#they jumped into being bf and gf without ever becoming friends first and it shows and we can and should say tht :
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y'all are gonna hate me for this one but i think it's worth nothing that eleven levels up and develops more as a person whenever she breaks up with mike, and how the vines were tightening around her as he was giving his speech and roping them back into a romantic relationship/context (not his fault btw no mike slander here + it's complicated), but when she's reviving max the source that she pulls her power, focus, and resolve from are memories where max is reminding her to be her OWN person, that she doesn't need anyone else, and she is more than enough as she is with "not hopper. not mike. you." and "there's more to life than stupid boys."
she performs a miracle by believing in herself and the one and first ever person that ever taught her to do so. the girl who viewed her not as a superhero that happens to be a girl, but a girl that happens to be a superhero, too. the girl who encouraged her to grow and change and put herself first. that's who and what give her the courage to fight on.
like literally how much more clear do they need to make it that her romantic relationship with him is holding her back? just look at seasons three and four as well as how the flashback they used for mike's speech was of her in the woods which is undoubtedly a nod to the fact that he doesn't see her as she is now and is stuck in the past while she desperately wants to move forward.
i just. !!!!! i'm sorry but Be Serious Please we can admit this and be real about it. it's okay. it does not make either of them a terrible awful character okay We Can Say It! It's Okay! and i focused on el's perspective here, but the show makes it exceedingly clear that they are not compatible in this way at all and that this relationship is something that makes them both feel worse about themselves in serious ways. they don't have a strong foundation between them to fall back on and they won't be able to move forward and fix things between them until they forge one. everything is shit because at the end of the day they don't feel secure or comfortable with each other in a way that actually matters.
#they jumped into being bf and gf without ever becoming friends first and it shows and we can and should say tht :/#platonic besties e|mike ok sure but maybe once they learn how to be friends first? 🤨#maybe once they learn how to not idealize n lie to each other and feel safe with each other and learn how to actually talk?#they have cute moments when it's lighthearted n carefree but when shit gets real or hard it all just hits the fan#like. they have Issues ok these are not little tiny issues not when it affects their self worth and self image THAT fucking bad lmao#mike literally feels worthless pretty much like he's just some loser with no redeeming qualities that someone wouldn't like unless they#needed him somehow for something and eleven didn't even know what it meant to LIKE things and have your own tastes and felt#like she didn't know who she was and felt like she was a monster and completely other because of this box that they'd put her in and#then chastise her for whenever she dared to be a human being and step outside of it or do something they didn't like#i just. i like eleven and michael so much that's why it bothers me whn ppl act like those issues are not serious. they are.#they're not real people they're characters but it's like . they are my blorbos and that makes all the difference. u kno? :/#mine#mike#eleven
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some way, some how
jeon jungkook x (f) reader
Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.
Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry
Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol
Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)
the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day
inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!
The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.
Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.
“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”
Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.
“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.
“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”
There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.
Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”
You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.
The diner.
A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.
“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”
“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.
You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.
He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.
He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.
Sojin was... full of surprises.
She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.
Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.
The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.
(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)
He cut it that same day.
As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.
Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.
Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.
“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”
You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.
Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.
After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.
You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.
“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”
He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”
You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.
“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”
Again, silence.
You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.
“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.
“And the paint job?”
A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.
“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.
You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.
The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.
The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.
“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”
You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.
“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”
Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.
“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”
You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”
“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”
“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.
—
One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.
You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.
The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.
Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.
“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”
“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”
Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”
You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.
Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.
There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.
“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.
You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.
“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.
Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.
“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”
Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“
“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”
A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.
Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”
You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.
Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.
Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”
You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”
“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”
Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”
He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.
“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.
“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”
He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.
“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.
“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.
Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.
“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.
“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.
“Actually, I was wondering if—“
“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”
You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”
His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”
You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”
—
Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.
By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.
You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.
“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.
When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.
Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”
“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.
His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.
“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.
Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”
There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.
“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”
He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.
Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.
He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”
You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.
Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.
“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.
You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.
“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.
He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.
“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.
You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.
“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”
“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.
“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”
Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.
—
“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.
In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”
You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”
“A lot,” you say.
There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.
“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.
“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.
“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.
“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.
Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”
Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.
“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.
“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.
“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”
Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.
“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.
“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.
You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”
You don’t know what to say.
Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.
But you can’t because he’s not.
You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.
“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.
—
Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.
“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.
“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”
“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”
“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.
“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.
Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”
“The one and only.”
Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.
You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.
It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.
You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.
Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.
He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”
It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.
Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”
You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.
Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”
You freeze.
“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?
Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.
“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”
You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.
“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.
You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.
Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”
“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”
“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”
You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.
It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.
“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.
As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.
“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”
His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.
A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.
The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.
Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.
“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”
Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.
“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.
He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”
He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.
You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”
You know they will.
You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.
“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.
You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.
He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.
You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.
He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”
“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.
Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.
His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.
“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.
The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.
“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.
Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”
“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.
There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.
“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.
You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.
“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”
—
Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.
Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.
The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.
There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.
On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.
Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.
“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.
He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”
You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.
“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”
What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”
You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.
“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”
Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”
“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.
“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”
“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.
“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.
Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.
You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.
There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.
Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.
“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.
He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”
You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.
“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.
“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.
You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.
Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.
You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.
He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.
“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.
Neither of you laugh.
You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.
You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.
Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.
Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.
Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.
“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.
—
The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.
A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.
Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.
The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.
When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.
The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.
“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”
You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”
“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.
The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.
The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.
“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.
“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”
Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”
“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.
“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“
“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.
“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”
You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.
Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”
You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.
The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.
“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.
“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.
“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”
You remember it.
The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.
Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.
A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.
You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”
“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”
She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”
You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.
Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.
The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.
—
Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.
“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”
You deflate.
Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.
Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”
“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”
You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.
“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.
“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”
Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”
You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”
“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.
After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”
“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”
Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”
Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”
Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”
—
You hideout for the rest of the week.
On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.
It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.
Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.
Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.
Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.
The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”
The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.
He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.
There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.
Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.
Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.
“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”
You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”
Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.
You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.
Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.
“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”
He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.
You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.
Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.
“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”
His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.
On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.
A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”
You say nothing.
Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.
“Since when?” You inquire.
Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”
Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.
Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”
Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.
“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.
You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”
His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.
Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.
His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“
“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”
The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.
Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.
“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“
“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.
His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.
“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”
Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”
You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.
A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.
“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”
You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.
Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.
Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.
“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.
You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.
“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.
The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.
A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.
You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”
Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”
He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.
The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.
A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”
You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.
“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”
You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.
You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.
Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.
Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.
“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.
Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.
“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”
You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.
There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.
It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.
He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.
Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”
You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.
Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.
“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.
It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”
You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.
Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.
“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”
“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”
Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.
He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.
Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.
“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.
He doesn’t.
Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.
The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.
“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.
His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.
When you think he’s done, he’s not.
Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.
The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.
“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.
Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.
“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.
“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.
“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.
The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.
Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.
This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.
“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”
“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“
“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.
Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.
“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”
“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.
He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.
You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.
He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.
It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.
“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.
You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.
“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”
Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.
You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“
Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”
“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”
He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.
“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”
Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”
“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”
“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.
Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.
“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.
Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”
“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.
Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”
#goldenclosetnet#ksmutclub#networkbangtan#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jjk smut#jungkook fic#mine
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Rio Random 2.0
Part 1
Once again you and Aunt Brenda are at a tennis tournament. It had been weeks since your last interaction with Rio
“So what’s going on with you and that fine young thing what’s his name?”
“Don’t know who you’re talking about” you fib
“You know that one with the tattoos”
You sigh “Rio Aunt Brenda?”
“Yes, yes him. Mr.Rio”
You shrug “I don’t know.... nothing”
“Have you even tried talking to the man” by now she knew the details of how you two met and how you three found yourself in this situation
“I don’t want to be lied to”
“You never know he might tell you the truth honey” she retorts playfully hitting your arm
“No he lied for so long what’s the difference now?”
“Maybe the difference is that he no longer has to lie and you two can move forward”
“Can we just watch the match”
She puts her hands up “Sure sure but it would be a shame to let that go”
Your head whips around and now you’re beyond irritated. It was hard enough trying to get over him, her talking about him wasn’t helping “It was a shame for him to lie to me whose side are you on?”
“Yours! Yours! I'm sorry honey. I just want to see you happy” she soothes sensing your irritation
You’re shoulders slump and you lean into her “I know”
“Just reach out”
You take in a deep breath as you think about it.
~~~~~You took the leap of faith and did as Brenda instructed you two were to meet at the local restaurant a little upscale, quiet and private. However you find yourself wanting to curse him out the second you see him.
