#{{Sets myself up for some tension}}

[aromanticasterisms]

my god lingsha's design is so ass. my god

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

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[nyrasvoid]

The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, enemies-ish to lovers, sexual tension, arguments, suggestive themes, intimate touching, teasing, dirty thoughts

A/N: For @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge. I used prompts 43, 97, & 99. (I had so much fun challenging myself to do this all in one go. I set a timer and everything.)

After finding an infuriating note on your desk, you confront Simon in the communal locker room.

Part Two // Simon's POV

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Beneath your skin is an inferno.

It’s not the kind that blazes for another, or burns in tandem with a deep yearning. This is just seething anger and blunt frustration.

You’re ready to knock out some fucking teeth.

How dare he? Who the fuck does Lieutenant Riley think he is?

When you return reports to Captain Price, you point out all the inconsistences and errors. The lack of accountability and absolute carelessness has been scratching at you for ages, and this time you had enough. Usually Price shrugs, fixes whatever you’ve marked—to a degree—and then returns them without argument.

This time? Price took one look at them and told you to talk to Simon.

Not a problem. No issue at all. You and Lieutenant Riley have always been on good terms. Sometimes, it’s been more than good. You’ve caught him staring for far too long, or he stands a bit too close as if the two of you are a couple and not coworkers. And while you’ve internalized the fantasy, it’s not like you’ve ever acted on it.

But now you’re just irritated.

You handed over the files yesterday evening, and this morning you found them back on your desk. It’s not the turnaround but Lieutenant Riley’s audacity of placing those files back on your desk with a singular sticky note.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Sweetheart. Sweetheart?

The other day you imagined what it might be like to have the burly, masked man call you a pet name, but this is just fucking condescending.

Your heels clack sharply against the linoleum floor. Perhaps it’s the rage in your face, because every person you meet on your rampage steps out of your way, their gaze averted. Rounding a corner, you exit through a side door and into one of the hangars. A few people glance up, frowning, but return to their job.

Sighing heavily, you approach the nearest person. “Where’s Lieutenant Riley?”

The young man—who looks right out recruitment—glances up. He swallows and peers over his shoulder as if he’s not sure he’s supposed to say. “Locker room, ma’am?”

“Thank you,” you reply sharply, turning on your heel and heading for another door leading to the communal gym.

“But—” he begins, stumbling to his feet as you charge on. “Ma’am! You can’t—”

The door slams shut behind you and you don’t look back.

This is one of several communal spaces. There are the usual training areas on base but there are also a few gyms for those that want to get a bit of extra work in. Every head turns toward you and many don’t look away. This one is just for the men, and you’re the odd duck.

And fuck it. You don’t care. You’re too fucking mad right now to think of anything else but giving Lieutenant Riley a piece of your goddamn mind.

With everything pumping in your veins, the reality of you storming toward the locker rooms hasn’t even dawned. Hasn’t clicked. Fury laces your every step, and even here, where you’re not supposed to be, the men in your path move as if they sense the rage.

When you burst through the door and meet a wall of steam, all the heat suddenly extinguishes. Glancing around, you’re met with wide-eyed stares and surprised expressions.

Keeping your gaze as upward as you can, you clear your throat. “Where is Lieutenant Riley?”

There is only silence. Maybe if you stare at the top of the lockers for long enough, you’ll somehow gather your courage again.

“I asked where Lieutenant—”

“I’m right here.”

You turn abruptly and freeze.

Lieutenant Simon Riley stands before you in nothing but a towel. It hangs low on his hips. Other than that, the bottom-half of his face is covered up by a black mask and his dog tags dangle from his neck. His hair is a wet, tussled mess, and his chest glistens with water like he just stepped out from the shower.

Simon simply stares at you for a moment as you stand in utter silence. His gaze, which is piercing and fierce, slides away to scan the room. He doesn’t have to say anything. The rest of the men in the room grab bags and clothes, rushing to exit through the door you just entered from.

When the last man leaves, Simon rolls his shoulders, straightening his spine. It makes him appear larger, more intimidating, and that one movement draws forth a heat in your belly. This isn’t anger. This is need.

“I know what you came here for,” he says, and it’s so casual a tone that the earlier rage comes rising up.

“I’m sure you do,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

Simon says nothing. His dark eyes remain on you, unmoving and cold, yet pinning you to the spot as if you’ve been impaled by a spear.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“Why?” he asks automatically.

You scoff. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You didn’t come here for an apology.”

You uncross your arms and hold them out in front of you, bent at the elbows. “The reports—”

“The reports are fine.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up in the air. “There are inconsistencies everywhere. I can’t submit them as they are.”

Simon rolls his neck and then strides forward. Instinct has you stepping back, moving away, but you bump into a row of lockers. He doesn’t stop until he’s leaning over you, one large hand pressing into the metal to the side of your head.

“You’re nitpicking,” he replies.

“About lazy writing?”

“Oh, love. I assure you. I’m thorough.” At that, Simon leans in, and your hands rise instinctually, pressing against his firm chest.

Simon’s gaze doesn’t drop from your face. His entire attention is on you and that heat is back, twisting in your stomach, stirring up a slickness between your legs.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, wanting the need between your legs to leave but also loving how close he is.

Sure, you’re pissed off but my god. The fresh scent of him is intoxicating, and you’re doing everything in your power not to lean in and lick up the droplet of water running along the side of his throat.

“Why did you come here?” He waits a beat, and when you don’t reply, Simon continues. “To argue?” He lightly pinches your bottom chin, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit. You open your mouth involuntarily and Simon makes at sound in his throat that makes your legs weak. “To see me?” He leans in like he’s about to kiss you. “To be alone?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whisper.

Simon has you caged in. Pinned. The only thing separating your body and his is that towel.

“Why do you think everyone left when they did?” Simon’s thumb drops away from your lips only to press at the hollow of your throat. “It’s not because you walked in.”

“Why?” you ask, as Simon’s thumb drags lowers over your top to the space between your breasts.

“Because you’re mine. And they know it.”

“You—what?” Without anywhere to go, you can’t escape his intense stare.

“I’m staking a claim.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Simon,” he growls. “Call me Simon.”

“Simon,” you say, and he groans.

His dog tags brush against your fingers. The metal is slightly cool and damp. You curl on finger around the chain, and tug, bringing Simon’s face down to yours. If he can tease and touch, you’re going to do the same. He can’t have all the power.

Your lips brush against his through the mask, and Simon’s eyelids begin to close, revealing his gentle submission in this moment. Deepening the movement, you kiss him as if there were no barrier. This time, he truly groans, and you’d give anything to remove the barriers between you and find out what it’s like to feel him deep inside.

Fisting his dog tags in your hand, you shove him away, but only enough that there is a fraction of distance.

“Fix the fucking reports, Simon.”

Instead of kissing him again, or even touching him, you unclench your fist, releasing the dog tags. Slipping under his arm, you exit through the door and out into the gym, leaving a trail of steam in your wake.

taglist:

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@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[princessbrunette]

In need fathers day with baby daddy rafe, pretty pretty please princess 💕

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

you always felt nervous going to tannyhill. not that you felt unwelcome, everyone in his life made it clear that rafe’s baby was of utmost importance to them — so with that came the kind and supportive treatment toward you. however, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden. if rafe wanted to be around you and his kid 24/7, he would do so — hell, he’d get back with you. due to feeling like this, your palms were all sweaty by the time you’d reached the front door, card tucked under you and baby carrier weighing down your arm.

he looks surprised to see you when he opens the door. still in his shirt and slacks, it’s clear to you that rafe had buried himself in work today. it only then occurs to you that father’s day might be difficult for him, giving his circumstances at all. you inwardly wince.

“uh, hey.” he eyes you, itching his cheek and peering into the baby carrier.

you clear your throat, bashfully holding out the card. he takes it in silence and you place the carrier down, picking up your sleepy baby and holding her to your chest. “happy father’s day, daddy.” you smile, voice soft as to not disturb your child too much. he softens a little, blinking.

“that today?” he breathes and you stiffen a little. surely he knew?

“uh, yeah. we got you a card, wanted to let you spend some time with her today if you’re not too busy.”

“if i’m not too— listen i’m never too busy to see my kid okay? or you. i’m— i’m never too busy to… see my family… and stuff.” it’s awkward, the sentiment too soft for his liking and he looks down, staring at the sweet, milk-plumped angel in your arms. “let me��” he reaches out and takes her, her fat little fists immediately stretching for him and curling into the material of his shirt making your heart swell. he was always oddly a natural at this, handling her so well. it always filled you with a strange kind of sadness, one that regressed you slightly to something more scolded and childlike because your own father hadn’t offered you that same generosity. yet, you were thrilled your baby would receive that love even if you weren’t together with her father.

