#It took me over an hour to rewrite the previous draft

[unknownfrom34]

Prelude

Another special for the lovely @muzzleroars and a prequel to here. So I'll try to match what they describe on God first created Lucifer and hopefully get it right. I had accidentally resetted this post, effectively erasing all of my progress in the process. I hate my life. TT⁔TT

Enjoy my retake please.

Another star had exploded. He couldn't be surprised.

God stood outside of His humble home, sitting ontop of a planet He had made a month ago now.

He had been alone in his dimension he made for quite some time now, after He had left His family in His home realm in a quest to best everyone and make their own universes look pathetic.

In fact, He has forgotten how many spheres He had created so far?

He mindlessly began to count each one. Two... Six... Oh!

Nine. Nine Spheres of His own personal Heaven he had created so far. He took pride in it but then... That feeling of loneliness returns. How long was He been here? The thoughts of a time past him by has once again flooded His mind.

The memory of hurryingly leaving in anger with the intent of surpassing his father and mother in many ways than one. Every last one of His people will be watching and crying out of despair and every ounce of satisfaction will taste much sweeter then a piece of baked good and a jar of honey.

Yet... How come creating a universe of His own is a price to pay?

God sat down onto the stairs and rested His face onto His fist as he further sinks into his own parade of depression. His thoughts absently wandered across the cosmos of His own creation. It would be nice to have company by his side to talk to...

Company...

To talk to...

... ... ... ... ... ...

He stood upright with a new idea in mind and its not going to be a Sphere. He is new to it however, no experience to making one but by the Great Being; He has to try.

He turn on His heel and walked back inside the building and walked quickly across the hallways of His humble home. His feet echoed across the vaulted walls as God rushed across them as he radiant light from his glowing form.

A light in the darkness as He reached the end of the hall and into a chamber as He looked ahead, nowhere else but ahead with the inspiration He has in mind. He finally stops once he reaches near the center of the chamber itself. God breathes deeply as He closed his eyes and extends His hands outward as he focused on signaling deep onto his energy within Him; at first, nothing is happening but a groan left Him as His legs under him shook a little. The feeling began to overtaking Him as He focused on it further and further no matter how deep of agony He can feel.

A small dot on His ever-glowing white chest as appeared, right where the heart should be. It stayed the same size but it slowly started to grow. And grow. Grow. grow. And grow until a ball of pastel burning light was extracted from Himself as He lets out a painful yell.

He shook but he ordered Himself to stay standing up to deal with the pain as a piece of His soul floated away from God until it reaches the center of the chamber just a mere ten feet away.

This act was unheard of amongst His people, no one has done this in over ten eons of their existence. He has committed the banned act of actually creating life.

He will worry about judgement of others later, His energy is focused on what matters right now. If God had teeth, He would grind them so hard that they will chip as He is deeply focused onto his ability into the fire but a few things that He did not account for in doing so of putting all of His strength and magic into; A beam of light flickered to life from the ceiling above, stardust and tiny sparkling stars appeared with a strong gust of wind, fire from the tiny sphere flew away and the inferno soon came, lit all around the chamber as bits of it reached every surface, lightning and thunder boomed and cracked and danced in the air. One of them grazed His left side of waist and hip.

Pain shot through but He bared through it to stay straight at the task in hand.

Wishing to be loved and adored is his greatest desire, and that will come from his creation born with life of its own.

Using His fathers words of disappointment to fuel it, using His mother's words of disgrace to fan it, using his siblings', aunts', uncles', teachers'-

EVERYONE-

He finally screams as the room was being flooded with too much power of the light, the chamber roared that shook the very foundations of the building itself yet He could've swore that he heard something else screaming-

Then everything went black.

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

..."Father?" ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

… … … … …

..."Father, are you well?" ... ... ... ...

"Father."

The first words He barely could hear when He opened his eyes slightly to see a pair of feet in front of him. He briefly closed them for a moment but that voice came once again.

"Father, at least let me help you."

He opened them back up slowly to see a blacken hand with golden finger nails reaching out to Him, its wrist was eloped with pastel-colored flames of Love and Adoration. Puzzled and shocked, he complied to taking it and subconsciously amazed at how easily it could pull him back on his feet with such ease and strength.

He noticed that it- That he is much shorter than him, just inches reaching past the first row of rips in his chest. but his wings can.

Unfurled and burning with fire as well, his darken visage looked up to him with only visible eye present as a halo with crosses and a face of His floated, surpassing gravity in all ways than one.

His body was nearly engulf in the fire of love yet he does not show no signs of pain or smelling any flesh burning so far. His creation's chest was littered with a pure white mark with golden outlines encasing around it.

The most beautiful angel God has ever created since his very first creation of this lonely universe and the start of it.

The most radiant creation tilted his head to the left, wings gently ever-so slightly down. It didn't take the Father a minute to guess what he silently asked. He wants a name for himself. Well, God had created this seraph after all, he could give him a name that he had quickly think of.

He spoke in tonuges quickly before the angel repeats after him.

"You are Lucifer." "I am Lucifer." "You will assist me in bringing light to all." "I will assist you in bringing light to all."

He lightly chuckled in this predicament. So, God has decided in the foreseeable future in case he does something like this again but putting a little tad energy into it in that time. He has gotten a new helping hand in the endless primordial chaos.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Prologue: Before It All —jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

❥pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other

❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, mutual hate

❥word-count: 2.4k

❥Series Masterlist ❥ || Next Chapter

fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list 🖤

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

Your final together was tomorrow, after a month of painfully hard work it would finally be over. Except you hadn’t heard from Jungkook  this week at all. From what you can tell he seemed to finish all of his portion of the work. You on the other hand, due to some finals, were a little behind but you had no doubts that you would be able to catch up. 

Not hearing from Jungkook did have you somewhat concerned. 

You both were normal last week but this week radio silence. You had texted him just keeping him updated on the progress of your work. You choked it up to him probably being swamped with his own work, and his own projects for other classes. So you tried not too worry. 

You sent one more text, anxiety rising with each passing minute.

:hey sorry to text you again. I’m just checking in! I should be able to finish in the next hour or two, so don’t worry.

:we are going to kill this presentation in the morning.

May have been a touch late to texting someone, it was 1:30 in the morning. You didn’t care though, he had texted you at like two in the morning before. So, you figured he’d forgive you.

But the second you sent the text.

The lights and your laptop had switched off. You sat in completely darkness. Suddenly the emergency lights shown by your door. You turned on your flashlight. Your laptop was old so your power being out means that you don’t have a laptop to work on. You made your way to the hall where some others had gathered. Asking what had happened.

Your RA eventually came up to your floor and told everyone not to worry, they were going to have the power on soon and to stay in our rooms for now. That we would get some text updates. You decided to not panic yet, soon after you did get a text saying that their was a an on campus outage and the problem would be resolved soon.

“Seriously?” you muttered, going back into your room. You texted Jungkook again.

:hey sorry I swear this is the last one, power in my dorm is out.

:and you know how my laptop is, so I have to wait until the power comes back.

:still going to kill it tomorrow!

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, the power finally returned. You rushed back to your laptop, praying everything was still there. But when you opened your document, it was blank. Completely empty.

“No,” you whispered, frantically searching for any backup.

Your entire month of work was gone. You tried finding a previous version, but there was nothing. Not on your hard drive, not in your email, not even a single backup copy. Every word, every citation, every carefully crafted paragraph—vanished. Except... Jungkook might have a copy.

You grabbed your phone and called him, your fingers trembling. Voicemail. You called again, and it rang once before going straight to voicemail again.

“Jungkook, pick up. Something happened. I need you to call me back.”

Panic set in as you scoured every corner of your computer. Desperate, you even checked old drafts and random notes on your phone, but there was nothing. Your heart sank. You called Jungkook two more times, but there was still no answer.

You were going to have to start over.

You knew the material—you’d been working on it every day for a month—but rewriting it from memory was going to be a nightmare. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and started typing. Every minute felt like an hour, but you pushed through. Tiredness clawed at you, and your eyes stung from the screen’s glare, but there was no other option.

Five hours later, you finally finished. The paper was nowhere near perfect, but it was something. A B, maybe a C at best, but it was better than nothing. Exhaustion overtook you the second you hit save, and you collapsed into bed.

It felt like only a second had passed when your eyes snapped open. You scrambled for your phone, the panic setting in again.

10:05 AM.

Ten missed texts and three missed calls from Jungkook.

“No!” You leapt out of bed, pulling on the first clothes you found, emailing the paper to yourself while sprinting out the door. You raced across campus, nearly tripping as you weaved through students, your breath burning in your lungs. By the time you reached the classroom, the hallway was filled with students leaving.

You pushed through the door, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Shit, no, no, please.” You spotted your professor leaving and tried to push your way forward, only to be blocked by Jungkook.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he sneered as you stumbled in, breathless and disheveled.

“Jungkook--” you began, but he cut you off.

“Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you here?” His voice was icy, and he took a menacing step toward you, making you step back.

“I—I fell asleep!” You stammered, tears welling up. Your exhaustion was really hitting you, and you couldn’t hold them in, “Did you see my texts? My calls? My voicemails?”

“Texts and calls don’t mean shit if you’re not here!” he snapped. “You’re acting like you care, but you clearly don’t. You’ve been flaky this entire time.”

“Jungkook, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he cut in, voice rising. “Maybe you did this on purpose! Maybe you’ve been plotting to screw me over!”

The accusation hit hard. “Are you seriously accusing me of sabotaging you? I’ve worked my ass off for this project!”

Jungkook’s eyes were cold. “And where were you when it mattered? You think your excuses are enough? Friends don’t disappear.”

The recent reconciliation between the both of you now dissolving on the ground between the both of you. You both had taken huge strides to become friends despite your resistance.

“Friends don’t accuse each other of being petty schemers!” you shot back, the anger surging. “I’ve been working all night to fix this, and you’re just throwing all my effort back in my face!”

“Maybe I’m tired of your games,” Jungkook retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “Maybe David was right about you. Maybe he was right that this is something you do.”

David, your ex-boyfriend. Who had manipulated so many people into believing that you were crazy, when he had cheated on you multiple times. What hurt worse? Jungkook knew all of this, knew that David was an asshole. Knew that David was an awful person who lied every time he spoke.

Now he was throwing it in your face, what the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of his words was unbearable. “How dare you! I trusted you to be reasonable. You said you believed me when it came to what David said about me. How dare you throw that in my face! I came here ready to explain, ready to make things right. But you’re too busy being a jackass to listen.”

“I may be a jackass but at least I can be relied upon.” he said quietly, almost dismissively.

The words cut deeper than any knife. “You know what? I don’t need to defend myself to someone who’s already made up their mind. You’re not worth the effort, since you are so quick to blame others. You’re just like David after all.”

You turned away, feeling tears spill down your face. You walked away, not looking back. You had to save your grades, even if it meant cutting ties with Jungkook for good. Didn’t really matter, you two didn’t know each other that well anyways.

You found your professor, explained everything through your tears, and showed him the evidence. He listened, though his sympathy couldn’t override the rules. He allowed you to submit your rewritten paper but couldn’t let you do the presentation. He promised to grade fairly but couldn’t guarantee a good mark.

You received a D. It was lower than you hoped but enough to pass. Jungkook, however, failed, delaying his graduation.

You felt a grim satisfaction, but the bitterness lingered. The loss of the friendship gnawed at you, even if you hated him. You’d never see him again, and you were more than okay with that.

That was five years ago now.

The memory lingered as fresh and raw as ever. You had moved on, grown, and carved out a space where Jungkook’s existence didn’t matter. That was until you became friends with Melanie, who in every sense of the word was your best friend. Though, because fate is a funny thing, she fell in love with Namjoon. Namjoon’s closest friend was none other than Jungkook.

That relationship kept you and Jungkook in each other's lives for longer than either of you had cared for.

Forcing the two of you back into each other’s orbit. That also meant facing Jungkook repeatedly, each time resulting in fights so venomous you wondered how Melanie and Namjoon put up with it. So many clashes over so many years, so many attempts by mutual friends proved futile in bringing the both of you together. Eventually, everyone gave up and just made sure to never have the two of you in a room together.

Now with Namjoon and Melanie’s engagement, a wedding loomed around the corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, mind still reeling from the past. The fallout from that final class had changed everything. Every time you saw Jungkook since then, it was an instant—words turned to daggers, and every conversation became a battlefield. Neither of you ever backed down; pride kept you both locked in a bitter stalemate.

“Just a heads-up,” Melanie said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She hesitated, eyes flicking away as if bracing for impact. “I know how you two feel about each other, but he’s Namjoon’s best friend.”

You knew what was coming, but you still grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

Melanie sighed. “Jungkook is his best man.”

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up instantly. You had known this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Of course, he is.”

Melanie’s living room felt unusually tense, the soft glow of the evening sun doing little to warm the atmosphere. Melanie had always been the bridge between you and Jungkook—constantly trying to keep the peace, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this time was different. You couldn’t just show up, exchange a few biting remarks with Jungkook, and call it a day. This was her wedding. This was the culmination of everything she’d dreamed of, and she deserved your best effort.

Melanie took a deep breath, her stern expression softening just slightly. “I know it’s a big ask, and I wouldn’t push it if I didn’t have to. But Namjoon and Jungkook—they’ve been through so much together. He’s not just a friend to Namjoon; he’s like a brother. And I need you both to make this work.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Melanie was trying to keep the peace, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had seen you and Jungkook tear each other down time and again. Seeing the tears you shed over the times he would hit the nail on the head, and say something that went too far. Held you back from starting a physical altercation with him.

Each encounter was more bitter than the last, and every argument chipped away at the thin veneer of civility you both clung to.

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady despite the resentment simmering underneath. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Melanie’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her eyes remained cautious. “Thank you. And I mean it, no half-hearted attempts. I need rainbows and kindness coming out of both of your asses.”

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating the way Melanie could still inject humor into even the most awkward of situations. “Got it. Rainbows and kindness. I’ll bring a whole damn unicorn if that’s what it takes.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if we had another new years situation.” Although it was years ago, that was probably the worst fight you and Jungkook had. The things that were said and the drink you dumped on him are very present in your mind. Made you laugh to yourself even but it definitely caused a bot of an issues in your group.

You shook your head, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness. “Yeah that was a really low moment for me. I think because of that things between us will never change. He’s still that same arrogant jerk who can’t own up to his mistakes. And I’m done pretending I care enough to fix anything.”

“People change,” she said softly, it was something she tried to convince you of many times. “But I get it. You don’t have to be friends—you just have to coexist.”

“That, I can do,” you said firmly. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for you.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, squeezing your hand. “I’m so happy you accepted the role. I couldn’t imagine my wedding without you there.”

“For you? Anything,” you replied, your resolve hardening. You would hold onto your promise to Melanie, no matter how much Jungkook got under your skin. This wedding was about Namjoon and Melanie, not you and whatever animosity you harbored toward Jungkook.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing, already plotting ways to avoid Jungkook’s inevitable provocations. You pictured the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the reception—any scenario where the two of you would be forced to interact. You would keep your distance, smile politely, and not engage. If Jungkook’s presence was like a storm cloud threatening to ruin the day, you would be calm. You owed Melanie that much.

“When the wedding rolls around, I’ll keep up appearances and be civil and kind,” you said, trying to reassure not just Melanie, but yourself. “Jungkook might be the spawn of Satan, but as long as I don’t speak to him directly, everything will go perfectly.”

No amount of promises could erase the deep-seated anger you felt every time you saw his face. This time, though, you would have to bury it, if only for a weekend. You would smile through gritted teeth, hold your tongue when he inevitably said something infuriating, and pretend you were above it all.

You had months to prep yourself though. Plenty of time to make sure that nothing Jungkook could do could piss you off.

Nothing that weekend will surprise you.

[andromeda4004]

For the ask game! 5 and 15! <33 :D

For Morningstar Abbey:

5 - which part was hardest.

I don't often go through many iterations of a draft - I mean, I'll keep tweaking for as long as I have time, but it's rare for a draft to change substantially. There were two scenes in Morningstar that I had to scrap and redo. The biggest rewrite was in Chapter 16, with the introduction of the prophecies, where the story has to shift from period drama into slightly magical realism, and it took me a couple of goes to get the scene to work right. But the scene I worked on for longest before it was right was the ending of chapter 8, the game of piquet. This was a nightmare because 1, I've never played piquet, 2, I don't know anyone who does, 3, I don't even play any other card games, and 4, I needed to make the scene do a lot of character work. Even though the rest of that chapter was finished weeks in advance of the planned posting date, that scene wasn't done until about 12 hours before it went out, and I spent hours reading up on rules of a game I will never play, just in case there's a random reader out there who actually has real-life experience with it. So far no one has commented to say they have, but that's fine- in the end I was pretty happy with it, so it's all good.

15 - what did I learn.

Well, apart from piquet, and British 18th century military history, and a detailed mental map of Bath, the main thing I learned is that I can write a novel-length story in 5 months if I focus. My previous writing has been a very long novel which took over a decade, and included long gaps of no progress and hefty rewrites near the end to get the old stuff to match up with the tone of the new. I really would like to get back into writing my own IP, but there had never seemed to be time - I've proven to myself that I can make time when I want to. Downside being that writing on AO3 and getting regular lovely emails with kudos and comments is frankly addictive, and my IP can't provide that, so fanfic is winning right now! 😀 But the important thing is that I'm writing again - I had missed it.

Thanks for the ask!

[threeletterslife]

What is your step by step progress to start writing a story or the next chapter?

ooh welllll i would say things differ when i write a oneshot versus when i write a new chapter, but i'm happy to outline my process for both!

ONESHOTS

usually, before i begin writing a oneshot, i create a very, very detailed outline of how i want the story to flow. i'll literally plan out entire dialogues and make bullet points for every scene to capture the overall mood/tone of the fic. this usually takes around a couple of hours on a good day

i will reread the plan a bajillion times to make sure i understand the plot and/or change it up a little so that the storyline is cohesive and the characters' motivations make sense. i also take this time to understand my characters better. i really want to be able to tell their story properly, so this is a step i never skip. consequently, step 2 always takes quite a while for me. i like to have things quite perfected before i write, so this step can take from days to months!

finally, i write lol. but because i have such an extensive outline, this step usually doesn't take very long at all. unless i lose motivation for the story. but that usually doesn't happen for my oneshots

editing is always a bitch. i'm very self-critical and i'm never satisfied with anything i finish. so after i write a oneshot, i ditch it for a few days or weeks and come back with fresh eyes to edit it properly. if i don't take those days off, i'll end up literally rewriting the entire thing because i feel like i can do better; usually, i can't and it ends up worse though LOL. first time's usually the charm for me. i don't really write multiple drafts anymore like i used to. editing is mostly for grammar and diction/syntax checking

SERIES

now for series, it's a little different. when i plan, i don't plan using chapters at all. i write the entire plot down from scratch from beginning to end AND THEN i divide the appropriate parts into chapters. this process for lod took me a few weeks

after i create the chapters, i began fleshing things out. huge series like lod make things hard because i have to keep track of many characters. and for lod, i had to keep track of two separate nations and two separate magic systems. i created a lot of tables to help organize all of this information and put them all in a reference doc! during my chapter editing phase, i added new characters, gave them more human-like qualities, added more plot points, took some plot points away, etc. this step quite literally took me a year (and over) for lod. i'm still technically fleshing out the plot for later chapters and including/extracting scenes to improve the storyline. fun fact: the character of doyun didn't even exist until i began writing lod!

for longer series, i don't necessarily finish my extensive plotting because then, i would never be able to write. i can go on and on with plotting LMAO. so it's better for me to just start writing. i have a separate document containing chapter summaries (the bullet points) and then i copy-paste that summary into a new doc for the new chapter. then using that outline (and while cross-referencing the tables i created in the previous step), i begin writing. normally, i stay true to the plot i created. sometimes, while i'm writing, i diverge, though. that's how yoongi's new character was born in lod. he was originally extremely harsh and cold, but when i actually began writing him, he just turned out soft, and i thought that fit the storyline better, so i kept it

editing is even worse with longer series LOL. usually, i don't edit much in chapters i've already written and posted (because it's a hassle and people have already read it, so changing something could be confusing). instead, i change the future chapters to accommodate the changes i made in the current chapters. it means i'm constantly changing and updating the future chapters, which honestly gets tiring sometimes. lod is the biggest writing project i've ever had. there are times when i completely lose motivation. sometimes, i don't want to do anything involving lod. but never once did i ever want to leave the series unfinished. i will finish it no matter what, of course. but good and bad days come and go. i definitely think a large part of my writing process is keeping myself inspired and motivated enough to continue writing. reading nice comments and answering asks makes me really happy because it shows that people are invested in lod's universe just as much as i am!

this was a very potentially boring and long outline of my process, but i hope it shed some light on how i approach writing! hopefully, it actually makes sense LOL

[springalwayscomes]

Not even a gift

Plot: Since the moment Jungkook saw your ass he swore he never saw something that beautiful. But then you turned around, and well, that was a total different thing. The poor man couldn’t even stand beside you without embarassing himself or embarassing you, and evey time seems to get worse and worse and...worse. 

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Dancer AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut, One Shot

Wordcount: 30k

Content Warning: Jungkook can’t stop embarassing himself, swearing, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, awkard situations, masturbation, sexual fantasies, a lot - a lot - of fluff, Reader with stress issues, overwhelming parents, trust issues

A/N: I wrote this when I was just joining the fandom, last year for Kookie’s birthday. I remember wanting to pst this so badly but it stayed in my drafts because I wasn’t sure it was good enough and I was a little insecure about the ending. I told to myself that someday I’d rewrite a new ending and post this, but knowing myself and how I work with my writing, I know that that day will never come because even if did so, I’ll probably end up with not liking my style of writing anymore and editit all out, leave it like this or delate it. So I told myself that I’d rather prefer to publish it. cause at the end this story was incredibly funny to write - sometimes I would laugh all alone like an idiot while writing it - and to be honest I think it’s pretty good. It’s the very first fanfiction I wrote about BTS so it’s also very meaningful for me. For reasons as the ones I already mentioned I decided to not edit this, so you might find some grammatical errors, please understand that this was the first time I wrote something from scratch in english. If you’d like to read it in episodes I’m going to publish it on youtube as a series too, where you’ll be able to live the full experience of the story since there you can visualize it too, as for the story it’s exactly the same as here. Enjoy reading this one, I know you’ll have fun!

Watch the first episode on Youtube

Since the moment Jungkook saw your ass he swore he never saw something that beautiful. It wasn’t just fit and solid, it was the way you were moving it on the beat, making it look like something he’d die to touch, squeeze, hold.

That was the very first thing he noticed about you.

He couldn’t help but fantasize how you’re face would look, watching your back from the doorframe of the ballroom. He imagined you sweat, little drops forming on your forehead caused by the the movements. He tried to focus his attention on the other dancers, fixating his gaze on the girl beside you making the exact same moves as you, but something about your presence kept on calling him like you were a mermaid and he was a poor sailor.

His dark doe-eyes ended again on your body, being in the last row it was hard for him to find your reflection in the mirror, other bodies moving endlessly making him grimace. He was running out of time, the poor man got stuck in traffic on his way here, already twenty minutes late, and god knows why he stopped looking at you dancing.

He shook his head when even after the music stopped your back was still facing him, not that he minded, but he was really dying to know how your face would look like.

Someone must have been both incredibly hungry and in love with him, cause a second later, you were bending over, resting your elbows on your thighs and giving him an even more beautiful view of your ass while trying to catch your breath. 

Breath stuck in his lungs, Jungkook gulped hard, making his adam’s apple jump up and down.

The girl next to you said something that made you laugh, back invaded by the spasms of your laughter, something he couldn’t hear because of all the talking that was going on in the room. He wished he could. He imagined your voice, soft and sweet, and soon enough is mind was already wondering about your features.

Snorting and getting out of his trance, he remembered himself he had to practice. Ready to take the first step away from the ballroom which he didn’t belong to, he shook his head a second time and turned, ready to leave his thoughts about you in that room and never meet them again.

But a second song started. And this time, he recognized the beat. Holding his breath again, he faced the entrance with a speed that got him shocked by himself.

Your hips were moving again, slowly and sensually, hands drawing abstract shapes in the air, hair attached to your skin. Your sweat shorts were doing nothing to hide your skin from his dark eyes, all he could think about was the way it seemed to shine under the lights of the room and the way your sweat would make it look even more glowing.

He hissed through his teeth, trying to push away the though of his hands against your skin, the way he’d like to trace your thighs with his fingers, leave pecks against your body and mark your hips with his lips. He brought his gaze back on your ass, sinful eyes burning against your skin and jaw clenching, Jungkook licked his lips and watched you arch your back before bringing your left leg to your head, holding it with your hands as you tiptoed your right foot.

«How long have you been here?»

He literally jumped, locking his gaze with whoever gave him a heart attack. Standing beside him, looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide were Yoongi.

«I-»

«You know this is the wrong room, right?» he looked at him with a blank expression, trying to understand what Jungkook was actually doing standing at the doorframe of a different studio, without even caring about the fact he should be practicing with him and the others.

«I know, I was just... looking around.» he managed to let out, before taking a deep breath and stepping towards Yoongi.

The moment he realized he was rocking a half-hard just by his previous sight, he clenched his jaw and gulped again. If Yoongi had already noticed his situation then he wouldn’t know cause his face was no longer on him, neck turned to peek into the room that stole the maknae’s attention before. The youngest one used that moment to bring his bag in front of him, and then headed to their dance class trying not to draw too much attention.

That was the first time he saw you.

Jungkook dropped his bag to the ground as soon as he entered his bedroom, removing his sneakers and his socks he headed to his bathroom in a matter of seconds, begging to feel the cold drops of water wash away all the sweat on his skin and the heat of his body, even though the last one wasn’t because of the workout.

His cock was aching, so damn hard and throbbing against his sweat pants.

He wished they finished their practice just a few seconds sooner. Dancing was a pain in the ass today, all he wanted to do was head back to your doorframe and peek at you, loose his gaze on your body, trying to steal a glance of your face.

But still, it didn’t happen. He couldn’t help but think about how’d you look during the three hours of rehearsals, he thought about it so much that now he had a clear image of you in his mind. And it was pretty platonic, almost inaccessible.

He removed his shirt and his pants, letting them fall on the ground, and then turned on the water, already hooking his fingers under the elastic band of his boxers. He was so hard that it ached.

Jungkook took a deep breath and palmed himself through the material, immediately hissing at the touch. Deciding it was not enough he let the cloth slowly fall to the ground, creating a wall around his ankles that he surpassed in a second getting in the shower.

He didn’t waste time on lathering, he just shut the glass door and closed his eyes while bringing his hand to his shaft. The fingertip of his thumb collected the precum leaking out of his slit, moving over his head and making him clench his jaw shut, breath already uneven.