He rushes over “heeyyy mama” he says smiling at you
You cut your eyes at him “30 minutes!” you scold
He chuckles “I’m sorry”
“30 minutes Rio and you couldn't send a text, been blowing me up to meet and then you show up 30 minutes late?!.... wow”
He leans over and kisses your cheek “tranquilo mami”
He knows what that does to you and immediately you take in a deep breath and blow out slowly
“I'm sorry okay i was handling something” he says as he seats across from you
“Okay”
“You look good” he compliments
“Order your food!” you bark now hangry
“Si mami”
“Don’t” you roll your eyes
He chuckles “my bad my bad”
You sit and watch as the waiter walks up and he orders his food putting his phone face down he leans back on his chair “so what’chu wanna talk to me about?”
You shrug “Nothing now”
“Come on I said i'm sorry” He gets up and pulls the chair closer to you, so instead of sitting across from you, now he was to the right of you.
“Why didn't you send a text?”
“I couldn't”
“Why not?”
He leans forward, staring you down “Y/N” he gives you a look “cuz i couldn’t”
And for a moment you had forgotten who he was and what he did
“Oh” you utter coming to the realization of just why he couldn’t
“Yea I’m sorry I’ll make it up to you”
“Okay”
“So......” he drawls leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink
“Sooo you dance and play tennis?”
He smiles “yea calms my nerves”
“What could possibly make you nervous you're Rio”
“You have no idea” He smirks
“What else?”
“What else what?”
“What else do you do that I don't know”
“I prefer you don’t find out and I’m not bout to tell you”
You roll your eyes “Anyway....Why did you lie to me?”
“So you don’t have any other hobbies”
“I prefer you find out the natural way, I don’t want to have to tell you”
“It's complicated”
“We have time......” you say as you cut the appetizer with your knife and fork “....or do you have something else to prioritize” you speak with an attitude laced in your words. He hates to admit it but he missed your sass. It was always funny to him the pencil pushing good girls had the worst mouth on them.
He smirks and sits up straight. “I’m here”
“So I was some sort of front?” you had slowly pieced things together however you didn't know why
“Yea at the beginning but not anymore”
You can’t help but roll your eyes “Please”
He sits up and leans closer to you “Stop rollin yo eyes at me” he speaks so calmly but there's a threat lying underneath that tone
You huff “Fine”
“I aint lying to you tho”
You look at him for a moment before you decide to speak again and resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's more difficult than you imagined. Your facial expressions were a main form of communication for you.
“So what are you gonna do about Krystal?” What was he really going to do about apparently being in another relationship with another woman simultaneously?
“Ima take care of it”
“I don’t know! maybe” you argue
“How?” you snap, he raises his brow at you before taking another sip of his drink, you pause before you speak again “.... Maybe you shouldn't..... maybe if you talk to her.... I don't know.... reconcile”
“You sayin i should go back to her?”
“Nah she ain’t for me”
“And I am? I don't know your world!” you comment
“I don't want you to”
“So how can we be together if you only show me a part of you?”
He leans forward again, speaking slowly to add emphasis “Y/N, I don’t want you to. I just want you there I don't want you to ever feel like you gotta pick up a gun to prove a point or protect yourself”
You take a deep breath “and you think i won’t have to do that eventually?”
He looks at you with his typical nonchalant face “nah i got you”
“I don't get it why did you even fall for me if I was just a facade?”
“I didn’t plan this shit. It just happened plus i got tired of feeling like all i did was take care of business 24/7. Who wants to be talking about cappin someone 24/7? I couldn’t even have my son around me when she was there! Plus I trust you. I trust you more than her and even tho she knows that side of my life i know you wont sell me to the wolves”
You leave it at that because you feel like he would never tell you the truth, and you also felt like he was talking in circles, so you choose to proceed with caution.
As soon as you arrived home later in the day you’re tired and ready to go to bed. Too many mixed emotions. Did you like Rio? Yes, Did you think your relationship would ever evolve into something more? No? Maybe? What is your relationship with him ? Side chick? Booty Call? FWB? BF/GF?
“Hey!” You hear from behind you as your place the key in the door lock
“It’s okay, what's up? Why are you here?” you remember what Rio had said about her
Your body jumps, a natural reaction seeing that you were deep in thought and unaware of your surroundings “Oh my god!” The familiar voice however reduces the panic you’re feeling “You scared me!” you turned to face Krystal
“I’m sorry”
“Oh I just decided to pay you a visit, mind if i come in?” she flashed you that smile, you were beginning to hate it
“Sure!” you opened the door and let her in first “want something to drink?”
“Here you go!”
“Yea what you got?”
“Liquor, wine”
“Oooh do you have Bourbon?”
“Yes”
“Bourbon on the rocks” Your mind flashes back and you remember all the times Rio had ordered Bourbon on the rocks and it made you sick, to think the entire time he was there with you his mind was with her
“Thanks!,” she pats at her leg “come here sweety” she speaks to your dog ‘Coconut’, instead of walking over Coconut looks between you two and opts to lay at your feet. “Ugh my dog does the same thing”
“So why are you here again?” You were over this ‘visit’ already
“Have you talked to Rio lately?”
You find it odd that she would ask about Rio the same day you had lunch with him “Yea, had lunch today” no need to lie she probably knew
“Hmm” she hums as she takes a sip of her drink “did he talk to you?”
“About?”
“Me and him?” she looks at you wearily, playing with the glass in her hand
You shrug “Umm just said you two were exes”
You close the door and look at Coconut who barks at you from the stairs, “I know, i feel the same”
She perks up, smiling at you “oh yea!” she takes a deep breath “I’m sorry I should have told you but I didn’t, we are really good friends and I got caught up in the moment, I was drunk” you take note of her quick change in behavior, if they were truly exes she would have told you before she even introduced you two
“It’s okay”
Quickly she finishes her drink without saying much else other than“Well i should probably get going it's late”
“Yea thanks for stopping by” you couldn’t wait for her to leave
“Yea! See you around”
You opt to not even text Rio about Krystal's pop up at your house for all you know they were still seeing each other. However the ‘pop ups’ between Krystal and Rio were becoming a bit much. Weeks of them simultaneously showing up out of nowhere just to ‘chat’ were becoming unbearable. By now it was obvious they were both stalking you.
The doorbell rang as you and Rio sat by the kitchen island ‘chatting’ it up. You hopped down and rushed towards down the steps in your split level home
“Hey!” you force a smile as Krystal walks in “We are waiting for you upstairs”
“We?” she turned to look at you from the foyer
“Do you want what he has? Bourbon on the rocks”
“Yea just keep going” you motion for her to climb the steps
It was as much as a surprise to her as it was to Rio seeing each other there
Rio runs his hand over his face settling it on his chin massaging it to ease his irritation.
“Uh sure!” she says carefully placing her purse on the counter
“I'M SICK OF THIS SHIT! THIS TALKING IN CIRCLES! CONTINUOUSLY LYING TO ME! USING ME TO GET INTEL ON EACH OTHER!”
“You can sit next to him you don’t have to act like he’s a stranger”
“Y/N” Rio begins but you cut him off
“SO! I don’t know what’s going on with you two! But I’m tired of the fucking pop ups! I don’t need to be scared half to death every fucking time one of you decides to pay me a visit! I don’t know how I’m connected to whatever fucking plot you two are concocting but i don’t want any parts of it”
“There’s no..” Krystal interjects, which only makes you even more angry and you just let it all out. So much for being calm cool and collected
Both Rio and Beth look at each other
“Sweety it's not like that”
“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME SWEETY BITCH”
Krystal in turn looks to Rio to fix the problem
You take a deep breath to calm down, you were getting too worked up you could feel yourself getting ready to cry. “I don’t care! i just want both of you to know I’m done with both of you go find another pansy to fuck around with!” you turn to Rio and face him dead on “Go find another woman to fuck with while you lie about how much you “care” about her! Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE AND NEVER CALL OR PAY ME A VISIT AGAIN”
Krystal alarmed by your yelling, is quick to grab her things, she never expected this to happen. Rio slowly eases down from his seat and grabs his keys before leaving. He was beyond furious at the moment.
“Y/N can we just” Krystal tries to bargain again
“GET OUT!” It comes out as a high pitched shriek
When they both leave you slam the door and lock it. You know it wasn’t the end of whatever was going on but at least you stood up for yourself. And now you can finally let go and let the tears out
Your dog Coconut groans and you nod in response, pulling her in for a hug.