“come in, please.” he stands aside, holding the door for you before picking up the carrier in his other hand— effortlessly walking it with the baby to the living room. “you walked here?” he converses, setting the carrier down and placing the baby back inside, crouching down to stroke her tummy with the side of his finger.

“took the bus. no way im walking with that heavy thing.” you chuckle quietly and he swivels his head to glance at you.

“should’ve told me you were coming i would have got you. y’know i really don’t like you getting on the bus with her, it’s not safe alright, there’s all kinds of lunatics out there.”

“we survived.” you shrug, and there’s a short silence before he stands up, reaching for the card and opening it up. you fiddle with the hem of your dress awkwardly. you never quite knew what to do around rafe these days.

you watch as he reads the contents. ‘to daddy, thanks for being the best and always looking after me. can’t wait to be able to tell you myself how much i love you.’ you sign it off as your daughter, but his eyes linger over it, your sweet handwriting scrawled around the brightly coloured paper — almost for a moment like you were saying it yourself.

“and before you ask, yes she said all of that herself.” you joke to ease the tension and he snaps out of it, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“our little wordsmith, huh?” he smirks, wandering over to the mantelpiece and displaying the card. it filled you with some kind of pride, though it wasn’t about you. “look uh…” he strokes his jaw, glancing over at the baby. “let me take you both out for dinner, yeah? my treat.”

“your treat? rafe its father’s day, we’re supposed to be treating you—”

“i know, alright but… i’m supposed to be looking after you, right? looking… looking after you both.” he corrects himself, walking closer to you until he was basically looming over you, eyes wide. “and— and i know this is a hard day for you too, alright— shit, it’s a hard day for me. gotta bond as a family at some point, you know that right?”

you nod, feeling a weight off your shoulders a little at the way the tension fizzles out.

“you sure? i don’t wanna take up your time—”

your incessant apologising makes his eyes flutter in irritation and he takes your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him as he ducks his neck down to be more at your level.

“you’re not… yeah? you’re not. so quit.”

you blink all dumb, not realising how badly you missed his hands on you even if it was just as an innocent gesture and you nod, not trusting your voice. you try not to overthink the way he leaves his hands there for a moment as he glances over at your baby, thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheekbone for a second before pulling away and patting his pockets. “has she slept?”

your brain malfunctions so it takes you a second, but soon you choke out a “y—yeah. had her afternoon nap she’s just still waking up.”

“good. i know somewhere quiet, got a host there who owes me a favour.” he strides to the carrier and lifts it before turning back towards you, blinking at you obviously. “well are you coming or— or what?”

“yeah. yes. i’m coming.”

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

.

.

.

.

.

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[littlelamy]

secret relationship: drew starkey x actress!reader

you and drew had been dating for a few months, ever since the press tour for your movie, a rom-com, one bed trope. it was praised for reigniting the magic of 2000s romantic comedies, and while audiences fell in love with your on-screen chemistry, something else bloomed off-screen.

late nights on set led to dinner dates, and those turned into hours spent together, where you realized this wasn’t just a fling. drew wasn’t like anyone you had been with before, he had this balance of sweetness and intensity that made your head spin. he was gentle, attentive, but still had that edge, a possessive spark that made your pulse race. it was something mature, sexy, and new, a relationship you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

for the last few months, you’d both agreed to keep it private. you weren’t ready to give the world access to something so special. and while there had been whispers in tabloids, rumors here and there of how close you two were getting, blind items about your late-night parties, nothing had been confirmed. it was fun, in a way, keeping it just between the two of you.

but tonight, things felt different.

as you stepped into the crowded after-party, drew’s hand pressed possessively against your lower back, close to your ass. his touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of celebrity-filled rooms and clinking glasses. you felt his breath on your neck as he leaned down, voice low enough to be just for you.

“you think they [paparazzi] saw us come in?” his fingers curled slightly, pulling you closer. “i didn’t see anyone, but…i caught a couple flashes.”

you tried to keep your expression relaxed, a soft smile playing on your lips as you glanced up at him. his jaw was clenched just slightly, a subtle giveaway that he was more nervous than he let on.

“i didn’t see anything, baby,” you murmured, trying to ease his tension, your fingers tracing small circles over the back of his hand. “let’s just relax, okay?”

you guided him through the crowd, weaving between other actors and industry people. pulling him into your usual spot—an intimate corner tucked away from the main party, but still with a good view of the room. drew’s hand stayed on you, never breaking contact, a subtle reminder of how protective he was.

finally, you reached the familiar space. drew leaned back against the wall, pulling you into his chest. you looked up at him, your bodies so close that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. there was something about the way his eyes looked tonight, darker, more intense. it sent a thrill through you.

“come on, baby,” you whispered, fingers brushing against his jaw. “let’s dance.”

without waiting for a reply, you moved against him, your hips pressing into his in a slow, teasing rhythm. drew’s breath hitched, his hands instinctively gripping your waist tighter. his eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of desire and amusement.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he muttered, voice rough, as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“only for you,” you teased, enjoying the way his body responded to yours. there was something exhilarating about being so public, yet so secret, as if the world around you didn’t exist for those few moments.

drew’s fingers trailed up your sides, slipping under the hem of your dress, grazing the bare skin of your back. you shivered under his touch, leaning into him even more. “you know we can’t keep this quiet forever, right?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe, sending a spark of heat through you.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, your heart racing at the idea. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell people, hell, you wanted to scream it from the rooftops some days, but the idea of losing this intimate, private world you had created scared you.

“i know,” you said softly, your forehead resting against his. “but not yet. i like having you to myself.”

drew smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you’ve got me, baby. no matter what.”

before you could respond, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye, flashes. your heart skipped a beat as you realized there were paparazzi at the edge of the room, cameras ready, zooming in on every move you made. drew noticed too, his grip tightening slightly on your waist.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath. his body tensed, and you could tell he was debating whether to pull away or hold you closer.

you grinned up at him, a daring look in your eyes. “let them watch.”

with that, you leaned up, pressing your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. it wasn’t rushed or hidden, it was bold, claiming your space, claiming him. drew responded immediately, his hand cupping the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, completely forgetting about the cameras for a moment.

when you finally pulled away, your cheeks flushed, both from the kiss and the thrill of being caught, drew just looked at you with a mix of admiration and amusement.

“you’re really not worried, huh?” he asked, shaking his head slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips.

you shrugged, biting your lower lip as you looked up at him. “nope. they were going to find out eventually.”

drew laughed softly, pulling you in for another quick kiss, his lips lingering on yours just a little longer this time. “guess the secret’s out,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

as you stepped back, hand in hand, you felt the weight of the cameras on you, but it didn’t matter anymore. drew was yours, and now the world knew it too.

[svearehnn]

a raging storm | azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel always hoped it would be Elain; sweet, docile Elain. However, when the bond lit a fire between you and him, his cold demeanor set into place, pushing him away from you, and you did the same. Rhys sent the two of you on mission after mission together, hoping it would help in breaking down your walls, but the fire and ice that ran through your veins could never be quenched.

a/n: i know this is short, and i haven't finished the tarot readings i need to, but my relationship is falling apart at the seams and i needed some azriel angst to make me feel better :) so here you go, i hope your heart hurts.

warnings: angst, slight mention of blood

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows between the two of you in the small but cozy room. The sound of your blade sharpening against stone and the crackle of the fire filled the space, along with the palpable tension between you and the Shadowsinger. He stood by the window, eyes flickering to your hunched figure on the couch briefly before staring back out at the snowy abyss outside. Your motions grew reckless, the blade ringing in the air, your jaw clenched, eyes cold.

Your chest thrummed, begging you to move closer to Azriel, to pull him into your arms and soothe the tension that curled around his shoulders, but you stayed still. The bond between you felt like a chain, one that was bitten by cold fire, unwelcome. You knew he had hoped Elain would be the one, three sisters for three brothers, and it pulled a sour taste onto your tongue, one that you quickly swallowed down.

“I think your dagger is sharp by now.” His voice filled the quiet room, shadows darkening the already dim space as night threatened to take over. A soft growl sounded in your throat as you stopped your movements momentarily only to continue, this time faster, harsher. Your eyes narrowed in on the steel, watching as the light of the fire glinted off of the metal every time it shifted within your grasp. 