He though about the way you moved your hips, he’d like to hold them tight and down on the bed while fucking into you. He’d take such a good care of you. He’d fuck you so good, making you whimper and moan every time he’d hit your g-spot, he’d squeeze your ass in his big hands, leaving marks as a reminder of his touch. He’d kiss your skin, he’d kiss your neck and he wouldn’t even mind tasting the sweat caused by your rehearsals today, but in his mind, that’d be caused by what you two are doing.

Jungkook groaned and stroked himself, bringing his hand now to his base and tightening his grip around his girth. Throbbing, pulsating cock begging to release all his seed.

His movements were firm and clear, his fist moving so fast that his wrist was hurting, head falling back, mouth agape and eyebrows knitted together. The sound of his movements blended with the clatter of the water, his shoulders raising from time to time because of the heavy breathing, hips bucking against his hand. He wished it was you, the only part he’d seen of you, he desperately wished he was fucking your ass, so, so hard he’d make you whine and cry in pleasure. He imagined the sounds you’d made, and even though he didn’t even know how your voice sounded or how you looked, he already knew that it’d be his new favorite sound.

«Fuck» he groaned, fucking his cock in his hand even harder, moving his hips and meeting his hand halfway. He bit his lower lip, flesh aching and almost bleeding under his teeth, bringing his free hand to his heavy balls and massaging them. His pace fastened even more if it’s possible, his hips were snapping so hard into his hand picturing your ass in its place, he was so close he could taste it. He pictured your body bent over his bed, taking him so nicely, moaning out loud and clenching around his greedy cock, so needy and so damn wet for him.

«God, fuck» he growled, shoving fast into his hand. He wished he knew your face, he’d like to picture you taking his big cock in your lips. He already know they’d look so damn beautiful around his girth, gagging and drooling for him, he’d hold your head still and fuck himself into your pretty lips so good, letting you eat all of his seed.

That, that was what brung him to his apex. Abs contracting and rough breath, muscles tightening and eyes squinting, lips open letting out low groans.

«Fucking hell»

Hot white spatters stained his hand and chest as he rode his orgasm, keep shoving himself into his hand. The water washed away his seed, it disappeared so fast he didn’t even see it, and when he opened his eyes he took some time to catch his breath leaning against the wall behind him.

His mind went blank, for just a little. He couldn’t think of anything else than the idyllic orgasm he just had, just the thought of it made his cheeks flash red.

Then, the thoughts hit him. He didn’t even know your name, and here he was, masturbating over you. He was going to change that.

The second time Jungkook saw you he did  not rush out of his house thirty minutes earlier than he was supposed to. He couldn’t help but ask to himself what was going on with him, he certainly knew he never felt the need to see someone he didn’t even know. God, you didn’t even noticed him. Standing at the doorframe of your rehearsals room, looking at you move your body in such a charming way he swore he never see someone dance like that. Why were you in the last row? You deserved to be in the first one, that wasn’t fair. But, in that way he couldn’t see you, so he stored the information at the back of his mind. When you stopped your movements and you suddenly disappeared into the crowd, he again remembered to himself that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

Come on, was he really going to stand there for about other ten minutes and watch  you dance without doing nothing? He desperately wanted to know how your face looked, by now he could say he had a perfect picture of you in his head. And if he was right, you were probably the best thing he ever seen. 

Just the thought made him lick his lips, taking a deep nervous breath. He needed to talk to you. But what would he say? “Hi, I’ve been watching you dance”? Ew, definitely no. He tried to come up with other possibilities but his mind was totally blank, panic making his way through his thoughts and taking every part of him, leaving him only with sweaty hands and an adam’s apple gulping in his throat.

«Jungkook»

A voice made him turn, his gaze suddenly traveled to his right side.

«Oh, hey» he blurted out, Taehyung was staring at him with an arched eyebrow and inquisitive eyes.

«What were you doing?» the oldest one got closer, his hands in his pockets and a slight smile forming on his lips. Jungkook shook his head.

«Mh- I- waiting» he stuttered. His friend knitted his eyebrows looking at him for just a few seconds, then his gaze met the ballroom in front of them, where Jungkook’s was again scanning bodies, trying to find yours.

«Are you looking for someone?» Teahyung asked, receiving just a shake with his head from the youngest. But he knew better than that, he knew Jungkook well, maybe too much, he couldn’t even try to hide something from him.

When his eyes finally found you again, Teahyung knew it was you, he could just tell by the way he opened his lips, forming a little “oh”, his eyes never leaving your body.

«So you were waiting, uh?» he scoffed.

«Yes?» the maknae wanted to punch himself in the face, that was not supposed to come out as a question.

«Do you know her name?» Taehyung asked. He turned away in the blink of an eye, staring at him with wide eyes. It took him a few seconds to understand he’s been caught, but eventually he decided to just sigh and shake his head again. «Well, I know it» he shrugged like he had just said nothing. Jungkook looked at him with an unreadable expression, trying to understand if what he just heard was real or if he just imagined it. He studied Taehyung’s face like he was some kind of poem, carefully and thoughtfully, wisely looking for a hint to tell him he was just playing with him, but he really seemed serious.

«I can introduce her to you?» he turned to look at him, the youngest was playing with his fingers, eyes staring at the floor, all of his confidence seemed to fade away.

«Why?» he asked.

«What do you mean why?» Taehyung almost laughed at the maknae’s words, and he almost felt guilty. Almost.

«I- I don’t know...» he sighed. Why was he even acting like this? He wanted to talk to you, desperately wanted to know how your face looked like, his imagination was sending him crazy. How did he even ended up like this? He just saw you dance and his mind wasn’t his anymore, constantly wondering about your face. There was just something about you that was making him insanely curious.

«Oh, come on!» unexpectedly, the hyung grabbed him by his arm, making him almost loose his balance while dragging him into the room, taking big steps towards you. No one seemed to notice what was happening externally or inside of Jungkook, heart beating a mad pace, slippy hands like he just dipped them in the water, mind shocked and freaking out attempting to find anything, literally anything that could’ve helped him. Anything would’ve been good, anything for saving him from who knows what his mind was thinking, neither he could understand himself. He never felt more afraid to speak to someone in his life, he swore. Why was he even freaking out? He couldn’t find an answer in those few seconds that divided you from him, and he ended up behind you sooner than he realized. His body instantly tensed.

Teahyung, like the amazing friend he was, tapped your right shoulder, making sure to keep his grip tight on Jungkook’s arm, afraid he would’ve run away at the first opportunity. And he would’ve.

«Yes?» turning, you met the hyung gaze, two deep dark eyes staring at you, breath held in his throat. Damn, you were beautiful.

Oh, God.

That was the first thought that passed Jungkook’s mind when he finally saw your face, all of his fantasies immediately falling to the ground, breaking into a million pieces. He didn’t even know someone that beautiful could exist. His eyes staring at your face like some kind of piece of art. He definitely did not expect you to look like this, he did not see it coming. He thought you were beautiful, but God, not like this.

«Bye» that was the first and last word Taehyung blurted out, finally releasing Jungkook’s arm. Then, he simply walked away, like he did not just leave you two alone, like nothing. You raised your eyebrows, stunned by what just happened looking at the man head to the door and then simply disappear in the hallway. When you realized you were left with someone you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, shifting your gaze from the corridor to the man in front of you.

In that moment, Jungkook’s heart started beating even faster, if that was possible. His dark doe-eyes stared into yours for a few moments, not even blinking, mouth agape and breath caught in his throat. He looked like he just saw something... something really-

«Am I that ugly?» you blurted out.

When he realized you were actually talking to him, he felt the need to hide, run away, he wanted the earth to open under his feet and engulf him in. His cheeks flashed red, eyes finally starting to blink.

«No I-» his throat was dry, so he swallowed hard and tried to get a little bit of his nerve back.

«I-I just didn’t expect you to be like t-this»

What? Now he really wanted to hide, what the hell was he thinking? Nothing, his mind was totally blank. He didn’t even remember how to create an actually real sentence.

«Sorry?» you asked. Only then, he realized how your voice sounded, definitely lower than he thought. And he loved it.

«Uh- Oh God. I’m sorry»

And that was it, the end of your first conversation. Jungkook looked at your face for just a second more, than his legs did the job for him, he wasn’t even thinking straight, mind totally blown away and panic invading every rational part of him. He simply turned and started running away, disappearing in the hallway just like his friend did a matter of seconds before.

You grimaced, left standing in the rehearsals room, eyes following his tall and muscled figure until you were left with nothing but confusion.

What had just happened?

That was the second time Jungkook saw you.

He was drawing again, eyes fixated on the sheet in front of him, colors over colors over colors, sketches and shapes that apparently didn’t have any meaning. It was just a mess, overlapped lines with circles and circles with blurred shapes that he didn’t even know could exist.

He was desperately trying to take his mind off of what he had done, but it didn’t seem to work.

Probably, he was just taking everything too much to heart, and he knew that. He knew he was making a big deal of something stupid but he couldn’t help the way he was feeling.

Why did he have to act like that? Why did he walk away in that way? You possibly thought he was just some jerk playing around, and only that thought made him clench his jaw. But that was his last problem. Not only he did made you think he was an idiot, but he made you feel uncomfortable without even trying. The words you said and the sound of your voice kept on echoing in his mind like one of those stupid songs you can’t seem to send away.

Were you joking? Probably? Did he really made you think he was looking at you in that way cause you were ugly? God, you were way too far from that for him.

And above all of that, why did he even say something like that?

“I didn’t expect you to be like this”, God, what was he thinking about? And what did you think of that stupid sentence? Jungkook let out a low groan, the thoughts invading his head were making it impossible to focus on the drawing.

What the hell did Taehyung do? He said he was going introduce you to him, why did he left like that?

When Jungkook entered their rehearsal room the hyung simply smiled at him and winked in his way, like he had just made some kind of magic happen between you too. Well, it didn’t happen. Everything was just a fucking mess, and the biggest thing heaving on Jungkook’s shoulders was that that was the first time you ever saw him, the first impression you had about him. Now it was gonna be three times harder for him to even talk to you, let alone make a move on you. Jungkook didn’t even answer Tae’s wink, only wanting to end the rehearsals already and go straight home to drown into sleep. But it was late, and he certainly wasn’t sleeping.

Jungkook huffed letting his pencil hit the wooden table.

Was he going to try to change what happened or was he going to leave everything like that? Sure as hell, he wanted to know you. But he just couldn’t help himself, he never felt more frightened in his life to talk to a girl as now, and that feeling made him feel helplessly under pressure. What was he even going to say if every time he opened his mouth, all that was coming out were awkward words? Your face added to the sound of your voice made him look like a poor moron, and he knew deep inside of him that that was your effect on him. It was going to happen again, he knew it. He needed to find a way to not ridicule himself and not make you uncomfortable every time he opened his mouth.

«What?» Yoongi’s eyes have never been wider than now looking at Jungkook. Now, the maknae was desperately looking for advices, and he knew that Jimin and Yoongi were the right persons for this kind of situation.

«You really did that?» Jimin let his mouth hang open, eyebrows raised.

«Yes» Jungkook sighed «I don’t know what’s wrong with me, God.» Yoongi and Jimin looked at each other, both of their expressions stuttered by what the youngest had just told them. «How can I fix this? I mean I-»

«First, stop dwelling.» Yoongi interrupted his endless rambling, firm tone and eyes pointing directly in his. Jimin nodded. «You’re thinking too much. I mean, do you even think she noticed all of this? Are there any chances she probably already forgot your face?» his words made the maknae feel better for just a bunch of seconds. Maybe you already forgot him. It was a good thing, right?

«You think so?» why did he sound disappointed? Yoongi raised his eyebrows and nodded.

«And if she remembers you, all you need to do is go and talk to her, you can fix this Kookie» Jimin smiled at his friend.

«And say what?» his voice came out louder than he thought, almost breaking in the middle. He was just not that positive. He messed up, and there was something inside him telling him that that was not goin to be the last time.

«Anything?» Jimin made it seem so simple «I mean, anything is better than what you said» he added. Jungkook shook his head. «Sitting here is not gonna fix this» he said again, then taking a sip from his hot coffee.

«I can’t-» his voice suddenly stopped working, his throat holding the words in. His eyes shifted from the wall he was staring to to you, walking into the cafe on your high heels, jeans sticking to your legs like they were handmade just for you, a little bit of messy hair because of the wind running through the streets of the city, hanging from your shoulders. Eyes moving into the cafe like you were desperately looking for something, maybe someone.

«What? It’s her?» Jimin whispered, slightly stretching on the table to get the maknae’s attention. Yoongi simply avoided asking, he knew he wasn’t going to get any answer. So he just turned around looking for your figure in the crowded little shop. When he finally found you, he knew it was you. He had already saw you the other day, and he saw Jungkook’s pants too, but he kept it to himself.

Smirking, he stood up, eventually bringing back Jungkook from his own world. He watched his friend take long steps and cross the room, and his hands started to sweat again, even more than the day before. Yoongi surpassed you just a step before you were in line for the bar, almost making you step on him.

Rude.

Jungkook could already feel himself going crazy, him and Jimin staring at the scene in silence dying to know what Yoongi had in mind. He saw you stretch over his shoulder trying to take a look at the pastry, in the meantime Yoongi stepped towards when another client left the line. Time seemed to slow down for how much it was taking for every single client to order, Jungkook’s agitation growing bigger every second.

When Yoongi’s turn arrived he still couldn’t understand what was going to happen, watching him through the crowd and shifting his gaze from him to you from time to time was definitely not working. He caught Yoongi talking to the employee and a second later he was paying and turning around with who the hell knows what in his big paper cup. Keeping his eyes on the floor and faking distraction, he stepped on your foot and when he raised his head all he did was giving you a shocked look.

Then he did it, making the maknae line wide their eyes like they were four lighthouses, Jungkook literally hold his breath for what it seemed to be like years. His drink was on your clothes, soaking you, your drenched black shirt dripping on the floor. Your face shattered when you realized you were actually soggy, Yoongi gave you an apologetic smile and then he walked out of the cafe as if nothing had just happened. He really hoped Jungkook would understand it was his turn. Well, again, he didn’t. He just stared at you, your face still in shock and your moth forming the shape of an “o”, people surpassing you on the line without even glancing at you. Jimin shook him awake from his trance making him grimace and pushing him from his chair.

«Go, go, go!» he silently screamed moving his hands in the air. “Oh, lord” was all he could think while looking at you standing still and a scared Jungkook walking uncertain.

You stepped to the side when you noticed people kept on surpassing you giving you upset looks since you wouldn’t move from the line, it only took you a few steps to the side to rush into someone. Your shoulder hit his chest and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was just not your day.

«I- I’m sorry?» the voice came from beside you, the man standing still against your right shoulder without even moving. What was supposed to be a statement came out as a question and Jungkook wanted to punch himself again. You had to back away to create a little bit of distance before lifting your gaze to him.

When you saw him, it took you nothing to remember him.

«You? Again?» you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were not this rude usually, you just weren’t that type. But today definitely wasn’t your day. First, someone surpassed you, you just said nothing because you weren’t the type to argue for something so stupid, you even justified him thinking maybe he didn’t notice you. Then he spilled his tea on you, and without even helping you he just ran off as if nothing had happened. Now, him. Was this some kind of joke?

Jungkook couldn’t help but frown at your words, silently and slowly making their way through his body until they reached his intestine and tangled every part of his guts together.

«I- I’m sorry?» he said again. What? You locked eyes with him, cocking a brow at him.

«What are you even sorry for?» you sighed, bending over the table in front of you and grabbing a tissue from the plastic container. He brought his gaze to his friend, eyes still wide and throat completely dried. Jimin showed him a thumb up and suddenly shifted his gaze, in a second he turned around with his cheeks now red. When Jungkook turned again he hissed through his teeth, you did not just caught them and you weren’t staring at him with an even more confused look.

«I- I can buy you some coffee?» he blurted out, his voice cracking in the middle of the question making it almost seem like a prayer. Your lips formed an “o” again, suddenly looking down at your clothes and rushing to clean them with that little tissue. You were just thankful it wasn’t hot, whatever thing it was. Jungkook stood there still like a rock, scared of moving and making everything even worse.

«No, but thank you.» you sighed at the sight of your drenched black shirt, drops on your jeans. What were you going to do now? You had to go to work in thirty minutes, you didn’t have time to go back home and change into something else, your boss was already going crazy with all the work he had to, his reaction at your delay wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

«Please?» Jungkook’s voice seemed to light something in you, lifting your eyes and locking them again with his. That was the moment you really noticed his beauty. And he was just that beautiful. In the meantime, he was really trying not to break out and scream, his tongue was just moving by itself. His mind was totally blank and his hands were so sweaty that they would probably as wet as the shirt you were wearing.

«I don’t have time for coffee now, but thank you.» you declined again, trying to bring a smile on your lips but failing. You sighed and turned, making your way out of the cafe in a matter of seconds. Jungkook stood there with his eyes still wide, watching you walk away and trying to catch just that little bit of air enough to make him survive. It was only when Jimin’s face appeared in front of him that he seemed to realize you weren’t there anymore, and in a second his legs made the work for him again, running out of the cafe like a mad man. What was he even doing? What the hell?

Jimin followed him rolling his eyes, all his hopes that his friend had made it hitting the ground. He had never seen Jungkook like that, not even when he dated that girl he had a crush on for a year. Jungkook had always been charming, he never had that much problems with a girl, there had been times he was more shy, but he had always found a way of breaking his barriers.

This time there was just something different.

When he saw you on the sidewalk his legs fastened even more and he only stopped when he was behind you, quickly grabbing at your wrist and turning you around in an abrupt yank that got Jimin to stuck on place and grimace. He even heard you squint from where he was, and he certainly didn’t miss the smack of your hand on his face once you turned and faced him.

Jungkook’s face heated up, suddenly loosening his grip on your skin and blinking a few times, staring into your eyes, his features unreadable. Silence suddenly seemed to fill the crowded street while you two looked at each other, your face looking regretful the second you realized it was him and not someone who was trying to steal your purse or rape you during full day.

Jungkook was at a loss of words, and when he realized now he had to say something, he panicked again.

«I’m sorry?» that was not happening again, he wanted to scream.

«You’re sorry?» you erupted like a volcano, your arm still in the air even thought his grip was no longer on it. Jungkook’s head slowly shook up and down, gulping harshly.

«What are you sorry for?» your question made him knit his eyebrows. Was it really so hard for him to form a real sentence? The answer was yes. His brain just didn’t seem to work.

«About the coffe?» now, he really wanted to scream and tear his hair out.

He had just scared you and hurt you and all he managed to say was “about the coffee”? What was that even supposed to mean?

«The coffee?» you narrowed your eyes at him, he brung his hand to the back of his neck scratching it.

«The drink?» he said again. For god sake.

«Uh?» you just couldn’t understand. What was he even trying to do? He was sorry? Everything was just so confusing, and if last night you thought just a little bit about what happened yesterday with him, you were sure this was going to be in your head for the rest of the day.

«The drink Yoongi spilled on you?» why was every single one of his sentences a question?

«Who is Yoongi?» you whined without even thinking, but then you grasped it. The rude man was someone he knew. Was something wrong with his friends? First that one yesterday, now this Yoongi.

«Yoongi is-» Jungkook seemed to realize what he had just done and he stopped talking, letting out a tremulous breath. He just told you he knew the man who basically ruined your day. Great job.

«So, are your friends all like this?» you didn’t even know what you were doing, but the stress was just too much to handle at that moment. The man stared at you again, eyes shifting to every feature of your face.

«Uh? Wha- what?» he babbled. Jungkook was loosing it. And Jimin could see it from a block away. He wished he could do something to help him, anything to save the situation, but he just couldn’t. What would he even say, anyway? “Sorry, he just likes you so much that he doesn’t even remember how a normal human acts”? That wasn’t going to work.

«Are you friend with this Yoongi?» you asked. Jungkook nodded slowly, almost uncertain of what he was doing.

«And the one from yesterday was also your friend?» you asked again. This time he frowned, making you narrow your eyes.

«Taehyung?» he wondered, confusion blinking in his eyes.

«I don’t know, maybe? Was it his name? The one that poked me and ran away?» you sighed.

«But he- Oh. I can’t-» Reality hit him, and he had to take a deep breath to stop his dwelling.

«What?»

«I’m- I’m sorry?» there he was again. Was he kidding you? Just when he seemed to know other words, they were there again.

«You already said it, even though it doesn’t seem like you are.» you were really going crazy. Late for work, drenched, without your breakfast and with a charming guy talking nonsense in front of you.

«I am» his voice came out louder than expected, making you unconsciously squint and ward off a little bit.

«Well, thank you, I guess?» you glanced at the sidewalk, then again bringing your gaze to his face. The way the light of the sun hit his eyes made yours stare deep into them, the black pupils and irises almost fading with each other, the little sparkles of the light reflecting in them made them seem like one of the darkest nights, but with the brightest stars you’ve ever seen.

Your mouth ran dry when your gaze met his lips, a soft glow making them look even more captivating, you wondered if he was wearing a lip balm, a part of your mind wondering how it’d taste.

«I’m gonna be late for work» you mumbled. Jungkook shook his head.

«Okay» What? Are you serious, Jungkook? Okay? He visually grimaced at his own words, and for god knows why the corners of your lips raised up just the slightest at his awkwardness.

«I should go now» you gave him a little gentle smile and then turned, finally heading to your car. You had just taken a few steps on the sidewalk across the street when you turned away and realized he was standing still, eyes still fixated on you, but he wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe a friend of his? You hoped he wouldn’t hit you in the head, given the others. You crossed the street again, walking back towards the man and glancing at the ground feeling your cheeks reddening under his sight. 

You stopped a few steps away from him, raising your head and finally facing him. «I’m sorry too» you said, slightly smiling. «You know, for the slap» his lips formed an “o” but he quickly managed to smile, for the first time. And lord, what a smile he had. You swore you never saw something that beautiful. Your breath got stuck in your throat, heart madly beating in your chest, threatening to come out. And you didn’t even noticed, but your smile became a real one, wide and shining with its own light and reaching your eyes. Jungkook’s heart skipped a few beats just at the sight, his legs shaking under his body and a sudden feeling of warmth invading his chest, it was like his guts were back in place.

A drop of rain hit your forehead and in that moment you realized you really had to go, rain wasn’t something you could deal with now, not with your already soaked shirt and your delay. So you just turned again and walked away.

That was the first time you and Jungkook actually spoke to each other, kind of, I guess you could say.

«Didn’t you two talk?» Yoongi asked running a hand in his blonde locks. There they were again, but this time, thankfully Jungkook would say, they were in his house. He really didn’t know how to handle another one of his friends’ mishaps in your presence, not that he would’ve met you anyway, but here he felt more comfortable. It was normal for them to meet at someone’s place on a Friday night, it’s something they’ve always been doing for a long time that now it was like a tradition. Every Friday they would met and talk, even though they’ve been seeing each other almost every day. And now, it was no difference. Or maybe just one. You. Jungkook wasn’t talking about how much he was excited to perform or how much he loved the new choreography, he was talking about how embarrassing that moment was. Wait, those moments. Thanks to Taehyung, Yoongi and himself, now he had collected a few moments that really made everything seem awkward.

«We did but...» he groaned «Why did you have to spill your drink on her?»

«For you to go help her?» Yoongi made it seem so simple.

«How could I have helped her with her soaked shirt? She had to go to work and you ruined her morning. And if it wasn’t enough now she knows I know you! And you!» Jungkook’s voice cracked in the middle while pointing his accusing index finger towards Yoongi and Taehyung.

«What? How?» Yoongi couldn’t believe his ears. He gave him a chance and he let it slip through his hands like it was a cool chunk of ice.

«He told her» Jimin got in the conversation briefly glancing at his youngest friend. Jungkook was really going crazy.

«And? What’s the end? Tell me you got her number?» Jin rested his forearms on his knees, waiting for an answer that just wasn’t meant to come out.

«You don’t even know her name, do you?» the maknae brung is gaze to Taehyung, his dark eyes almost seemed to surrender in front of all the mess of the situation. The friend sighed, guilt already invading his throat. When he pushed Jungkook in that situation, he thought he was gonna handle it, to him he just needed a little bit of motivation. He didn’t think it would’ve ended like this. He shook his head.

«Great.» Jungkook stood up, unreadable features and body tense.

«But at the end it was good, she smiled at you» Jimin helplessly tried to bring back a little bit of positivity.

«Yes, after I made everything uncomfortable and awkward. How am I even supposed to make a move after what happened? First Teahyung, then Yoongi. Then me!» he bursted out. «The first time was already hideous, but this? I hurt her, let her know that basically all my friends are weird and when she said “I’m gonna be late for work” my answer was “okay”. Who am I even kidding? I-»

«Oh, come on!» Joonie decided to open his mouth, his loud tone made Jungkook shut up, everyone now looking at him. «This is all in your head, Kookie. Stop it. You need to take a deep breath and face this in a different way. Clearly, shutting your mind off and letting your body do the work it’s not what you need.» he raised his eyebrows at him. Jungkook had started pacing, he really wanted to fix things, but every time it seemed to get worse and worse and worse and... worse.

«It’s so frustrating, I swear! It never happened to me, never. I can’t control it, my brain just doesn’t work when I’m with her» he groaned locking his dark locks in his fist and pulling a little.

«Oh, cheesy» Hobi wrinkled his nose receiving in exchange a death stare from Jungkook.

«So you don’t even know her name?» Jin seemed to realize his words only now, eyes wide and moth hanging open. Jungkook clenched his jaw before letting his body falling to the couch. Not even the soft material of the cushions seemed to make him feel better, not even the slightest.

«I don’t know her name» he answered, saying those words more to himself than to his hyung. All of this seemed so stupid.

«Then start from it. Give to this beautiful woman a beautiful name, you can’t keep rambling about someone for about an hour without even knowing their name.» Namjoon’s tone was firm, making its way through the maknae’s ears, his words seemed like playing with him. He was right, he didn’t even knew your name, how the hell was that possible? He had the biggest crush and didn’t know the basics.

What Jungkook didn’t know and never could imagine was that you were thinking about him in the same moment as he was talking about you to his friends. What happened that morning was still replaying in your mind like a short film, from the moment that Yoongi spilled what you figured out was tea on your clothes to the moment you headed to your car. There was something about that awkward meeting that you just couldn’t seem to shake off. That man was so awkward and charming at the same time that the match sounded both weird and interesting.

Still, you couldn’t hide your annoyance towards him that morning. You couldn’t quite discern if he was just playing with you or if there was a meaning behind his actions and words, I mean, he apologized for his friend so much but he didn’t really act different than him, he yanked you. And apparently without any meaning. He already apologized for Yoongi before, so why follow someone you don’t even know to do it again?

Remembering your slap against his cheek you unconsciously squint your eyes, drowning in the dark. You really wouldn’t have punched him if you knew it was him, but the moment you felt someone’s touch against your skin you panicked. Not that he didn’t deserve it, well, actually he didn’t, but you don’t usually punch people like that, you really thought someone wanted to steal your purse or rape you, You puffed.

You just wished to not bump into him or his friends again, or at least to not be the main character of their misfortunes again.