“Rio!” Krystal calls as she rushes to his side
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” his jaw is tight hands in his pockets
“We need to talk”
“NO! YOU NEED TO GO HOME! I TOLD YOU I WAS HANDLING IT”
“I know but,”
~~~~~The rest of the week you didn’t hear anything from both of them however the following week after you arrive to work, parking your car in its usual spot you get out of hear the infamous Rio speak causing you to spin around
“BUT NOTHING GO HOME AND LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!”
He got in his car and slammed the door before driving away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Get in the car we need to talk” he’s calm like always.
“NO! I have to work!” you stand your ground
“Y/N, I wasn’t asking”
“I don’t care! Leave me alone!”
“I have to work Rio!” Without saying anything he starts to walk over to you. “Okay, okay, I’ll get in” you walk past him quickly and hear huff leave his mouth before he opens the door for you, you slide into the seat, you watch as he gets in his seat. He doesn’t even look at you but you can tell he’s still vexed. Jaw is still tight with a firm grip on the steering wheel. You don’t say anything but look out the window as you drive to an unknown location in town. It was a warehouse. You take a deep breath expecting this to be your last memory.
He removed his hands from his pockets, this time placing them in front of him, he squints a little looking at you before he decides to speak “get in the car or I’m gonna come over there and put you in the car”
“I’m gonna scream!” you threaten
He takes a few steps forward, which only caused you to retreat back “I don’t give a fuck! GET IN THE CAR!” he says more sternly and you would be lying if that didn’t frighten you
He scoffs “I’m not gonna kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking”
How did he always know what you were thinking?
“How long is this gonna take?” you ask looking around
“You might as well say you can’t make it in today”
You quickly text your boss and your car problems evolve into a bigger issue thankfully she understands and you feel at ease for now. You walk closely behind him as you approach the warehouse you can hear the chatter as you approach the building, when you do step in you're surprised to see a restaurant.
The smell of coffee and pancakes fill the place. The young girl seats you two by the kitchen. You look around in awe, you had no idea this place even existed. The place had an open kitchen concept so you could see the chefs and cooks working their magic and if you chose you could sit by the counter and watch.
“Hi Welcome to The Barnyard! How many?”
“Two” Rio answers
“Sure” you answer apprehensively
“You’re waitress will be Alyssa she’ll be with you shortly”
“Thanks”
“Hungry?” he knew you didn’t eat breakfast
You two order and eat not without saying anything to each other. Once you’re done he gets up and motions with his head for you to follow him. You walk towards the back past the kitchen, past the employee locker room/bathroom, take a turn into the backroom where the bus boys cleaned the dishes, past the huge walk in freezer and stop in front of a door where Rio knocks. The guy opens immediately, the door was heavy, like one of those safe doors you see in banks. You take a glance at the man on the other side of the door, he looks meaner and scarier than Mick you thought to yourself. You continue to walk down a few steps that seem to be taking you underground to another door where Rio knocks once again and the same door as upstairs, when you step in, you walk into what seems like a huge operation. Your eyes take it all in on one side there are people counting money on the other they’re bagging it. Not to mention what seemed like illicit drugs being packaged. Rio takes a seat by the table and watches.You sit down next to him and try to absorb it all. He doesn’t say anything for what seems like forever.
“You said you wanted to know what i did so here you go”
You turned to face him “why are you showing me all of this, now?” 4 months you dated this man and you thought he was a local drug dealer who made it big, this was cartel level operations
“Things have changed, I might be wrong in my approach to keep you in the dark, and we need to talk,” he removes his jacket and takes out his gun, placing it on the table “Krystal isn’t who you think she is,
“I know you told me that”
“Remember when she kept handing you zip-lock bags at the school luncheon, yea they all got your fingerprints. Bags filled to the brim with coke and heroin. There's a few storage keys hidden in your house, the feds would find those too, it would lead them to a local storage where they would find more money and drugs, your fingerprints are on those too. I asked you to hold on to them for me.”
“Her name is Beth Boland, you are a front. But it’s much deeper than that,” with his fingers he makes quotation marks “ ‘Krystal’ and I have an operation we are business partners, ended up fucking, emotions got thrown in the mix. She put 3 bullets in me.” He stops himself from, feeling like he’s getting carried away. “Anyway the feds started to question her connection to me, she got nervous, and came up with the plan of you, you would be my “girlfriend” while we continued to work and fuck. If the Feds started to look deeper they would see that the only reason she would be around me is because of you. But you being my girl wasn’t enough so we decided to plant some evidence in your house”
“What?!”
Your heart sinks
“You were going to be the fall guy and that would in turn get the feds off of her ass, my ass too for now at least”
You knew you were a front but this, you didn’t think it would be this, how could you be so stupid.
“But Beth ‘Krystal’ is becoming more of a problem, plus i can’t just over look my feelings for you”
“What feelings? Why did you even? Feelings?”
“I told you i didn't plan it!” irritation spewed out in his tone, but it was more so at himself than you “I care about you mama, you my girl”
You think about all the times you spent together, the few sexcapades you had, you feel sick to think it was all just part of the process, he was just going through the motions, whose to say he isn’t now? Maybe things are taking too long and he’s waiting for you to hang yourself with this new information.
“You can ask me whatever you want, I ain’t got shit to hide anymore, plus I figured its the least I can do”
“When did you start feeling differently, towards me?”
“About 2 months in”
2 months?! That's all it took was two lousy months, for him to ‘care’ about you? You knew you were naivety but how stupid did he think you were?
You contemplate calling the cops, FBI, hell the FBI would believe you wouldn't they? They already knew about them you were an innocent party
“I can see you thinking, just know if you go to the cops, they’ll do an investigation and since majority of them are on my payroll they won’t find nothing on her, they’ll instead turn their attention to you, with all that coke and heroin in your home, you wont see the light of day ever again. So whatever you’re thinking just know if Beth goes down, I go down and I’m not gonna let that happen whether you like it or not.” There’s that Grade A ‘CARE’ you say to yourself
You nod and wipe your tears away
“But I’m working on it.”
You scoff, what could he possibly be working on other than nailing the last nail in your coffin
“If i wasn’t trust me you would be in jail right now”
You swallow hard. This was a lot to process. You want to ask what he’s working on to get the target off your back but you don’t all you can think of is how you were one call away from being thrown in federal prison on drug trafficking charges.
He doesn't say anything else and for the rest of the time you are in that warehouse you sit quietly just absorbing everything that was happening. A few men stop by to talk to him but he doesn’t introduce you, you sit there listening to the conversation. Even if the feds were to interview you right now, you wouldn’t know what the conversation was about. It was in code and so vague that you couldn’t piece anything together. By the time you leave it's getting dark and you wouldn’t even remember how to get there. He pulls up to your car parked in the parking deck at work and gets out the car to open the door for you. You wanted to hop out and run to your car but you're frozen.
“Y/N” he calls to you bringing your attention back to him “i’m working on it, i just need you to trust me”
You nod in response feeling the tears threatening to fall you begin to walk away but he grabs your arm lightly pulling you back
“Her and Mick are there weekly and Mick leaves things a certain way if you go looking he will know, she will know, I’m trying to fix it mama i just need time, i just need you to operate as usual”
“You can’t go searching for them or she’ll know”
You give him a confused look
You pushed him away, pulling your arm from his grip “Okay” you were done with him for the day, being around him made you sick, he literally plotted your demise and for the most part didn’t care about you, until recently.
When you arrive home you look around and before you can stop yourself you rush over to the bathroom and throw up. When you've calmed down from your panic attack you walk around your home afraid to touch anything feeling like you were in a ticking time bomb, afraid that would be the reason the feds rushed over to your place.
A/N: As always please tell me what you think!
#rio good girls fan fic#rio good girls#manny montana fic#mann#nbc good girls#Brio#rio x reader#rio#rio imagine#writingblr#fan fic stuff#fan fiction#beth x rio#brio#imagine
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Happy Holidays, @roxymoron101! It’s your Secret Santa. Sorry I’m posting this so late in the day...I got kind of carried away and it turned out a bit longer than I intended. Hope you like this post-epilogue Wellenore fic!
Prompt: Wellenore Fake dating! (Maybe someone told family about having a bf/gf and now the family wants to meet them for Xmas)
Christmas preparations were in full swing at Edgar Allan Poe’s house when science-fiction-writer-turned-time-traveling-ghost HG Wells arrived on December 23rd. HG suspected that it was the first time that this or any other holiday had been celebrated there. Edgar wasn’t really the celebrating type. But his ghost girlfriend, Annabel Lee, certainly was, and the way she lit up with joy at even the mention of lights and ornaments was enough to melt any Scrooge’s heart. She had recruited HG, in addition to all of their other ghost friends, to help turn Edgar’s bleak mansion into the most festive home in Baltimore.