You heard him shift, wings rustling as he moved, his eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. The frustration in his gaze was building, his shadows twitching with agitation around his shoulders and about the room. You glanced up at him, cold fire dancing within your irises, teeth clenched as you glared at each other for a moment before you continued your heated task.

His eyes narrowed, fists clenching as you began hitting the dagger against stone with a renewed ferocity. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he murmured in a low voice, deep in the back of his throat. His wings shifted, a tinge of warning building within the air. The shadows around him seemed to darken and twist, looming over you like a dark specter as the tension in the room rose to unbidden heights.

“Then I’ll hurt myself.” You grumbled, gripping the steel in your hand, knuckles turning bone white. You were lost in thought, not fully focused on the task at hand. He stepped closer, the air around you shifting, his fingers brushing against your leather-covered arm. You flinched slightly, the blade nicking the skin of your wrist. Blood bubbled up and trickled down as a shaky breath fell through your teeth, but you didn’t cease your movements, desperate to keep some sort of distance between yourself and the male before you.

Your name fell from his lips in a warning, his voice taut and deep with a pain that you couldn’t place. The floorboards creaked underneath him as he stepped closer. You could feel his breath against your hair, the strands fluttering softly, your body tensing at the proximity of him. The fire crackles and pops, sparks flying into the air, the light casting eerie silhouettes onto the ground behind him, making it seem like demons were dancing in the darkness alongside his shadows. You knew his gaze was on you, intense with anger and frustration, but you ignored his presence, ignored the blood dripping down your wrist as you continued to clash steel against stone.

“You need to calm down,” he growled low in his throat, his voice akin to the cold wind whistling outside in the frigid winter night. His fingers twitched, threatening to reach out and stop your incessant gesticulations. Your eyes snapped up to his, a glare permanent within them as he took a deep and steadying breath.

“I am calm.” You snarled, dagger clutched within your grip, the blood seeping down your wrist pulsing with its own rhythm, matching the beat of your heart. Azriel’s hazel eyes never leave yours, swirling with an unspoken promise. You glanced back down at the blade, pulling it away from the stone to inspect it. Your thumb runs against the edge of the steel. It was sharp, sharper than it had ever been before, slicing a shallow cut along the flat of your thumb, but you didn’t flinch. You set the dagger down on the table in front of you before picking up another and unsheathing it, eyes avoiding his as you began your ministrations once more. Shadows swirled in the corner of your vision, reaching out to comfort you, but never quite coming close enough to slide against your skin. You batted them away, sighing as the familiar ring of your blade filled the room, accompanying the soft roar of the fire.

Azriel’s gaze fixes on the dagger in your hand, jaw clenched, shoulders tensing. “You’re not calm,” he says softly, his voice like a gentle breeze that can’t quite dispel the storm raging within you. He sits down beside you on the couch, wings pulling into his back uncomfortably as you shuffle to the side furthest away from him, body curling in on yourself. His fingers flex into fists in his lap, the black tattoos on his skin pulsing with an otherworldly energy. 

“Talk to me.” His voice was barely above a whisper, almost lost amongst the sound of your blade. There was no anger in his tone, just desperation–concern as he tried to reach you before you fully succumbed into your own mind. The bond within your chest churned like a sickness, your eyes squeezing shut, air escaping through your teeth.

“And what should I say?” Your voice was deadly, venom snaking through the words, wrapping around him like a vice and squeezing viciously. The shadows around him seemed to stir, reaching out once more. This time they curled around you, the dark tendrils gently locking around your wrist, hiding the blood from sight with a cool whisper of air.

“Should I mention the carnage we just witnessed?” You murmured, the sound of your blade once again ringing through the air. “Or the fact that I can feel your ache for Elain, wishing to wrap her in your arms against your High Lord’s orders?” Azriel inhaled sharply, his chest constricting, the pain of your emotions washing over him even as you tried to keep them out of his grasp. 

Your name fell from his lips once more, quiet and sweet like honey, trying to draw you in like a fly to a spider’s web. You threw your dagger down on the table, it hitting the oaken wood with a resounding clang as you stood abruptly.

“Stop saying my name.” You seethed, eyes turning towards his with a menacing glare, water pooling within them even as you tried to blink the vulnerability away. “Once the snow stops falling, we are going back to Velaris.” Your words were finalized, chilling to the bone as you walked to the fire, standing before it, eyes mesmerized by the glaring light. You wrapped your fingers around your wrist, blood smudging, wincing at the sting of the cut, letting the pain ground you once more. Eyes shut tight, a tear fell down your cheek as you tightened the hold on your wrist painfully, your body shaking, adrenaline taking over. A shadow flew toward you, wiping the salty water from your cheek before you could back away from it. You shook your head as if that could rid you of the lingering chill Azriel’s shadow left.

You felt him move behind you, the warmth of his body encasing your back, his breath hot against your neck. “You need to quell this storm inside of you.” He whispered against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The bond in your chest sung at the closeness of him, begging you, pleading with you to lean back into his embrace, but you wouldn’t give in, you couldn’t. 

“And why should I?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, your eyes heavy and lidded as they stared into the fire, searching for answers within the flames. “What if the storm is all I am? What if I am just fire and ice?” Your voice was cold, devoid of emotion, and you felt him flinch away from you, but he stayed put. He didn’t take a step back, even as you nailed your heart shut, sealed your soul away from the male behind you, your mate. 

“Then I will embrace the fire and the ice,” he whispered. You whirled to face him, his hazel eyes gazing into yours with an intensity that made you swallow deeply. He was searching your irises for something, watching the way they swirled with frosted emotion, trying and failing to break down the walls you had held up for years–the walls he had caused you to build.

“And if it’s too much?” You bite back, fury coating your words as you tilt your chin up, ragged breaths rising and falling in your chest. “Will you run back to sweet Elain, let her fill you up with honeyed-words and petaled smiles until you forget about me once more?” Azriel’s jaw ticks, brows furrowed at your harsh words even though he knew it was nothing but the truth lilting out of your lips.

He had never given you a chance, not even when you had stepped forward all those years ago, hand on your heart, eyes wide and vulnerable as you whispered those fated words that he had longed to hear for centuries. Azriel had turned you away, again and again and again. He had watched with cold detachment as you closed yourself off to him, to your friends, even to yourself. You became a shell of who you once were, that bond in both of your chests weakening, fraying. Yet here he was, trying, finally realizing that you were the one, that Elain was nothing more than a distraction from the fear of letting himself truly love you. Maybe he still had a chance, but maybe… maybe he didn’t. Perhaps it was too late.

“Your storm is all I crave,” he spoke, words full of conviction and desperation. “I will walk across hot coals, through raging winds, through bloodied battlegrounds just to reach you.” A shake of your head, a soft, sad smile. You take a step back, the warmth of the fire licking at your legs.

“Why the change of heart?” Your voice quivered, lips pursing as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, tried to keep up those barriers that seemed to be crumbling down around you.

“I see you,” he murmured, reaching up a scarred hand to cup your cheek. You sighed, inadvertently closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. “I finally see you.” With a shake of your head you pull back, maneuvering around him, reaching the table and sheathing your sharpened daggers.

“Well,” you whispered, voice angelic against the clash of wind and looming fire, “you took too long.” With the finality of your words you glanced back at him one last time, a sorrowful smile pulling at your lips before you retired to your room, shutting the door softly. The bond thrummed once more in your chest, loud and incessant, and then it dimmed to a low dull. 

The storm had finally passed, but the damage it had caused was irreversible, and both of you could feel it in the silence of your souls.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im begging you to make more shapeshifter!141 tormenting witch!reader pleek

since you said pleek :)

65 / 1.1k / part 2 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You pour two warm cups of cloudy sloe ale—one for you and one for Price. You're the only one who feigns enough interest to sip it.

Price laces his hands together and leans forward. "I didn't come for blood."

None of them did, apparently. You curl your hands around your tin cup. He wasn't supposed to come at all. He visits when the moon is full. That was the deal. "I understand that."

Price’s gaze flicks to a bit of drying blood on your hand, and you feel his displeasure at the sight. "Then you also understand my irritation when I learn I've been kept in the dark."

"About what?"

"A number of disturbing reports from the townsfolk."

"Hm." Tension rolls through your muscles before you force them to soften. "I wasn't aware you spent time in the village. Do you visit often?"

Price doesn't like your coyness. His voice loses some of its politeness. "The villagers have become too savvy. They forge protective charms. They invoke holy names. They line the thresholds of their homes with salt and rue." He leans forward. "Now, how would they know to do that?"