Summer was finally coming to an end, and with the end of a season comes the beginning of a new wardrobe, at least for you. You already had clothes for the imminent autumn but with all the money you had saved you could squander a little bit and reward yourself, you worked hard and didn’t even leave for the holidays this year, sad but true. So now you were lowly humming in the street without even realizing it, the music invading all of your senses, the melody taking control of your body like it was made of a thin sheet of glass that could be broken anytime with the slightest pressure.

You entered the shop and removed an earphone, slowly making your way through the crowd and getting ready to buy something as a reward for all of your sacrifices. The sight of the soft fabric of a white dress made your eyes sparkle and your feet started moving towards the mannequin like they were apart from your body, bringing your hand to the cloth you touched the smooth material.

There was no way you were not buying it.

The shape seemed perfect for your body, you could already see yourself wearing it so you were quick to cross the room, ready to grab your hanger. Apparently, not quick enough, but you didn’t notice right away.

Looking through the dresses for your size made you frown, everyone of them either too big or too small. You were almost giving up when your gaze met the tag you were looking for, eyes widening and happiness already creeping up in your body.

Then, a hand came in the way. You watched it grab the crutch, dark ink marking the light golden skin, long fingers closing around the hook. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you really felt all your hopes falling to the ground now. Sure you were not gonna argue with whoever just took away your dream dress, you didn’t even have the right to do it, you should have been quicker before rather than staring at it with dreamy eyes. You were already starting to turn and look for something else with a knot in your throat but you couldn’t help your eyes and followed the arm of the stranger, the skin almost glowing under the light of the shop. You met two broad shoulders, the cleavage of the light shirt he was wearing showing his collar bones and making your fingers tingle at the sight, but if you knew who was waiting for you at the end of that neck you would have already ran away.

The previous night after his friends left Jungkook had spent at least three hours trying to find a way to make a third impression on you, if that was possible, this time preferably good, and he figured out nothing. Eventually he felt asleep all tensed and annoyed, remembering the next morning he had to buy something for Namjoon’s birthday coming in exactly two weeks.

When he woke up today and headed to the shop three blocks away from his house he did not expect to find you there. From the moment he saw you at least a hundred of different emotions had run through his body, starting from worship and ending up with panic, but this time his mind didn’t switch off, or maybe not at all. Listlessly choosing something for Namjoon, Jungkook came up with a plan, and it was apparently clear: buy you a dress and give it to you as both a present and an apology for everything that happened the day before, from Yoongi’s drink on you to the way he kept on making things awkward, and maybe finally ask you out.

So when he saw you staring at that dress with dreamy eyes he instantly walked towards its reproductions, sure as hell that now he had something to work with in his hands. But it was only when you approached the same counter as him that he realized he didn’t have any clue about your clothing size. I mean, he could have guessed it, but it wouldn’t have been the same. He was supposed to ask you and tell you something like “let me offer this to you for making up for yesterday’s mess” and “would you like to hang out sometimes?” but when he tried to speak his voice got stuck in his throat, his hands badly sweating. So he tried to understand what you were looking for, careful not to get caught, and possibly keeping it in mind for buying you something else, and it all worked until he saw your eyes full of that joyful light again. In that moment, his heart skipped a beat as he understood you had found what you wanted.

As I said, this time his brain didn’t stop working, he knew he couldn’t grab the dress practically from your hands, that would’ve been the worst third impression of all times. He just needed to remember the measures printed on that little tag and look for something else. He knew but his hands moved by themselves and Jungkook felt himself stiffening again.

When you locked eyes with him you couldn’t help but snort. What was going on with the universe? You were sure you didn’t do anything that bad to deserve this. And why was he involved in all of your misadventures? Him, him, him, him and him again, couldn’t at least the gods send someone else once in a while to punish you? The fact that it was him made the knot in your throat grow even bigger and you instantly felt a flame of anger burning in your chest. If he was someone else you would’ve probably let go, but not with him and not when he was holding the dress you wanted to buy after long days and late nights of work, stress and a little bit of panic too.

So you did the first thing that came to your mind, you grabbed at the hanger he was holding in his other hand and immediately walked away leaving him with his mouth agape and his gaze digging holes in your body.

You turned the corner and went straight to the changing room, desperately trying to keep yourself from bursting out in the middle of the shop. You closed the curtain behind you and finally took a look at what you were holding. A men’s hoodie. You were going to buy it, wether you liked it or not. Not a big deal, you already had men’s clothes in your wardrobe, right?

Taking a deep breath you sat on the little couch in the fitting room, you were really starting to think he was playing with you. That had to be it. He was just enjoying himself, having fun with making you feel like an idiot. Unintentionally, some tears streamed down you cheeks, all the accumulated stress from work and from the rehearsals you were having almost every day, all the sleepless nights you had in the last three months trying to save money, some days even working your ass off until the first lights of the morning would appear, all the times you felt like you didn’t belong; everything was coming out in the shape of little drops. You hadn’t been crying for a long time and stopping now seemed like light years away, so you got up and went out of the dressing room heading to the checkout without even glancing around.

Jungkook was still in the same place you had left him, and when he saw your cheeks sparkling just in time before you could wipe the tears away he knew it wasn’t because of the sweat this time. His heart broke, features screaming nothing but regret. If only you had turned around you would have seen it even from there.

But instead, you paid your new hoodie and went out, ready to burst out once again you’d be surrounded by the safe walls of your apartment.

«God, I can’t believe it» Jungkook groaned again for about the tenth time since the beginning of the phone call.

Jimin and Namjoon had been meticulously chosen for today’s vent, and this time he was sure he had something real to ramble on about, it wasn’t all in his head anymore. He had made you cry.

«It was the worst third impression of all times! My plan was good, damn, why do I have to be like this around her? Every single time, it happens every damn time» he hissed through his teeth. On the other line, Jimin was staring at his white ceiling with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed, trying to help his friend as best as he could, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Jungkook had to fix this, again. And Namjoon felt the same way as he took a sip of his coffee, his hair still messy from the long sleep he had just awakened from.

«I know you don’t need to hear it, but you’re the worst suitor on earth» he blurted out rubbing his face with his hands. «How can you expect to be more to her than an awkward weirdo if you can’t even talk or act normally in her presence? At least did you get her name?» Namjoon knew his words were doing nothing but emphasizing the horrible situation but he just couldn’t contain himself anymore. Jungkook didn’t need to be pitied, it would have led him nowhere. The maknae grunted in frustration. That was the only answer Joonie needed.

«Stop everything you’re doing» his words made Jungkook frown.

«What?»

«I said stop everything you’re doing» he repeated again, then taking another sip from his coffee. The youngest stared at the screen in disbelief.

«I am doing nothing!» his high-pitched tone made Jimin squint his eyes.

«Okay, then come to my place for lunch and bring that freaking dress with you» he ordered, now getting up and putting his mug in the sink.

«Can I-»

«Yes, Jimin, no need to ask» the hyung interrupted his friend already expecting his question.

«I’m gonna shower, but please be careful with that dress Kook» Namjoon’s tone softened and his words almost sounded like a prayer, Jungkook couldn’t help but glance at the piece of cloth laying on his couch with a worried face. That was not the right place for it.

«Okay, I got it, I got it» he said more to himself than to his friend.

«See you later» Namjoon got off the phone in a second, already on his way to the bathroom.

«Kookie, I know you can do it, okay? We can’t do more than what we are already doing, we can’t fix this for you, you have to fix it. But we’re here to support you.» Jimin’s words gave birth to a bittersweet smile on Jungkook’s face and he internally thanked God for his friends.

«Thank you Chimin»

They talked for another ten minutes before finally getting off the phone, Kookie’s eyes shifting again to what was supposed to be your dress now and shutting down.

He needed to fix this, again.

«So?» Jimin patted his fingers on the wooden table moving his gaze between his three friends. Unexpectedly Taehyung had knocked on Namjoon’s door just before they were about to sit down and have lunch with an expression that promised nothing but bad news.

«I wanted to buy you something for making up for what happened yesterday and the day before, but apparently I screwed up again. This is for you.» Jungkook repeated for the fourth time, then reached his hand out on the table, his chopsticks holding an amount of chicken noodles not even possible to put in his mouth. Namjoon opened his all of a sudden and gobbled them in just one gulp, making Jungkook frown.

«You just ate her dress!» Jimin bursted out laughing at the scene in front of his eyes, the corners wrinkling, his melodious laugh even took over Taehyng’s brooding face, the hyung smiled like a baby.

«I’m hungry and it was the third time he was doing that! He practically saw it coming!» he claimed, already taking with his chopsticks another amount of inhumanly impossible food to eat.

«You have yours!» the maknae tried to sound as serious as he could but his smile fooled him.

«Don’t bother me, I’m feeding you and giving you advices, this is the least you could do in return.» he mocked him with a new beaming smile on his face, Kook shook his head and took a bite of his meal.

«I think it could work?» Jimin brung the conversation back to where it was supposed to be, glancing at Tae and Joonie.

«Just try to stick to that» Taehyung said nodding «and don’t forget to breathe. And please, don’t panic again.» he added. Kookie nodded, this time had to be good. «You think you can do that?»

«I have to» he sighed, already feeling under pressure. Jimin and Namjoon smiled at him, trying to reassure him.

«Alright, now Taehyung could you tell us what’s wrong?» the hyung suddenly shifted his gaze to the other maknae seated next to Kook, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head faking a smile. «Come on, we can see it. Tell your favorite therapists what’s wrong and let us help you.» Jimin nodded at his words.

«Alright, I...» Taehyung took a deep breath, his long slender fingers ran through his hair and fisted a dark strand, slightly tugging it.

«Oh my God, this is so hard to say out loud» he groaned. Now, if there was a tiny possibility that they’re friends weren’t worried about him, his words certainly did their job.

«TaeTae, come on» Jimin widened his eyes.

«Alright. Do you all remember Gillyflower?» his words only brung more confusion to their faces. «The girl with pink hair?» he tried again, and this time a bunch of “ooh” and “yes” made him nod. He took another deep breath. 

«Well, I asked her out and she was about to answer when Tannie suddenly started barking and puling at the leash. I tried to mke him stop but he kept getting worse to the point he yanked me. I- I stumbled and trying to grab onto something I...» he harshly gulped, silence invaded the room.

«What did you do? It can’t be worse than what I did, right?» Jungkook’s doe-eyes were staring at his friend’s face trying to catch a hint of his actions.

«I don’t know, it’s the first time something like this awkward happens between of us, but it’s just...» he puffed letting his shoulders fall and then again shaking his head.

«What?» Namjoon were desperate to know now.

«I groped her breasts. But I was just trying to hold onto something and- Oh my God this is the worst thing I could have ever done» he groaned and hid his face behind his hands trying to cover his cheeks flashing red. Jungkook’s eyes considerably widened, Jimin’s lips formed the perfect shape of an “o” and Joonie shut his eyes , almost forgetting how to swallow. Almost.

«What did you do after that? Tell me you apologized, tell me you did it?» Chimin’s gaze was basically begging him.

«Of course I did, but I was still shocked and... I may have left my hands on her for too much time» his voice was muffled by his hands, still covering his reddish face.

«Oh, God» Jimin let out, tilting his head back. «What the hell is happening to us?» he whined, earning a death stare from Namjoon.

«You mean what the hell is happening to you? This things don’t happen to me, luckily.» he stated.

«Oh, please Joon, your face is dirty for all the eggs you have on it. You know you have your bag stuffed with blunders» Jimin whined again and Namjoon pointed his index towards him.

«That wasn’t supposed to come out!» he argued.

«It didn’t! But I’ll blurt out all of your secrets if you don’t admit you can be a weirdo too!» the hyung puffed.

«Please, everyone knows I’m an oddball, there’s no need to argue on that. But my blunders are far beneath theirs!» he pointed at Jungkook and Teahyung the youngest was now trying not burst out laughing for his high-pitched tone. Jimin groaned.

«What was her answer?» Jungkook asked, carefully looking at TaeTae. He gulped.

«She started laughing and I apologized myself again before entering home. I thought she was making fun of me but I realized it was an uncomfortable laugh just after I shut the door. Now every time I see her in the hallway I hide behind the corners and avoid her. She must think I’m an idiot.» Teahyung’s words made Jungkook feel slightly better, maybe it was selfish but he felt less lonely.

«You need to talk to her» Namjoon mumbled with his mouth stuffed of noodles.

«We’ll make up a speech for you too after lunch, alright?» Tae shook his head.

«No need for it, I can handle it. I think» he sighed for the hundredth time.

The Sunday that followed got Jungkook incredibly frustrated. In two days it was gonna be his birthday and he and his friends had all agreed to take a day off from the devastating rehearsals to celebrate it together, so now there he was,  meticulously watching his figure dancing in the mirror. He hadn’t slept well and his eyes were praying for just a bunch of minutes of rest, body already tired only after an hour of movement. When the music stopped he thanked Jin with a grateful smile before approaching the bench on the side of the room to grab his towel and gather his sweat.

«I think this-»

«Kookie!» Jimin shouted with his eyes wide, his voice echoed in every single corner of the room and in a second Jungkook realized why. He didn’t really do it, please.He let his hand fall at his side, and yes, there it was. Your dress in his hand, now moist and clammy.

His voice burst in the loudest tone he’ve ever used: «Who the hell pulled it out of my bag?!»

The group immediately got closer to take a look at what he was talking about, Namjoon and Taehyung held their breath when the maknae opened the folded cloth revealing the white peace of dressing he had carefully putted in his bag just in case he’d met you here, even though it was quite impossible being Sunday.

«Oh my God, I thought it was a towel and-» Jin started explain himself but got interrupted again by Jungkook’s low groan.

«I am screwed, I give up.» his chest swelled like a balloon and his shoulder raised almost to his ears just to heavily fall a second later. «If this isn’t fate then I don’t know what it is» he complained letting his body go limp after he seated on the bench. And as if what had just happened wasn’t enough his eyes caught your figure in the hallway, your body managing to move graciously on your high heels even though at a speed that seemed almost impossible for you not to fall, your hair swinging with every step.

«Bad luck?» Hobi kneeled in front of him and Jungkook scoffed, shifting his gaze on his muscled legs once you disappeared behind the corner, his dark locks creating a curtain to hide him from the rest of the world while he rested his elbows on his knees.

«Bad luck? This is a tragedy. And not just because of the dress. Everything I did until now is a tragedy. This is just the cherry on top of it all. Maybe this is just not meant to happen and that’s why I keep messing things up.» he grumbled with raspy voice. And he really believed that for a moment, maybe he was right. Everything, every single thing he had done so far had just messed things up more, even though he was desperately trying to do the opposite. He still didn’t know your name but had however already managed to made you feel uncomfortable, hurt you and made you cry. What a charming suitor he was. At this point he could’ve-

«If thinking about it like this makes you feel better.» Namjoon spoke with his gaze on the maknae. He licked his lips and waited for Kookie to raise his head, but it didn’t happen. «You don’t have the dress, who cares? It’s a peace of cloth, Kook. Your apologies are more important and you still have your speech. You can do it.» he kneeled in front of him beside Hobi, finally catching his gaze. What he didn’t expect was to actually find his eyes shining because of the stressed tears he was desperate to hold.

«He’s right, Kookie. Come on, you’re the golden maknae. And if it goes wrong we’ll have finally found something you’re not good at» Jin smiled at his youngest friend, his words made him lightly giggle, Yoongi nudged him.

«Just try again, okay?» Hobi smiled at him and Jungkook had to take a few moments for himself to finally answer.

Probably, no, wait, sure as hell the easiest thing was to give up. You already had a clear picture of him by now, there was no way you were changing your mind with just an apology. He had already apologized for at least five times the other day, and he had made you cry the day right after. So the possible answers now were two: yes or no. Such a big difference between them but such a thin line for him, especially now that he had lost the only thing that maybe would’ve helped him. He didn’t want lie to himself, he knew it was easier to give up and go back to being a normal acting human, not embarrassing himself anymore and feeling like an idiot all the time. But it was too easy like that, and just the thought made him frown. He couldn’t explain what it was to himself, but there was something about you that made him fatally, hopelessly curious. Since the very first moment he saw you, something turned on inside him, and I’m not just talking about his cock.

«Okay» he whispered to himself, the air of his breath fanning the golden skin of his hands. He took a deep breath and stood up.

«What?» Yoongi asked looking at him. Jungkook nodded.

«Okay, but you promise me you won’t do anything?» he pointed his finger against Yoongi’s face and then moved it back and forth pointing at everyone of them. When they all nodded Jungkook knew it was the moment to leave the room. 

Jimin pursued his lips when he saw him walking towards the door and quickly sided him. «Wait, you’re doing it now? Is she here? It’s Sunday!» he spoke so fast and his tone changed so many times that Kook turned to face him with an amused smile, almost forgetting about what he was about to do. «Do you remember the speech?» he asked again. When Kookie nodded and finally left the room Chimin stayed still with his gaze on him, acting like a mummy leaving her little child for the first time to the kindergarten.

«He can do it» Yoongi patted his shoulder.

You weren’t supposed to be there, not on a Sunday morning when all you wanted to do was drown in your bed and never let go of your sheets without the clock pointing at least at eleven. But you didn’t have any choice when you realized what day it was. It wasn’t just an usual Sunday, your family was coming at your place for lunch in about two hours from now, and you had promised them to cook something special, or at least to try your best. You were already feeling under pressure and your parents weren’t exactly the definition of easy-going people, always ready to judge everything you would do and every step you’d take. No wonder why you’ve grown to be their total opposite, never daring to judge anyone, and you knew they hated it. But you didn’t care and kept doing your thing, without worrying too much. Luckily, distance had made everything so much easier, until this kind of moments. The stress was running through your blood like it was part of your body, you were practically on the edge. You really didn’t want to hear them complaining about your stupid passion and how you should stop chasing your dreams just to find an even more steady job than the one you already had, so you had quickly decided to bring your gym bag here. You had grabbed everything you could find in your house that could have led their thoughts to your athletic side and just stuffed all in the bag now hanging from your shoulder, from your pointe shoes to your sweat shorts.

The lockers were safe and you knew it because you had already done this at least five or six times, so you simply opened the steel door and placed your bag in it with loose motions before shutting it and locking it with you keys. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The stress of your job, the rehearsals, all the money you wanted to save to buy your house and what happened in the last days were hovering on your mind so much that you knew you would have bursted out if you had to worry about your parents too. So this was the easiest way.

Heading to the door you fastened you pace until you got out, the sun made your skin burn and you harshly puffed, already wishing the winter to come.

At the same time, Jungkook was looking for you in the whole building, he even took the stairs and went to second floor once he figured out you weren’t in your usual rehearsal room. He thought you’d be in the changing rooms but he couldn’t afford himself to the risk of finding you half naked, even though the picture of you he had in mind was making his mouth drier every second more while taking the stairs again. It was when he distractedly looked out of the window that he saw you crossing the street. His feet never ran faster than that moment, praying for you to stay on the main street so that he’d found you more easily. He crossed the hallway and made his friend’s heads turn when he rushed in front of their door, that stupid speech replaying in his head over and over again like a prayer.

«Oh man» Namjoon covered his eyes with his right hand at the sight.

Once the maknae was out of the building he welcomed the light of the sun by squinting his eyes, his already sweating body heated up even more while desperately trying to get to you. The street was not that crowded at this time of the morning with the sun almost at his highest spot and the hot breeze threatening whoever was out, so he thought he could make it. Then, he saw you stopping on the sidewalk. Maybe you noticed him? Impossible.

A second later you were opening the door of a taxi and he didn’t know if rather laugh about his bad luck or cry. He could’ve just let go and talk to you the next day, you were definitely going to rehearsal on Monday, or maybe even on Tuesday. But it’s Jungkook we’re talking about, and by now we all know a part of his brain seemed to switch off when it comes to you. Or maybe this time, it turned on. The stress he felt those days had built up so much that he just wanted to burst out once and for all. He was tired of dwelling about his clumsiness and weirdness when he was beside you and didn’t want to feel guilty for making you feel uncomfortable anymore. So he sped up, his legs almost gave in for the big gap he wanted to close in a matter of seconds. 

But he made it. He knocked at your window with his fist, hands sweating and chest raising desperately gasping for air. When you turned and squinted your eyes because of the light of the sun he again swore he had never seen something, someone that beautiful in his life, the rays of sunshine painting little sparkling stars in your pupils and your skin gleaming.

You knitted your eyebrows at the sight, the charming but odd man staring at you as if he had just seen who knows what. What did he want now? You didn’t have time for his teasing, not with all of the things you had to do before the hurricane that your parents were would show up and take over you for the next hours.

«Please» he managed to say, or at least he mouthed it, and a part of him thanked your shut window for not giving him away, but just a little part. If hearing the lack of his voice would’ve made you listen then he would’ve talked with his hands.

With everything he did he was not really expecting you to listen to him, not when he was making things awkward once again, not in this situation. He was hoping it with all of his heart, but he knew it was not going to happen. Indeed, it didn’t happen.

The taxi started and you fixated your gaze on the street without a second thought, already brushing away the weird feeling that his gaze made you feel. You checked your phone screen: 11.34. Great. You were praying every god in heaven to save you from your parents’ likely early arrive when a thump made you both frown and hit the backrest with your head harshly enough to wince. You realized your taxi just hit the one in front of him in a second. Someone was definitely mad at you.

That was Jungkook’s moment. He widened his eyes at the sight and rushed on the sidewalk before he quickly approached your cab. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he feared for his life. He opened your door without a second thought, you were hissing through your breath, eyes shut and pursued lips. While he took in the sight you felt a gentle hot breeze on your skin. Opening your eyes you gasped when you saw him standing there. Definitely really, really mad.

«I can’t do this» you bursted out loud, more to yourself than to the men that now were both staring at you.

«It’ll only take ten minutes» the cab driver gently smiled at you. The poor man then brung his gaze to the other standing at your door, holding it so tight with his hand that his knuckles were white. You tried to fake a smile as best as you could.

«I’m sorry but I’m running out of time, I’m gonna make it on foot.» you claimed. Before waiting for any answer you shifted your gaze back to the man who was blocking you into the car, his body stiff and not giving you hits of movement. You waited for something, anything, but he just kept staring at you making you feel like a fish out of water and you didn’t have time to deal with his awkward behavior now, you were really late. So you stood up anyway, almost stepping on his toes, and you held your breath while making your way through his body and the car. The way he kept his dark doe-eyes into yours without any sign of backing off made you shiver.

Jungkook harshly gulped when your body slightly touched his, his skin tickled at the feeling, the lightest of touches creating the strongest of the addictions. «I- I can give you a- a ride?» he stuttered, finally removing his hands from the door of the car. You started walking without even turning at his words, too much overwhelmed by the awful morning you were having. Kook was staring at you still in the same place as before, mouth agape and eyes sparkling at the way you were moving your hips, but when he realized you were already on the sidewalk he forced himself to follow you.

«I’ll give you a ride?» why did he keep doing that? That was supposed to sound more sure, more like a statement maybe? You snorted.

«Please, stop it» his presence beside made you even more nervous, what did he want? Why was he doing that again?

«I- I can drive, I can ride you-» what the hell was that? God, he kept making things worse without even trying. Your face immediately shot up, eyebrows knitted together and blood boiling in your veins.

«What I meant is-» he stopped talking again, his feet did the same and for a moment he considered letting you walk away and just give up. With how fast you were walking you were already disappearing into the crowd. But he sided you again.

«Look, I don’t have time for your teasing now, you can do it tomorrow.» you didn’t need to shift your gaze from the sidewalk to know that he was again there.

«What? I- No, I want to do it now!»

Did he really said that? Turn on your damn brain, Jungkook.

You rolled your eyes. «I can’t belie-»

«Can I just give you a ride?» he suddenly blocked your way with his body, arms outstretched and dark eyes praying yours. «Not in that way» he added, desperately trying to fix his stupid mistakes.

You couldn’t understand what the hell he was doing, standing there in front of you, in the middle of the crowd, praying to give you a ride after everything that he had done in just... three times you met? 

«No.» you shook your head and quickly got over him. «In both ways» you added, slightly smirking at yourself for your words. Jungkook sneered too, following you again like a puppy.

«You’d get there faster, please. Just- just a ride?» his continue pleads made you whine and stopping your steps you turned to face him, realizing just now how much he was taller than you.

«I don’t even know your name» you stated, ready to claim your victory. Jungkook let his mouth fall agape while looking at you standing so close to him, not that it was that close, but the rays of the sun were making everything too much to handle for him.

«Jeon Jun- Jungkook?» he managed to say, to ask, voice cracking in the middle.

«You don’t sound so sure of that» strangely, you smirked. Jungkook’s heart almost stopped right there and then.

«I’m Jungkook» he repeated trying as best as he could to smile without showing his nerves on the edge. You took in the sight squinting your eyes at him.

«Okay, Jungkook. I still don’t know you, so the answer is still no» you smiled at him and were about to start walking again but he got in the way a second time. His brain panicked again when he realized he had to say something now, eyes widened and throat dry. Mind blank, totally blank.

«I wanted to buy you something for making up for what happened yesterday and the day before- oh, shit not yesterday. I mean, yesterday and the day before but the day before that too.» he lowly groaned and shut his eyes, already feeling his face heating up. He watched your features change from annoyance to curiosity and then slightly smirking, but he couldn’t quite define if you were just having fun seeing him struggle or if you were actually smiling for his words.

You can do this, Jungkook. You can do this. Just go on.

«Apparently I screwed up again. This is for you.» the only sentence he wasn’t supposed to say came out like it had its own life and the maknae’s eyes widened even more while staring at your unreadable expression.

«So?» you asked folding your arms.

«I- i can’t- oh God» Jungkook wanted the earth to swallow him in. The embarrassment was eating him alive. «I can’t give it to you» he blurted out without even trying anymore to contain his voice.

«Jungkook, I really, really, don’t have the time to deal with this now. My parents are coming over for lunch and I still have to cook, they’re gonna start a-» you started blabbering but stopped when you figured out you were saying too much. «I don’t have time.»

«I can cook.» he claimed «I can cook, I’m- I’m good at it and I’m fast» His face has never been more red than in that moment, not even when he asked her first crush ever out. Never than when he was with you.

«What are you trying to say?» you sighed, again checking your phone, the bold characters of the time made you whine.

«I can- help you with the lunch?» he tried again.«You can trust me. I swear- my friend is a chef. He-»

«Are you serious?» you interrupted his endless speech with a hint in your voice that neither the both of you quite get. Your question didn’t sound like an annoyed one, it sounded more like... Surprised? Kinda. Desperate? Oh, hell yes.

Jungkook nodded, and in a second your wheels brain worked like crazy. It was almost 12.00 and you knew that your parents wouldn’t arrive at the established time, they were probably already in the car looking forward to the moment you were going to open the door and ready to start complaining about how late you were for everything, how your life wasn’t good for you, how you should’ve been more like them. No, you weren’t playing they’re game, not today.