As soon as HG Wells walked through the door, Annabel thrust a coil of lights into his arms. “Mr. Wells, will you please wrap these around the handrail of the main staircase?” she requested.
“Certainly,” he agreed, relieved that his first assignment was relatively simple, and he set to work. So engrossed was he in his task that he didn’t notice that he wasn’t alone.
“Hey, Costco Optical,” a voice behind him said so suddenly that HG jumped, lost his balance, and fell down the stairs. Ghosts were subject to far more laws of physics than he would have liked, but at least he couldn’t get hurt. Laying on his back on the floor, he looked up to the top of the staircase to see a horrified Lenore, who, unbeknownst to him, had just experienced an unpleasant flashback to the night of his demise.
“Sorry, HG, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She hurried down the stairs and helped him to his feet.
“That’s quite all right, Lenore. I’d hoped that as a ghost I’d be less clumsy, but alas…”
They looked at one another awkwardly for a few moments. Neither of them knew what to say. They’d seen quite a bit of each other since HG’s death, but rarely without at least three other ghosts present. Apparently, HG had been the first one to unlock the mystery of time travel, and he’d been showing others the secret. Lenore often tagged along, even after she’d learned to move through time without his assistance. They’d walked with dinosaurs and some strange futuristic creatures they had no name for, watched empires and nations form and crumble, and tried (unsuccessfully) to stop people they knew were about to become evil dictators, but through it all, they had spent no more than a few minutes alone together. HG always invited as many ghosts as he could because he knew Lenore thrived in large groups. Lenore knew HG was trying to take in as much of the past and future as he could, and she didn’t want to distract him from the only thing that made him happy to be dead, so she spent most of their trips talking to the others.
Finally, HG broke the silence. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Oh, right. I just wanted to know if you had any Christmas plans.”
“Well, Edgar and Annabel invited me to join them. As you know, my family…” He trailed off. Lenore knew. His family didn’t like ghosts and had tried to exorcise him when he visited them.
“I just thought you might want to spend Christmas with me. My parents wanted to bring me back, so they’re totes cool with ghosts.”
HG didn’t know what to say. Why did she want to spend Christmas with him? She never seemed to want to talk to him on their time traveling adventures.
Before HG had time to say anything, Lenore spoke again. “Also…I kind of might have told them that I have a boyfriend…”
HG had never seen her look so embarrassed. She wasn’t exactly blushing – he wasn’t sure if ghosts could blush – but she was staring at the floor when she normally had no trouble meeting anyone’s eyes. He didn’t understand. “You have a boyfriend? Is it John Proctor?”
“Ugh, no, I don’t have a boyfriend, that’s the problem! I mean, yes, John Proctor is totally hot, but he’s also totally not into me, so that was never going to work.”
HG was still confused. “So why did you tell your parents you had a boyfriend if you’re not dating John Proctor?��
“They kept bugging me about it. They were all like, ‘What did we even bring you back for? What are you doing with your afterlife? Why don’t you settle down instead of always time traveling and haunting the creepy raven enthusiast?’ I got so sick of it I told them I was seeing someone, and they asked to meet him, so…” She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his still blank face. He really could be remarkably clueless for the guy who discovered time travel. “So, will you come with me to my parents’ and pretend to be my boyfriend? Just for Christmas,” she added quickly. “My parents are totally used to my relationships only lasting a few days anyway. I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had died of shock on my wedding day instead of…anyway, I can tell them we broke up if they ask about you again. But hopefully if you come over for Christmas dinner, that will get them off my back for the time being. So will you do it?”
To HG’s immense surprise, his immediate reaction was disappointment that she wasn’t asking him on a real date. Then he mentally shook himself. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Lenore, he reminded himself. He enjoyed her company, certainly, and he cared about her, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle dating her. Some of her slang made more sense now that he’d started time traveling, but he still had trouble figuring out when she was joking. And as she had said herself, her relationships usually only lasted a few days anyway. If they dated and broke up, it would ruin their friendship. So he should be relieved, he told himself, that she was only asking him to be her temporary pretend boyfriend. But he couldn’t quite convince himself. Lenore was waiting for his answer. For a moment, he considered responding with, “I’d rather go as your actual boyfriend,” but the words changed before they got to his mouth, and what he said instead was, “Why me?”
Lenore had watched him carefully as he was pondering her offer, but his expression was unreadable. She tried to respond in a way that would minimize his discomfort but maximize the possibility of a favorable outcome. “Um, because you’re one of my best friends and I thought you probably didn’t have any Christmas plans. Unless you’re, like, desperate to be around that all day.” She rolled her eyes and nodded her head toward something behind his shoulder. He whirled around to see Edgar and Annabel under a sprig of mistletoe. He hastily averted his eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,” Lenore was saying, “I just thought it might be more fun than watching the continued blossoming of the love that’s more than love, or whatever.”
“Of course, Lenore. I’d be honored to be your fake boyfriend for Christmas,” he heard himself say.
The Lady Ghost looked happier than he could ever remember seeing her. “Great! Meet you at 4pm on Christmas Day in front of town hall? My parents live right near there.”
“It’s a date,” he replied automatically. “A pretend one,” he added hastily.
“There you are!” Lenore exclaimed. “I was afraid you’d decided to blow me off.
HG consulted his pocket watch. “It’s 4:01.”
“I know, but you’re usually so prompt.” She began leading the way toward her parents’ house. “I assumed your secret was that if you were ever running late, you just time traveled.”
He chuckled. “You know I don’t believe in using time travel for personal gain. I’ve always had a knack for arriving on time, even when I was alive. But today I was so focused on trying to finish your present, I lost track for a minute.”
“You didn’t have to give me anything,” she insisted.
“I doubt your parents would believe you were dating someone who wouldn’t even give you a Christmas present,” he pointed out.
“Good thing I got you something, too, or I’d be feeling really awkward right now.”
HG grinned. “So I did have to get you something.”
“No. If you hadn’t, I just wouldn’t have given you your present. Here.” She handed him the bright red and green gift bag she’d been trying to hide behind her back. “Merry Christmas, HG.”
“Thank you. Shall I open it now, or-”
“Now. Somehow I don’t think my family will fully appreciate it.”
He looked inside. “You must be joking!” he exclaimed, pulling out a pair of 23rd-century goggles and immediately slipping them over his eyes. Not only could he now see the world in sharper clarity than he’d ever seen it before, but everything was accompanied by a description. Every tree he looked at had its common and scientific name appear beside it. Each house had a list of all its residents from the time it was built to the time it would be demolished (or the year 2222, whichever was sooner). Of course, taking in the world this way while walking can be quite dangerous, and unsurprisingly HG soon tripped on the uneven pavement. Lenore caught his arm to prevent him from falling. The goggles labeled her Lenore: Lady Ghost, Ghost Lady. “Did you steal these from the future?” he asked, reluctantly removing them so he could concentrate on walking.
“Of course not; I bought them.”
“Where did you get 2222 currency?” he wondered.
“I didn’t. I also didn’t buy them in 2222.”
“But I remember these,” he insisted. “We saw them in 2222.”
“Well, yeah, that’s when they were made, but I got them in 2287 in an antique shop by trading with some other antiques I happened to have.”
“That you stole from Edgar’s house?”
“Oh, please, that guy didn’t go in his attic once the entire time I was haunting him. He’ll never miss a few useless trinkets. That’s not important anyway. Do you like your present?”
“Do you even need to ask? I hope you like yours even half as much.” From inside his jacket he produced a manuscript. “Merry Christmas, Lenore,” he said, handing it to her.
“The Timeless Adventures of Eleanor the Ghost, a novel by H.G. Wells,” Lenore read aloud.
“It’s a working title,” HG explained apologetically. “And it’s only the 17th draft so it’s probably not very good yet, but I wanted you to be the first to read it. It’s the story of a time traveling ghost named Eleanor and her trusty sidekick, G.H. Waters.”
“You wrote a novel about us!” Lenore exclaimed, eagerly flipping through the manuscript.
“Well, sort of about us. That is, I, uh, used some of our experiences as inspiration. But the characters in the story time travel to solve and prevent crimes, which is something I’ve always desired but have never quite achieved.”
“Hey, you got super close to murdering Hitler,” Lenore reminded him. “We’ll have to go back and try again sometime,” she added absent-mindedly, still skimming the manuscript in awe. Sure, Edgar had written that poem with her name in it, but he’d mostly used it as an excuse to write about ravens. HG had written a whole book…
“Are we nearly at your parents’?” HG asked, abruptly breaking her reverie.
