since Bruce is already a foster parent cuz of Tim yk. So Dick doesn't have to suffer in Juvie at all really. But that doesn't change the fact that he is ANGRY.

Dick is SO angry. he wants to kill the person who murdered his parents. He knows what he saw.

The fam of course do their best to investigate. Mostly Tim, who feels unworthy of being around an innocent little kid after his whole.... villain era, i suppose lol. (ofc Dick thinks Tim doesnt like him lol misunderstanding arc GO)

The whole "Dick accepts that justice is better than murder kinda maybe FOR NOW" storyline happens, and Dick becomes the conniving, bright, little Robin we all know and love. (Thinking of the Young Justice Cartoon Robin (but not the characters- just Dick's character) aaaand

Womp womp GUESS WHOS BACK

Jason's Back

but i'll leave that for later.

#my writing #personal #batfam #reverse robins #batman #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batbros #batkids #batfam fanfic

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nahoney22 · 6 months

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I’ve been having some terrible stomach pains (recently diagnosed with endometriosis) and it’s kicking my ass! Was hoping you could please do a f!request on how the bad batchers would help reader? Established and non established relationships is fine 😊 thank you in advance if you do this!

Caring for You - Endometriosis***

Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

warnings: Very brief mention of implied sex, female reader with Endometriosis, blood 🩸, mentions of reader feeling low and in pain, established relationships, lots of comfort. 🤍

authors note: here you go darling, sorry to hear this! I couldn’t imagine dealing with this 🙁 hope this gives you all the comfort and cuteness you need. 🤍

Endometriosis definition and symptoms for those not familiar, like myself (thanks google):

It is a long-term condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb grows in other places, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes.

The main symptoms of endometriosis are:

pain in your lower tummy or back (pelvic pain) – usually worse during your period

period pain that stops you doing your normal activities

pain during or after sex

pain after using the toilet during your period

feeling sick, constipation, diarrhoea, or blood in your pee during your period

difficulty getting pregnant

You may also have heavy periods.

may sometimes lead to feelings of depression.

Echo 🤍

In the quiet cocoon of your bunk, the persistent ache of your abdomen tightens its grip, creating a throbbing discomfort that feels like an unwelcome guest. You're curled up tight, a subtle wince marking each passing wave of pain. You curse as each throbbing pain feel like your abdomen is having its own battleground, aching and cramping with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

Sensing your silent struggle, Echo delicately places a plush blanket over you, its warmth like a feeble shield against the raging storm inside.

As he settles beside you, his eyes reflect a mixture of empathy and helplessness. He reaches for your hand, his touch alone like a claiming balm.

Soft whispers escape his lips, "I hate to see you in pain." His fingers gently trace soothing patterns on your palm, and you can only mutter a faint ‘thanks’, not feeling up to talking too much.

He helps you sit up as he presents you a steaming cup of caf and when sipping the tea, you feel a momentary respite. But the pain lingers.

Your boyfriend's tender touch on your waist extends to your hair, his fingers stroking away tension as his gaze conveys a profound understanding.

"You're strong," he murmurs, his voice a gentle relief, "and I'm here for you.” You were more than thankful to have Echo by your side..

Hunter 🤍

Finding a place to stay other than the Marauder for the night, Hunter heads to the hotel room he knew you were resting upon when he stops and catches a subtle shift in the air.

Following the trail that leads to your shared room, he finds you on the couch, your face contorted in silent agony and the metallic tang of blood mingles with the room's atmospherea.

Silently, Hunter approaches, his keen eyes discerning the distress etched on your features. With a swift, graceful movement, he pulls you into his lap and then wraps a blanket around you, shielding you from both the physical and emotional chill. His eyes painted a shade of empathetic concern. "How much pain are you in?”

“I feel like death.” You grumble in reply, sweat painting your sickly looking face.

He watches you, whispering soothing words but grows a little panicked when he notices a larger shift in your demeanor, body feeling a little limp. You’ve done this before, clearly feeling faint and doing what he can only do, hold you a little closer and wait for the pain to subside. “You’re going to be okay, doll. I’m here.”