Going to your apartment now would’ve meant arrive in twenty minutes, then you had to make sure everything was in place and absolutely remember to lock your bedroom, your mother had this weird habit to always pry and snoop in your drawers as if you were still a teenager, you hated it. You had to cook and set the table too.

Oh, lord. You couldn’t believe you were really thinking about this.

«I’m Y/N» you sighed, locking eyes with Jungkook. The information you had just given him seemed to make his features even more shocked. 

Y/N, he repeated to himself, finally having a name for your breathtaking face. You had really told him? After all he had done so far?

«Are you really serious? Cause please, I don’t really have time for your teasing.» now it was you the one almost begging.

Jungkook’s eyes widened so much that they almost fell out as he forced himself to nod. «Yes, I- I’m serious. I can help you?» his voice was shaking.

«If you promise your friend won’t set fire to my kitchen?»

Jungkook’s features lost all their hope in a blink hearing your words. He really thought you were letting him in your place to help you considering all the awkwardness between you two? Well, he hoped it. It would’ve been a good way to prove you he wasn’t a jerk and maybe get to know you a little better. It wasn’t fair to be that much head over heels for someone you don’t even know. But that thought vanished in an instant. It took him a few seconds to understand he had to call Jin.

Please, please. He hoped the rehearsals were over and that he had already taken a shower.

«I promise, I swear he won’t do it» Jungkook’s sweaty hands went in his pockets and grabbed the phone. «I- I’ll call him»

You let yourself sigh when he brung the phone to his ear. This was all too overwhelming, the nervousness was eating you alive and the fact that now you had to worry about his friend too made you hold another sigh. Please, tell me he’s not teasing me again. This was your prayer, the words echoing through your mind like a mantra while the man talked to his phone taking a few steps to distance himself from you.

«Jin, please. You own me this for the dress. And I promise I- I will do whatever you want me to do. Just, please do this for me» he prayed lowering his voice and staring at you.

«You’re lucky I just changed. Alright.» Jin nodded on the other side of the line, everyone was staring at him waiting to know what happened.

«Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you» 

«I know, how can’t someone love me?» he scoffed «Where are you?»

«A few block away from the studio, in front of the crossroad, but please hurry up. Really, she’s running out of time»

«Alright, alright. I’m on my way. Don’t say or do awkward things.» that was the last sentence he left him with.

Jungkook stared at you for a little bit before putting his phone back in his pockets, studying the way you were biting your lips and snorting from time to time, fingers playing with each other in nervous movements. He couldn’t help but ask himself why you were so nervous. Your parents were coming over, shouldn’t you be happy to spend some time with your family?

You were desperate, totally overwhelmed from your parents’s judgement, still thinking about their faces when they would see you hired a chief just for a stupid lunch. “Couldn’t you do this on your own?”, “This is ridiculous.”, their voices were already playing in your mind.

You turned to look at Jungkook, his gaze immediately leaving your face and his cheeks flashing red. You approached him in a second.

«He’s coming» he let out a deep breath, and so did you. You didn’t have to worry about lunch anymore, thanks God. «I- why... Can I ask you why are you so nerv- nervous?» his question made your mouth fall agape. Was it that obvious? 

«I’m not»

«Oh» he puffed «O-okay. I’m sorry» you frowned.

«Why do you keep saying that?» Jungkook gulped harshly.

«I- I shouldn’t have asked.» and now he was looking like a puppy for the first time in front of your eyes. For a moment he didn’t seem the charming awkward man that had made you feel uncomfortable anymore. The silence filled the air even though the streets were chaotic. 

Seeing him like that made you speak: «You won’t tease?»

«Wha-What? Why?» Kook thought the conversation was already over, so when you asked him he really didn’t had his brain working. «I mean, why should I t-tease you?» doe-eyes staring directly into yours.

«You always do it» you shrugged. In that moment, Jungkook really felt awful. You really thought all he had done was because he was teasing you?

«I don’t»

«Yes, you do»

«No, I don’t» his voice sounded firm for the first time. Your eyes left his.

«Then this is you? You usually act like... you acted yesterday? And the day before? And the-»

«No, I- I don’t» he sighed «but I’m not teasing you. I never wanted to?»

«Why are you asking me?»

«I’m not! It’s just-» he let the sentence disappear like a speck of dust blown off by the window. «I won’t tease» his voice made you look back into his eyes and the silence filled the space between you two again, your face lost his brightness.

«My parents are not easy-going people. It’s just that.» Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

«Yes, but a chief?» he let out without even thinking, the second he saw your features changing he wanted to slap himself.

«I know, it’s desperate» he held his breath, the guilt already sneaking in his body for letting you think he thought that.

«No!» his voice came out louder than expected «I-It’s not. I was just curious. Maybe I should hire Seokjin too when my parents come to my place. He cooks better than me» you scoffed and his heart sped up like crazy. Finally, he thought. He was dying to hear that sound escape your lips, and now that he was the cause of it he wanted to hear it more.

«Jungkook!» Jin’s voice remembered him what you were really doing and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he turned to watch him get closer with each step. Your mouth hanging open at the sight. Tall, broad shoulders and a charming face. Was it a thing running in his group?

«I’m Kim Seokjin, but call me Jin. I’m your chief for today.» he introduced himself once he stood in front of you.

«I’m Y/N. Thank you for doing this, I’m aware I didn’t give you time to-»

«Don’t worry, really. It’s not a problem.» he smiled. You nodded and gulped nervously before glancing at Jungkook, who was standing there shifting his gaze between you and his friend, praying everything would work out fine.

«Let’s go, you can tell me about what you’d like to eat while we get to your place»

And with that, you nodded at him and gave a smile to the maknae. Jungkook’s heart skipped a few beats.

«I swear, she has the worst parents ever.» Jin claimed, eyes wide and shocked features. «They really aren’t easy-going people.»

«Did they complain about the food?» Namjoon asked, the hyung raised his eyebrows.

«They didn’t dare, luckily for them,» he scoffed. «but from what I heard from the kitchen that woman really has the strongest self-control ever»

«What happened?» Hobi sat beside him on the couch.

«You mean what didn’t happen. First, when they came in they didn’t even greet her, they just gave her their coats and ran past her like nothing.» he raised his index finger while shaking his head. Jungkook’s eyes widened.

«Then they started complaining about her apartment. “I don’t really know how you like this place so much”, “it’s so small”, “do you even have a second bathroom in here?”, “you should move”. I mean, let her breathe!» he imitated your parents’s voices, an high-pitched tone for your mother and a weird twang for you father. His middle finger went up.

«After that, her mother tried to break into her room as if she’s a fifteen years old teenager. What the hell was that? She even locked it before they came in, I saw her.» and now his ring finger too.

«What?» Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and neither the others. Everyone’s expression was only screaming shock, staring at their friend like he was telling them a crime novel. Jungkook had his eyebrows knitted together, mouth agape and an emotion neither he could quite get running through his blood.

«I swear I’m not making this up! They’re the worst!» Jin shook his head. «When they saw me serving the plates her mother raised her eyebrows and waited for me to go into the kitchen before she started spitting out all her venom. “Couldn’t you do this on your own? Of course not. You’re still trying to dance, right? That’s why you don’t even have time to learn how to cook”, “your mother is right, you should start to act like an adult, Y/N. I think it’s time for you to stop with that”. It was like being in hell, and I was in my heaven, you know I love standing in front of the stove. I honestly don’t know how she managed to stay calm.»

«Oh, God. She must feel so much pressure» Hobi muttered, Yoongi and Taehyung nodded.

«I know. I could see it in her eyes when I left, she was acting like nothing happened but she really seemed wrecked. She insisted to pay me but I refused her money, I told her she’s fine since is your “friend”» Jin looked at Jungkook, who weakly smiled as a thank you for his actions. He already knew that your parents were not that easy from your words and the way you acted that morning, but God, he never though they’d be like this. How did you even manage to not burst out at them?

Your pillow was doing nothing to muffle your sobs, they could be heard even with the sound of the TV on and the sheets hiding you from the light light of the screen. Useless to say, you were feeling like shit. You always tried your best but always fail with them. You were used to it, so why were you crying? Again? You wished your parents were different, more amenable, you even wished you were different, the daughter they expected you to be. But you weren’t, and all you were left with was hope, every time. Maybe the next time will be better, that was what you usually told to yourself, and that was probably why you ended up crying this time too. You needed to stop it and face the fact that it was not going to be better. You weren’t the problem, and deep inside you you knew it.

You simply needed to face it.

Finally, here comes today. It’s weird for you to think this, but you actually want to meet Jungkook, to thank him. The awful night you had made you think of how hard you try with your parents even though you keep telling yourself it’s not true. After having a chief cooking for you, the only thing you can do is cope with it. You can’t deny you were being anxious for the whole time, still skeptical about the situation, afraid that Jungkook was maybe teasing you again and his friend was no one but a someone looking for fun him too. But he wasn’t, he’s been nice for the entire time, always smiling and trying to make you feel comfortable, he sure knows how to marvel a new client. You saw him blinking a few times because of your parents’s words, but you’re grateful he didn’t tell you anything. He was professional and friendly, and you feel so sorry about not paying him and making him deal with the awkward lunch of you and your parents.

Thus, you are now walking in the studio hoping to find Jungkook or maybe one of his friends, not sure of what exactly are his schedules. You look for him until you realize you’re already five minutes late for your rehearsals so you decide to rush back in your room. What you didn’t expect is to find him at your doorframe, eyes shifting from person to person. His figure makes you hold your breath, his features taken by whoever his looking for, lips pursued, tall and muscled body wrapped in a pair of black jeans and a gray shirt.

«Jungkook?» you call. Jungkook’s heart drops when he realizes it’s your voice, then in a second the embarrassment is there again, making his ears and cheeks flashing red.

«H-hi?» he slowly moves his stare until it’s on your face.

«Were you looking for me?» his eyes wide, he weakly raises his eyebrows and now his lips are slightly parted in a pout.

«N-no? Yes, I mean no, I- fuck» he mutters, shutting his eyes at the end of the uncommon answer and hissing under his breath. You knit your eyebrows. Once he opens his eyes again you can’t help but smirk, just a little bit. With the half-gone sensation of him teasing at you it’s more easy to do it.

«I- what was the question?» he really doesn’t know how to answer you. You scoff and shake your head.

«Never mind, I was looking for you but now I really can’t talk. Do you have some time later?» your uncertain tone makes you cringe, again feeling weird in front of him. You can’t help it, it’s just something that happens every time in his presence.

His brain stops working again. «Oh, yes? Y-yeah»

«What- what time do you get off?»

«I- well, I- uhm... Yoongi!» he suddenly screams, panicking and widening his eyes when he shifts them from you to his friend, his tone radiates nothing but frustration.

Thanks God, he thinks, but a second later he’s already regretting it. You quickly turn to see his friend approaching you in heavy footsteps, and when you link his face to his name another wave of uncomfortableness sneaks in your body.

Yoongi looks at you only when he sides his friend, gulping harshly and trying to fake a smile as best as he can. «Hi, I’m Yoongi?»Why do they all speak like this? 

He shifts his eyes from you to Jungkook and viceversa, hoping someone to talk and tell him what the hell is he doing there with you two. When Jungkook finally speaks his voice his shaking. «What dime do- do we get o-off?» his eyes are basically praying Yoongi to answer.

«I think at seven?»

«Oh» he lets out, lowering his gaze on you again. You try to shrug off the mix of emotions his dark eyes give you.

«Okay, I... I’ll wait for you? I guess, if you tell me-»

«13» Yoongi interrupts your blabbering seeing that the maknae’s face is as blank as a white sheet paper, still in shock from what’s happening, he probably wouldn’t have known how to answer you.

«Thank you. See you later then» you try to smile without letting your uneasiness creep in and quickly enter the rehearsal room, letting out a deep breath.

«You know you’ll have to talk to her later, right? And what was she talking about?» Yoongi asks as soon as you can’t hear him. Jungkook shrugs.

«She- she wants to talk? I’m gonna die in the awkwardness, I know it. I’m gonna embarrass myself so much I won’t even be able to breathe, fuck.»

«Y/N?» Jungkook stares at your reflection in the mirror, his movements suddenly stop nd Hobi frowns at him.

«Jungkook, what are you doing?» he screams over the music. The maknae blinks a few times before he understands you’re looking at him and he’ll make everything more awkward if he keeps standing still like this with his eyes on you. Thus, he takes a deep - deep - breath and  counts the time again before catching up with the moves.

His body makes you hold your breath, his movements are clean and outright, his style is impactful, even the small details incredibly focused and accurate. His muscles twitch under the clothes, and you can outline the muscles of his legs even without even trying. Only the sight makes you shudder. His body is something you really didn’t dwell on, too much taken aback from the way he usually acts around you, but having a show like this in front of your eyes is something you can’t really turn away to. The way he moves his hips in a particular move has you clenching around nothing, and you suddenly blush at the thought of how he’d move them in a different situation, your heart beats faster.

Jungkook tries to not let your presence influence his rehearsals but he can’t help to steal a few glances at you while he moves on the rhythm. When he sees you blushing and glancing down his body he can’t help but smirk a little bit, even though his heart beats louder with every second. He glances away again when you eventually raise your eyes to his face, body stiffening in an second.

When the music finally stops and you seem to wake up from your trance you find yourself looking at the others, realizing only now that you probably should have asked before coming in the room like this, so you stand up and go out in a second.

Yoongi suddenly runs behind you.

«Y/N? Right?» you have no chance but to turn and nod.

«I’m sorry, I sho-»

«You can stay.» he smiles at you «And I’m sorry for the tea, the other day»

«Are you sure?»

«About the tea? I’m really sorry» he bits the inside of his cheek.

«No, I mean are you sure I-»

«Oh, yes. Jungkook would like it if you stayed» he suddenly points his thumb to Jungkook, who’s staring at the two of you with his lips parted and apparently in trance like you were just a few seconds ago. When your eyes lock with his you shrug to hide the weird shiver sneaking into your back.

«Okay, then» you smile at Yoongi and head back to the bench at the side of the room. 

You spend at least twenty five minutes staring at Jungkook, your eyes rarely meet the figures of his friends, completely taken by the way he moves and the emotions he makes you feel with every song. At the beginning the maknae feels his cheeks heating up and his body as stiff as a trunk, but with the time passing by and the seconds becoming minutes he slowly gains a little bit of confidence, and when you see him even more free and secure you can’t help but take in the sight releasing a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s like a magnet, some weird kind of energy attracts you to him, maybe it’s the way he speaks with his face or the way his eyes seem even darker and deeper when he sometimes glances at you and immediately glances back. Time seems to run and before you know it the music stops again and the group is lets out uneven breaths, heading to the bench you’re sitting on to grab their towels.

You feel your cheeks heat up when you notice almost every one of them glance at you with a look you can’t really read. Jungkook is still in front of the mirror, eyes completely focused on the way his body moves and repeating movements like a mantra. When he finally stops and turns around his gaze locks with yours, his heart pounds in his chest, palms sweaty all of a sudden.

«Kook, here!» one of his friends throws him a bottle of water and the man quickly catches it bringing it to his lips and taking a few sips. You watch the way his adam’s apple moves from your seat. He closes the bottle and finally heads to the bench, he feels so nervous he’d do something awkward and make you both feel uncomfortable that he almost thinks of running away. The others seem to quickly disappear to go to change and when he finally stands beside you you don’t really know how to act. The silence fills the room and makes you wince, your tongue comes out to wet the petals of your lips, Jungkook holds his breath.

«I like your style of dancing, the way you move» you blurt out. The maknae seems almost shocked at your words.

«I- I like it too» and here we go again. «I mean, I like yours too?»

«You watched me dancing?»

Jungkook groans. «I- oh, ye- yes?» he quickly gives up on lying «I watched you»

«Oh, I didn’t notice» you nervously smile. «Thank you, then»

Jungkook brings his white towel to his neck, wiping the sweat from his skin. That stupid action hits you like a wrecking ball.

«I’m- I’m sorry for everything that happened,» he speaks without thinking «I- I never wanted to tease you. I’m really sorry it- it came out like that. Really sorry.» his tone is shaky and he still can’t believe he managed to let out a full sentence without embarrassing himself or you. For some kind of reason his words make your gaze deepen in his, the weight of your irises almost crashing down Jungkook’s mind.

 You shake your head. «You apologize every time» a smile breaks through your mask.

«I don’t want to... make you feel uncomfortable? It’s just... I’m really so- sorry if it came out in the wrong way. I always end up embarrassing myself but I wanted to make a good impression, it’s just-» he suddenly stops talking, feeling all of a sudden even more nervous to say the words he was almost spilling out, he scraps at the back of his neck.

«You make me nervous» he really said it. 

His words hit you like a train, fast enough to make you doubt you really heard them and hard enough to stun you. «I make you nervous? Oh, I’m sorry I-»

«No, no, no, no» he quickly complaints «In a good way, I- I guess?» 

«What do you mean?»

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak a few times but always fails and closes it, before putting the towel on the bench and harshly gulping. «I- Can we talk about something else? Please?» he almost whines, making a weird smile form on your lips.

«Do you want to go to the cafe?»

He nods at your proposal, lifting his index finger. «Just give me a minute to change and-» he lowers to grab at all his stuff on the bench but unintentionally hits the bottle of water which falls to the ground. He lets out a deep shaky breath, the words I’m so bad at this echoing in his mind. You manage to bend over and grab it but at the same time he takes a step towards it to do the same, stopping when he sees your hands holding the bottle. When you raise back, the view you meet with makes you hold your breath and your cheeks red like peppers, Jungkook is not quick enough to rush back, and you can’t help but feel uncomfortable again, but this time there’s a different emotion too that you’re not quick enough to grasp.

It happens in a matter of seconds, but it seems like minutes when you glance at him, standing tall and looking at you bewitched by the sight of you like this. And he needs to remember himself you’re actually here to hold back the dirty thoughts that are already filling his head. You gulp hard, your eyes scanning his beautiful features and saving the breathtaking sight, his crotch almost touching your cheek because of the lack of distance. And you can’t deny, your thoughts take you to a different dimension that makes you fucking throb.

«Just- give me- give me a minute?» Jungkook stutters with a deep low voice, heavy breath and cheeks heating up.

«This are the kind of things that makes me think of you teasing me» you don’t even know where your words came out from, how’d you manage to make a full sentence still watching him from the same position.

«I swear, I didn’t want to-»

«It’s okay» you unintentionally lick your lips and he finds it even harder to keep a clear head, his cock already hardening. «Go?»

He slowly nods waking up from his trance, and manages to rush back into the fitting room with fast steps and heavy breathing, hoping that the others are not there. Not now that with every steps he takes he feels harder with the image of your eyes looking at him from down.

«Fuck» he hisses letting his bag fall to the bench. Luckily, no one’s here anymore and he’s only left with his boner. What is he supposed to do now? He can’t just change and go out, you’d see it, definitely.

Fuck.

Jungkook quickly heads to the door of the bathroom and takes a deep breath before locking it, lowering his sweat pants and his boxers on his thighs. The second the material doesn’t hug him anymore his cock jumps to his stomach, tip already red and dripping with precum. How do you manage to get him this hard without even trying?

His hand immediately wraps around his shaft, squeezing himself a little bit, just enough to make his head fall back and his lips part letting out a strangled whine. 

«Fuck» he hisses before he starts moving his hand, his mind going back at you and how damn good you looked before at the height of his cock. The first time he masturbated thinking about you sucking him dry he didn’t really think he would ever have a picture of you to accompany his actions to. And now that he has it, he can’t seem to get enough of it. You’d look so fucking good giving him the blowjob of his life, hollowing your cheeks and wrapping him in your mouth, he’d fuck it so good you’d be drooling and gagging for him. His thumb slowly caresses his frenulum and he twitches under his hand, stroking himself faster and harder. He doesn’t even realize it but the image of you he has in mind is making him louder than he usually is, panting and hissing, begging to explode.

«Oh my god, fuck.» he groans.

You can’t hear him from where you are, but your tights are tightening anyway. What happened just a few moments ago is replaying in your mind over and over again. The view he gave you of him staring directly into your eyes while you were basically facing his cock it’s making you go out of your mind. You can’t deny he’s charming, with features that make you feel dizzy, but this was too much to handle even for you. Your mind can’t help but fantasize how he’d fist your hair while you’d lick him, and just the thought makes you clench around nothing, the wetness between your folds already soaking your knickers. You try to push the image away, but the way you’re desperately squeezing your thighs for some kind of friction tells a total different story.

Jungkook bites his lips, his abdomen twitching and his shoulders heavily raising.

«Y/N» he whines, picturing you on your knees for him. In his mind, your hands are one on his inner thigh and the other playing with his nipple, twirling it between your index and thumb and making him even more sensible.

«Shit, so good» his voice is husky, sure as hell it would make you shudder and fall on your knees if you’d only hear it. His movements become more sloppy, the knot in his stomach almost about to burst. He groans and speeds up even more, hips practically hitting his hand with every stroke. He imagines your thighs tightened, the wetness in your folds, the way you’d taste, and he feels even closer.

«So fucking good»

Jungkook spits in his hand. His breath stutters more, and he suddenly doesn’t remember how to breathe anymore as he strokes himself harder, the lewd sound of him shoving in his fist becomes louder, the only sound feeling the bathroom and the fitting room.

The thought of you cupping his balls and massaging it makes him do the same thing, he pictures your tongue licking and swirling around the head of his cock. That is the last chunk he needs to come undone in his palm, spatters of white hitting his chest as he fucks himself through his orgasm until he’s too sensitive to even make one more stroke, letting his head resting on the door behind him. Eyes closed, heavy breath and mouth completely dry, Jungkook takes some time to recover from the heavenly climax he just reached.

God, what he’d give to know that he had the exact effect you had on him, but you’re just too shy to do something about it here. If you were home, well that would be a different thing. You’d help yourself with your vibrator, fucking it into you like it was him. But now, now you’re just trying to contain your thoughts, waiting for him to come out and go to the cafe.

When you realize it’s been a while since he disappeared you decide it’s better to go and see if everything’s okay. Standing up you unsurely walk to the door of the fitting room, the structure of the building being always the same makes finding the way easier. You knock at the door.

«Jungkook? Are you okay?»

«I- uhm, I’m coming, give me a second!» he answers back with a high-pitched tone, so you nod and go back to your bench, waiting for him. It takes him another three minutes to finally come out, his hair are a little bit messy and you think he must’ve ran his hands through them a few times.

«Are we- are we still going?» he asks. With your worries at the door of the fitting room he thought you might have heard him before, but when you nod and smile he lets his previous thoughts fade.

You head out of the studio and to the cafe, trying to ignore the way your panties practically slips against your folds. Jungkook tries to think about what to say and how to begin a safe conversation for the both of you without feeling uncomfortable or awkward but he just can’t seem to find nothing else than the question he asks.

«You wanted to talk?» lowering his gaze to his side he looks at you walking in silence. You quickly nod.

«I wanted to thank you, actually» you turn to smile at him, the butterflies in in stomach invading every part of his body.,«You know, for Jin.»

«Oh, no- no problem» he smiles back, his eyes sparkling and you can’t deny the sudden warmth you feel in your chest. «It’s the least I could do, for what happened?» his sentence sounds again like a question, but by now you’re kinda used to it. You scoff.

«Let’s say I forgive you for the dress and the awkward meeting» you tease. His eyes squint and he wrinkles his nose.

«That wasn’t my fault» he murmurs.

«Your friend?»

He nods. «Teahyung»

«Well, then I forgive Teahyung and you for the dress» you smile again, his heart is beating like crazy.

«How much do I have to embarrass my-myself for the drink Yoongi spilled on you?» he’d like to giggle but he feels so freaking nervous that all he can do is let out a puff.

«I don’t know, you’re pretty good at that. I’d end up enjoying the show eventually and it wouldn’t be fair, I’d let you go on» you tease again. Jungkook’s cheeks heat up. His brain trying to understand if you’d say something like this because you like the way he acts around you or just for the fun of teasing him. The truth is, neither you know it now.

«It’s the thing I seem to be better at» your giggle makes him feel lighter.

«I was kidding» you stop your steps and he realizes you’re already in front of the cafe.

«You’re forgiven, more than forgiven. I actually feel like I owe you something now» you explain looking directly in his dark eyes, and damn, he’s really beautiful.

«Oh- no, no! Don’t, please» he shakes his head. «I- I wanted to make it up to you, you don’t owe me anything»

«Well, let me get you a coffee or something you’d like at least?» you point at the shop behind you. Jungkook licks his lips and takes another deep breath before nodding, following you in and trying to look elsewhere but the way you swing your hips with every step. You’re gonna be the death of him, and he’s slowly falling even more with every word you say.

Thanks to the time the cafe is almost empty, only two or three clients are sit on the chairs at the counter. Nevertheless, you sit at your favorite table, the one in the corner always forgotten by practically everyone. There’s something about this table that makes you feel safe, maybe it’s because no one seems to look at it, sometimes even the waitress forgets it.

«I’ll get a tea» you announce without even glancing at the menu, Jungkook tilts his head to the side and hides his head behind it. You wait for him to choose what he wants and when he’s done you raise your hand to the waitress behind the counter. The woman quickly walks to you, giving you a gentle smile.

«What can I serve you?»

«A tea for me»

«I’ll have a Red Velvet latte» Jungkook says, leaving you amused by his choice. The waitress quickly nods and leaves you with another smile.

«Red Velvet?» you ask «I’ve always wanted to try it but I always end up with tea or coffe» you reveal, Kook raises his eyebrows.

«I like- I like it. Maybe you want a sip?»

«Don’t worry, I’ll get it the next time»

«We can switch drinks if you want» he says as the same time as you.

«Really, Jungkook, don’t worry» you smile at him.

«Anyway, I really am thankful for Jin yesterday. He helped me a lot, without him I’d probably end up having a breakdown» you scoff at the end of your sentence even though it’s true. Jungkook watches you as you speak, completely taken by your words and the way you move your lips, your voice seems to be the only thing catching his ears now, not even one of his favorite songs playing in the background gets him.

«Thank you for being so nice and help me, Jungkook. It was Sunday and-»

«Hey, no problem» he cuts off your rumbling with his hand on yours, and the second he realizes what he has just done he takes it away with wide eyes. The only trace he leaves on your skin is the dampness of his sweaty palms.

«I’m- I’m sorry»

«Stop it, please» you almost whine and his features instantly sadden, afraid he just made another mistake. He tries to hide his expression but fails, and the guilt sneaks into you making you shake your head.

«I mean, stop being so stiff. Tell me, what is it?» you ask.

«What?»

«What do I do to make you this nervous?» you ask again. «I can try and-»

«It’s not you.» he cuts you off again. «I- I mean it is you, but it’s me. I-» he stutters.

«I can try to hide my face if you want» youironically propose as you grab the menu and cover your face with it. Jungkook frowns but immediately smiles at your silliness. «Does it work?»

«It- It’s not making any difference» he holds back a laugh.

«Are you sure?» you giggle. He shakes his head.