“Oh, yeah, it’s the next house.”
HG had been afraid of that. The house she indicated was bursting with people. The front door was open, and even the porch was crowded. As the ghosts crossed the front lawn, someone cried, “It’s Lenore!” and suddenly they were surrounded by people crying, “Merry Christmas!” and “So glad you made it!” and “It’s wonderful to see you!” and “Is this the new beau we’ve heard so little about?”
Lenore spoke louder than all of them. “Everyone, this is HG Wells, my boyfriend.”
“What’s HG stand for?” someone bellowed from inside the house.
“H-H-Herbert George,” he stammered.
There was a snort of derision from the bellower. “What a terrible name.”
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Lenore replied defensively. “Now, will you guys let us in to the house?” She grabbed HG by the hand and they made their way inside.
“I wasn’t expecting quite this many people,” he murmured in her ear.
She looked rather sheepish. “Yeah, sorry, I was afraid if I told you how many relatives I had, you wouldn’t come. But I mean, I didn’t know they’d all be here today.”
“Are you kidding?” asked a young woman who looked a lot like Lenore. “A chance to see our favorite ghost relative and meet her ghost boyfriend? Of course we wouldn’t miss that!”
“Okay, well, here he is. HG, meet my cousin Mary…” And so it began. HG was introduced to at least 20 cousins, a dozen uncles and aunts, a brother who looked remarkably like a mustache-less Edgar, and finally, Lenore’s parents, who had both been busy in the kitchen when they’d first arrived.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” her mother announced to the whole house before she spotted them. “Ah, Lenore, you made it! And this must be the famous HG Wells! Welcome!”
“Thank you, madam, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And you, sir,” he added, as Lenore’s father appeared beside his wife.
“Mr. Wells, I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, shaking the ghost’s hand. “Sounds like you and Lenore have spent a lot of time together – centuries in fact!” He laughed at his own joke.
“Millenia, technically,” HG added.
“So, HG, we’ve heard a bit about your recent adventures with Lenore, but where did you two meet?”
HG was surprised that Lenore hadn’t told her mother this. “At Edgar Allan Poe’s house.”
“Oh, were you haunting him, too?”
“Why, no, it was at the dinner party.”
“Dinner party?” her mother repeated blankly.
HG looked over at Lenore, perplexed. She was shaking her head at him imploringly. It dawned on him that she hadn’t told her parents about that night, and that she didn’t want them to know about it. It was time to start inventing again. “The dinner party…that Edgar hosts…periodically to reunite dead authors.”
“Interesting. Lenore always complained that he never interacted with people,” her father commented.
“Well, not very often, but sometimes we talk him into it.” HG didn’t think he was being very convincing, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Thankfully, at that moment one of Lenore’s younger cousins whined, “Are we ever gonna get some food around here?” which prompted her parents to hurry back to the kitchen.
HG beckoned Lenore off to the side. “You haven’t told them about the dinner party?” he asked incredulously.
“No, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”
“You know how terrible I am at thinking on my feet! But more importantly, why don’t you want them to know about it?”
Lenore looked at him like he’d sprouted horns. “Oh yeah, that would be a really great conversation. ‘Hey, Mom and Dad! Remember that guy I was going to marry right before I died, who killed himself before you could bring me back? So it turns out his brother had a desperate thirst for revenge, and he went on a murderous rampage in the house I was haunting to get back at me for causing his brother’s death. It’s all good, though, because most of his victims came back as ghosts, and everything’s fine now!’ Yeah, no, kind of desperate to avoid that chat.”
“Eddie didn’t only do that because of you,” HG pointed out.
“No, but I was a significant contributing factor. And I really don’t want them to think I got you all killed just so I’d have more ghost friends.”
“Who would think that?” he wondered.
“You don’t?”
“Of course not. Did you really think I blamed you for my death?” he asked, but at that moment dinner was served and the whole crowd started moving en masse to the dining room, giving Lenore an excuse not to answer.
The dinner smelled delicious. Two gigantic tables were piled with goose, turkey, ham, roasted vegetables, potatoes, pies of every flavor imaginable…HG piled it on his plate and took a bite. If he concentrated hard enough, he could very nearly almost taste it. He could tell it was scrumptious, but it wasn’t the same.
HG watched Lenore, who was sitting across from him. She looked as though she was thinking similar thoughts as she took her first bite. He began to ponder as he continued to gaze at her. She’d never told him how she felt about that night. Did she really blame herself for his death? It had never occurred to him that what happened was anyone’s fault other than Eddie, Charlotte, and Anne. He didn’t even think Guy’s death was her fault. Eddie had been utterly irrational to blame her for that. She didn’t purposely break his heart, any more than he, HG, had purposely inhaled that smoke…
Suddenly a loud clang interrupted his thoughts. He jumped; so did several other people. All the conversations had stopped, and everyone seemed to be staring at him. He looked down at his plate and realized what must have happened. He’d forgotten to concentrate on holding his fork, and it had fallen through his hand. Sometimes being a ghost was the worst. He wanted to hide under the table. But then there was another clang, and everyone turned to stare at Lenore, who had just dropped her fork as well.
“What?” Lenore asked, picking her fork up and continuing to eat as if nothing had happened. “Oh, sorry I forgot what time period I was in. In the future there’s this custom to always drop your fork after the first bite of a great meal. HG and I just came from there, so we haven’t readjusted yet.”
She winked at him, and for once he understood, though ordinarily he would have been confused by her reference to a tradition that didn’t actually exist. He smiled at her gratefully.
From then on, incredibly, miraculously, despite the surfeit of people, HG had a wonderful evening. Lenore’s relatives kept asking him questions, mostly about him and Lenore, but he found them surprisingly easy to answer. He could come up with dozens of things he liked about her, and several anecdotes about their adventures. But he never felt too much pressure to talk, and the family seemed to understand that he needed to just sit and listen some of the time. But then he found out that Lenore’s father was a bit of a history buff, and the two of them had a long conversation about various events that HG had witnessed in his travels.
Far and away the best parts of the evening for HG were those moments when he caught Lenore’s eye every time someone made an unintentional reference to one of their inside jokes. HG hadn’t realized how many they had. After about the tenth time they looked at each other and chuckled, Lenore’s father commented that he’d never seen her anywhere near as happy as she looked at that moment.
Before HG knew it, the party was breaking up. Lenore kissed her parents goodbye, then slipped her arm through his and together the two ghosts strolled down the street. When they were out of earshot from all of her relatives, she said, “Thanks HG. That was fun.”
“It was,” he agreed, chuckling nervously. “Certainly the best pretend date I’ve ever been on.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He took a deep breath and summoned all his courage. “Perhaps we should try a real date sometime.”
She stopped walking. He couldn’t look at her, terrified that he’d gone too far. But then she responded with the most beautiful four words he had ever heard: “Does tomorrow night work?”
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Spilling most of the tea: Am I wrong for asking my bf to have healthier boundaries with his other gf? (With a novel of background information.) via /r/polyamory
Spilling most of the tea: Am I wrong for asking my bf to have healthier boundaries with his other gf? (With a novel of background information.)
I think I’m asking for my bf to set healthy boundaries with his other gf, but I feel like I’m crazy sometimes for like demanding that? I know I did bad by giving him an ultimatum—either she respects healthy boundaries or I can’t be in this relationship—but I wanted him to know it was fixable? And even if we break up, I still love him and care about him, she should still respect him and try not to control him, right? Whether he’s my bf or not, he deserves to be treated better.
And that’s the closest to a TL;DR I can get. Because it’s gonna get long.
So, I’m gonna go back to the beginning, and that’s part of why it’s long.
B (my current bf) and E (his “anchor” nesting partner) dated monogamously for 6 years or so, when something happened and they split. He moved out. They still hung out, and things were good—I’ve heard from both of them, their separated time was good, they miss how things were then, etc. Because they did things together still. Just not as a couple. And during that time, their mutual friend introduced B to the concept of polyamory (as she was poly herself) and he liked it, it resonated with him, and I think he and I view it in much the same way. But then he and E got back together with this new caveat, and E agreed to work on being okay with it, but be patient.
I met B in December and we hit it off, we’re both poly, we both have nesting partners who don’t really care to know about other partners, we both have a much higher sex drive than our partners. We also like video games and stuff, lots in common. And we’re super cheesy. We started dating. In January, an ex started talking to him, and said she could accept the poly thing if E was his only girlfriend and he promptly dumped me. We were already close, it stung, how could I matter so little? Two days later, both his other girlfriend and he begged me to take him back, he’d made this big terrible mistake. And I knew I was making a bad decision going back. But moving forward... We had a threeway chat, B, E, and me. So I couldn’t be left in the dark and surprised by something like that again. And I thought things were better. They were, really. We had open communication. E and I were very friendly. The three of us went to the bar B and I had become regulars in, and enjoyed ourselves. We had this cute moment, and things felt good. Solid.