Wrecker 🤍

"Hey, hey, what's up, baby? Are you—oh." Wrecker's eyes, filled with adoration just moments ago, quickly shift to concern as he hovers over you.

Witnessing your gasp of agony, you curl into yourself, abruptly halting the intimate moment. Wrecker sits up, his gentle yet fumbling hands taking hold of you, lifting you from the now blood-stained sheets and guiding you to the refresher.

"I'm sorry, Wreck. I'm sorry—agh!" You cry out, a wave of embarrassment and pain washing over you as your period arrives, accompanied by the sharp ache in your abdomen.

"No need for sorry's," he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your hair. "Have a quick shower, and I'll tidy up back there, okay?" However, he pauses when he notices the sadness in your eyes, cradling your chin gently. "It's okay. I'm here."

As you shower yourself clean, Wrecker quickly puts the sheets in the wash, pulls out all the sanitary products he memorised from when you had this bad spell before and gets out your comfiest nightwear and socks.

Tech 🤍

"Following the laparoscopy results I conducted, I can confirm a diagnosis of endometriosis." He adjusts his goggles and fixes a concerned gaze upon you.

This underlying issue, persistent for a while, found clarity after Tech convinced you to undergo a small operation he performed himself. The confirmation of endometriosis hits you, and tears well up uncontrollably.

Tech flinches at the sudden sound of you sobbing, quickly setting aside his device. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his. "Darling, are you in pain?"

The diagnosis stings, and the prospect of enduring agonizing pain every month overwhelms you. Tech sighs softly, "I will be here for you every step of the way."

"I can't do this, Tech. I can't endure this every month," you sob, hiding your face in your hands.

Tech grapples with the feeling of helplessness, acknowledging the absence of a cure. However, a glimmer of hope emerges. "I will do everything in my power to explore treatments, to make this pain tolerable. Whether it's creating a concoction or a device, I won't rest until you are free of pain."

Wiping away your tears, you muster strength through the pain to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do so much for me, Tech," you sniffle. "You've already done so much."

"And I will do a lot more," he says softly, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. "Whatever it takes."

Crosshair 🤍

"Are you getting out of bed today or not?" Crosshair's gruff voice echoes as he notices you curled up under layers of blankets, facing the wall for hours. He's aware you've been talking to Hunter, so he knows you're awake.

You grunt in response, and Crosshair, assuming laziness, rolls his eyes. "Come on, get up; there's stuff to do." As he yanks the blankets off, his expression changes when he sees splotches of blood on your sheets and pants. You sit up abruptly, yanking the sheets back, tears welling in your eyes.

"Kriff, sorry, kitten," he sighs, sitting on the edge of your bunk. He raises a hand to you, checking your temperature. "Is it happening again?"

"Yeah," you sniff, "and my flow is heavier than usual, as you can tell." You sigh, feeling completely embarrassed.

"Do you not have any pads?" he asks. You're grateful for Crosshair's tenderness, appreciating how he's always been gentle and caring, especially considering your endometriosis, which you initially thought might complicate your relationship.

"I ran out yesterday, so I've just been using tissue," you admit, shaking your head.

Crosshair frowns. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I didn't want to be a problem." The words hang in the air, but Crosshair gently cups your cheek.

"Never will you be a problem. I'm here for you, and so are the others. We can go get some pads."

You manage a soft smile, still feeling and looking completely drained. "We've already left the town. I don't want to tell Tech to turn around just for me. He was dead set on finding a port for outer repairs."

"Leave it with me, princess." After kissing your clammy cheek, Crosshair heads straight into the cockpit. You suppress a laugh as you hear, "Tech, turn this ship around right now."

You knew you were in good hands as long as Crosshair is around.