«I am, just- please, look at me» his words play a strange trick on your mind, making you harshly gulp as your heart skips a few beats. It’s noy like he had just said something that important, but your mind goes blank for a second.

«Y/N?» he calls, eyes fixated on the menu you’re holding. He stretches his arm out and grabs at the paper, slowly lowering it from your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Jungkook stares at every feature of your face taking in the sight in front of him, the power you have on him is fucking scary, and he’s realizing it for the first time now looking in your eyes.

«What happened?» he lets out in a whisper, not really certain of his voice at the moment. You gulp and shake your head. You don’t even know what happened, how are you supposed to explain him?

«There you go, your tea and your Red Velvet» the waitress comes in the way, and you thank her in your mind for saving you from the awkward situation you just putted yourself into. However, the interruption is fast and she leaves in a matter of seconds leaving you with your drinks.

You can’t help but glance at his glass, the crimson color of the drink intrigues you and the chocolate chips on top are the perfect frame. Jungkook lifts it from the table and stretches his arm again towards you, putting the drink basically under your nose.

«Try it» he manages to say holding his breath. He doesn’t even know where he gained all of this boldness, he just did it without thinking. And now that you stare at him he’s beginning to think he’s making things awkward again.

Your hands cover his, giving birth to another session of butterflies in his stomach and a shudder running down your spine. Jungkook understands he has to remove his hand from the glass to make you drink and he slips away like he just got burn by a blazing fire.

Taking a sip you let yourself taste the sweetness of the latte and the chocolate chips before giving him his drink again, deciding this will definitely be your next order at this place.

«It’s so good» you whine, Jungkook smiles.

«It’s one of my favorite drinks, Jin- he always tries new things and likes to feed us like babies. He introduced me to this»

«I really like it» you bring your cup of tea to your lips, taking a sip. «My tea is so boring now» his smile widens.

«We can really switch drinks if you-»

«No, don’t worry, really»

He nods, taking the first sip of his Red Velvet.

«So Jin is kinda like the mama of the group?» Jungkook smiles at your comment.

«He is the oldest» he nods. «He likes to take care of us and we like to eat» you giggle at his words.

«His cooking is really good, I haven’t eaten that good in months. I should have insisted more on paying him» you take another sip from your tea.

«Trust me, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it» Jungkook smiles at you, and it’s a matter of seconds before he finally noticed he’s not stuttering anymore. In fact, he feels more comfortable. «He was happy to help»

«Oh, trust me, he helped me a lot»

You try to think what would’ve happen yesterday if it wasn’t for him, the result would have been even worse than it already is. Jungkook’s heart warms up knowing he was really able to help you, he made something right. The smile you have on your face makes him want to work even more to create a brand new one.

«What about Yoongi? Does he spill his drinks on everyone?»

«No, he doesn’t» Jungkook scoffs and avoids telling you the reason why he actually spilled it. «He’s the second hyung. Actually, he’s usually very quiet. His stage name is Suga»

«I heard about him» you raise your eyebrows. «Someone told me he injured his shoulder fighting over a first prize but I didn’t think it was him they were talking about, and honestly I didn’t know if it was true» 

The maknae shakes his head. «It’s not true. He actually got injured while working, he had to find a job to pay for his dance lessons and eventually he started a delivering job. He got hit by a car.» Jungkook stares at the wooden table «People often say that or that he tried to beat one of the judges and got kicked in his ass. I don’t get why they like to make up something so stupid» an heavy sigh leaves his lips.

«Last year I broke my uncle because I was pushing myself too hard for a contest and eventually I didn’t perform. I heard people say I couldn’t ‘cause I was pregnant» you tell him, the memory still makes you wrinkle your nose. Jungkook’s eyes widens before he opens his mouth.

«I hate rumors» he mumbles. «Who- who do you want to know about now?» he stutters a little bit, deciding to bring back the conversation to a positive vibe.

«Taehyung? Was it his name?» you squint your eyes.

«Yes» he nods. «Taehyung is the second maknae and a fashion icon in the group, we always try to look as cool as him but he just has that something that makes you give up and stay in your sweat pants.» you giggle at his comment and he can’t help but smile at your sparkling eyes.

«He doesn’t usually act like the first time we met, he’s pretty confidential.» Jungkook takes the last sip of his Red Velvet and you do the same with your now almost cold tea while you take in all the informations.

«Namjoon is the dad of the group, he’s always willing to give you advices but at the same time able to give you a good shake. He and Jimin are my go to when I need to talk to someone, but the others are pretty good at listening too. Jimin is the third maknae»

«Who’s the first?»

Jungkook puckers his lips. «Me» 

«How old are you?»

«I’m twenty two» he answers, remembering this is the last day he gets to say it. For a little moment he thinks of you at his birthday, but he forces himself to push the picture away, it would be weird to invite you when you’re talking fr the first time.

«I’m older than you!» you can’t help but exclaim, Jungkook licks his lips.

«Really?»

You nod.«I’m twenty four»

«How- how should I call you then?» he bits his lips, a little bit of nervousness sneaks again into him, worried you don’t like the way he has been talking to you.

«Oh, please don’t call me noona!» you shake your head and smile at him.

«Are you sure?»

«Yes, Jungkook. Don’t change the way you were talking to me, I liked it. It was natural» you smile at him, your heart beats faster when a smile shines on his face and lights up his features. Jungkook is trying to be as natural as he can, trying to speak without blubbering still stunned by your presence in front of him, and hearing those words make him less tense.

«Hoseok is the only one left. He’s a ray of sunshine, always able to make you smile and laugh. His stage name is J-Hope. He’s a spring, his movements are as fluid as water. Oh, and he can’t hide his expressions whenever he’s angry, even though it’s difficult to annoy him. His face goes like this» Jungkook’s try to emulate his friend is quickly cut off by your bursting laugh because of his expression, and he can’t hold back his giggles at the sound of your happiness.

«Sounds like a beautiful group» you say when you finally stop laughing, your cheeks are hurting while you take a look inside your mug, realizing only now it’s empty.

«It is, they’re my family» the tone he uses makes a knot built up in your throat, smiling melancholic. And who the hell knows why, Jungkook notices it. 

«Is- is something wrong? Did I say-»

«No, no, no. It’s fine, I’m fine» you quickly say smiling again. He would like to ask you what’s wrong again until you’d probably end up answering him but he thinks he’d invade your personal space and annoying you.

«Are you sure? I- I know I ask this a lot but-»

«I’m sure, thank you for asking» you interrupt him with another gentle smile. Jungkook knows it’s not true, but he nods anyway, bringing his gaze to his empty glass. His action makes you bring yours to your phone, unlocking the screen and realizing only now it’s almost eight and a half.

«I should go now»

He raises his glance, the feeling in his chest it’s telling him to not let you go but he can’t do that.

«I’ll see you tomorrow at the studio?» you ask him while getting up from your chair, rummaging through your purse looking for the wallet. Jungkook is about to say yes when he remembers tomorrow it’s their free day.

«No, not tomorrow» he smiles at you getting up and producing a shrill sound with his chair against the floor, his cheeks heat up for the fiftieth time only in an hour.

«Oh, I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday then? Or whenever we-»

«Could you give me your number?»

If he thought his heart already risked a heart attack many times with you, then now he should be dead from the way it’s beating. Blood running through his body so fast that he can hear it his in his ears, the tip of them and his cheeks flashing red, palms sweating more than before. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked you.

You stare at him for a few seconds, completely stuttered by his question as you gulp harshly and blink a few times.

«You- you promise you won’t send me nudes?» you joke, and this time you are the one who’s left with her mouth agape, wondering where the hell that just came out from. «Oh my-»

«If you don’t ask for them I won’t» Jungkook scoffs, the fact you just said something like that is making him feel lighter. You raise your eyebrows at him.

«I won’t, I surely won’t» you quickly rebut but you’re afraid he might be offended so you keep adding words making everything worse. «I mean- not that I wouldn’t like them, it’s just-»

«Y/N» he interrupts your dwelling. «I- I won’t send or ask for nudes» he laughs at his own words at the end of the sentence, making you grimace.

«I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that»

«It’s okay» he smiles at you and you let out a shaky breath before putting ten bucks on the table and heading to the door with him.

Jungkook dials your number on his phone and quickly sends you a message to let you save his, still freaking out in his mind for what happened in just an hour of being with you.

The afraid of being awkward he felt at the beginning is still there, but he feels more comfortable now that he knows a little bit about you. He’s still nervous, palms still sweaty and heart still beating like crazy, gaze still trying to lock with yours just to shudder and blush under it. He likes the way his nervousness shaded with the comfortableness you made him feel talking to you, his chest both threatening to explode because of the tension but still tasting the sweetness of the naturalness and ease, the combo is one of the weirdest to ever exist, but it’s true.

«Goodbye, Jungkook» you smile at him after putting your phone back in your purse. You think about your actions for a moment before quickly tiptoeing and leaving a soft peck on his cheek that makes him almost feel dizzy. The way your soft lips touched his skin will haunt him even in his dreams tonight. He’s not rapid enough to smile at you while you turn and walk away, too shocked by your actions, but he smiles anyway.

This is the first time Jungkook realizes he just had a bite of the cake, and now he wants to eat it all.

«Are you kidding?» Taehyung’s deep voice resonates through the stairwell and Jungkook can hear it even by pulling his phone away from his ear.

«I’m not, Tae» he rushes to the door and hangs up before opening it sure that his friend is already there. In fact, he is. Standing still in front of him in his Gucci palazzo trousers looking like a model.

«Happy birthday, Kookie» he smiles at him and hugs him tight making Jungkook chuckle.

«You just said it on the phone»

«I know» he pats his shoulder. «Where are the others?»

«They’re coming» Jungkook takes a look to his lounge, the table is already set and the food is almost ready, Jin will be proud of him.

«Is she coming too?» Taehyung asks, Jungkook turns like top.

«What? No»

«Why not?»

«I don’t know... we don’t have that much of intimacy. And with you?» he knits his eyebrows thinking of the possible ending of doing something like that. «She’d probably feel like a fish out of water and you’re gonna embarrass me if I’m not the one doing it» he shakes his head.

The bell rings and Kook rushes to the door to welcome his friends, Hobi and Jin are standing there with the biggest smiles on their faces and hands full of envelopes, smiles as bright as the sun.

«There will be a day when you’ll be old and people will make fun of you, and it’s coming! Happy birthday!» Jin hugs the maknae laughing for his own words and Jungkook does the same. Hobi joins the hug, making Tae grimace and run to them.

«I feel alone» he mumbles before wrapping his arms around the three of them, Jungkook in the middle is almost dying, being the burger in the middle of the bread.

«Happy birthday!» Hobi screams, his voice echoing in the hallways remembers Jungkook the door is still open.

«Okay, now set me free» he laughs. «Where are the others?» their grip on him loosen and he finally closes the door.

«They went to buy you a cake, Seokjin made you one but Joon ate it last night without knowing it was yours» Hobi burst out laughing.

«It was obvious! He should’ve known it!» Jin screams frustrated with his eyes wide.

«Look at that!» Jimin points at the cake through the glass, his eyes sparkling at the sight and his mouth begging to taste the sweetness of the sponge cake. He looks like a baby.

«Ugh, Chimin! It’s for Jungkook, not you!» Namjoon scolds him making the corners of his mouth drop.

«I know what he likes!» he says back. Yoongi shuts his eyes, they’ve been in here for almost ten minutes now, fighting over which cake they could buy and not really getting anything.

«Do you-»

«He’ll like that» Yoongi cuts off Joonie’s words and point at the cake nodding to the pastry chef behind the counter who quickly smiles at him.

«Could you write “Jungkook” on top of it?» Jimin asks with a kind smile, the baker nods and he raises his eyebrows at Namjoon.

«See? It’s gonna be perfect, you need to listen to me!»

Namjoon sighs and shakes his head, taking a glance out of the shop to see his girlfriend still in the car waiting for them, eyes fixated on her phone.

Your parents had decided to ring your doorbell without telling you they were coming over. Luckily - or unfortunately - it’s Tuesday, and on Tuesday you’re usually home for lunch, but when the doorbell squeaked you didn’t really think it was them. Maybe the postman or a neighbor, but not your parents.

«Surprise!» they both screamed. It was the worst surprise ever. You didn’t know they were coming so you didn’t make lunch for them, didn’t tidy up properly, didn’t hide your things and didn’t lock your door. Plus, you weren’t prepared for another mental breakdown, not so soon after they gave you one just two days ago. And you still aren’t now, listening to them talking while you eat your salad.

«Your mother decided to come visit Ailiseu for a few days and September is already here so we decided not to wait until next month, it’ll be too cold» your father explains, his smile going from ear to ear. You instantly pray for the mental health of your cousin knowing how your parents can be, she’s gonna go out of her mind.

«Exactly! And we’re staying at her place, since she has a big house. Sorry honey, we would’ve asked you but we thought we’d be too much in here.»

«No problem» you try to sound as kind as possible. This is the good side of having a small house, at least.

«How long will you stay?»

«Three days» your father says «but we’re going to Ailiseu for dinner, we’d like to spend today with you»

«Take a day off of work.» your mother points her index finger at you. «We’ll have fun! We could go to the mall and buy some clothes, I really don’t like the shirt you’re wearing»

You stop eating fixing your gaze on your meal and trying to stay calm. This is a nightmare. How are you supposed to not go to work when they saw you were fine this morning? And notify them in half an hour? Your boss is going to go out of his mind and kill you. You won’t even be able to rehearsal today, obviously.

«Mom, I-»

«Please?» your father cuts you off.

You give up. It’s scientifically proven that you can’t beat them at this game without bursting out, that would definitely lead to an argument and you really are not in the mood for it. So you nod and finish your lunch listening to all their stories, your mother complaining about everything: the broken electric hand dryer at the gas station they stopped in, the way your father drives, your shirt - again -, your salad, your house and again your job. All of her words only make you wish to end this day as soon as possible but against your desire, time only seems to slow down while you wait for your her to come out of the bathroom.

You’re ready to go to the mall, you already called your boss and told him you had a setback and couldn’t go back to work this afternoon, and like you predicted before he didn’t sound happy at all, groaning things you couldn’t understand and quickly hanging up. Your mother is been in the bathroom for twenty minutes now making you frown and sink in your couch. When she finally comes out you head to the door in a second.

«Let’s go shopping!»

Your feet are hurting, if they could talk their exact words would be “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” at every step you take. You’ve been in here for almost six hours now, dragged from a shop to another, from a salon to a shoe store and you’re pretty sure that by now you entered all the shops in the mall.

«What’s the time?» your mother finally stops walking at your father’s question, taking a glance at her golden watch.

«It’s almost eight,» she answers raising her eyes to you «we should probably go. Do you mind giving us a ride to Ailiseu’s place?»

You try to fake a small and force yourself to nod despite your tiredness, all you’d like to do now is lay down and sleep. Your brain health is being put to serious danger today, with all your parents endless rumblings and complaints, your mother even tried to buy you a shirt just for you to go change the one you have on in the public restrooms.

You head to your car with big strides and yawning, your parents’ words behind you about how beautiful your cousin’s house is  and how much their parents must be proud of her are making your chest heavy and your head pound.

You hope not to stay stuck in traffic once you get in your car and get out of the parking lot. You only make it to a few blocks before your wishes and hopes totally fade away, the cars blocking the street and the sounds of the honking filling your ears.

«We’re gonna be late, Ailiseu is waiting for us» your father sighs.

«Can’t you take a different road?»

«How am I supposed to take a different road now? There are cars behind me» you huff at your mother’s words.

«Then honk!»

«It’s not gonna change a thing, everyone is doing that!» you claim. Your dad shakes his head.

You wait at least five minutes before you move again, the silence only filled with your mother’s huffs and annoyed muttering. When you think you finally made it and you’re gonna be home soon, a loud thud makes you shudder and not even a second later you’re being pushed against the wheel because of the swing of your car, hitting your forehead against the glass of the windshield.

It takes you a few moments to realize you just got hit and before you know it you’re already putting on your hazards and heading out of your car. How is it even possible to witness to accidents in just a few days? 

You take a look to your parents while they do the same as you and when you see they’re fine you let out a sigh of relief that lasts as quickly as it came out. Your car is devastated at the back and there is no way you can walk home without shedding parts along your way, you only feel grateful that you and your parents are not hurt.

The man in the car behind you approaches you with fast steps and a worried face, tired eyes and shaky voice.

«I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful»

You don’t even understand how he managed to make such a mess to your car with the traffic on the streets now, he probably came out from one of the small roads where there weren’t cars and you were the lucky one to welcome him in the jam.

The man leaves you his number telling you to call him once you know how much this is going to cost you and quickly leaves, you end up calling a taxi for your parents and a tow truck for your car, trying to stay as awake as possible. After forty five minutes of waiting you’re so tired that you could lay down and sleep in the middle of the road if it wasn’t for the cars threatening your life, but apparently someone is hearing your prayers and the tow truck comes to rescue you. Your car is brought to the mechanic and you say goodbye to another one hundred bucks for the tow truck. You’re left alone in the middle of the jam, so you move to the sidewalk ready to call a cab. You had the worst day and you’re already thinking of how much you’ll have to work to get all the money you just lost back.

«Y/N?»

You’re being caught off guard when someone calls you while you’re bringing the phone to your ear. When you turn and find Jin smiling at you you quickly hang up.

«Jin, hi»

«What are you doing here?» he looks down at you as if he’s the Eiffel Tower and you’re the grass.

«Uhm, my car broke, I was going to call a taxi»

«If you want I can give you a ride? Can you wait a little bit? Just the time to sing happy birthday to Jungkook and give him the gifts, we’re looking forward to embarrass him» he laughs.

«Oh, it’s Jungkook’s birthday?» Jin nods realizing only now that Kook probably didn’t tell you. «I don’t know... I don’t want to bother, I wasn’t invited and I don’t have a gift and-»

«I think you’re thinking too much» he quickly cuts you off. «I don’t think it will be a problem for Jungkook or the others, he’ll be happy to see you»

You sigh. You could call a taxi and wait for it, spend another fifty bucks and head home. Or you could wait a little bit and spend the time you’d spend waiting on the street with them and maybe have a little bit of fun after this awful day, maybe. If things won’t get awkward again. It’d save you money you could use for the groceries, after all.

«Lead the way» you end up saying thanking him with a warm smile. He nods and soon you’re in the elevator waiting for the doors to open, hoping not to look as awful as you feel right now. You still feel sorry to break into his birthday party without an invitation, a gift or even a little bit of more intimacy between you two, so when the doors open and you hear the laughters coming from one of the apartments you think of getting back outside and call a cab. But it’s too late, one of his friends already holds the door open for Jin, glancing over his shoulder with curious eyes and widening them at you.

«Jimin, this is Y/N» Jin introduces you to his friend gesturing with his hands an impossible language for you to understand, not that it does have meaning, he’s just trying to tell him to contain his expressions.

«Y/N, hi!» his voice is soft and it makes you smile without an apparent reason. You link him to Jungkook’s words yesterday, the third maknae and apparently, the friend he often chooses to ramble on to.

«Jungkook!» he screams over the laughters coming from the other room, eyes still fixated on you.

«Teahyung won’t let me come!» At the sound of how happy is voice sounds, laughing and cracking in the middle you can’t avoid the warmth in your chest.

«Come in» Jimin steps aside and lets you and Jin in the house. «You can give your coat to me»

You thank him and give him your coat before you’re following Jin in the other room where the others are. Their laughters stop in a second when they glance at you, now filling the place just with silence. Jungkook’s heart stops beating for a moment, totally shocked and overwhelmed by your presence, mouth agape and eyes widened. He wasn’t prepared to see you, he totally wasn’t. He stares at blankly as if he just saw a ghost and not even when Taehyung finally sets him free from his hold he’s able to say something. Your cheeks are burning like fire under all their gazes.

«I’m Taehyung» the guy who was holding him smiles at you and takes a few steps before reaching out his hand. «I’m sorry about the awkward meeting»

«Oh, don’t worry» you shrug at the memory.

«Jungkook?» a deep voice seems to wake him up from his trance, Namjoon is telling him to do something with his eyes.

«I’m Namjoon»

Soon enough all of them gather around you and shake your hand welcoming you into the house with bright smiles and kind words. The only girl in the group tells you to call her Kitty and tells you she’s the Namjoon’s girlfriend, she seems pretty nice and you end up talking for at least twenty minutes, all of your tiredness seems to disappear. The only one you still didn’t talk to is Jungkook, and you’re afraid he’s annoyed by your presence. The thought makes your head throb, but you wouldn’t blame him after all. It’s his birthday and sure he’d like to spend it with the people he loves, not with you that he doesn’t know much and weren’t even invited.

«You should go talk to her» Namjoon whispers in Kookie’s ear.

As if he hasn’t thought about it already. Jungkook knows he should talk to you, but as I said before, he really isn’t prepared for this. And seeing you talking with his friends and smiling makes the feeling in his chest even more uncontainable. You’re smiling and you seem at ease with them, sipping from your glass from time to time and laughing at Jin’s jokes. He likes this picture, you in his house, all bright and happy. He could get used to it. And all of this, only makes his anxiety grow until it’s skyrocketing.

«I’m gonna say or act awkward and ruin things again, I’m not-»

«And do you think that staying here won’t? She’s in your house, it’s your birthday and you didn’t even greet her. It surely...» he trails off when you take a few steps towards them. Jungkook bits the petal of his lower lip feeling the usual but still new mixture of emotions rushing through his blood until it reaches his chest and totally takes over him. Namjoon pats at his shoulder and glance at you with a kind smile before standing up from the couch with Hobi and heading to the kitchen. Jungkook stares at you for the millionth time, wishing to say something, anything, but the words are caught in his throat.

«Happy birthday» you stop in front of him, glancing down at the pillows beside him. «Can I?»

 He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth even more before nervously nodding.

«I’m sorry,» you say softly after sitting on the couch «I didn’t want to break in and annoy you, my car broke and Jin offered me a ride home and-»

«You didn’t annoy me, you don’t annoy me. Never- you never annoy me» he blurts out. «You- you can stay as much as you want» his cheeks are heating up, and you don’t even know why but you suddenly smile like a baby, his words make you feel more at ease.

«I don’t have a gift»

«It doesn’t matter» he smiles at you, your heart both stuttering when you lock eyes.

«If I’m being honest, I-» he stops talking, eyes shifting from yours to meet the ground.

«What?»

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, thinking about what he wants to say over and over again, trying not to make it sound as cheesy as it sounds in his head, but the truth is that there aren’t other words to express it.

«I like you here»

«What?»

«I-» he gulps «I like you here, with us?» he wants to slap himself. Why did he even think about telling you something like this?

«You seem happy?»

You squint your eyes at him, something about this conversation is making you more nervous than usual.

«I think I am?» why are you asking him?

Jungkook scoffs at your tone, it comes out so naturally that it makes your heart flutter. «You don’t sound so sure about that» he quotes your words, a bright smile creeping upon your face.

«Everyone is so nice and easy-going, and they made me feel comfortable even though I wasn’t meant to be here» you shrug. «You weren’t joking when you talked about them»

«Actually...» he clears his throat «I though of invating you yesterday but I- I didn’t cause I though it would be weird? I mean-»

«Jungkook, you don’t need to explain me why you didn’t invite me. Don’t justify yourself»

«I’m not» he replies fast enough to make you knit your eyebrows.

«But I’m happy you’re here now» the sound of those words are like sugar to your hypoglycemic heart, hearing them makes you feel something you never experienced, something that you missed since you were a little girl. The simple act of being happy to have someone near you and not expect anything from them is something you never witnessed, neither from your parents, even though they love you under those cold masks they wear. People always seemed to expect something from you, always. Jungkook is not telling those words without meaning them, he’s not expecting a thing from you. Not even a gift.

«Jungkook!» Hobi screams from the kitchen, tone breaking into a laughter and soon joined by others too. Jungkook shuts his eyes for a moment and then smiles before standing up from the couch. With boldness he didn’t think he has, he stretches his hand out for you to grab it, waiting with held breath and unsure dark doe-eyes staring directly into yours.

It’s a matter of seconds before you loose up and reach out to his hand, fingers intertwining with each other’s and a shudder running down your spine.

Jungkook stands still for a moment, his hand is limp against yours, he didn’t really think you’d grab his hand, not in this way. You’re not holding it to help you stand up, you’re intertwining your fingers with him. It’s different. The heat rising in your cheeks makes you feel like a teenager with her first crush and only now you realize that that’s why your heart is pounding and your brain is overthinking more than usual. You’re about to split away since he doesn’t tightens his grip on you, mentally slapping yourself for doing something like this. You’re fingers leave his and Jungkook’s chest feels suddenly more heavy. Reaching out again, he grabs your hand, fingers intertwine with yours and this time in a tight and sicure grip. His hands are a little bit sweaty for the nervousness, but so are yours. Your heart stutters, breath held as if you were free diving.

Both of you stand still for a moment before turning to look at each other, not even the time to say something that Hoseok is calling again from the kitchen.

«Jungkookie!»

«Happy birthday!» the screams fill the apartment, Jungkook’s features are priceless with his eyes squinted and his cheeks flashing red, trying as best as he can not to die under everyone’s affections.

«Blow out the candles!» Jimin shouts «I’m the one who choose the cake!»

The happiness and the intimacy in the room is so overwhelming that you feel out of place for a moment, but Taehyung grabs you by your arm and brings you closer to the group.

«Come here, embarrass him with us» he winks making you laugh. Jungkook shakes his head, he’s still at ease for the happy birthday song but he can’t fight the big bunny smile taking over his face. And when he sees you laughing with Teahyung, it takes him just a second to let go of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest only to be left with the desire of the sweet taste of the cake, and not the one on the wooden table.

Taking a deep breath he blows out the candles, eyes fixated over you making your heart skip a few beats. He doesn’t even think of a wish, all he wants it’s here tonight; the warmth of his friends, the love they feel for each other, maybe the new beginning of something, anything.

The candles die out, leaving the room in the dark for a few seconds before someone finally turns the lights on.

«Time for the presents!» Namjoon screams.

«Oh, please!» Jungkook whines and the laughters of his friends grow even more. Yoongi disappears to bring all the bags with the presents in and everyone except from Jungkook and Hoseok seats on the carpet in front of the couch even though it’s empty, you guess it’s one of their habits.

«I’m gonna cut the cake» Hobi announces turning around to face the table and start his task while Jungkook makes his way through the bodies of his friends, apparently towards you. He stops in front of you, still standing still a little bit out of place.

«You wanna sit on the couch?» he points at the sofa and you end up asking yourself why you didn’t do it sooner. You sit on the cushions, eyes fixated in front of you even when he follows you and sits beside you under everyone’s gaze, his friends staring at him before gazing away.

«Here comes the cake!» Hobi is a ray of sunshine with his bright smile while he distributes the dishes to everyone and soon enough you’re closing your eyes and letting out a whine at the taste of the sponge cake.