You swallow delicately around the lump in your throat. "Old folk tales, I imagine."

"Folk tales?" He chuckles. "They're not paying protection money to cupboard sprites. Old tales don't teach them how to bless trees and cut the lumber into cradles."

"Then I wouldn't know. The villagers don't speak to me on principle."

"Then you have no knowledge of this? You’ve accepted no coin from them in exchange for your talents?”

"You know I'm banned from trading in the village market. The guards would take my head off the moment they caught me inside the walls."

“Maybe so. But there are other ways of propagating information, aren’t there?” Price leans back, arms crossed. “Rumors spread.”

You scoff to sound braver than you are. "They've puzzled out how to keep you away from their daughters. It has nothing to do with me."

Price's blue eyes flicker. "We’ve been quite careful with our food source. Gone out of our way to be discreet. They shouldn't suspect us of being in the area, let alone come up with protections against our kind."

You tilt your head in a stiff shrug. "Maybe Soap let one get away."

"Soap is brash. Not sloppy." Steel creeps into his voice. "He's more likely to bite his tongue off than spill our secrets."

You go to sip your ale again, but Price's fingers latch around your wrist as you raise it.

"Careful with that." His grip tightens as he forces your hand back down to the table. "You'll inebriate yourself if you're careless."

You slowly release the mug. After a long beat, he releases your wrist.

He doesn't say anything else, but you can't meet his eyes. The cold metal of his rings still burns against your skin.

He studies you in silence. The dry glint in his eye tells you he doesn't need to pry for what you're hiding from him. He knows already. But a deal is a deal, and you're under his protection. "Regardless of the reason, our feeding options are suddenly limited. If you insist on keeping my boys half-starved, we'll travel outside our territory to offset your stinginess."

"Fine. We’ll suspend our contract."

"Certainly not."

Your jaw sets. "A temporary suspension of our terms would serve all parties' needs well enough, would it not? You seek your fill elsewhere."

"I will seek it where my needs are most pressing."

"I don't have the means to leave my hut. I assure you I'll keep to myself until you get back."

Price smiles, and your heart sinks. "Another witch might. You?” He hums. “Besides, you know how they get when they're deprived."

You’re hyperaware of Ghost's shadow falling over you. His rough hands cover the back of your chair. It creaks in his grip. You squelch the instinct to cover your blind spot and, fisting one in your skirt under the table to steady your nerves, keep your back to him. You also ignore the gleam of two other sets of eyes behind Price, hovering in the pitch-blackness of your kitchen.

“That’s kind of you,” you say finally, “but there’s no need to be overprotective.”

Price stands. He pours the last sip of your ale out onto the soft dirt floor. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. "We'll come for you tomorrow night, witch. You'll travel with us."

Your head spins. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. You covered your tracks. You planned perfectly. He can't just uproot you—can't just kidnap you like this.

"No, I—" You stand before you realize it. All four shapeshifters turn back to glance at you. Price looms halfway out the front door. You steady yourself with a white-knuckled grip on the table. "I'm not leaving my home."

Price takes in the defiant look on your face and the tense, brittle set of your body. "No? Hmmm." He rubs his beard. "We're in a tight spot, then. Ghost, what do you think?"

The scars on Ghost's tight scowl gleam in the candlelight. "I think she owes us a meal, and we expect to eat. One way or the other."

Gaz scoffs. "There’s a proper solution."

Soap grins. "We could just take her, you know. Suspend the contract and make her come with us."  His eyes light up. "We could have a lot of fun on the road."

"Not if there's a fight," Gaz says, eyeing you. "She can make real trouble if she wants to."

"No' if she knows what's good for her."

"That's enough," Price says. He looks back at you. "Lads are in a mood. They've been feeding from the villages as a stop gap, and they're not nearly full. Their tempers are short, their stomachs are growling, and they have energy to burn. You understand?” His gaze steadies on your neck. “We'll be back tomorrow night. You'd better be ready to go or else ready to give them a full meal."

Soap’s grin sharpens. The implication is obvious. Payment is payment. If you don't give them what they want, they'll take it by other means.

They turn to go. Ghost is the last to step over your threshold. "Blood won't be enough," he says. Then he's off, a black dog bounding into the night.

...

← part 1 / more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[sluttywonwoo]

as someone who lives with chronic back pain, this audio i stumbled across reminded me of this fantasy i have and i think san fits the script (a little too) perfectly

(heed the tags on the audio— it includes some kinks i stray away from in my writing that might be a turn off for some)

nsfw 18+ // mdni

“hi, baby.”

you dog-ear the page you’re on and set your book on the bedside table to give your boyfriend your full attention. “hi. good shower?”

“mhm,” san answers cheerfully. “i’m sorry i didn’t greet you properly when i first got home. i just needed to wash the day off of me first.”

“it’s okay, i know the feeling,” you assure him, stretching your arm out across the sheets for his hand.

he approaches the bed and takes your hand, squeezing comfortingly. “speaking of feelings, how are you feeling, my love? any better?”

you nod. “a little. still sore.”

san pouts. “i figured. i’m sorry, baby. is there anything i can do? do you want some tea? want me to get your other heating pad?”

“well….”

san perks up as you trail off. you almost never ask him for anything, even when you have these longer bouts of consistent pain, even though he’s always so eager to help.

“what is it? whatever it is, i’ll do it.”

you doubt he’ll feel that way when you tell him but-

“fuck me?”

your boyfriend’s smile falters but you swear you see his cock twitch traitorously beneath his towel. “except for that.”

“but you said-”

“you know we can’t,” san chides. “not when you’re hurting.”

“it’s not even that bad,” you insist.

“you’re lying.”

“but i want you.”

“so let me get you off like we’ve been doing,” he says, settling on the bed next to you.

he reaches between your knees to part them but you hold them together so that he can’t, even though it puts a strain on your back. san could easily overpower you if he wanted to, he often does when you’re feeling more like yourself, but when you’re like this… he’s overly gentle. it’s sweet, the way he treats you so delicately, but it gets frustrating when all you want him to do is the exact opposite.

san frowns. “baby…” you don’t budge. “you’re not going to let me?”

“i want your dick.”

“i know but it isn’t a good idea.”

“you don’t even have to go hard, you could just stick it in-”

“you’re unbelievable,” san mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your knee.

“is that a yes?”

he sighs, “we really shouldn’t…”

“you don’t want to?”

“it’s not about wanting to, baby. of course i want to. i always want to.”

“it doesn’t seem like it,” you mutter.

san pinches the bridge of his nose and groans. “that’s because i’m trying to think about what’s best for you. i… i know myself and i know that if i’m not careful i could make your pain worse.”

your expression softens and you release the tension from your legs, allowing san to spread them. he looks up at you in surprise.

“i don’t deserve you,” you say pitifully, then before san can deny it, "i just miss you. it's been so long."

he rubs your thigh soothingly. "i know, baby. i miss you too. do you know how hard it is to sit here and not give you what you want? especially when what you want is..." he gulps, "me... inside of you. god, even just saying it is making me hard."

"you were already hard," you point out.

"it's making me harder," he clarifies.

"you know what would help with that?"

san glares at you. "a cold shower?"

"no-"

"yeah, i know," he sighs, defeated.

"can we try?" you ask, bringing his hand further up your thigh.

his fingers flex against the plush of your inner thigh in restraint, lips pursed in thought.

"you just want me to put it in?"

"well, i want you to fuck me but i'll settle for that."

san scoffs. "promise you'll tell me if it hurts?"

"promise."

"want me to grab a condom?"

"no, just take the towel off."

"such a romantic," he teases as he slips it from his waist.

he helps you get your panties off, making you sit all the way up instead of simply arching your back so he can pull the fabric from underneath you.

"you're sure you don't want me to just eat you out?" he asks, swallowing thickly, gaze fixed between your legs.

"you can eat your cum out of me if you really want to."

"don't threaten me with a good time," san murmurs as he positions himself on top of you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as thanks. he takes your hand in one of his and lines himself up with the other. "remember, you promised to tell me if it hurts."

"i know, i promise."

"like, if it hurts at all. even just a little bit."

"i will!"

"and i mean it-"

"babe! don't you trust me?"

san sighs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "i do, of course i do. but i also know you, and i know you won't say anything if it means i get to feel good." you make a face. he had you there. "see? i know you, baby."

"ok, but i promise i'll tell you. pinky promise." you even offer him your pinky, which he loops around his own and kisses to seal. "so can you please put your cock inside of me?"

"so impatient," san mutters to himself. he pushes in the tiniest bit, though, just the head to shut you up. "shit, you're so wet- jesus fucking christ."