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

#nahoney22 writes #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #tech x reader #echo x reader #Hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch HC’s

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starry-bi-sky · 6 days

Text

I'm so annoyed. @kingcrow01 tumblr ate your ask about Danny's opinion on the League. tumblr i pressed 'save draft' why didn't you sAVE DRAFT.

ANyways I'm making a post instead. For everyone else, the ask was in summary:

What was Danny's opinion on the League now that he's left it? If he missed the familiarity of it, if he recognized the cult-like behavior inside it, and if he now detested his grandfather.

And to answer (again, grrr): It's complicated! We love complicated <3. Yeah, Danny does miss the familiarity of the League, it was still his home for the first ten years of his life and he has a lot of memories there. Plenty of good along with the bad, and while he's less homesick than he was when he was 10, it still hits him like a truck at random intervals.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are great, and he likes the Drs. Fentons enough that he's contemplated murdering Vlad for his meddling, but if he wants to eat the same food his mother used to make him and Damian, he has to do it himself and he can't get the taste right. No one knows arabic so he speaks it to himself because he doesn't want to forget his mother tongue, and he has a few books too. Frankly? He genuinely misses training.

Getting to use Sam's gym helps with his restlessness, same with training with Maddie, but he has no one on or above his level to go against other than his mother. And he only sees her twice a year at most. He knows that he's getting stagnant and he fucking despises it like a bad itch he can't scratch.

He feels conflicted about missing the League, however, since by now he recognizes the flaws and what was wrong with it, and he recognizes that it was cult-like. But even that is kinda, hrm, complicated? If this was a fic I would be able to go better into depth about what he has and hasn't unlearned because cult deprogramming is hard and Danny's doing most of this on his own.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz have helped with the more obvious stuff: like the ecofascism, the disregard for human life, his emotional constipation; the more obvious stuff that shows in his behavior and personality. But none of them are professionals nor do they actually know the full extent of what Danny's life in the League was like. They only have snapshots since Danyal is very tight lipped about it. So they can only help with what they see themselves through Danny's behavior or word of mouth.

But in summary: He sees, for the most part, what's wrong with the League and disagrees with some of the stuff they do now. But he's very conflicted, and trying to dissect his feelings on the League confuses him. His protests about it whenever Sam and Tucker joke about it have at this point become mostly empty (altho it still causes him some discomfort), and its an inside joke between them three.

As for Ra's? Despises him. If only because Ra's wanted him to kill his little brother -- thinking about his motives with the League confuses Danny, cognitive dissonance and stuff, -- a lot of his hatred stems from "He wanted me to fight my baby brother to the death. I destroyed my relationship with Damian because of him, I had to fake my death and leave my home, and I will never meet my father or see my brother again because of him. Fuck that guy."

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danyal al ghul au #starry asks #demon siblings au #danny's opinions on the league is rather complicated but he knows that some of the stuff that happened inside was wrong. and while he's #always known that his upbringing wasn't normal -- and he took pride in that -- its only in recent years that he's learned that #this was a *bad* thing. that his upbringing was wrong. he's still kinda grappling with that.#danny's homesickness hits the worst when he's patching himself up from a ghost fight alone. stitching up his throat in his ghost form when #he gets hit with a deep child-like grief and the unwitting 'i wanna go home'. he's exhausted and sad and hurting and fucking *tired*#good mom talia al ghul supremacy. she's trying her best.#but yeah sam and tucker did a lot of good for Danny by becoming his friend. he's a lot better off than he would've been if he remained alon #'a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth' type of stuff. danny's aware of this and is incredibly grateful #for sam and tucker. and as a result can and will get violently protective. his moral code on killing can be summed up as: i dont kill bc i #value human life and it's inconvenient. but i will do it without remorse if i must.#vlad is only still alive because he's incompetent. but the ice is thin #catch me about to make an incorrect quotes post about this au. i am so close.

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himbocoups · 1 year

Text

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over.

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink.

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question.

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object.

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional.

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him.

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him.

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers.

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either.

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters.

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong.

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation.

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst.

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again.

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.”

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

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