«It’s so good» you let out with your mouth full, words almost puzzling. Jungkook bursts out laughing and you need to gulp trying not to choke.

«Ah! See?» Jimin points at Namjoon «I choose it!» he turns to you with bright eyes and a big smile reaching his eyes.

«My taste buds are thanking you» 

Yoongi enters the room with his hands full of bags and places them beside Jungkook.

«Alright, let’s begin» he sits in front of the couch. Jungkook takes a deep breath and turns to grab the first bag.

«This is from?»

«Ugh, I forgot to write it again» Hobi murmurs making everyone laugh. Jungkook opens all the gifts, every single one of them makes you know him a little more, a little better, a little deeper. From the sweater of Hoseok to the set of products for his skincare by Jimin, they all tell you something about him. It’s Jin’s turn when he suddenly gets up from the carpet and shakes his head in the jumpiest of ways.

«Wait, wait, wait!» he almost screams. When he realizes what he’s doing he try to fake a smile. «I need to talk to you»

«What?»

«I need to talk to you» he repeats.

«Now?»

«Jungkook ya! Yes, now!» Jin looks at him with eyes widened almost as if he’s trying to communicate with him but Jungkook can’t really understand what is happening, so he just wakes up and follows Jin in another room, not a second later the hyung comes back just to bring his presence for Kookie with him.

«Alright, I’m gonna take another piece of cake» Namjoon says, her girlfriend gets up from the carpet with him to do the same. Taehyung smiles at you from the ground and quickly gets up, sitting next to you. You end up talking for at least ten minutes, conversation as fluid as the water and a comfortable feeling of naturalness you haven’t been feeling for a long time. You think you’d like to hang out with them more, they make you feel good with their positivity.

Jungkook finally comes back in the room after fifteen minutes, gaze and smile that now you can identify as nervous. He sits on the couch beside you grabbing Jin’s present again, digging in the bag until he finds it. Ripping the paper off, the new set of kitchen tools lights up his eyes. Now that the presents are all discarded, Jin looks at you.

«Do you want to go home now?»

Would that be wrong or weird if your answer was no? You glance at Jungkook, his eyes already on you.

«Wait, wait!» he bursts out, now standing up and heading out of the room. Your expression is blank until he comes back, wondering what just happened. Jin seems to smile when he see his friend rushing back with a bag in his left hand.

«Come ou- out, please?» Jungkook asks. You nod still uncertain and you follow him to the balcony, he makes sure to close the door behind you so that nobody can hear you.

Silence fills the air just for a little bit, the only sound that can be heard is the night, so peaceful and quiet, the light whistle of the wind. Jungkook is again repeating to himself that he can talk without embarrassing himself or making you feel awkward, he did it until now, kinda. He clears his throat and raises his gaze, hand scratching his neck. This can’t go worst than the first times you met, after all. It’s a simple action.

«I-» he stops without even starting.

«Am I making you nervous again?»

His expression changes, eyes widening and mouth hanging agape as he starts to shake his head.

«No, I- I mean...» he trails off and you don’t know why, but you feel the need to reassure him. So you smile at him, one of those warm smiles that makes his heart stutter and wonder if he’ll ever get to see another one, if this one doesn’t kill him. He gathers all his strength to talk through the smile that wants to take over his features.

«I’ve got your dress» he lifts his hand.

«What?»

«I’ve- I’ve got your dress. This is your dress, the dress you wanted» his cheeks are burning.

«It-it’s not my dress, it’s yours»

«I-» his eyes widen at the thought of the explanation he has to give you, so many words he wants to groan.

«I saw you liked the dress and-»

«You saw I liked the dress?»

«Yes, I mean- I was in the shop when you came in.» he claims. «I saw you looking at the dress and I thought you’d like it as an apology gift? So I- I was trying to understand the size you were looking for and praying that there was on- only one or that you’d let me buy it for you.» he quickly blurts out.

«There was, but you had already found it and I- I should’ve just walk away but I didn’t and-» he stops again.

«You know the end»

He had already told you what happened but you really didn’t think it was this, with the little details it sounds totally different. The silence makes his way again and Jungkook feels like he’s about to explode for the way his cheeks are heating up, so he’s quick to place the bag in your hands.

«I- I wanted to give it to you and I took it at the rehearsals. Jin- he mistook it for a towel and- this- this is a new one don’t worry. I tried to search for it online but apparently they only sell it in his store and Jin found it today and-»

«Thank you» you cut him off, your warm smile reaching your eyes and now setting on fire his. He’s sure he’s gonna burn by the end of this.

Opening the bag and raising your hands to look at the cloth you realize that you couldn’t care less now. It’s beautiful, but it’s just a piece of cloth. It’s the action behind it that you find more beautiful, even though you would’ve never think about it this way just a few days ago. Jungkook searched for it online, and he grabbed it from you because he wanted to buy it for you. Well, maybe he should learn how to contain himself, but it doesn’t matter. He never wanted to tease you or make you feel uncomfortable, it’s just a consequence of him being around you. And that’s exactly why he acted like that.

«I’m sorry»

«We need to stop to say that» you scoff. «I don’t care anymore, not now that I know what happened»

«So- you- you’re not mad at me?» 

«Why should I be?» you frown at him «Jungkook, I’m not. Honestly, I-» you stop talking to glance at him. And the only thing you can feel is your heartbeat raising until it’s skyrocketing, you can feel it in your ears. An insolite warmth, a weird sense of happiness you never got to really feel. And something inside you is telling you to fucking let go of your armor, break it apart and take a risk for once, just one and just now. Damn, how much you would like to know what’s the taste of his lips, of him. If only you were more bold.

«Trust me, I’m not mad at you» you almost whisper, so low you’re not even sure he heard it.

Jungkook shifts his gaze from you to the dress in your hands, and before he can stop himself the words are already leaving his mouth. 

«Do- do you want to wear it?» he wants to slap his face again.

«Now?»

«You’re right, do- don’t. I mean, if you want to wear it I-»

«Jungkook, stop talking»

You look into his dark doe-eyes fighting the urge to drown in them, but it’s just a matter of understanding it, you already are breathless and desperately swimming to get to the surface.

«I don’t think it’s the right dress code for tonight and Jin is probably waiting for me»

«I- I can give you a ride if you want? I mean, you can stay more, you know that?»

«I wouldn’t like to both-»

«You don’t.» he states, eyes never leaving yours.

«Please, stay? Just a little more. Or let me take you home?» he’s almost imploring for a little bit more of your presence, but he doesn’t care anymore, not now. There’s something inside him that doesn’t want to do anything else than let you know the effect you have on him, what a strong power.

«Alright» you breath out. «I’ll stay, but tomorrow I have to wake up at six, I’ll probably have to go in a little bit»

Jungkook nods and feels the guilt sneaking in at the same time.

«Oh, I didn’t know it. You- you can go»

«Jungkook, I’ll stay for a little bit more. Don’t worry.» you lightly scoff, his worrying for you causes a weird feeling in your chest. «I’d be happy to eat another piece of cake.» you smile.

«Plus, I like being with you» 

Jungkook feels his chest warming, the thought of him making you feel good almost sends him dizzy. He knows that he can’t answer you now, he’d just say or blubber something without any sense, so he just smiles. One of those smiles that you really don’t know what they do to you, but you can feel it.

You end up talking for another five minutes before he goes in to bring a piece of cake to share and to tell Jin he doesn’t have to leave now to take you home, you didn’t tell him if he can give you a ride, but Jin usually leaves pretty late, so it’s not a problem for him.

When he comes back again he’s sure he has never seen someone as beautiful as you. The way the light of the moon lights up your features and the shadows of the night make them look even more charming, the way the light breeze makes you hair swing.

Jungkook sits beside the table and you do the same, body facing the city lights that make you feel a little more small.

«Here» he gives you a spoon. You eat the cake, air filled with light laughters from time to time and light conversation. His presence really seems to make you feel good, lightweight. Like you haven’t felt in months. The end of the time you gave yourself quickly arrives and you end up standing up and ask him for the bathroom before you go home.

The tiredness is taking over you again, but you’re not regretting staying more, not even a little bit. Placing your phone and your purse on the washbasin you start to think of how fast things can change in just the slightest amount of time. Just a couple of days ago you thought he was trying to make fun of you with his friends, and now you’re enjoying their presence and wishing the night would last just a couple of house more, so that you could go to sleep later. But it’s not possible, so you quickly grab your purse and rush back where Jin is waiting for you. You told him before you would be leaving with him, even thought the thought of Jungkook giving you a ride home was screaming to come out, you don’t want to ruin the party by bringing away the birthday boy. Saying goodbye to everyone is like a promise of seeing each other again and you end up sharing your numbers with Namjoon’s girlfriend and with Teahyung, telling each other you’d like to hang out together.

When it’s Jungkook’s turn he hands you your bag with your dress in it knowing you left it on the balcony to go to the bathroom.

«I’ll see you tomorrow?» he asks with a low tone as if it’s a secret.

Thinking about what happened today with your car, you’re not quite sure if you’ll make it to the rehearsals tomorrow, you have to work until midday and if your boss lets you, you’d like to work overtime to save more money, you already spent a bunch of them for the tow truck and you still have to fix your car. You’re just glad your mechanic is a friend of yours and will probably give you a discount.

«I’m not sure I’ll make it, I’ll probably work overtime» you grimace. Jungkook‘s features fall a little bit but he’s quick not to show you and nods. You’re about to tiptoe and leave two pecks on his cheeks like you did with everyone when his hand reaches yours and your heart do cartwheels. Your fingers intertwine for the second time tonight and you can feel your cheeks heating up with his.

Jungkook keeps telling himself to not make you feel uncomfortable, this is a bad idea, but he really doesn’t understand you feel everything but uncomfortable right now. The warmth of his body is so close to yours that you’d like to crush in his arms without any hesitation. Looking up at him, he stares at your face, marveled by the way you make him feel before quickly tilting his head. The action is so fast you don’t have time to understand what’s happening, and in a second his lips are pressed against your forehead, gente and dangerously soft that you’d die to feel them on yours.

Without even realizing it your arm wraps around his back and he feels himself stiffening at the contact, he wasn’t expecting it, and neither his cock, now throbbing in his jeans and remembering him that its better if he lets you go. So he does so, trying to smile as best as he can and ignore the reddish of his cheeks. Thanks to God no one is watching you, or he’d be dead by now.

«Good night, Jungkook. And happy birthday.»

And so you smile at him and turn around to head to the door with Jin.

What a birthday.

It’s only the next day you realize you don’t have your phone. You want to yell at yourself for adding another piece to the puzzle of your stress. You did nothing but run like crazy for the whole morning at work and you thought that at least you could relax during your lunch break but apparently, it’s not possible. You have two free hours and you don’t have any idea about what you’re going to eat for lunch, but you repeat to yourself it doesn’t matter. You’re just praying you told the right address to the cab driver and hoping that he is home. You’re going to Jungkook’s, and the thought alone makes a fluttering sensation rush through your chest, and now you’re even more nervous. You usually wouldn’t break in people’s house like this but it’s the only way, you really need your phone today considering your car is at the mechanic’s and your parents are in the same city as you. You can’t wait until tomorrow and hope he’ll bring it to the studio, this is the only way.

When you find yourself opening the car door and taking a glance to the building in front of you it’s safe to say you feel relieved. At least the address is the right one. Your steps are smooth and you make it to the entrance door without any problem, but when you search for his name on the intercoms you suddenly feel stuck in place, your heart beating faster than usual. Repeating to yourself you need your phone, you press the button and wait for him to answer. A few seconds pass by and you’re already losing hope when finally a bzz signals that the entrance door is just being open. You expected him to ask you who you were but he simply quitted so you stare at the name on the button wondering if you should press it again. Your fingers move faster than your thoughts and a second later you’re waiting for him to answer to tell it’s you, but Jungkook seems to have a different idea and again, he just re opens the entrance door. Sighing gently and giving up, you enter the apartments and get in the elevator.

The thought of being here again is making your chest warm, so warm it feels like a summer day. Last night since the moment your head touched your pillow you thought about him shamelessly, trying to understand the way he made you feel and to categorize it in some kind of way. You found no answer, you don’t even understand yourself when you’re with him. Yesterday has been one of the worst days ever but it took him nothing to make it better for you, even with his stuttering and nervousness, he was able to make you feel... mattered? Since the moment you met him for the first time Jungkook screwed up almost every time you talked, but he always found a way of making it up, maybe with a little bit of unease and already on his way to screw up one more time, but he did. And just the simple fact he cares enough to try even though he knows you so little makes you smile and worry at the same time. You’re not used to all this attention, you’re usually the one who’s always trying to hard, at his place.

The doors open and and you have to go out to let the person in front of you get in the elevator, so you end up staring at his door.

«I’m going now!» a yell comes from inside, you don’t have time to understand whose voice it is or what it’s happening that Jimin is already standing in front of you with his eyebrow raised and a smile forming on his lips.

«Hi, Y/N»

«Jimin, stop teasing me!» Jungkook screams from inside. Jimin widens his eyes and then his lips in a shocked expression as you smile at him.

«Hi, Jimin»

Just the sound of your voice and the maknae is losing it all, rushing to the door to see if his mind played a trick on him. Apparently it didn’t, since you’re staring at him with your mouth open and your breath stuck in your throat, and Jimin has pretty much the same expression.

Why are you... Oh-

«Fuck, I’m sorry» his cheeks heat up and Jimin shuts his eyes as Jungkook realizes he’s not wearing his shirt, fast enough to run to his bedroom that he could challenge the wind. His friend shakes his head.

«I should go, see you» he holds the door open for you to enter and then goes out with a warm smile. The second he shuts it you’re left in a house that now seems ten times bigger than yesterday night, maybe for the lack of people, maybe for the silence. Or maybe because you feel so little in this moment you wouldn’t be surprised if someone stepped on you.

«I’m sorry to break in your apartment like this» you speak out loud, not sure if he hears you. Jungkook bites his lips.

«I forgot my phone and-»

«Here» he shows up from the corner of the short hallway, your phone in his hand.

«Thank you» you grab it and put it in your purse.

«I charged it for you yesterday night»

«Oh, really?» he nods. You smile as another thank you and Jungkook opens his mouth to speak when a low grr fills the air and this time it’s you the one with your cheeks reddening.

«Are- are you hungry?» What a stupid question, of course you are. «I made some pasta if you want it»

«I should be back to work in an hour and a half and I’m not sure I have the time to eat, I have to wait for a cab too»

«I- I can take you? If you want?» he licks his lips. «It’d save you time and the pasta is ready»

He’s right, and your stomach is dying to be filled.

«Alright» you nod and he smiles triumphant, the way his eyes seem to smile at your words makes you wonder.

«Why are you so kind to me?»

Jungkook’s smile turns into a slight pout that makes you want to peck his lips as he raises his eyebrows.

«What do you mean?»

You struggle to find the right words. «I- You... you always try to help me or worry about me, even for little things like when we went to the cafe and you kept on asking me if I wanted to switch drinks. When things become awkward it’s because you try to make a good impression and fail, but you’re always trying.» the tone you’re using makes Jungkook grimace. He can tell you’re not used to this from the way you’re shifting your weight from foot to foot as you speak.

How can he explain it to you? How can he tell you he’s so head over heels for you he can’t even think of stop trying? Jungkook bites the petal of his lips furiously as his mind tries to find the right answer, but there is not and he lets out a strangled groan as he realizes it.

« I... I- I really like you» 

Your expression is blank, totally. His words almost seem not to touch you as he studies every part of your face for a reaction.

«You’re not used to this, ri- right?» he scratches the back of his neck.

«I’m really not» you breath out. Jungkook knits his brows together.

«Do you- you want me stop it?»

«I-» you shake your head «I don’t think so? I’m really not used to it, Jungkook. It may sound incredibly stupid but I never had someone who asked me if I wanted to switch drinks just because he wanted me to taste the best one and not to actually steal it from me.»

«Well, now you have me» his words are firm, so incredibly firm it makes you clench your jaw, and his eyes are the same.

«I- I charged your phone because I was worried you would need it today and couldn’t use it. I’m offering you a ride because I like spending time with you, I don’t want something in return other than you, your time.» his voice his calm and his shoulders seem to loose with every word he says as if he’s letting go of a heavy weight.

It’s all striking you in a second, and the hit is so hard you end up holding your breath. It’s not really the fact he likes you that makes you this stunned, it’s the fact he actually cares. Your parents never showed their affection to you without expecting you to give them something back, wether it was a high grade or a good impression on your neighbors, and when you stopped trying to always give back something their affections towards you had simply stopped, replaced by fake “honey” and other nice words just to cover the fact they didn’t really believe in you enough to show it. And with your friends and coworkers is pretty much the same, always waiting for something in return.

The sudden realization makes your eyes tingle and you vision blurry.

«I’m sorry»

Jungkoook shakes his head and gets closer, the thought that no one ever cared enough to show you how much you matter or acted just for the simple intent of doing something for you and not actually for them wrecks him apart. His mind flies back to when Seokjin told him about your parents and how they acted or spoke to you, he can clearly see the weight of every single word of them in your shiny eyes now, hurting you and making you question his good actions just because you’re used to the most selfish ones. It makes him want to bury you with attention, show you that people can do something for others too and not just to feed their egoistic side.

«Come here» it’s as low as a whisper, but you don’t hesitate a second to let his arms wrap around you, hiding your face on his shirt and soaking it with the tears that are now streaming down your face. His grip is tight and you can hear the stuttering of his heart against your ear, one of his hands gets to your hair and starts to softly, sweetly stroking at them to make you calm down just a little bit, head tilted over yours. His heart is aching seeing you like this.

«I’m sorry»

«Shh, stop saying that. We apologize too much» he holds you even tighter as you fist his shirt in your hands. Jungkook leaves a soft kiss in your hair and your heart skips a beat at the intimacy of the action. It’s only then that you realize you’re really letting someone see this side of you, the one you always try to hide because it’s to fragile to break, the one you hide even from yourself.

Slightly tilting your head upwards to lock eyes with him, Jungkook tries as best as he can to smile at you, even though his chest is has heavy as yours. His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs caress your skin and wipe your tears away.

«Jungkook»

«Yes?»

«Please, kiss me»

His lips crush onto yours, Jungkook groans at the feeling and you instantly bring one of your hand in his locks as he tastes the salty taste left by the tears. As you lightly bite the petal of his lower lips Jungkook feels like he’s dreaming, and he prays not to wake up. His tongue slides in your mouth, wet and warm against yours, tracing and exploring each other and making you slightly tug at his locks, he moans in your mouth and brings one of his hands to your waist, bringing you closer to his body. The kiss is passionate, so damn needy, but not only in a sexual way. You need love, affection. Jungkook is more than welcome to help you with that, letting you waste all of your insecurities and frustrations on him until you feel completely dried, left with nothing but the realization of his taste on your lips, his hands against your skin, his embrace around you, him. And you need to push away to take it in, letting his forehead hover over yours and his heavy breath crush down on your face. His eyes are looking into yours and they make you feel things you now are able to categorize as humanly impossible, so dark and deep but so bright at the same time, lips still brushing against yours as you both take deep breaths. The frustration in your body is gone, your tears are dried, the only thing left is the need you feel to have him again on you, the desperate desire to taste him again. His mind prepares to the thought of a possible rejection, the idea you begged for him to kiss you just to drift your thoughts away storms his mind but he repeats to himself that whatever thing will come, this was definitely worth it. He’ll just have to face the fact that he just got only one bite of the cake. How can he even believe in it? Your lips are addicting, and he’s already craving for more.

«I could get used to this» you whisper. Jungkook never felt so relieved in all his life than now, letting out a shaky breath heavier than the others.

«Please, do it» he whines making you giggle and bring your lips on his again. This kiss is different from the other, more slow, more sweet, more intimate in a different way cause it’s just about you two. There aren’t emotions to run away from and to waste on the other, the only emotions are the ones you feel for each other. His lips move cautiously on yours as if he wants to taste every single part of you and imprint in his mind, your hand leaves his hair just to reach his neck and then his cheek, resting on his jaw. When you move away he rests his forehead again on yours and tilts down just to leave a few more sweet pecks on your lips, totally addicted to your taste. As you look at him you think this man we’ll send you out of your mind, if he didn’t already.

«Could you get used to me caring about you too?» he breathes. Your smile is bittersweet.

«It might take me a little bit» you answer. Jungkook strokes your cheek with his thumb, showing his bunny smile and making your chest a warmer and happier place.

«Then we’ll practice together, uh?»

«I’d like that»

[kosmosguk]

5 days of spooktober~ #2: carnal

day #2: vampire seokjin x reader

word count: 1.4k

summ. midnight is a horrific hour to be awake, and it is at midnight in which you open the door to the ceo’s office and discover the bloody monster that lurks underneath his gentlemanly disguise.

warnings: mature themes (cunnilingus, bloodplay(ish?), mindbreak), dubcon themes, death, violence, gore, yandere, 18+, near-death experiences, explicit language

a/n: the fact that i managed to get part 2 out ?? on time ??? this is a whole celebration- hoping to make up for my inactivity thru this spooky series. also the rough draft was delirious so i had to rewrite it and i vibe with this version so much more. ty for 3.5k babes and happy halloween (10 days early) <3 lemme know if i made any mistakes because i never review my work before posting oops

You remember as a little girl how your grandma would gently stroke your hair, tucking locks of it behind your hair, and look outside at the night. She would hum a lullaby as she lulled you to sleep, and before you could close your eyes, you would hear her say aloud:

“Never be outside at midnight.”

As a little girl, you had thought it to be a serious remark, the kind that settled into your nightmares where beasts would emerge from the shadowy depths of your closet when the clock struct midnight. As an adult, you now viewed it as a doting relative’s overprotective instinct coming out at as an unconventional comment.

But now, you couldn’t help remembering those moments as you opened the door of your boss’s office, and as the grandfather clock in the room struck midnight, your eyes fell on your boss’s teeth buried in the crook of the new intern’s neck.

You froze, the files in your hand dropping like the overdramatic, overplayed scene of some cheesy low-budget horror movie, and you made eye contact with the man…no monster…in the room.

There was blood, the deep crimson color of mortality, stained over his features, soaking his jaw and the collar of his black shirt, and you could feel the images of him kindly smiling at you as you handed him his coffee shattering in your mind and being replaced with images of the true monster he had been hiding all along.

You were one of the only few people left in the building, and you clasped a hand over your mouth before you could scream. You could not risk anyone else being in danger.

You watched, petrified, as your boss dropped the intern onto the floor, and her body made a hollow thud as she hit the ground. You heard a low moan of pain come from her, and a part of you was grateful that she was still alive, but a majority of you was terrified of what fate you were to undergo.

“Secretary (L/n),’’ his voice was like a purr, and he wiped the blood off his chin and lapped it up, his eyes refusing to wave from the strong hold they held over yours. You were lost in the depths of his eyes, the sheen of red that replaced his normal gentle brown, and your unconscious attempt for a scream strangled in your throat. “Overtime?’’

God, this was the bad pinnacle of some B-grade horror blockbuster, and it seemed like you were the unfortunate side character. If you had been watching yourself from the comfort of your sofa, you would have laughed and commented on how shitty the movie was. But it was different when you were that unfortunate character.

“Yes, sir,’’ you regained your composure and tried to ignore the elephant—or in this case, the unconscious girl—in the room before gesturing at the scattered documents on the ground,’’ I was wondering if you could sign these documents, Boss Kim, but it seems like you’re…preoccupied.”

Come on, a few more words, and you would be out of here dialing the number of the nearest emergency provider. Your boss was nuts, and that should have been capitalized and dotted with an exclamation mark.

“Should I get some help for your…dinner date? Or may I leave now?’’ your voice sounded wry, a sure distance away from the inner panic you were feeling. Your boss looked taken aback, and for a moment, you almost thought you could see the gentle him of the day return. But then he opened his mouth, showing a glimpse of brutally sharp fangs, and laughed.

“That’s what I love most about you, Secretary (L/n). You never seem surprised at anything,’’ he took steps closer to you, stepping over the paperwork on the ground and leaving bloody footsteps on them. He sounded pleased…too pleased.

“I want to see what it’s like for you to unravel. Don’t mind the mess, Secretary (L/n), or may I—?’’ he was close now. You couldn’t move as he reached behind you and shut the door behind you and locked it with a resounding click. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, and his voice was like a domineering taunt as he fondly stroked your still cheek with his unusually cold hand.

“I’ve always kept an eye on you. You’re…quite different from my previous secretaries. They fell like easy prey when I wanted them to, all for some money that wouldn’t even be worth much once they’re dead. But you...,” he chuckled and took your hand, pressing a frigid kiss on the curve of your knuckles,” For some reason, I don’t quite like the idea of you being dead…even though you just smell so tempting.’’

He held you closer to him, and your voice felt trapped in your throat. He slid his palm down the curve of your waist and held you tightly as if you were the lover of a beast. And perhaps, in that moment and in every moment from then on, you were.

“I imagined her as you, but it didn’t seem the same. Even when I ripped my teeth through her neck, all she did was plea to me to take her as my lover. But now…Now I have you.”

He was smearing blood on you again as his teeth sunk into the soft curve of your neck, and you felt dizzy as he drank from you. It hurt. It hurt so, so much. But you could feel a buzz, tingling underneath your punctured skin and spreading down into a heat in your stomach. You tried to fend him off, but…

Your eyes were glazing over now. You felt him take his fangs out of your neck and lower to the ground, and you were being pressed to the door as he spread your legs and fervently lapped at your clothed pussy before ripping through your stockings and sinking his tongue into your trembling hot walls.

“Mmph!’’ your attempt to speak came out as a muffled moan, and your fingers tried to claw at the edge of the door as each movement of your boss’s tongue stroked a churning fire in your stomach. He pulled away one step before you could come, your slick coating his tongue and snapping as he went lower to your inner thighs and sunk his teeth into the flesh.

It should have hurt this time. You should have been screaming. But for some reason, the tinge of pain added a new edge to your dazed high, and you were panting as he sucked at the blood. You felt his finger probe at your soaked walls and then they were stroking your clit, rolling over the hardened bud in light strokes that left you trembling. You could feel your eyes roll back, and your voice broke out in lewd moans of his name.

“Boss Kim…ngh…Boss Kim, I want you…please, please,’’ you were close to sobbing now, every fear drained from you along with your blood, and you gripped his soft hair in tight fists as you sank into a toe-curling climax.

He was back on his feet now, and you could feel how hard he was as he pressed closer against you, his tongue dragging against the wounds on your neck. Your clothes were soaked with a mixture of your own blood and the intern’s, but you could hear the unzipping of Boss Kim’s slacks. He wasn’t done, and as you cupped his sculpted jaw with shaky hands, your eyes still glazing over as the burning heat of your trembling walls seared your insides, and pleaded for him to fuck you, you realized you weren’t done either.

Perhaps, if you had listened to your grandma’s warning for you to never come outside after midnight, you would have been safe, oblivious to what truly transpired on behind the closed doors of your boss’s office at night. Or maybe the outcome would have remained the same, with a blood-soaked you pinned underneath the rutting hips of your ravenous boss.