"keep going," you beg, "please, more."

"yeah baby, i will, i will... but we're not fucking, alright? just putting it in. f-fuck, i don't think i could last if we did fuck. i don't know if i can last just doing this, it's been so long since i felt you..."

it's also been so long that he feels bigger than you remember and you start to tear up as soon as he's more than an inch inside. you can tell it's taking all of his self control to go this slow. his hips stutter when you clench around him for the first time and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and then stare at the ceiling for a few seconds to gather himself.

but then he looks back down at you and sees you crying and immediately panics.

"oh my god, it hurts, doesn't it? i knew this was a bad idea. i'm so sorry, baby-"

"no! no, it feels good, sannie. i promise. it feels good."

he looks like he doesn't fully believe you but then you tighten around him again and he gives in, cursing as bottoms out.

you lay like that together for a few moments before you start to get impatient again. you really thought you could handle just cockwarming him but being full of him only made you needier. shocking.

"how is it, baby?" san whispers, likely to try and hide the shakiness in his voice. "this what you needed?"

you sniffle and nod. "but i want more," you admit.

san mumbles your name in warning but you're already too far gone.

"please? please fuck me, please fuck me," you're begging and it's a little pathetic but you can't bring yourself to care. "please just a little bit, just a tiny bit."

"we agreed," he reminds you.

"i know but i need more," you whine, "i know you need more too, i can feel you pulsing inside of me... please, baby, i want to cum on your cock so bad."

your boyfriend hangs his head. "i don't know if i can," he confesses.

"you won't hurt me."

"no, i mean, i'm already so close that i don't know if i'll be able to make you cum first if i start moving- fuck, why did me admitting that make you wetter?"

"because i love you?" you try.

"you love that i'm weak for you," he amends.

"two things can be true."

san tightens his jaw and shakes his head down at you as he draws his hips back a fraction of what he normally would and pushes them forward again, building an agonizingly slow but steady pace. "you're lucky i love you too."

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots;  explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex)  (18+)

Chapter Word count: 29k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again. 

Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.

You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again. 

With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his. 

“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him. 

“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums. 

Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.

“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say. 

“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”

“What if they contradict each other?”

“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”

“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”

“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”

“Why did it hurt the both of you?”

“I don’t know about him,” you pout.

“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”

“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”

“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.

“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”

“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.

“But it isn’t,” you argue.

Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do. 

You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same. 

Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.  

All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently. 

“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”

You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.

“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”

His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”

“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”

“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”

“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”

“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”

“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”

“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”

It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong. 

You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?

You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is. 

You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.

But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay. 

“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask. 

Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been. 

“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”

You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.

“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”

“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.

“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”

The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving. 

“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”

You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.

“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.

“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”

“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”

“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”

“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”

You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be. 

“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”

“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”

“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”

“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”

You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life. 

There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion. 

They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.

There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question. 

“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document. 

He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them. 

“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. 

“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?” 

You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.

“We’ll, let’s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”

“VP Jeon?”

“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”

“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.

“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”

“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”

“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”

You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before. 

“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”

“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”

“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back. 

There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.

“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye. 

You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today. 

You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air. 

The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.

There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.

You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure. 

Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it. 

You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.

You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.

You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.

Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day. 

You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him. 

You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him. 

You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to. 

Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely. 

Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do. 

It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late. 

You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.

Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow. 

Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him. 

You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook. 

The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.

Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.

His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together. 

There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create. 

You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too. 

You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done. 

But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter. 

You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet. 

You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.

The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.

Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day. 

It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true. 

Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father. 

He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you. 

He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was. 

Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.

One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away. 

He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you. 

But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important. 

There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes. 

The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review. 

“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”

“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”

“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”

“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”

Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.

The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out. 

He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.

“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”

“Did ___ come to the office this week?” 

“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”

“She… she left a letter on my desk.”

“Oh… What does it say?”

“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.

“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”

“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”

“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”

Jungkook drops the call, noting that he’ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it. 

He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.

Jungkook,

I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you. 

I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way. 

But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.

I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you. 

I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late. 

XX

Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too. 

You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late. 

He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go. 

“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.

“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”

Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror. 

“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”

Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.

“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.

“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”

“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”

“She… she talked about me?”

“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”

“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”

“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”

“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”

“She did. She said she found you.”

The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.

“I found her too late, I think.”

“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints. 

“When did she leave?”

“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”

“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”

You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose. 

“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”

“Where to, then?”

Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to. 

After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.

“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks. 

“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”

The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.

“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”

Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads. 

“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”

“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”

“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”

Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return. 

“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”

“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”

The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.

They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.

The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now. 

“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”

“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”

“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”

“Please?” 

The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you. 

They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door. 

Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.

“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”

“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”

“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”

“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”

“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”

“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”

“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”

She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.

“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks. 

“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”

“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.

“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”

“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”

Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate. 

There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you. 

“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you. 

“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”

“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders. 

“A lot of things,” he sighs.

“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be great.”

Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind. 

There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love. 

Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in. 

And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.

“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.

She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard. 

The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you. 

Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.

She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground. 

“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”

“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”

“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains. 

The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out. 

“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created. 

“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”

“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”

“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.

“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”

“I… I know that now.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”

There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him. 

“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow. 

But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”

“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.

“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”

“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes. 

“Is it too late, do you think?”

“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”

She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more. 

“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”

“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”

Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is. 

“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”

It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.

“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”

“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”

“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles. 

He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them. 

“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering. 

She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.

“Chocopie?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”

“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks. 

“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad. 

“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.

It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you. 

“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”

Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it. 

“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”

“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you. 

It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver. 

“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”

Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”

“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”

He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.

Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely. 

Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.

He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.

The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”

It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”

It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there. 

Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too. 

“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders. 

“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”

“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”

“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”

It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too. 

The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did. 

Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.

“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”

It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”

Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you. 

He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years. 

“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?” 

“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”

It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs. 

And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done. 

They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions. 

There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.

You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening. 

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days. 

In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too. 

That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone. 

It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.

The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.

It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.

“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question. 

“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”

You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you. 

But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.

“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”

“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”

“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”

“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”

You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it. 

She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening. 

“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”

“That’s unfair,” you pout.

“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”

You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.

“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”

Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not. 

It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it. 

He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.

He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs. 

It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time. 

It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you. 

But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.

Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon. 

There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.

“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”

“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”

“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.

“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”

He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed. 

Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable. 

They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation. 

He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.

It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center. 

It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs. 

“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”

“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”

He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.

Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be. 

It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism. 

He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out. 

There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened. 

“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”

He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it. 

Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.

“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”

“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours. 

“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”

“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”

Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him. 

It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out. 

As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.

He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.

One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset. 

The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you. 

He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.

He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems. 

You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for. 

Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in. 

You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out. 

Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home. 

The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring. 

You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.

Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces. 

You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.

It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are. 

“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”

“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now. 

“It’s—”

“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says. 

You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”

“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask. 

“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy. 

“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”

“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”

You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.

“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”

You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.

The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows. 

You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls. 

You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for. 

You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.

But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this. 

You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once. 

“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”

“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”

“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”

“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”

“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”

“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”

“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”

You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.

The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that. 

“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel. 

“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore. 

You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.

“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”

“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”

“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.

“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”

You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.

“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”

“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday. 

There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up. 

You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would’ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.

“___? Everything okay?”

“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”

“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”

“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”

“You can wait for me and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”

You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.

“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”

“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”

“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”

He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already. 

You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself. 

The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time. 

You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor. 

It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.

You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk. 

“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling. 

He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.

“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”

“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”

“Is that what your mother said?” 

“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.

“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again. 

“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.” 

Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate. 

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”

He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.

“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”

You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”

“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”

“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”

“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”

“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”

“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”

“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”

His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.

Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.

He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”

“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”

His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease. 

“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.  

“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”

You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer. 

Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip. 

But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone. 

“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”

Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your  waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now. 

He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you. 

The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it. 

“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”

“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.

Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.

But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.

He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.

His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.

Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.

You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.

“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”

You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.

With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.

You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved. 

The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you. 

You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.

You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips. 

Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.

“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.

“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.

“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”

“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered. 

But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”

“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks. 

“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”

“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”

His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed. 

“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead. 

It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.

But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.

“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”

“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.

You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.

“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”

“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”

He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened. 

It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too. 

You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him. 

Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further. 

The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night. 

You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.

He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment. 

It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt. 

“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.

“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”

“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will. 

“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”

His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express. 