Then the pandemic hit, and I remember bars all closed March 17, because it was St Paddy’s Day and I wanted to go out, but I had made the decision not to go out because it wasn’t safe, about two hours or something before they announced everything would be closed, so my good decision didn’t even matter. And at that point I hadn’t seen B in a couple of weeks I think, for one reason or another. Probably E-related, because it’s a common theme, but let’s not make that assumption because I don’t remember.
And we played Animal Crossing together when it came out, and it helped a bit! We had like two cheesy dates, B and me on one of our islands, but we had a group chat for Animal Crossing, and it was usually a group thing. Well, B flirts with S from the group. I’m a bit put off because of the thing from January and he specifically hid that he was DMing this monogamous chick who had a boyfriend. Nothing terribly dirty (as far as I’m aware), but it stirred up feelings, and E told me about it and we both came to him with it, and he agreed it would stop, it’s too soon, because we’re trying to feel secure and stuff. He fucked up, it hurt us both, we’re in a pandemic, we don’t want drama with her mono bf, can you cool it with her? And he also agreed not to chat up other women until we’ve regained some trust and normalcy. And E was sort of running that decision, she was far more uncomfortable with him talking to other women than I was—I just was afraid that a new chick would cut down on our already very limited time together that was exclusively online, already. Which probably wasn’t fair, and I should’ve communicated that better. Reassurance and whatnot would’ve helped that more than letting her say “you can’t chat up other women until I’m ready.” But he had two hot girlfriends, yknow, how terrible is it to just have that for a little while? I excused it and supported it.
And at some point it had been more than two months since I’d seen him. And I’m an extrovert—this stay at home bullshit has killed me. Like I didn’t think I would (and I still worry I won’t) physically make it through it and be living at the end, and I was more scared of my mental health than the virus. He wanted to come see me, he felt helpless to help me, and I was trying to hide the worst of it. I asked for phone calls/video game streaming. Because it would be time together. It didn’t have to be one on one time, I stressed that. I just wanted to hear him and have fun with him, because all we had were “I miss you”s and “I love you”s in text for two months... And I was met with resistance, but not from him. E would complain when we made plans to call. And the first time that we actually got to do it she wouldn’t let us have the video game AND a call because “nobody wants to hear that.” Like. I wanted innocent KH3 playing and laughing and stuff. I was not going to masturbate in his ear or something. While sexual frustration was a big problem for me, it wasn’t the most pressing. I just wanted time with him. And then we’ve gotten to Share Play KH3 on PS4 while in call a few times, if you know what that means. We got to talk to each other with his friends in the party call thing a few times, while he played a cute game for me. But... in let’s say 3 months? We’ve gotten to do it maybe 4 times? Maybe 5? Because E kept getting upset that B made any kind of plans, even if they didn’t have any plans, because neither of them was working or anything.
And eventually we decided that because they were both out of work, and only went to the grocery store and drive thrus, and I don’t work, and I had a similar lowish risk, B and I decided to bring the concept of visiting to E. Like, it’s been three months since we’ve seen each other. It was early/mid June, I think. Pandemic time is hard. Or a bit earlier when we brought it up. But I don’t think he came to see me until June because when we brought it up... she expressed anxiety. And that’s valid. But at the time we were discussing it, people were still at public parks without masks in groups, and it was allowed. And most things were still closed, restaurants included. If I went out, I stayed in my car. I did not feel comfortable getting out of my car at the park because of the sheer number of people out without masks. And one of the first things E brought up was “well, I know you guys will want to go to a hotel room and it’s not safe”... well, actually, the internet (at the time) suggests that it’s low risk, and I’ll wipe everything down with my fancy industrial wipes before we touch anything. Then she suggests we go to the park and hang out outside with masks on until we get to like a picnic blanket or something. And at the time, parks were not safe because people are stupid and out and about with masks. And the internet did not say anything about open air being much safer at this point in time. And when I brought up the concept of being uncomfortable on the ground, uncomfortable in a mask, uncomfortable being around groups of people, I was being problematic and uncompromising. But I showed her multiple places online where hotels were fairly safe/low risk, because they increased their cleaning and disinfecting and left rooms empty for a certain amount of time in between guests or something. I don’t remember now.
And in I think May, I drove my best friend an hour away to the big city that B and E live right next to. I asked if I could stop and see him, we could keep social distancing rules if they wanted. And we’d try to jump his car, which had a dead battery for a few days (which made him feel trapped because he had to wait on E to be ready to go anywhere). And in the morning, E was still fine with it. When my best friend had his life saving meds in hand and our errand was finished, we drove in their general direction and waited in a grocery store parking lot (I still didn’t have their address; I hadn’t ever been there before). E then suddenly wasn’t sure. And then she declared that she and B have to run to B’s dad’s house RIGHT NOW, for weed. Okay, yknow, we had plans, but okay... My friend and I waited a couple hours in my hot ass car because we weren’t going in anywhere. Pandemic. I had to pee, but the grocery store was too busy for me to even consider that. I held it. But then they were back and fine, but E was staying inside the house because she’s upset again. So I saw B, 6 feet or more away from me, and we tried to sort out his car, and I ended up sobbing on the way home, because I didn’t realize how much it was weighing on me, not seeing him. I saw him in one piece and the relief I felt was overwhelming. He was okay. We’d be okay. And my best friend is amazing, honestly. He’s supportive and he hears my tea, and he’s not poly (but he’s been in poly relationships, just come to the conclusion it’s not for him), but he appreciates the dynamic. And he’s generally supportive, even if I can tell he thinks I’m making a stupid decision like I did in January.
Eventually in June, he did come up and E and I were still friendly. Example A. We were gifting each other silly things. E and I talked to each other more than either of us talked to B, some days. Not intentionally like ignoring him or anything, we were just chatty. Like swapping recipes and shit. Yknow. But he came up a couple of times to the hotel we used to use.
I know at some point I mentioned to him, that because I was seeing him again, things felt regular, that I didn’t mind if he talked to other women, but he’d have to make sure E was on the same page.
And then they went to a risky af beach. E decided they were going to this beach in I think Delaware that had had 100 or so positive cases over the weekend. They went like I think it was a Monday. The Monday after they had had 100 positive cases. She had noooo trouble with her anxiety. He didn’t even seem like he wanted to go, but for E, of course he’d go. She had no anxiety about walking up and down the Boardwalk and going into little shops for like glassware and stuff. Like she was happy and excited to do it, even knowing about the recent confirmed cases. Which bothered me a bit? But I kept my mouth pretty shut (except to spill tea to my best friend, naturally).
So I had a friend invite me to go tubing at the very end of June, and I was falling apart again. I RSVP’ed going, I found a tube, and I shared my worries (I hadn’t ever gone before) with my bf (and other people) and we talked about tubing, and E mentioned she’d gone before and we talked about it. But our (we all know the guy from the bar) friend (let’s say Y), Y invited me tubing, which is how the convo came up. (And for the judgy “it’s a pandemic!” people who will invariably pop up, it was the riskiest thing I’ve done, but it was in open air and I put coolers on either side of me: I kept social distancing rules pretty well.)
And I loved it! I loved floating down the river without a care in the world. I couldn’t be on my phone, I couldn’t be playing therapist for anyone, I couldn’t be something to someone while I was on the river, because I made sure anyone who might need me knew I was busy/hard to reach all day. The only things on my plate for hours were “throw me a beer!” and “ooh I hit my butt on a rock!” It was freeing and lazy and wonderful. And I bought my own tubes, and I wanted to go again. My husband doesn’t like people or the outdoors much, but I invited everyone else I had exposed myself to during the pandemic, pretty much just my partners and my best friend. And I was excited! I wanted to share this new experience. I’m still excited. I still love it.
But so we talked about tubing more and I kept inviting them tubing, trying to make plans, and honestly, it doesn’t matter what kind of plans I try to make, either with just B or with both of them, E finds an excuse. And part of it is, E doesn’t want B to go tubing with anyone but her the first time he goes because she’s been trying to get him to go for years, apparently, and there was one time he had to cancel because he was working a warehouse job and he was just exhausted. So let’s all go, I’m not stealing the first time, I just want to go, and my husband wisely told me I’m not allowed to go by myself because dying is against our poly rules (playfully). And every time I invited both, she found an excuse. Even when her grandmother went away for a week. There’s always something, and it usually sounds like something that can 100% be moved around a little.