A part of you hoped for the latter. And as you held onto him tightly, you heard the clock strike half past midnight.

[absinthe-and-abstinence]

An Unhealthy Obsession: Chapter 16

Where Did the Party Go

TW: Drugs, implications of drugs, drug usage, alcohol, mentions of drinking, swearing, language, being under the influence, prostitution, vomit, emetophobia...and I think that's it.

Man, was this chapter hard to write. I've been having rewriting and deleting drafts of this since Chapter 12. I hope the payoff is good for the amount of frustration that went into this. Can you believe how far this has come since the beginning?!

I'm so happy to hear all of your comments and see that you're all enjoying this. Thank you, and have a good night! <3

Previous Chapter | Master List | Next Chapter

“What the HELL are you doing here?!” you hissed through your teeth.

The great Dr. Spencer Reid stood in front of you, completely under the influence of one or many substances. He stumbled around the floor, his head swaying with the music. His eyes were red and swollen, as well as his nose. Swaying his arms around, he took up more space than usual and his demeanor seemed gigglier than you had seen it before.

“Are you happy to see me, or is that a gun in your pocket?” He asked this, laughing in his response.

You weren’t in the manner for joking.

“You told me you were on the other side of the country hours ago. What the hell are you up to?”

“Listen, gorgeous,” he said while trying to shush you, missing your lips and hitting your forehead instead, “you wanna hear a fun fact?”

You started to fume. “No, I don’t.”

“Did you know that Seattle has over 500 houseboats? Its iconic homes grew in popularity after the release of Sleepless in Seattle?”

He seemed to not hear your response, and you stood there seeing red. As much as you loved him, he was being a real asshole.

“I don’t have a houseboat,” he continued while chuckling, “but I’d like to take you home.”

Oh my God.

“Spencer,” you growled while pulling him down to your level by the collar, “you told me you were in Virginia back with the team. Did you actually ever leave here?”

He looked in every direction but your eyes. Once they finally did make contact, his face frowned and he sniffled.

“Have we met before? You look familiar.”

This was just dead-end after dead-end. You weren’t getting anywhere with him. Whatever he was on, it was surely disrupting his cognitive function. As you smelt the alcohol on his breath, it occurred to you how bad he had left himself get here.

Another thought occurred as well.

If he hadn’t gone back to Quantico, if he hadn’t met back up with the team… that meant he was still actively missing. And here he was, with his brains utterly useless with you, a person who dropped classes at the University shortly after his disappearance. So many witnesses here too. It wasn’t in your favor, to say the least.

“Okay, Spencer,” you finally spoke, “you’re going to have to listen to me. We have got to get out of here. Especially before –”

“Y/N! Hey!”

You turned over to see Matt waving at you a few feet away. He stopped waving as he analyzed you standing on the dance floor holding a man by the collar of his shirt. He immediately frowned.

“Y/N, who is that?”

Holy crap. You couldn’t deal with this on top of everything else. You let Spencer’s shirt go and grabbed his hand instead. It was warm, and clammy. Still, you held it as you answered him back.

“It’s… a friend, Matt. He and I were on the way out.”

Spencer, in his stupidity, decided to chime in as well.

“She’s gonna take me home tonight. The only thing I’ll be teaching tonight is anatomy.” He tried to wink, but with his current state, he ended up squeezing both eyes closed instead with his current state.

“Wait – Y/N – is that…?”

You started to walk Spencer and you off of the main floor towards the exit, but the dancing crowd slowed you down and you tried to push around to get through.

“Is that the missing professor – hey, wait! Wait up!”

Matt kept trying to follow behind you, walking in the empty spaces made from you parting the crowd.

“What are you doing with him? Damian said you were by yourself since your boyf-

Oh my god.”

He paused and stopped walking. Feeling that he wasn’t on your tail, you looked behind you. Like Gomorrah in Sodom, you quickly regretted that decision.

“It was you. You’re the one who took him.” He started shaking, turning his gaze from you to Spencer to you again. “Holy shit. I gotta call the police.”

As Matt reached for the cell phone in his pockets, you dashed out of the club as fast as you could, Spencer in tow. While going out the main door, you heard Matt scream “SOMEONE GET HER!”

But it was too late. You two were already out the door and on the streets. As you ran in the first direction you could find, you asked him where the car was.

“At an average of sixty miles an hour, you could drive to the moon in less than a month. Is that where we’re going?”

He was absolutely useless. Whenever you had wished he had a glass of wine with you, you had no idea how annoying he could be in an altered state. You promised yourself once you two got yourselves out of this mess, you’d do everything in your power to keep him sober.

“Alright, hotshot – if you didn’t go to Quantico, that means you’re staying somewhere around here. Do you remember your hotel name?” You paused. “Or motel, or whatever.”

He stopped running behind, causing you to fall backward as your momentum suddenly stopped. You two were still holding hands as he racked his brain for the answer.

“405 Olive Way.”

“That’s it?! You don’t remember the name or anything? Just the address?!”

He looked down at your hands and grinned the goofiest smile.

“You’re holding my hand. Do you like like me?”

It was enough to get somewhere at least. You found a taxi roaming around, this time with an older and not as sinister woman. You shoved Spencer inside, forcing him into the seat. He tried to squirm around, but you got into the taxi as well, and put your hand on his thigh to keep him down.

“Where you off to, babygirl?”

You sighed. “Do you know a hotel on Olive way at all? Mr. Boy Wonder got himself into trouble and can’t remember the name.”

As he played with the window, rolling up, down, then back up again, she answered.

“Could it be Mayflower Park? That’s been there for years.”

You almost asked Spencer if that hotel sounded familiar, but he had begun to dissociate while staring at his hands. He rotated them slowly and sat, bug-eyed watching them. You removed your hand from his thigh, realizing he’d be too distracted zoning out now to squirm around again.

“Let’s just go there. If that’s not it, we’ll be close by at least.”

She took off, and turned on her radio. As you drove through a bright-lit Seattle, the music of Ray Charles filled your ears. If you ignored the incapacitated man next to you, it was almost calming. The taxi driver was sweet, and you could hear her softly humming along.

“If you’d like to sing, feel free to. I don’t mind,” you told her.

She smiled and nodded. “If you don’t mind, then, I will.”

Through the streets and past intersections, she sang with the most melodic voice to old songs and you joined her in the choruses you knew. There was a gentle tenderness to her voice, one that didn’t fit the mold of an old taxi driver. As you rolled up to the Mayflower, you gave her a generous tip and asked her why she said as a driver when she could be singing on the radio.

“That’s very sweet, thank you. Maybe I will when I retire – maybe I will.” She gave you an endearing smile, and continued. “Now, get that boy out of my car. He’s been annoying to watch in my rearview mirror.”

You could tell it was a joke, but you still shoved him out of the car. You laughed as you did, and thanked her again. She waved goodbye and slowly made her way off to find another passenger for the night.

“I love car rides,” Spencer finally said.

You walked him, hand-in-hand, towards the hotel entrance. “I thought you didn’t like driving, or going fast in cars.”

Spencer waved his head back and forth in the air.

“I don’t like me driving. I like other people driving,” he whined.

You shook your head and helped him up the stairs into the hotel. Entering the lobby felt like an entirely different world than the one in Pioneer Square and that club. It felt grand, with lights keeping the whole lobby alive and lit. Fancy couches and a fireplace with a bar sat in the lobby, and it felt like you were underdressed to even be here. But, if Spencer was staying here and acting like…that, you shouldn’t have felt too embarrassed.

“Another question for you, pretty boy. Do you have a room key? Or did you lose it? Just be straight with me.”

He pulled out a white card with a golden logo on it out of his pocket. You tried to grab it out of his hand, but he flicked his wrist and the card disappeared. You tried his other hand, which was still by his side, and empty as well.

“I’m not really in the mood for magic tricks.”

He closed his eyes and replied, “Let’s check behind your ear.”

However, in his altered state, instead of grabbing the card from behind your ear, he ended up slapping you with the card on the side of your head.

“Gimme that.”

You swiped the card out of his hand before he caused more trouble and walked up to the elevator. You both waited up the doors opened gently, and until you were inside, you realized you didn’t know his room number. When you asked for it, he told you:

“It’s a palindrome.”

You racked your brain – palindromes were words that were spelled the same forwards and backward. Mom, wow, racecar…the room number had to be the same forward and backward. It didn’t really narrow anything down, since you had to figure out which number was in the middle and which one was repeating.

“Anything more than that?”

He banged his head against the elevator wall behind him. As he rattled his head, he came up with an answer.

“There’s a four in the middle. Traditionally, in Japan, four is unlucky because it is sometimes pronounced shi, which is the word for death. Sometimes levels or rooms with the number four don't exist in hospitals or hotels.”

“It’s amazing,” you replied while trying the first floor, “that you can remember superstitions from another country but earlier you couldn’t figure out to keep your mouth shut. I doubt you remember my name right now, too.”

Since the middle number was four, that meant that you’d have to check one room on each floor until you found one that worked. Room 141 first, then 242, then so on… Spencer mulled over what you had said, and finally asked, “Your name is Lila.”

You laughed at that, how wrong that was.

“Spence, honey, I don’t even look like your Lila. There is nothing,” you said, gesturing to yourself, “about me that screams blonde Hollywood beach actress. Keep trying.”

You tried the first floor, Spencer following you in tow. No luck there; time to head back to the elevator and start again. He threw out other names while you checked the next few rooms, including Derek Morgan, which must have shown how out of it he really was.

After a few tries, at Room 646, you finally heard the door unlock and you pushed the handle, allowing yourself inside.

“Dios Mio, Spencer. What happened here?”

There were two queen beds; one of them relatively clean but the sheets were undone, indicating someone had slept there. The other had stains of all sorts, clothes thrown all over it, and substances of all kinds.

“Is this weed?” You asked, as you held up a bag full of brownish-green crumbles. He shrugged, but you were from California – you knew weed when you saw it. And smelt it. You kept digging around.

“What’s this white stuff? Is that…CRACK?!”

Spencer leaned against the wall, putting his hand into his pocket.

“It’s not mine.”

You crossed your arms.

“Whose is it, then? And why the hell is it in your room?!”

He looked up the ceiling, embarrassed.

“Honey Suckle. She left this morning.”

What kind of name was Honey Suckle? And why would she have drugs with her and Spencer? And why would it be on the bed? And--- it started to click.

“Did you hire a prostitute, Spencer Reid?”

His face got redder and he avoided your gaze, ironically answering your question.

“Oh my god. You are awful. Seriously awful. You and I have a lot to talk about once you’re sober again.”

You walked over to him, as he still was red and avoiding your gaze.

“I’ll tell you something, Spencer. You probably won’t remember it in the morning but I don’t care.

You can’t just be irrational like this. And with me. When you escaped without saying goodbye, I had no idea where you were and it was awful seeing you come back sick and cold. When you left because you assumed I was lying to you, that hurt. A lot. I know I’m the one who…. kidnapped, you, for a lack of a better term. But you don’t get to do this to me, or yourself.

You’re getting cleaned up in the morning and leaving. I don’t care where or how, but I can’t keep getting hurt like this, and I don’t want to see you hurt yourself either.”

You walked towards the bathroom, tearing starting to form after telling him something he’d forget in the morning. Your obsession, your passion you originally had for him wasn’t enough to excuse everything that followed. Maybe you shouldn’t have been rash and done all of this. Maybe you two could have met another way; gotten coffee or dinner like other normal people. It was too late to regret anything, and the smallest part of you didn’t. Still…

As you walked off towards the bathroom, Spencer spoke.

“I remember who you are. I know your name now.”

You turned on your heel and walked back over to him. You leaned on the same wall as him, a few feet away. Arms crossed and eyebrows wrinkled, you asked what it was.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

And in that moment, he reached over and placed his mouth on yours. He stank of alcohol among other things, but he cradled your head in his arms as he kissed you again.

This was so wrong.

He kissed you again, placing his lips on you and passionately. You kissed him back, putting your hand up to his face as well. He rotated both of you, pushing you against the wall with his body. His soft lips met yours forcefully, and you responded to his touch. It grew more passionate, making out against the wall. A soft gasp escaped you and he pulled away with a soft moan.

He moved his hands down your body towards your waist. As amazing as his touch felt, you had to stop him. It wasn’t right.

“You’re not sober. I’m not doing anything.”

He kissed you again.

“Please,” he pleaded.

You never thought you’d be pinned against the wall by Spencer Reid, denying him access to your body. But there was a lot that happened over the past few months that you wouldn’t have thought possible.

“Change into something not as sweaty, and we’re going to make you sleep off some of this.”

He kissed you again, moving his hands back up to your face. You shook your head and pushed him off of you, easier than you thought it would be. He groaned and grabbed a shirt and pair of sweatpants from the atrocious pile sitting on the bed, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You fell onto the cleaner bed, groaning. You heard the faint sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom, and you prayed he made it to the toilet. Every time you found him again, it felt as if he took you on a roller coaster of emotions.

You replayed the words 'You’re my girlfriend ' over and over again in your mind, and brushed your fingers over the lips that had kissed Spencer’s. Did he feel that way, deep down? Did he have feelings for you somewhere in his subconscious?

The sound of someone throwing up again crumbled those thoughts. A changed and stumbling Spencer came out of the bathroom a few moments later.

“Mmm…that sucked.”

You sat up on the bed.

“Maybe you should think of that next time you cross drugs and alcohol. Seriously, Spencer. I know frat boys who are more restrained than you are.”

He fell into the bed, face first. He groaned and rolled over.

“All of me feels like I got hit by a truck.”

You scoffed.

“The all of you? You’re forgetting your grammar, Spence.”

You got off the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Before you went in, Spencer asked you a question.

“Are you staying here tonight?”

You sighed and looked back at him.

“I should. I want to make sure you don’t overdose or choke on any vomit in your sleep. I’ll make sure you sleep on your side, and then I’m leaving in the morning. And, I get the car back.”

He started to crawl into the bed, under the sheets. As you shut the door to the bathroom, you heard him say, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You took off your bra and brushed your teeth using the wrapped toiletries hotels provided under the sink. You washed your face off of makeup and left the bathroom to a Spencer with his eyes already closed in a bed. Since he had taken the clean one, you sighed and walked over to the stained one. As you lifted up the sheets to climb in, you heard a voice behind you.

“Come here.”

You turned around to see Spencer awake, rolled on his side facing you. In this angle, you could see the hickeys left on his neck and you had to wonder what all he had been up to.

“Fine. We’re not sleeping together though; I’m just making sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

He scooched over to leave room for you. You got under the covers and he immediately put his arms around you. You rolled over on your side, facing away from him. As he drifted off to sleep, you realized that you two were essentially spooning. At least by doing so, you could make sure he didn’t sleep on his back, and you could feel him breathing.

You didn’t find sleep for a long time. Your mind raced as you thought about the evening, about Spencer, about the state he was in, what he said…. what he did.

Once you settled down and the darkness of the night hit you, the words echoed once again in your mind.

You’re my girlfriend

You’re my girlfriend

You’re my girlfriend

[lets-steal-an-archive]

'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines

TRUE OR FALSE:

Actresses Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, Rue McClanahan and Betty White write their own dialogue for "The Golden Girls." (FALSE)

Older female writers write all 25 episodes each season because no one else could understand the problems of older females. (FALSE)

In order to keep the shows consistent from week to week, one writer prepares all the episodes. (FALSE)

Ten staff writers work together to prepare a season's worth of scripts. (TRUE)

It's a Monday morning in early October and on a sound stage at the small Renmar Studios in Hollywood, the "golden girls" have gathered to read a new script. This will be episode No. 60 of the series and it will air about three weeks later — on Halloween.

Everyone in the room has heard about this week's story line: Rose writes a letter to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. But apart from the writers, no one has seen the final script until now. It was completed on a Saturday, photocopied 150 times on Sunday and distributed this morning to NBC; co-producer Touchstone Pictures; the show's creator, Susan Harris; the show's lawyers and researchers, and the "Golden Girls" cast and crew.

"Hopefully, they'll laugh," murmurs head writer Kathy Speer as she prepares to hear the "table reading." "If they don't, we'll be here fixing the script for a long time."

The table reading really is at tables — eight of them arranged in a rectangle. The actresses and guest actors sit on one side, facing the writers. To the actresses' left are director Terry Hughes, executive producers Paul Junger Witt and Tony Thomas and co-executive producers/head writers Speer and Terry Grossman. To the actresses' right sit NBC representatives, the show's casting director and props and wardrobe personnel.

They begin. Director Hughes reads the stage directions: Interior, kitchen — day. Sophia is seated at table. She is reading book entitled 'Magic Made Easy.' Dorothy enters.

Bea Arthur, as Dorothy, reads: "Hi, Ma."

Estelle Getty, as Sophia, reads: "Give me your watch."

Another week is under way. As the actresses go through their lines, everyone else listens intently. They laugh (or don't laugh) and take notes. By the Friday-night tapings, this script will need to play at 22 minutes. But Friday is a long way off.

As soon as the table reading ends, the writers, producers, director and an NBC program executive huddle to discuss script changes. Then, while the actresses begin rehearsals using the first draft, the writers rush off to their yellow stucco two-story building nearby to begin rewriting.

"The secret of TV half-hour comedy shows is the revisions," explains Dean Valentine, NBC director of current comedy and also the program executive on "Golden Girls." "What they start out with is 75% away from what they end up with."

"I don't think this episode is going to need much work," co-head writer Terry Grossman announces cheerfully on his way back to his office. "It got a good response at the table. We just have to cut it, smooth out transitions and clarify some story points. New jokes will be the tough thing." He anticipates a few hours' work.

"Early in the first season we were throwing out whole scenes," he recalls. "Now we know what works for each lady and what she does best. That's the advantage of being in the third year of the show. The disadvantage is that stories are harder to come by."

Grossman heads into the office he shares with his wife Speer, who is also his writing partner. They are in charge of the writing staff. "That means we are the two who get yelled at the most when something goes wrong," he jokes.

Also piling into the conference-sized room are supervising producers Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan and producer Winifred Hervey. Despite their titles, Grossman explains, "We're all writers."

"We are the five most dull people," Nathan insists.

"We're much funnier on paper," Hervey adds.

These five, all in their 30s, met when they worked on "Benson," an earlier Witt-Thomas-Harris series. They have been with "Golden Girls" since the beginning, and every Monday they jointly rewrite the script being taped that week. They jokingly call themselves The Gang of Five.

While they start rewriting, the show's other five staff writers — Chris Lloyd, Jeff Ferro, Frederic Weiss, Robert Bruce and Martin Weiss — go back to their own offices to work on new scripts.

"To keep quality, you like as many writers as you can afford," Speer explains. "This year, we have six 'entities' (writing teams) — four sets of partners and two individuals. And we also use a few free-lance scripts each season."

Approximately 25% of the show's budget goes to the writers, executive producer Tony Thomas says. Staff writers on a comedy series earn a weekly salary plus separate payments for completed scripts. A free-lance writer who does a story outline, a first draft and a second draft can earn about $11,000. (Note: All outside script submissions must come through agents.)

"A good comedy requires a lot of teamwork, a lot of people sitting in a room working together," Thomas emphasizes. "A good team is rare, but it's not extremely rare. It's like winning the NBA title. We had it in 'Soap,' and we had it for some years in 'Benson.' Obviously this is one of the most successful staffs we’ve ever put together."

Both Witt and Thomas deal with day-to-day details on "Golden Girls." Harris, who created the series, is less involved this season because, according to Thomas, "She is working on a feature for Disney with us. But she reads all the scripts and is familiar with most of the stories."

Flashback to the previous Friday, a week when "Golden Girls" wasn't taping. Every fourth week during the season, the show shuts down, giving the actors and crew a rest and allowing the writers to catch up.

The Gang of Five is trying to explain how their writing process works. They insist on telling, rather than showing, because, as they say, they're shy. "At the beginning of the season, even having our new writers in the meeting made me a little uncomfortable," Grossman admits. "It slowed down the process."

"One of the most important things that exists with this group is that the bottom line is making the show as good as possible. It's still very difficult when your script is read for the first time and the material doesn't work. It hurts for a moment. But there's no time to take it personally. It didn't work, and the clock is ticking. You better keep moving and get it right."

Like all sitcoms, "Golden Girls" has a "bible," a book that synopsizes everything that has happened on a series. Thus, new writers don't have to watch all the previous episodes. But there is no master plan of what will happen in the future.

The idea for "Letter to Gorbachev" surfaced last May at a beginning-of-the-season meeting of the writers and producers. "It was one of 20 or 30 story notions kicked around," Barry Fanaro recalls. The obvious similarity to Samantha Smith's letter to then-Soviet leader Yuri Andropov isn't mentioned.

"Most of them didn't work,” adds Fanaro's writing partner Mort Nathan, "but this one sounded amusing. Because Rose is a childlike character, we wondered what would happen if she wrote a letter to Gorbachev about world peace. We started fleshing it out, but we couldn't think of a second act. We went round and round, and finally six weeks later we came up with a way to make the story work."

"The five of us went over it scene by scene and agreed it was workable," Fanaro continues. "Then Mort and I went off and wrote it. It took about 10 days because we were also working on other things."

Each "Golden Girls” episode is written to a formula: "the idea, the act break and the resolution," Grossman explains. "Usually there's an 'A' story and a 'B' story going. It's the natural structure."

Although Fanaro and Nathan, who won a writing Emmy last year for a "Golden Girls" episode, wrote the basic Gorbachev script, the story the audience will see has gone through the usual "Golden Girls" grinder: The Gang of Five read and dissect the first draft, adding new scenes, new lines, new jokes. "It's really a team effort," Grossman stresses.

The jokes can be the easiest part — or the hardest. "They're only hard to write when you've got one that isn't working," Grossman says. "A joke in the middle of a scene can be weak, but the 'out joke' — a snappy one-liner that ends the scene on a laugh — has to be strong."

"We may decide a scene needs a new opening," Speer explains. "There will be a long moment of silence. Then someone will ask if anybody's eaten at some new restaurant. In the course of conversation, somebody will say, 'Wait a minute. I have an idea.'"

"With five of us, at least one of us is paying attention," Hervey deadpans.

"Good writers should be able to write for men, women, old or young," Grossman says. "We all draw on other people in our lives — parents, grandparents. Part of the reason for the show's popularity is that these are very vital people. The very same story you've seen 100 times on every sitcom takes on new light with characters in this age group. That makes life easier for us.

"Also, these four actresses are sensational. To have the entire cast be able to give such high-caliber performances means you don't have to adjust your material. You write the material, and they deliver. If they can't make it work, there's something wrong with the material."

The week goes by quickly. On Tuesday morning, the "golden girls" read over the revised script and discover that one scene has changed considerably. Some lines have been cut, while others have been sharpened. There are several new jokes. A press conference scene has been shifted from a hotel room to the ladies' living room.

On Tuesday night, the Gang of Five works late. During the day's rehearsals they realized that the revised scene didn’t play well so they jettisoned it and added some new dialogue and a few more jokes.

Following Wednesday's rehearsals, they hone the script a little more. Time is pressing. By the Thursday afternoon dress rehearsal, the actresses try to be script-perfect, although they often aren't. By now, the original 52-page script has been reduced to 50 pages, and almost every page has had at least one alteration.

For instance, on Monday when Blanche accidentally spat Coca-Cola on a Soviet Embassy official, he responded by saying, "No apology necessary." Now he says, "No need to apologize. In Moscow, we have to stand in line four hours to get this."

Late Friday afternoon, the audience files into Renmar Studios to watch the first taping. The writers are standing by, just in case a last-minute problem occurs. During the 90-minute dinner break, while a new audience is arriving, the cast, writers and producers calmly discuss how to improve the second taping. A few lines are cut, the taping is completed, and it’s on to the next week.

Source: Mills, Nancy. 1987. 'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines. Los Angeles Times, October 30, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-30-ca-11702-story.html

[druidx]

Feb Roundup/ WIP Whenever

What was on the Task List for Jan:

✅ Write/ Rewrite/ Edit more of The Ruby Falls

❌ Put the Finishing touches on Dru-Reads-Writeblr so I can start using it

❌ Upload original stuff to Royal Road

❌ Upload missing fanfics to AO3

So what have I been doing?

As you can see above, all my writing time has been taken up with The Ruby Falls. It’s taken me a whole month just to rewrite the second section.

Why so slow going? I can only assume it’s because this is the second draft, so there’s been a lot of plotting and worldbuilding, a lot of putting more thought into background characters, and more attempts to write with subtlety and subtext.

For example, I spent three days learning about Bulgaria, their naming conventions and culture, so one B-grade character could be a proper person, instead of a cardboard cutout.

Some Word Count Stats for The Ruby Falls

Previous w/c of section 2: 4,455

New w/c of section 2: 4,732

New total w/c for project: 128,332

So what’s next?

You’ll probably be able to guess, but just in case: Rewriting Section 3 of The Ruby Falls! Section 3 is currently at 3,655 words. There is a lot I want to change in this section, so I fully expect the count to get bigger by the time I’m done. For example the pacing is shot to hell, everything has minimal descriptions, and there’s a fair chunk of details that need to move around. At this stage of the process I feel like an director: “Cut, cut. No this isn’t working. Let’s put you two over here, under this light, instead of where you were and try that scene again.”

Instead of ICYMI, here’s a few excerpts from The Ruby Falls:

CW blood

[Aderyn’s] hands shook as she climbed in, breath hitching as her nose filled with the cloying scent of industrial car polish. Aderyn grasped the steering wheel, riding out the icy tremors that passed through her. She sniffed and whimpered; a hand rising to brush away tears came back streaked with pink. She stared at with growing horror, then in a flurry was pawing at her face, scrabbling in the glovebox and pockets of the heavy coat for something to clean her face. With great heaving sobs, Aderyn swiped her face with surfactant wipes, dropping the blood-stained fabric into the passenger footwell and collapsed over the steering wheel when the wipes ran out.