But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions. 

Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.

So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway. 

You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages. 

“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.” 

The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.

“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”

“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back. 

“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.

“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.

“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”

He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you. 

“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”

His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves. 

It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way. 

But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.

Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.

“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”

“Who knew I even had one in the first place?” 

“I did.”

“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”

Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again. 

It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.

You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.

“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.  

Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him. 

He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.

You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.

He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.

You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. 

His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.

He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.

You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”

He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.  

He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch. 

The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.

He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again. 

You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.

You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom. 

Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”

Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”

It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.

You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back. 

Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.

He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.

The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are. 

You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.

You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you respond.

He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you. 

“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”

You nod, giddy again and unable to speak. 

“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile. 

“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”

You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have. 

He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.

“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”

You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive. 

You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 

“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside. 

He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you. 

There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.

He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.

He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.

Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that. 

But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.

He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come. 

But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.

“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”

“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”

He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be. 

“What about you, what are you thinking about?” 

“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”

“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”

With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you. 

“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”

You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.

“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.

“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine. 

There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.

“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”

“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”

“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”

He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his. 

“I can do this all night,” he whispers.

And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations. 

You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.

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[beloveds-embrace]

I am absolutely Eating your angsty dukedom 141, I'm just scarfing it down ayejjrnf

But! Suggestion for the drabble of reader slowly fading into the bg without König there;

Hereditary illness exacerbated by stress.

It's mostly fallen into the cracks of reader's family history after her ancestor married into nobility- not a lot to be dangerously stressed about when you're waited on hand and foot by servants, after all.

But then once reader stops making any attempt to leave her room, servants have to start bringing her her meals, and they start noticing that she seems to be getting increasingly thinner despite the meals being at least half eaten. She seems more exhausted, her hands shaky and trembling, embroidery or painting projects left tossed in the corner of her bedroom after she couldn't hold onto the needle or brush, let alone do any precision work.

Gossip spreads through the servants of the Duchess being ill (though none seem particularly caring of this fact) until it starts to reach the boys' ears

Thank you!! I hope you enjoy this!!

The first sign that something was wrong- truly wrong- came when one of the younger maids hesitated outside John’s office. Her apron was wrinkled, and she kept wringing the cloth in her hands until the edges frayed. Kyle, always perceptive, was the one to notice her first.

“What is it?” His sharp eyes pinned her in place.

The maid flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stepped forward, voice trembling. “I-It’s the Duchess, sir.”

That was all it took for the entire room to still.

John had been in the middle of correspondence, quill poised mid-sentence, but he set it down without finishing the word. Simon’s ever-present stoicism cracked, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

“What about her?” John’s voice, though even, had an undercurrent of tension.

The maid looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “She’s… ill, sir. She’s not been leaving her room-”

“We know that.” John interrupted, his voice a low growl.

“No- no, sir, I mean really ill. She’s not eating much anymore, but- she’s thinner, sir. Much thinner than before. And her hands shake something awful when she tries to hold a spoon or cup. I saw it myself when I brought her tea this morning… it’s- it’s been going on for a while now, we’ve all noticed but I just couldn’t- couldn’t stand back anymore, I’m so sorry.”

The words dropped into the room like a stone into a pond. And the silence that followed was thick, pressing, suffocating.

John was the first to move, striding out of the room with the others close behind him. The maid was left in their wake, her words repeating themselves in her head as though she’d spoken some terrible thing into existence.

They found you where you always were now- alone in the dim bedroom, wrapped in blankets but still somehow shivering. The curtains had been drawn tight, the hearth left to burn low, and the air was stale with disuse.

You didn’t even stir when the door opened.

John froze at the sight of you, the sharp tang of guilt clawing up his throat. He could see it immediately- the way your cheeks had hollowed, the slight tremor in your fingers as you clutched the edges of the blanket. The soft silk of your gown hung loose at your shoulders, as though it no longer fit the same way it used to. An old one- one you’d worn at the beginning if your marriage, still hopeful for companionship from a husband who didn’t care for you.

Kyle was the first to break from his stupor, stepping forward and kneeling at your bedside. “… Duchess?” His voice was softer than John had ever heard it, but it still seemed too loud in the suffocating quiet.

You stirred then, eyes fluttering open just enough to see him.

“Kyle?”

The hoarseness in your voice struck something in him- hurt him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m here, darling,” he murmured. He reached out, gently brushing his knuckles against your cheek, and frowned at how warm your skin felt. “What’s happened to you?”

You tried to sit up, but your body betrayed you, trembling with the effort until Kyle and Johnny had to steady you with firm hands.

“I’m fine.” You said. The words were paper-thin, weak and unsteady.

“You’re not fine.” John cut in, his voice harder than he meant it to be. You flinched, and it made his heart squeeze painfully.

Simon said nothing, but he hovered near the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze flicking over you as if committing every detail to memory. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, but what was there to do or say? He felt like he might break you should he even brush his fingers across your skin.

“It’s nothing.” you murmured, turning your head away.

“Nothing?” John repeated, dangerously low. He stepped closer, dropping to his knees at your bedside, one hand finding yours. “You think this is nothing?”

Your fingers twitched in his grasp, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“I know…” Your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know you don’t care. Why- why are you here now?”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Don’t care?” John echoed, tinged with disbelief.

“None of you came,” you whispered. “Not once. I thought… I thought maybe it was easier for you that way. You- is this not what you wanted?”

Simon made a sound then- low and guttural- and moved to kneel on your other side, opposite Kyle. He reached for your other hand, lifting it carefully to his lips. His breath was warm against your skin, but you didn’t react.

“I’ll get the doctor.” Johnny said abruptly, spinning on his heel and leaving before anyone could stop him.

Kyle stayed close, his hand never leaving your shoulder, while Simon stroked your knuckles in slow, deliberate motions. But it was John who finally spoke.

“We should have come sooner,” he admitted, voice heavy with regret. “I should have come sooner. Duchess- I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, your lashes damp with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you?”

The words cut deeper than any blade.

He looked at you then, taking in every fragile, exhausted detail- the way your breath came too shallowly, the slight tremor in your fingers, the sheen of sweat on your skin despite the chill in the room.

“Because I was a fool,” he said softly. “Because I let myself think you were fine without us.”

You didn’t answer, but the way your fingers curled just slightly around his told him enough.

When Johnny returned with the doctor, the room erupted into motion. You were carefully propped up, fed broth spoonful by spoonful, your pulse checked, and your temperature taken. The doctor’s diagnosis was both alarming and infuriating- stress-induced illness, made worse by malnutrition and exhaustion. It wasn’t until he began asking about your family history that the pieces truly started to click.

“You’ve been predisposed to this,” he explained, while they watched in silent, setting horror. “It’s genetic, though dormant in most cases. But stress- particularly prolonged stress- can trigger it. I’d wager it’s been simmering for weeks, if not months.”

Months.

Kyle and Johnny exchanged glances, and Simon looked like he was ready to tear someone apart. Mabe himself.

John didn’t move from your side.

“What does she need?” he demanded.

“Rest. Food. Care. But most importantly…” The doctor’s gaze swept across all of them. Rumors flew with the wind, and he was still not old enough to lose his hearing. “No more stress.”

John nodded firmly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll have everything you need.” He promised.

But his words held no particular weight to you.

[little-jana]

"Kid"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x younger!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: kissing, age gap (15 years, but both characters are adults), mentions of power dynamics (workplace setting), brief sexual tension, but nothing explicit

Summary: Being called kid by Hotch makes the reader uneasy, so she finally speaks up.

Working under Aaron Hotchner meant carrying yourself with a certain level of professionalism. He wasn’t a man to let much slide. Punctuality, accuracy, composure—these were the pillars of his leadership. And I respected that. I respected him. Maybe more than I should.

But there was one thing about him that made my blood boil.

“Good work, kid.”

The nickname.

Every time it left his lips, it made me feel like a teenager in her first internship instead of a twenty-something agent who’d proven herself time and time again. I hated the way it made me feel small, like I hadn’t earned my place here, like I wasn’t good enough to be his equal.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the nickname. Maybe it was because every time he said it, a small part of me died knowing that’s how he saw me: a kid. Someone young, naïve, not worth taking seriously. And not someone he could look at the way I looked at him.

Because, help me, I looked.

I noticed the way his broad shoulders filled out his suit jackets, the way his jaw tightened when he was deep in thought, the way his dark eyes softened just slightly when he smiled (though those smiles were rare). I noticed all of it. And I wanted him in a way that felt like fire in my veins.