And then E had a first date with a guy a couple weeks ago. So July. And she ended up bringing him home, politely asking B to not be there. Politely, he swears. And he agreed and went and hung out at a pizza shop. And she had another date with that guy this past Thursday, and we said why doesn’t B just come visit me that day then. And we planned for it. Now, they both knew what my week looked like—my Sunday tubing plans were cancelled to take care of my cuddle buddy because his cat wasn’t doing well and he needed support. My Monday and Tuesday were rough, and Tuesday night I was falling apart, my brain wasn’t being kind to me. And B knew I’d recently been triggered very badly, like past trauma stuff, and I wasn’t right from that, and he was supportive and reassuring, and I needed that, it helped but obviously didn’t fix me up. But he also told me that we couldn’t go tubing because E said she had to be first. And that upset me a bit, but I accepted it. Wednesday was D&D. And I was talking to another partner about being bummed about it, and they asked me why B’s other girlfriend was controlling what we do when we’re together and.. I had no answer. So I went to B like, hey, I’ve noticed this pattern and it’s actually bothering me a lot, I need you to sit down and have a conversation about healthy boundaries. Like. This isn’t okay, I feel controlled by someone I’m not dating... And he basically said “I brought it up and she said no” I think. And I .. got upset. I saw red. I don’t matter enough to.. talk about healthy boundaries? Like. I guess I wasn’t very specific, but I know I brought up her feelings and how we do tiptoe around them all the time. And when I got upset he basically said “I’m not talking to you right now.” And he turned off his phone. I don’t DO the silent treatment. If you can’t talk to me like a grownup, I can’t have a relationship with you.
We had this big blowup, I threw it in her face that she’s allowed to fuck someone else in their bed but he isn’t allowed to see his girlfriend and just go do things with me. Every activity has to be run by her. And we are ruled by E’s feelings and mood. And I was not polite. And I ended up having him call me, ready to tell him we were done, because of the silent treatment thing over something that needs talking about. And I didn’t, I melted, I love him, but in that phone call, I started with one example where her feelings controlled what we did or were allowed or not allowed to do and another one and another one until I had like ten examples... They just kept flowing. And he was like “yeah, you have a point.” And he agreed to go talk about it again.
He texted me a couple hours later to tell me that I was wrong, she doesn’t control him, or me for that matter. And he accused me of gaslighting him. And I’m like “hold up. I told you things that YOU told me. I just repeated back to you exactly what you’ve been venting to me about for months!” And I restated the things I said on the phone. And he was like wait a second. And he admitted shit wasn’t healthy between them. He brought up that period of time when they weren’t dating, how nice it was.
And he came to visit Thursday. I originally told him Wednesday I didn’t know if I wanted to see him, after all the crap, but the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that because I raised a stink about her controlling him, she’s not going to LET him see me again for a while... so I said please do come. And I was glad to see him.
And we’ve been fairly light for a couple of days, but it came up again Saturday while I was getting ready to go tubing again. And I told him a bit more in depth about my mother and how she’s a narcissist, while sitting on the riverbank. I shared how she gaslit me and manipulated me on the daily by using her feelings to guilt me and my feelings to shame me or shove me into something. She loved making me feel crazy. She’d do something and then deny it, and I’m like “I was here, I watched you do it.” But she’d tell me to stop lying until I believed her sometimes. I explained that I have a bad memory and I can’t always remember details or examples of things, and I hate it because it was constantly used against me. And I still have a bad memory, worse so since I hit my head and had a bad concussion when I was 20. And I told him how we stopped talking for a bit and she sucked me back in by showing me what could be, false promises and fake affection. And when I let her back in, it was exactly that. I explained that narcissists do that. They’ll act nice to get you back under their thumb. And then they’ll eventually start their shit again. There are subreddits dedicated to victims of this, and I told him where to look. He said he doesn’t think she’s a narcissist (and dear god I hope not) but then I pointed out her grandmother. And I explained “fleas” (the bad behaviors we pick up from being around them so long). And maybe she just has some metaphorical fleas. But if he doesn’t get her to see there’s a problem, she isn’t going to work on herself or their relationship. Relationships take work and communication. If you aren’t willing to do either, you probably shouldn’t be in a relationship. And if he can’t set boundaries with her, I can’t stay in our relationship, because theirs is affecting ours, and I’ve hit a wall... and I wrote this long thing and I sent it to him, and asked if it was acceptable to send to her (because he brought up that if I message her ANYTHING right now it’ll ruin his whole day because she’ll be upset). He didn’t answer on that yet. He’s had 3 days.
So, I can’t have it just be “oh I’m pissy because things that aren’t true”... I do still think something needs to give. I do cater to other people’s feelings a lot, and I try to keep mine small for other people. And it bothers me a lot, that, it absolutely still feels like we’re tiptoeing around E’s feelings, always. And it doesn’t feel like there are healthy boundaries, and I don’t think I would’ve gotten upset like I did if there were healthy boundaries. I am sorry I got so irrationally angry and upset, and I was really unkind and I’m sorry I called either of you a name. That was uncalled for.
It’s not just about tubing, but it also is. Like. First, I didn’t want to go tubing because E brought up tubing. I didn’t remember that she did. I wanted to go tubing because Y invited me to go tubing. I went tubing because Y invited me tubing. I want to go tubing because I liked how I felt when I went tubing with Y and his group. I get that wanting to be there for the first time is a thing, because he shrugged it off before. How many times have I invited you guys both tubing? There was plenty of opportunity for it to be a group thing. So it feels childish for E to be upset that I want to go too? I literally can’t understand it. It was all I wanted. And not even because “with B,” necessarily, which y’all know, because I invited just E, I harassed at least a dozen people to go with me. Tubing makes me feel free of responsibility for a few hours. I feel like nothing matters in a good way. I’m on the river, nobody can need me right now, I’m helpless to help anyone. I feel weirdly free. And I wanted to share that feeling. I literally don’t care if it’s the first time or the hundredth time. And the concept that E needs to own the first time, it bothers me a lot? Because what else does she “own”? I asked B if I could take him to see Sonic when it was in theaters... it was a no, because E wants to go. How many other things (that don’t directly affect anyone else) am I not allowed to do with a person I’m dating because of someone who isn’t in my relationship with that person? That control feels .. shitty.
And yknow it’s not always “E said I can’t,” it’s almost always “E would be upset if.” And maybe it’s not an intentional thing, but E’s feelings always run the show, and my feelings never seem to matter and it keeps coming back to this, doesn’t it? Like she’s the primary, the anchor, the nesting parter... so’s <my husband>, for me. And he doesn’t let his sad feels keep me from activities like tubing or movies or D&D or...
And <my best friend> brought up another point last night. I brought up how E decides things? Like how it had to be right THEN that you guys visit B’s dad for weed? Do you not remember the early pandemic stuff? We couldn’t call each other without a “nobody wants to hear that.” (Innocent KH3 steaming with a call..?) It was a flippant comment, sure, but like... wow. We couldn’t see each other because E’s anxiety, and to a point that was fine. But then it was... where it was allowed. A hotel? Low risk, not allowed. E said it wasn’t allowed, it made her anxious, so naturally we couldn’t do that. But the park where things are uncomfortable, there’s more people, no masks, higher risk of virus, zero possibility of nudity, she was okay with that. With higher virus risk. And right, the dad/weed thing. Remember when <my best friend> and I were in Philly for his thing and E was waffling on whether we could see each other or not? When I was already around the corner. And then suddenly “E said we have to go to my dad’s right now for weed” as in, B couldn’t see me for five minutes and then go, even though I was literally around the corner. <my best friend> was with me for that. He reminded ME about that.
It feels a lot like E’s feelings run the show. Intentional or not. If it was “E is upset by this, I need to give her more reassurance,” that’s how I feel that should go. And I still want an unbiased outside view (a poly for 25+ years life coach who does Zoom sessions) because maybe I’m wrong! But “E is upset by this, so I can’t do this with you.” Sounds unhealthy and controlling, even if it isn’t intentional. Maybe it’s B shoving that, because he’s putting E’s feelings on a pedestal? Which, he has done, he assumes E’s feelings sometimes, we’ve all talked about it, he assumes sometimes that she’ll never be okay with XYZ, and we’ve come back at him like “give her a chance!” Which, still agree. And if it’s that, let’s work on that. If it’s needing a healthier boundary like what “this would upset E” means, let’s work on that. And I have examples of how I think I’ve handled that sort of thing in a healthier way.