But instead of being Aaron, the man who made my heart race, he was Hotch, the man who called me “kid.” And it was starting to drive me insane.

---

The breaking point came one evening after a particularly grueling case.

We’d spent the last week tracking a spree killer across state lines, working on little sleep and even less patience. When we finally caught the guy, everyone was relieved but utterly exhausted. We were holed up in a small precinct, waiting for paperwork to be finalized before heading back to the jet.

I was sitting at a desk, typing up my report, when Hotch walked over. His presence was unmistakable—strong, commanding, impossible to ignore.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he said, his tone neutral as always.

“Thanks,” I replied without looking up.

“Good work, kid.”

My fingers froze on the keyboard. I clenched my jaw, willing myself to let it go, but the frustration that had been building for months finally spilled over.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Can you not call me that?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Call you what?”

“Kid,” I said, the word laced with more venom than I intended. “I’m not a kid, Hotch. I’m an adult, and I’ve been working here long enough to prove that I deserve to be treated like one.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by my outburst. “I didn’t mean any offense by it,” he said carefully.

“Well, it’s offensive,” I snapped. “It makes me feel like you don’t take me seriously. Like I’m just some rookie who doesn’t belong here.”

“That’s not how I see you,” he said, his voice softening.

“Then why do you call me that?” I demanded, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, turning back to my report.

But as he walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling me.

---

The tension between us didn’t disappear after that. If anything, it got worse.

Hotch stopped calling me “kid,” but there was a new strain in our interactions. He was polite but distant, keeping our conversations strictly professional. I told myself this was what I wanted—that it was better than feeling like a child in his eyes—but it only made the ache in my chest grow stronger.

The final straw came one evening after a late-night briefing. The team had left the conference room, but I stayed behind to gather my notes. Hotch was still there, standing at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he stared at the whiteboard.

I hesitated, my pulse quickening as I debated whether or not to say anything. Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“Hotch,” I began, my voice steady despite the nerves swirling in my stomach.

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Yes?”

“Why did you call me that?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Call you what?”

“Kid,” I said, the word feeling foreign on my tongue now. “Why did you call me that for so long?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… complicated.”

“I think I can handle it,” I replied, crossing my arms.

He hesitated, his dark eyes studying me for a long moment. Finally, he spoke.

“Because I thought it would help me keep my distance,” he admitted, his voice low.

My breath caught in my throat. “Keep your distance?”

“You’re young, smart, beautiful,” he said, the words tumbling out as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “And it’s not appropriate for me to feel the way I do about you. I thought if I called you ‘kid,’ it would remind me of the reasons why I couldn’t—why I shouldn’t…”

He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

My heart was racing, a mixture of shock and disbelief flooding through me. “You… feel that way about me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze finally meeting mine. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down, but I can’t. And I know it’s not fair to you, especially when you’ve made it clear how much you hate that nickname. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The air between us was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me.

Finally, I found my voice. “Do you have any idea how much it’s hurt me to think that you see me as some naive little girl?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Hurt you?”

“Yes, hurt me,” I said, stepping closer to him. “Because I don’t see you as just my boss, Aaron. I see you as a man I want, a man I care about. And it’s been killing me to think that you don’t see me the same way.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of us moved. Then, as if some invisible wall between us finally crumbled, he closed the distance between us in two long strides.

His hands cupped my face, his touch gentle but firm. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to keep my distance,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Then stop,” I whispered, my own voice trembling.

And just like that, the tension snapped.

His lips crashed against mine, and I felt like every pent-up emotion we’d been holding back spilled out in that kiss. It was desperate, hungry, but also filled with an undercurrent of tenderness that made my heart ache.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other.

“I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel this way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You mean a lot to me too, Aaron. More than you know.”

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I know this won’t be easy. The team, the job—it’s complicated. But if you’re willing to try, so am I.”

I nodded, my heart swelling with emotion. “I’m more than willing.”

And in that moment, as he pulled me into his arms and held me close, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we’d face them together. Because for the first time, we weren’t just boss and agent. We were Aaron and me. And that was all that mattered.

[bestlilithian]

My experiences with synastry

8th house synastry

By far, my favorite. Intense, transcendal, deep. It goes beyond the physical and mental, reaches straight into your soul. The sexual tension is palpable, and at the same time it feels like home.

( do note that i have pluto influencing my ic and moon so your and my idea of 'home' might be a bit different ♡ lmao )

Moon in 8th house:

- absolute favorite. the connection runs deep, if you let it. when you meet this person you will know pretty early on that the potentional for intense bonding is immense. for every person i met with this, after a while i look in their eyes and think 'we could absolutely ruin eachother in the best way possible'.

- the sexual tension breaches the physical and turns almost emotional. like, 'i want to fuck you so hard that you cry' type shit. of course, every 8th house connection has some kind of sexual electricity constantly present, but i've found that w this placement, it's .. profound.

- so far , i've only been the house person, and i've found that the way the moon person looks at me is like nothing i've seen before. i mean, the eye contact being intense is a given w any 8th overlay but w this one it's ... wow. it's a simultaneous pleading to 'come closer, enter my world, feel my essence' and a threat to 'stay away, you see to far into me, you know too much'.

- it's obsessive. on my side (house) at least. by obsessive i mean ... obsessive. one of them is a crush that i haven't been able to put out for a fucking year, even with no contact. in fact, funnily enough, when i thought i was totally over it, all it took was to see her again and make eye contact - immediately, i was thrown for a loop. we didn't even exchange words directly, it was a group setting .. but the eye contact was absolutely enough. crazy.

- as the house person, i feel like the moon person can feel that i see straight through them. another thing i've noticed is that the moon person usually seems a little intimidated/nervous around me, especially at first.

- the thing with this overlay is that it can get hard to take real action on the connection because it's anything but lighthearted. you can clearly tell that if you pursue it, it's gonna get deep and that can range from inconvenient to uncomfortable, or even scary for someone who's not used to 8th house/pluto/scorpio energy.

Lilith in 8th house

- the sexual tension. is. insane. i'm talking .. concerning. i've had this w a friend, a guy who's not my type in the slightest (and i dont really like guys in general, mind you), but there's this kind of ... sexual energy in the air. like, we're not gonna do anything about it, but it's there. and it's not even physical, for me at least - i dont find him attractive physically its just .. a compulsive feeling.

- now, when i have it w someone i actually find attractive, even a little bit, it gets scaled up to the extreme. the moment i see this person, i'm immediately attracted to them. instant. they don't even have to be my type, but if they are - my god, if they are ...

- i am usually lilith in this overlay, and i often find myself wanting to corrupt the house person, to pull them into my dark erotic world. this synastry really brings out my lilith energy even more.

- as lilith i love teasing the house person & i want to see them squirm. i wanna dominate them & see them fall apart beneath me (in the best way possible)

- this is very much a 'i can ruin them' type connection (not in a malicious way)

- i automatically feel confident around this person, no matter if i felt insecure the rest of the day; its like the house person awakens my dark feminine energy just w their presence (and thats a damn good feeling)

Sun & Mercury in 8th house

- honestly this ones interesting; if your connection is platonic, it wont add weird undertones, if its not , it will heighten the attraction significantly.

- it will be really easy and satisfying to talk about your secrets, your past, your traumas, your pain, as well as your kinks, sexual preferences & sexual experiences w this person.

- you will be able to tell this person the naked, blunt truth about them to their face, and vice versa, esp eith mercury in 8th overlay

sun conjunct lilith

- i was lilith and its .. fun. sun brings out my 'bad' side. the fun one.

- as lilith, i find sun really cute, and i try to figure them out, cause i feel like they arent really as naive & innocent as they seem to be.

- sun may be a little scared of lilith here. :)

pluto conjunct lilith

- i have yet to experience this but from what i've heard i love, love, love .

- think bonnie n clyde, mr and mrs smith. they can appreciate eachothers shadow and its very exciting

- hearsay says the sex is mindblowing but i cant confirm or deny

pluto conjunct ascendant

- my mothers pluto is conjunct my ascendant and she literally fucked me up royally soo be careful w this one yall

- pluto will try to control the ascendant and have power over them

- pluto tries to control ascendants behavior, appearance, mannerisms, social etiquett, even food intake sometimes

- i have never seen this be a healthy dynamic but i would love to be proven wrong

lilith square ascendant

every time a man's lilith squares my ascendant, an angel dies. i swear to fucking god, this synastry is a hot, headache-inducing mess.

now, ive only ever had this with men so take it w a grain of salt.

whenever a mans lilith squared my ascendant, the situation was the same:

he had a crush, and then there was .. me. he loved one girl, truly, but had an intense, weird, sexual obsession with me (that often scared him).

he was extremely attracted to me, but reluctant to admit it directly. wanted to 'tame' me, make me 'well-behaved'. we argued at least once within 24h of knowing eachother.

heavy sexual tension, but in a irritating, conflicting way. reallyy intense eye contact, but almost forbidden.

they all, at some point, iced me out in one way or another, deliberately avoided me, seemingly for no reason.

lilith in 7th house

this ones weird.