<husband> was upset when I went to <kink convention> last year. Did I just not go? No. I went. I reassured him, I compromised (he picked me up a day and a half before the event was over), and we discussed it, but he did not ever make me feel like I CAN’T go. He was worried about money too, which is fair. But it also wasn’t costing us because I went with friends who didn’t mind me sharing a bed they had empty and I volunteered.
<husband> is upset when I’m not home when he’s getting ready for work. When I started doing that regularly on D&D nights, we sat and talked about it, and yeah, he’s not happy with it, but he understands that D&D is important to me, and I still make sure he’s okay, and he has what he needs before I go.
I was upset when he saw <husband’s new chick> 3 times in 4 days. Did I stop him from seeing her? No. If he had asked to see her a fourth time? We would’ve talked about that too. It upset me, yeah. I had feelings. I did not let my feelings dictate where he is and isn’t allowed to go or who he is or isn’t allowed to see or what they’re allowed to do together (except where it could directly affect me, like safe sex and not having guests at home, which with both agreed to). I asked for reassurance. I got reassurance. Not even just from <husband>, but from B too. I have a support system, and you guys do, too, you have friends, each other, me... I wouldn’t be so upset if y’all didn’t matter to me.
Can you guys acknowledge that I have a valid point or two and that my feelings are valid? Because sometimes I feel like some halfass person he’s allowed to see when E permits, when she’s feeling generous sometimes, and that’s not a good feeling for me, feeling like someone I’m not in a relationship with dictates exactly what I can and can’t do when it does not actually affect them.
I’m at a point where if they can’t find healthy boundaries soon and at least TRY to keep them, I can’t stay in a relationship with him, and I’ve made that very clear. He says he wants us both in his life. Am I wrong? Like I’m sure I’ve been wrong at some points but... am I wrong to ask him to work on making his primary relationship healthier? Am I shoving myself in where I shouldn’t be? Because if we were just friends and I noticed how she controls him, I’d probably still be telling him he deserves better treatment than that.
I know at some point I also begged for “therapy,” in the form of a local life coach who’s been poly for 20+ years or something who does Zoom calls and said they would help moderate things and such. And E was originally on board, but it didn’t happen. Now E says (to B) that she’ll never do it because all I want is to have someone tell me I’m right. And that’s not why I want it... I want an unbiased person to tell me how we can make this work better for all of us. How this can be healthy. And I want ALL of us to hear it, not just me. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I’ll apologize and try to do better. If I can’t handle it, I’ll just see myself out.
I want to point out that I have not and will not suggest to him to end his relationship with her. That’s his business. I’m not trying to split them up, at all. I’m asking him to work on what’s there, because he’s being treated unfairly. If anyone’s splitting, it’s me. I’ll rip a chunk of my heart out to save my brain if I have to. The concept that these are examples I CAN remember makes me wonder how many I’m forgetting because my brain doesn’t remember things well.
Submitted August 02, 2020 at 10:46AM by fleetingfirework
via reddit https://ift.tt/3go6GnJ
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2 love birds born October 29th. Rosy and me
This is just a little story of me and a person i treasure a lot and will never forget about. I don't how to start so many things but oh well. Excuse the spelling and grammar. 2015 was the year we stopped talking how much i miss talking to you, a great person you are. She was my other half pretty much. We had the same birthdays october 29. We had the same way of thinking. It was almost as if faith or god had us destined for each other. I loved her since the day i saw her which was when we both were 13 or 14. First time i saw her was at church class for first communion. I didnt know who she was, the first i ever saw her. She was beautiful, she had this nice brown skin the beatiful lips, dreamy eyes and a soft angelic voice. When i hear her speak for the first time i was captivated in an instance no words could describe just how much in that moment i fell for her. Our church class was held every sunday right after morning mass. I would look forward to those days all the time just because i knew she would be there. Some days i wouldnt show up whether it be because something happend or my family and i were out of town. I would l9nv for her those days to be there. It was summer of me leaving elementary and going into junior high. I thought i would never see her again. Thought she might go to a different school then i would. When the sunday class was over, i would still think about her. I would wonder where she is and if maybe she thought about me. So junior high rolls around and i didnt really think much about it. By this time i kind of didnt think about it much... and then.. there she was in my first period class. Once more i saw that beautiful brown skin, dreamy brown eyes, and juicy lips. I was so happy but i just didnt show it but man every dam morning walkinv into the class knowing she was there felt nerve racking but good at the same time. Slowly we began talking to one another i still remember when she told her birthday was october 29th. At first i thought she was playing but she was serious then i told her that my B-day was October 29th too. Man something clicked there straight away something we both felt inside and we both knew that we felt some type of way for one another. But at this time i was dating someone well nog really dating cause we never hanged out or something like that. I wouldnt even talk to her much and ive told this person several times we weren't really a thing but i guess she didnt understand me. So she finds out that we was talking and she tried to confront my church love. She gets scared, like really scared to the point where she switched classes and found it hard to come to school. It was ruined chances of being with her... i was really sad, and mad bcus i told the other girl for a while we wasnt anything. I thought that was it, like my other half just didnt want nothing to do with me... she hated me. I still thought about her there was no getting rid of her in my heart. We kind of moved on i guess. She went her way and i went mine. For that school year 7th grade she would look at me with anger and hate. It would kill me inside to see her look at me that way. I still had strong feelings i just tried not to pay attention to them but impossible. A year later we meet again she was in my keybaording class fpr a semester she still didnt talk to me at first. I remember on facebook i had the guts to message her and some time later i apologized cor what happend the year before. She accepted my apology and i felt so relieved and happy inside. Of coursei still wanted something with her these emotions were just growing stronger and stronger as time went by. We talked more and more and she would send me these little messages "tkm", "te kiero mucho." Or english "I like/love you a lot." Every time she would say that i would get the cheesiest smile ever!! She was just so special. Our conversation were unique amazing and its like we knew what to say to each other. I mean sure it would get awkward but thatwas rare. So some time pass and i hear from her friends that she wants me to ask her to be my girlfriend. Which of course I did, BUT I DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I WAS THINKING AND TOLD HER THAT I JUST WANTED TO BE FRIENDS. My reason was that she was a great friend and i thought it would like in a way be different and a little awkward idk. I know i know it was a bitchass move i wanted to die. So then she becomes upset and me feel like the biggest dumbass ever, which i still fucking do. Again she hates me and was mad only this was just worst. I didnt want her to see me because i knew what she was thinkinh of me, a fucking asshole. We stopped talking for a long time. High school came around. In the beginning i was just into soccer took most of time. I still thought about her. I would see her in the hallways still beautiful as ever. Skip to some time in the future i was with another girl officially. Bf and Gf. Reason for this during the time of 9th grade to high school sophmore year the girl of my heart was dating other guys. I thought she moved on so i asked myself why can't i? I dont remember honestly how we began talking again. But we did, only this time we both were much more mature than before. We knew what we were doing, and saying. Also this time she became my best friend, and i hers. She was my actual only best friend i have ever had, and i was the only one who understoof her. All the pain she carried inside becuase of family becuase of her illness as well (dont want to get into detail about that). I knew what she was thinking without her even mentioning a word. Something genuine. We kept talking for 3 years everyday. Of course while she was with her man and me with my girl. During this time she was having issues with her man, she was being mistreated when she didnt deserve it. I as well. We found comfort in each other and just like an escape from each other's problems. Slowly feelings i had and that she had once again started to show more and more. I could have had her and finally love her the way she deserved to be loved. But keep in mind whatever bs i went through with the girl i was i loved her too. She was nice too me all the time of course she had a bad side but who doesnt this girl loved me back in a way that you could tell she meant it. I didnt fake anything with her i kept it real. Bug my church girl was still in the back of my head. One day it came down to it. My long love, or the girl that showed me her real love in a way that was so pure and honest. When it came down to it i couldnt break the girl i was withs heart. She didnt deserve she was innocent to this, i would have been a monster to do that. So i told my church girl what happened and she jumped the gun and said she had to forget about me all over again. I didnt know what to say becuase i was so angry at myself. This would be the third time shit went south for us. I tried talking to her afterwards and someone texted back on her behalf to leave her alone... i did, but i told that person to let her know i would be here for her anytime. I miss her a lot. I really do. I still love her you know, she has a real special place in my heart. I missed a couple things but these are mainly the key points... i wish i could talk to her again. I know this will get lost in the internet. But im glad its out there, maybe one day she will see it and want to talk and maybe catch but only that. Just to know shes alright. You know where to find me.
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