- we kinda have beef, but not really

- we either completely agree with eachother or utterly disagree

- mixed feelings

- switching between liking and disliking eachother

- sexual tension, but in an annoying way

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (2) | Joe Burrow

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Joe doesn’t have the best reaction to your news, and it causes some tension between the two of you.

••••••

You stared at Joe in confusion as he laughed.

“Good one, Y/N” he says, still laughing. “But if you’re going to play a prank on me, at least come up with a better joke” he adds as he calms down. “Joe, I’m not joking” you tell him quietly. “The acting was seriously top tier. How have you never shown that to me before? I mean the tears looked so real-“

“Joe I’m not kidding. I’m not trying to play a prank on you” you cut him off. “I’ve been nauseous all week, my boobs are incredibly sore, and I missed my period over a week ago” you explain, and he lets out a sigh. “There’s no possible way you could be pregnant. You’re on birth control. You have that thing in your arm” he reminds you, smiling again. “I think you’re being paranoid” he says causing you to scoff.

“Joe, this is serious-“

“You’re not pregnant. You sound crazy” he says pulling back from you. “Have I been working you too hard? Maybe it’s stress. Take the rest of the day off-“

“That doesn’t explain the positive pregnancy test on my bathroom counter” you argue starting to get aggravated. “I’ve been ignoring it for weeks. Hoping maybe I was a little bit crazy. But we weren’t exactly the most careful-“

“So you’re turning this around on me?” Joe asks, his jaw clenched. “No, I’m not-“

“That’s how it sounds. You were irresponsible and now you’re paying the price for it and taking it out on me” he spits with his eyes full of anger. “Last time I checked it takes two people for something like this to happen. I didn’t have sex with myself” you retort and he scoffs. “How could you let this happen? Do you know how much shit this is going to cause? I don’t need this right now. I have to go back to practice, and to be honest I’m not sure I even want you here right now. You’re dismissed for the day” Joe walked out of the office leaving you stunned.

You knew he might not have the best reaction but you didn’t think it would be like this. Joe has never spoken to you that way, even when he was at his worst. With tears in your eyes, you gathered your bag and slowly began to make your way toward the parking lot.

You had a lot of things running through your head, but one rash thought lingered and it made you sick to your stomach. It was going to be a long night.

•••

Later that night, you’re sitting on your couch with your laptop open in your lap. You decided to throw yourself into work, and Joe had a foundation event coming up that Robin asked you to help organize. Even mad at him you couldn’t let this go undone. His foundation was one of the most important things to him, and you kept telling yourself you were more so doing this for his parents. You’re about halfway through editing the announcement picture that would eventually be posted to the foundations instagram, when you heard a knock at your door.

Furrowing your brows, and setting your laptop on the glass coffee table, you walked over to the door and looked through the peep-hole. Your heart lurched at the sight of him. You open the door, and the two of you stare at each other for about a minute.

“You’re not here to throw me down the stairs, are you?” You ask, half joking.

Joe rolls his eyes, “can I come in?”

You move to the side and let him into your home. He kicks his shoes off, knowing you don’t like shoes on your light colored carpet. “What’s up? Why’d you stop by?” You ask, a sigh escaping your lips. You know exactly why he’s here, but you wanted to see what he had to say for himself. “I went home today after practice and had some time to think. The way I treated you was wrong and just absolutely disgusting” he says, stepping toward you, and you take a step back.

“I deserve that.” He says running his hand through his hair. “I never should have blamed you for this. This is just as much my fault, if not more. You did your part being safe, I’m the one that decided not to use condoms. That’s on me. I want you to know how sorry I am about today,” Joe says. You guys never breaking eye contact.

“You’re probably terrified, and I didn’t make it any easier-“

“That’s for sure.” You mutter. “Joe, I never meant for this to happen. And I’ve done a lot of thinking myself. I’m going to keep this baby. I’m not asking you for any help, I’m not asking you for any money. I’m fully prepared to do this by myself. I’ve started looking for another job-“

“Hang on a second-“

“You can sign your rights away. We don’t even have to tell anyone that the baby is yours. You’ll have no ties to it” you ramble, and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.” He states, his voice firm. “This is my kid, Y/N. Not just something I can pretend doesn’t exist. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me” he pleads, reaching out to grab your hand.

“You really hurt me today, Joe.” You told him. “You made me feel like I ruined your life”

“I know, and I regret everything I said to you. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am. You didn’t ruin my life. Neither one of us could have anticipated this happening” he assures you. “I am so so sorry” he says, pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m still very upset with you. It’s going to take some time to fully forgive you” you tell him, and he frowns, but he understands.

“I have a doctors appointment in the morning, if you’d like to come” you offer. “It’s just to confirm everything and get a due date and all that fun stuff”

“I’ll drive and buy you breakfast” he says, looking down at you. “Speaking of food, I’m starving” you groan, and he lets out a laugh. “Alright, I guess I’ll feed you” he jokes, making his way to your kitchen. “Ooh, can you make that pasta that I like? I’m pretty sure I have all of the ingredients” you ask with pleading eyes.

“Yes, I can make you the pasta. Pick a movie, and shut that laptop. Work is over for the day” he orders.

“Sir, yes, sir”

•••

The Next Day

“Well congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant,” the doctor says, entering the room after your test results finally come back. “Both the urine and blood test came back positive. Judging by the numbers on your results it’s looking like you’re around 8 or 9 weeks pregnant, that’s around 2 months and a week.. Which would make your due date sometime in February, but we can’t be sure until we do an ultrasound” the doctor explains.

“The next course of action is going to be removing your nexplanon and doing an ultrasound” she explains.

You look over at Joe, who’s listening intently. He hasn’t said much since the two of you got here, but you’re giving him time. He wants to be involved, but he processes things a different way. You respect that.

“We can schedule the ultrasound for about a week from now. I don’t have any available ultrasound techs today. So I have a list of appointments, and you can choose what works best for you and your schedule. All of them are on Monday. There’s a 9am, 10am, 12pm, 3pm, and 4pm-“

“We can do Monday at 9am” Joe says, and you look over at him. “You have practice on Monday” you remind him. He shrugs. “We only watch film for the first two hours on Monday, you know that. They’ll be fine without me for an hour” he assures you. “We’ll do Monday at 9am” you tell the doctor, knowing Joe wasn’t going to let up.

“Perfect. Stop at the front desk to check out on your way back out. See you Monday. Congratulations, again” she smiles as she leaves the room. You look back over at Joe. “You okay?” You ask, and he nods. “I’m good. Now let’s go get you guys some breakfast,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads through your chest. You slip your hand in his and he leads you out of the room.

•••

“What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll take a coffee with extra cream and sugar” you say, and Joe protests. “You can’t have coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby” he says, and you shoot him a glare that’s strong enough to cut. The waitress looks between the two of you hesitantly. . “I can have a little bit of caffeine,” you argue, and look back at waitress. “Ignore him. I’ll have a coffee” you say with a smile. It’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes, as he orders a water for himself.

Once the waitress walks away, you kick Joe’s shin under the table. “You’re not going to be one of those overprotective fathers who dictates what I eat, drink, and do. I’m an adult. I can handle myself”

He lets out a sigh, knowing not to argue because your hormones are high right now. “Please do your research before acting like a control freak. I can have up to 200 grams of caffeine a day,” you tell him, and he sighs. “I just want to keep the two of you safe,” he admits, and you start to feel bad for going off on him.

“I appreciate that, Joey, but we’re good. We can handle a little bit of caffeine” you assure him, a slight smile on your face. The waitress returns with your drinks, and the proceeds to ask if you’re ready to order your food. “Can I have two over medium eggs, with hash browns, and toast?” The waitress writes down your order, Joe looks confused, but orders his blueberry pancakes and the waitress goes to put the order in.

“You hate eggs,” Joe comments.

“The baby wants them.”

Joe laughs, tossing his head back. “What the baby wants, the baby gets”

~~~~~~~

Ahhh our guys won yesterday!! I’m so proud of them :)