CW death mention; guns

A thin man inside the mesh cage looked up at their approach, a grin spreading over his face as he stopped counting packs of shining brass bullets. "Agent Simmons," he said, deep voice rolling out like the purr of an engine. "What brings you all the way down here? Perhaps hoping for a chance to win your money back?" Jena snorted. "No, Agent Burns. I learnt my lesson the hard way last time. Director wants you to run up a scenario and allocate stock for it." Agent Burns picked up a notepad and cocked his head. "Ferrum Burns, meet our... adopted Blade sister, Aderyn Griffiths," Jena said, leaning against the mesh wall. A cocked eyebrow joined the tilted head. "Run that by me again?" "I'm just a contractor," Aderyn said, aiming a frown at Jena. "Ain't nothing close to a Blade. Just doing a favour for a favour, y'know?" "There's an illegitimate Septim in the Netherlands," Jena said. "Director wants her to go pick him up, but she might be walking into an assassination attempt, so he wants her loaded for bear." Ferrum looked Aderyn up and down. "How big of a bear?" he said to Jena. "Did Baurus say-" "It was a lotta small groups," Aderyn said. "That's what you wanted to know, right – what happened when they came for Uriel? Each time it was a group of up to five, spaced maybe half an hour apart." She swallowed, gaze going vacant. "Only took one in the end." Silence fell in the room; Jena and Ferrum exchanged worried glances. Jena pulled away from the mesh wall. "Griffiths?" she asked, laying a tentative hand on Aderyn's arm. Aderyn inhaled sharply and pulled back, eyes darting. "You good?" Aderyn blinked a few times. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "You sure?" "Yeah. Yes. Just been a long day, yeah?" Ferrum grunted. "What kind of training have you had?" "With fighting? Not much. Mostly self-defence classes and bar brawls." "Guns?" "Went clay pigeon shooting once, so got the theory down." Aderyn shrugged. "I take on corporate buildings. Ain't exactly often I need to be armed. 'Sides, once Preston gets me my wheels, I'll have all the kit I need. The Fox might be a bit of a bastard, but he don't skimp on our gear." Ferrum scribbled something onto his pad before looking up and catching her eye. "Normally, I'd agree, but the situation is volatile. I'd prefer you have enough protection to ensure you come home." He held her gaze for a long moment until she blinked and looked away.

[stressy-enby]

Chapter 1:  4 Months Later

Cover made on Canva.com

You were great at running. You’d been running from your problems for year, both figuratively and literally. Before however, your problems followed you, now they simply wait on bated breath for your return. What’s the point in running, though, if no one’s chasing you?

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Haha, funny story guys. This may become an angsty slow-burn. I still have no idea how long this is gonna be or take, but it may be a bigger project than I imagined.

. . .

Your shoes tapped quietly against the white tile as you waved to the receptionist as you passed his desk.

It was getting colder, so the police station interior was conversely getting warmer. You shrugged off your coat, reveling in the delectable, toasty heat.

You passed several more desks on the way to your own. At this point, you didn’t have to look to see who would greet you, ignore you, or just frown disapprovingly for simply arriving at work.

The quiet buzz of chatter blended together in a symphony of voices as you walked through the center of it, only to be intercepted by Taiyo.

“Morning, (Y/N)” The older investigator gestured for you to sit.

“Hey, Tai,” You pulled out the chair, and slid your sunglasses on before your eyes met. He pushed a paper cup over to you. “Thanks.”

“Good to see you didn’t take off on us. It’s nice to see you still in the country.” His eyes twinkled knowingly “Go anywhere exotic this weekend?”

Taiyo Antonov was the stern yet kindly man who was charged with keeping an eye on you. He had been the one to bring an end to your “traveling days” as you called them to people outside of the station. Despite him being the reason you where behind bars for three years in three different countries, he had become your closest friend and confidant. You two where a bit of an odd pair; you, a shifty looking 24-year-old who knew far too much about counterfeiting checks, and he, a 52-year-old police investigator who spoke with a vague Russian accent.

“Pfft, if you consider the grocery store exotic, I guess.” You rolled your eyes, peeling the lid off your paper cup to scrutinize its contents. “You visited your daughter, right? How’d that go?”

“It was good, I had fun. She took me mini-golfing.”

“And?”

“And she kicked my ass.”

You chuckled, then took a cautionary sip of your coffee. “Anything interesting on the bracket today, or am I gonna be bored out of my skull for another twelve hours?”

“Actually, you’re going to have some visitors.” Taiyo slid his reading glasses on and flipped through a file. “Ingenium and Deku should be dropping by at seven.”

“Hold on-” You sputtered in confusion, setting your mediocre coffee down. “Why? What did I do?”

“Do you even need to ask that?” He shot you an incredulous look, which you matched with one of your own.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You grunted, fleetingly picturing yourself strangling your friend. “Taiyo. Why do Deku and Ingenium wanna meet me?”

“They’re the ones who presented the idea of releasing you for parole. They fought with me to get you here.” The balding man pulled a paper out of his file and handed it to you. “This is the proposal they turned in.”

You skimmed the typed document. It was about a whole page long, and was a lot like those argumentative essays you had to write back in middle school. There were several well written points about why you should be released from Tartarus and how you could help the police station, even you found yourself being convinced this really was the best place for you. Your eyes skipped to the bottom of the sheet, to the handwritten signatures, Ingenium and Deku. 

“Woah,” You breathed, mildly starstruck. You had originally thought that it was just Taiyo who got you out. You would’ve never imagined that two pro heroes would take this much interest in you. In fact, you found yourself a little hurt that they had taken the time to help you. Two perfect strangers handed you a Get Out of Jail Free card on a silver platter, but Taiyo, the pitying man who had worriedly handed you over to the French police for your first year of imprisonment hadn’t even thought to offer you the same luxury.

“Yeah, they want to check up on you.” Tai smiled a little, a proud dad-like gleam in his eye. “Last time they saw you, you looked like Hell.”

“Imprisonment wasn’t my best look,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pushing that painful twist of betrayal back down.

“I can’t imagine it’s anyone’s.” Your friend replied putting the parole proposal back in the file. “Anyway, I’ve got a few check for you to take a look at.”

He passed a second file over as you rolled your eyes. “So much fun,” You collected it and your drink, standing up. “Don’t you have anything challenging?”

“Our guy has a mix of real and fake checks. That’s interesting.” Taiyo insisted.

“No, that’s boring.” You stated. “If anything, it makes my job easier. This guy’s a real amateur.”

. . . . .

Your bosses seemed to think that giving you a surplus of work would make up for it being incredibly easy. It did not. It just made it tedious, and less fun. The first few days of work were interesting, getting to see different forgery techniques and all, but it had quickly just became monotonous.

You sorted through a pile of checks, easily discerning the fakes. Over years of practice, the identifiers where clearer than day to you. The paper being just a fraction heavier than usual, puckered wording where it didn’t belong, ink that didn’t smell quite right, and so on and so forth.

Your computer dinged, indicating an email, and you eagerly allowed yourself to be distracted. You navigated to your emails, and your eyebrows shot up upon reading the sender’s address.

Ingenium@gmail.com

There were no extra numbers or letters thrown in the address for individuality, so it seemed more likely than not to be the real deal. You were unsure why you were surprised. The hero was already coming to visit you, why shouldn’t he email you?

You shook off the initial thrill of being contacted by a pro hero, and clicked to open the message.

(Y/N) (L/N),

Good morning. I’m just writing to remind you that Deku and I will be meeting you at your workplace at 7:00 PM today. We’re looking forward to the visit, and hope you do as well.

Regards,

Ingenium

Another warm thrill dashed through you as you hit Reply. You fingers hovered above the keys, mentally drafting your response. A few words were typed out, before all being discarded, backspacing all the way to Good moring, Ingenium.

After muddling through your simple email and rereading and rewriting it twice,  you finally hit Send, releasing a breath of air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Good morning, Ingenium,

Thank you for your reminder, I’m looking forward to meeting you and Deku in person. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to see me.

See you soon!

(Y/N) (L/N)

“No email should be this stressful.” You reasoned with yourself, rolling your swivel chair away from your desk.

You leaned back, watching the seconds tick by slowly. Each minute seemed to be longer than the last.

8:46

“This is agony.”

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

that he stayed

When a girl comes crashing through the window of Bakugou’s dorm and he has the strongest urge to just keep her with him.

Part 9 of “I feel safe with you”

Bakugou x fem!reader

Words : 1,424

Warnings : mentions of scars 

Series Masterlist

A/N : I forgot to save my first draft ahhhh, so now I have to rewrite it :(

Hope you enjoy!

As soon as lessons had finished, everyone rushed to their respective friends, chatting away as a few curious eyes darted toward the new girl. 

Bakugou walked up to her desk, his bag already packed and slung over his shoulder. She looked up at him with a small smile. “What is it?”

“Are you not going to pack away?” he grumbled, giving her a look of confusion and she sat still in her seat.

“I don’t see the need to rush.” she replied quietly, starting to gather her pen and books. 

“Well if you don’t hurry up and train then you won’t be able to beat those losers.” he declared, grabbing the remaining few textbooks off her desk and stuffing them into her book bag. 

“Shall we go?” he asked, raising and eyebrow at her, to which she pursed her lips and nodded. 

“Is Bakubro ditching us again?” Kirishima wondered aloud as he watched the two leave the classroom together. 

“Yeah, it feel kinda quiet without his constant noise.” Kaminari piped up, a small frown on his face. 

“Well I’m sure he’ll join us again soon.” Mina cheered, giving the boys both a smile before looping her arms around their necks. Sero watched from the side with a smile before suggesting that they too should start training soon. 

Together the four walked back to the dorms, spotting the two ahead. It was mainly Bakugou who spoke, Y/N nodding in response, occasionally letting out a small reply. 

“And your hero work?” he inquired, pushing open the dorm doors and walking to the stairs, her trailing behind him. 

“I’m due to start again next week.” she answered. “I guess they’ll call me whenever and pull me out of class. Kind of a bother to be honest.”

“Do you not want to attend school?” he peered back over his shoulder, slowing down his pace so she could walk up the stairs next to him.

“I just don’t really see the point.”

“Why?”

“Well I’m already a pro hero aren’t I?” Her tone was soft yet her replies were sharp and to the point. 

“What about middle school? What did you do then?”

“I was home schooled." 

He nodded in reply, unlocking his room and entering. She followed and closed the door behind her, setting her bag down on the floor next to his desk.

“So training?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Better to do something productive than stay cooped up in your room all day.” he said. “Did Midnight bring any sports clothes?” 

“No.” she shook her head, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as she watched him run around trying to sort things out for her. 

“Here, you can borrow some of mine for now.” he said, pulling out a pair of joggers and a old t shirt. He placed them in her hands and watched as her eyes looked them over continuously. “They’re clean I promise.” he grumbled. 

She nodded, content, before walking over to the bathroom, locking the door and getting changed. Although half way through putting the shirt on, her reflection caught her eye. Large ugly lines littered her body, each surrounded by a slightly darker hue that only accented the eyesore. She felt her breath hitch at the sight, tracing each scar with her eyes before she felt her eyesight go blurry with tears. 

A knock on the door took her out of her trance, a squeak escaping her mouth in response. 

“Have you fallen into the toilet or something?” Bakugou shouted from outside.

“Wait, I’m nearly done.” she responded, hastily pulling the top down and gathering up her neatly folded school uniform in her arms, unlocking the bathroom door and stepping back into his bedroom.

“God woman, you took forever.” he muttered before pointing to a rather large plastic box set next to the wall at the end of his bed. “You can keep your stuff in there if it helps.” 

She crouched down and eyed the box for any trace of dust, a small hum showing she was happy before placing down her uniform in the corner. 

“You have a few more stuff to put away right?” he spoke up, sighing for dramatic effect. 

“Yeah.” she nodded. 

“I’ll go downstairs and fill up up our water, come down when you’re done and lock the door.” She once again nodded and he turned to leave the room. “And hurry up.” 

“Alright thanks.” she said, hearing him say ‘no problem’ before the door clicked shut. 

She hurriedly unpacked the things from the small suitcase Midnight had brought earlier, finding some neatly folded underwear, some pairs of socks and some other things. Settling them all neatly into the box, she closed down the lid, zipped up the suitcase and left the room, making sure to lock the door before walking down the hallway to the stairs. 

She pondered about the blonde. She felt no ill intent from him or his words. He was simply harsh and abrasive, a little rough in his social skills but that didn’t mean he was a bad person in any way. She had picked up on his way to try and comfort her, something she was very grateful for. He even went as far to reassure her every time she wondered if something was dirty or not. 

“Y/N right?” a voice brought her out of her thoughts and she turned to see a black haired girl walking towards her. “I’m Yaoyorozu but you can just call me Momo, it’s nice to meet you.” she smiled. 

She returned the gesture with a small smile and a ‘it’s nice to meet you too’ before asking the other girl if she needed something. 

“No not really.” Yaoyorozu said, pausing before continuing with a “I was just wondering why you don’t use the lift?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a lift.” She answered truthfully. “But it’s alright, I could do with a little more exercise lately.”

Yaoyorozu giggled at her comment. “I’m sure you don’t.” she said. “Where are you going? I could perhaps accompany you.”

“I’m just going downstairs to the common room I think.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” Yaoyorozu said, taking the lead as the two girls descended the stairs. 

“What are you going to do today?” she asked, feeling a need to make sure the girl wasn’t alone in the afternoons, not just as the classes’ vice president but also as a friend. 

“Some training with Katsuki.” she replied. The use of Bakugou’s first name had taken Yaoyorozu back, despite her seeing their constant interactions during the school hours. 

“Are you two close?” she asked. To pry into someone’s personal life wasn’t something she would normally do, however curiosity was getting the better of her.

Y/N hummed in response as they turned around the corner. She was slightly stuck with having a conversation with someone her age. She didn’t know what they would talk about, or what type of responses would satisfy the other person, however Yaoyorozu was the one directing the conversation and she was grateful that the girl had struck up a conversation with her. 

“Not really.” she said curtly, before spotting him leaning against the wall on his phone. “Alright, I’ll see you later Yaoyorozu.” 

“Momo’s fine.”

“Thank you Momo.” she bowed slightly before running off to Bakugou, who looked up from his phone. 

“Took you long enough. What were you talking about with Ponytail?”

“Nothing much, just introductions.” she answered, taking one of the water bottles from him. “Thanks.” 

“Whatever. Come on let’s go.”

His question was half-hearted. To be honest, he didn’t care what the two girls were talking about. God, he didn’t care half the time when people were talking to him, but for some reason the girl next to him did nothing but pipe his interest. 

Whenever he saw her or thought of her, his mind would be clouded by questions. Was she okay? Why was she such a clean freak? Was his food today okay? He knew she had complimented it during lunch but his insecurities grew with along the pride that prevented him from voicing out his thoughts.

A question that rattled his mind for hours on end was what did she think of him? 

She was utterly thankful. She had voiced her thanks the previous night, but not even words could describe the happiness she felt when she was with her first out-of-hero-work friend. She was elated, although it was hard to tell from her short replies and seemingly uninterested persona. She was so grateful 

that he stayed

by her side.

[prev] [next]

Taglist : @imalivebarelystriving​ @falling4fandoms​ @succulent-momma​

[1000-directions]

rbb because it gave me a heart attack #trauma and also ughhHhhHhhhh bc mood

lolllllll people in marvel fandom do NOT understand how some of us suffer when they abbreviate their reverse big bang as rbb!!!

this was the original draft of my winterhawk reverse big bang where clint is a musician and bucky is a trust fund kid who ends up joining the army or something and they’re boyfriends and then they break up and eventually get back together and it’s told partly in flashbacks and it was just getting TOO complicated to write and felt joyless and was making me completely miserable, so i threw it out after 2500 words and wrote winterhawk punks in love instead, which was the correct choice.

i will never finish it, but here is what i’ve got in case anyone is interested:

There are a lot of different things Clint could have done with his life.

Well, no. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.

But there are several things Clint could have done with his life. Multiple things. More than one thing.

But he doesn’t think any of those other things would have ever made him as happy and crazy and pissed-off and satisfied as singing does.

Whenever anyone asks, he’s very careful to call himself a writer. A composer. A creator. A musician. Like the making of the thing is the part that motivates him. Like performing is just an afterthought. Like singing is just something he has to do so the music makes sense. Because he knows he’s not a great singer. He’s passable. He can keep a beat and hit all the notes in his limited range, and he gets just enough inflection and passion into the words to make people feel a thing, sometimes.

He’s good at the writing. He’s good at the deceptively simple arrangements. His voice is the least he has to offer, and he knows it, and it feels kind of foolish and indulgent to especially savor the part that he’s objectively the worst at. But Christ, he loves doing it, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

*

The two of them had ditched work early, saving up all their smoke breaks until it was suddenly 2:40, and the manager had no choice but to cut them loose. And even though they had permission, it felt like getting away with something, and Clint twisted his fingers into Bucky’s grasp as they ran down the sidewalk together. Clint darted recklessly into the intersection, and Bucky jerked him back at the last second as a truck came barrelling past, honking furiously at the two of them. And it was so close to being bad, but it was fine, fine, fine, and Clint laughed as Bucky shook his head, and Clint linked his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him right there in the middle of the street.

They were twenty, and they were in love. And nothing was serious but that.

It was a hot summer at the shore, and they were living in a shitty beach house with three other friends. They spent their mornings and afternoons scooping ice cream at a popular local shop that was more famous than good. And then at night, they’d go drinking at the scummier bars that were a little more lax on carding, or they’d build a bonfire on the beach and drink Yuenglings purchased with Clint’s really good fake ID. And inevitably, someone would have an acoustic guitar, and someone would start shouting out requests, and they’d get drunker and noisier as the night went on.

And then Clint would grab Bucky’s hand with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and they’d strip down to nothing and run into the ocean in the dark, screaming down the moon. And then they’d huddle together in one towel, letting the fire dry their hair until it was curly and crispy. And then they’d all stomp out the fire and gather up the red Solo cups, and Bucky and Clint would push their two futons together into one rickety big bed, and they would fall asleep in each others’ arms, salty and sandy and worn out.

Bucky woke up early most days to go for a run. He was in the Army Reserves, and he had to stay in shape, and Clint certainly wasn’t complaining about what the workouts did for his boyfriend’s physique. Clint was starting at technical school in the fall, studying to be an audio mixer. Things would be changing soon, but not just then.

That summer, time was lazy and endless. Bucky would come back from his run and lay his sweaty body down on top of Clint’s, kissing him awake, and they’d rub off against each other until they both came. Or they’d dart away from their friends in the middle of dinner, running up to their room and barely getting the door locked before Clint was shoving down Bucky’s pants to get his mouth on his cock.

And some nights, they were painstakingly tender, just kissing for what felt like hours before they even took their clothes off. Bucky liked things a little rough, and Clint liked things a little sweet, and they’d found something in the middle that was perfect for both of them.

“Just fucking hold me down and make me feel it, Clint,” Bucky would say sometimes, and Clint would kiss his jaw and tug his hair a little and fuck into him harder until Bucky was crying out beneath him.

It was their first summer, and everything was perfect.

*

At thirty, Clint is starting to fall into the sorts of routines that a younger version of himself would have detested.

Even worse...he kinda likes it.

But there’s just something soothing and comforting about knowing what’s ahead. Sure, it’s romantic to think about being a starving artist, but the reality of it wasn’t so sexy. Turns out that if you don’t work, you don’t get paid. And sometimes in the music industry, you don’t get paid even when you do work. So Clint works his ass off. All the time. He’s still riding a bubble, and he’s gonna ride the hell out of it until it breaks.

He wakes up, and he makes coffee. He fills his travel mug, and he and Lucky take a lazy walk through the park. Clint listens to the birds chirp, and he slurps his coffee, and he hides behind his sunglasses and doesn’t make eye contact with any of his well-meaning neighbors. Too early for that shit.

He goes back home, and Lucky inevitably fucks off somewhere to nap while Clint stretches. He’d tried meditation, but he can’t bear being quite that alone with his own thoughts. He can be alone with his body, though. He runs through his muscle groups, mindfully and thoughtfully working out the best way to stretch his sternocleidomastoid or his serratus anterior. He likes how he feels afterwards, all loose and wiggly, and it puts him in a good frame of mind for a morning listening session.

He has a second cup of coffee in his sunroom while he listens to the playback from the previous day. He combs through voicenotes and reads old journals, idly recalling stories about himself. He doesn’t create anything just yet. He listens with an open mind. And then he listens a second time, and he absorbs, and he makes notes about what he likes or how something could be different.

And then he sets a timer for forty minutes while he has lunch in front of the TV, and he fucks around on his email for a bit, and sometimes if he eats real fast he jerks off. And sometimes if he’s been seeing someone, he texts them, catches up, makes plans for later. Sometimes he plays video games. Sometimes he remembers to water his plants.

(Mostly, he jerks off.)

And then it’s back to work in the afternoon. More coffee. More listening, but this time with editing, rerecording, rewriting. He creates new voicenotes. He jots down new lyrics. He thinks about things he wants to talk about someday that he’s not ready to talk about now.

And then in the late afternoon, he ventures out of the house again. He goes to a cafe, or he grabs some more coffee, or he goes to the bank or the grocery store or the mall. And he exists among people, the way his therapist told him to. And he smiles at three strangers, and he overhears people’s conversations, and he reminds himself that there is an entire universe outside his head, just like there’s an entire universe inside of it.

And then he goes home, makes dinner, jerks off, swaps his coffee for whiskey, waits until he gets really, really tired, and then…

Then he fucking sings.

*

They got the band name from one of the weird, macabre love poems that Clint was always painstakingly copying down into his notebooks, trying to record the bits of weird beauty he saw in the world that mirrored the strangeness he sensed inside of himself. He felt less alone to see strangeness in others.

My darling, I will love you until the winter hawk cleans my bones And in her desperation, she will discover that my flesh only tastes of you

“It’s so gross,” Bucky had said with a curious sort of awe, and Clint felt so vulnerable in the silence that followed, because it was gross, but it was important to him.

Clint wanted to be so fucking in love that it chewed him up. He wanted love to shred him with her talons. And he could imagine himself getting there with Bucky. He thought they could be epic. He was still holding back some secret parts of himself, but if he let those go, he thought he could love Bucky so hard that it consumed him and he finally, finally lost himself.

And Bucky kept staring at the words scrawled in Clint’s notebook, traced his fingertip over the blue ink, following the same pattern Clint’s pen had taken as he’d lovingly copied down the words. And there was a furrow in his brow as he read and reread, and just as Clint thought he might explode from the anticipation, Bucky looked up at him with a small smile.

“I get it, I think,” he said slowly. “The desperation, I mean.”

“Yeah?” Clint wasn’t sure he was even breathing anymore, he was so close to losing it.

“The way a predator becomes a scavenger,” Bucky said thoughtfully, and there it was, that nerdy side of Bucky that Clint loved so fiercely. “Taking the scraps if that’s the only choice you have. Being just...so hungry.” He ran his thumb over Clint’s wrist, and Clint shivered.

“Hungry how?” he managed to croak out.

“Feel like I could just eat you up sometimes,” Bucky murmured. “When I first met you, I didn’t think you even liked me at all.”

“I did, though,” Clint protested weakly. “I was crazy about you from that first time I saw you.”

“I didn’t know it,” Bucky said. “Didn’t even know if I really liked boys or not, but I wanted you, and it felt like….” He frowned and looked at his thumb slowing arcing over Clint’s skin. “Felt like it didn’t even matter if you liked me back. Just me liking you was so much. And I would have eaten any scrap of anything you gave me, baby.”

“And now?” Clint asked, and his heart was an out-of-control metronome.

“Same thing now,” Bucky said, chewing on his lip. “Any bit of you I could have. I’d eat up all you gave me and I’d starve for more before I wanted a single damn bite of anyone else.”

“I love you,” Clint had whispered then, the first time he’d said those words out loud to anyone.

“I love you, too,” Bucky had replied, a hopeful smile breaking across his face and scrunching up his eyes, and Clint was so terrified and relieved and happy that he could barely stand it.

They pushed their mouths together and tried to kiss, but neither of them could stop grinning long enough to make it work.

*

Clint goes to therapy once a month. He takes his Lexapro every night. He has a notebook full of therapy homework, and he makes lists of his accomplishments and his failures, and when he goes to therapy, he shows up with an agenda. He is working to fix multiple parts of his life. He makes progress in different areas, a step on one path, a leap on another, a little stumble here. He’s an amoeba, and his pseudopods creep towards his goals, engulfing and consuming one after the other, slow and steady.

Get a dog? Check.

Learn how to cook healthy(ish) meals? Check.

Spend more time outside? Check.

Stop being so hateful towards myself? Check(ish).

Learn how to have sex with someone without falling in love with him? Check.

Learn how to have sex with someone without immediately thinking of Bucky afterwards?

Well.

It’s a work in progress.

*

Something flashbacky about being deaf

*

Clint’s newest album is called Mono Songs for a Stereo World, and all he’s finished so far is the title and the concept.

He connected with Tony Stark at SxSW last year and drunkenly talked his ear off about his idea to create songs for people with hearing conditions, mixed specifically to accommodate their abilities. He’d woken up the next morning with a raging hangover and a three minute voicemail from Tony describing the prototype software he’d slapped together. And now they’re...not exactly partners, but Clint comes up with ideas, and Tony turns them into reality.

And now Clint has all the technology he needs to create a fully customizable digital album. Fans will be directed to a website that tests their hearing, determines what wavelengths they can detect at which volumes, and then Tony’s tech will generate a downloadable version of Clint’s album that sits perfectly within their range of hearing. It works flawlessly. They’re probably not going to make much money off of it, but Clint’s been working his whole life towards something like this, and he can’t believe how close he finally is.

So all he needs to do is, like. Find some inspiration somewhere and write ten to twelve songs and then record all of them and mix them once and then feed them into Tony’s algorithm and re-mix the songs and then do maybe 40 test mixes on each one.

Simple, really.

*

It was easy for the two of them to form a band. Clint was always writing his weird poetry, and Bucky loved it. Loved the sound of his voice wrapping around the shapes of his words. And Bucky was good enough with a guitar, and it was just one more way for them to be together. It just made sense.

They called the band Winterhawk, and sure, Clint probably always took it a little more seriously than Bucky did, but that was Clint. He threw himself into everything like that back then, reckless and headstrong and passionate and unafraid. He loved Bucky so much, and he loved the band so much, and Bucky loved him and the band, too. Maybe just a little less, but still plenty enough for Clint.

Summer ended, and they found a reasonably priced studio apartment in the city. Bucky paid most of the rent, but he had a trust fund he was still working his way through before his parents disinherited him, plus he made great tips bartending.

wip title game

[roman-writing]

two, across (4/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,470

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It’s absolutely aggravating.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

Lysithea allows herself to be distracted by Hilda for the entire weekend. She does not open her laptop to check her emails, or even sneak onto her phone to peek at the university webportal login. On the same front, Hilda does no visible work despite the fact that she has a class to teach on Monday. Whereas Lysithea only allows herself this rare luxury because she does not have her lecture until Tuesday. 

She will regret it come Monday evening, but during the weekend she cannot bring herself to care enough to actually disrupt the two days by worrying about university work. She messages one of her flatmates that she will be out all weekend, and spends the time alternatively lazing about Hilda’s apartment, or being dragged around town by Hilda to spontaneous events. 

In the past, Lysithea had never been much interested in going to animated little bars with live music and decorative antlers. Hanging out in trendy establishments specifically designed for the consumption of alcohol, when she preferred to not mix meds with spirits, is not high on her to-do list, but something about the company more than makes up for it. Hilda herself opts to not drink much either, despite being on a first name basis with everyone on the premises, including Claude, the owner -- a rakishly good-looking man with dark hair, and eyes even more cunning than his smile -- who clears out other lesser customers from the best seats in the house for them, and personally ensures that their glasses are never empty. 

So it is that on a frosty Monday morning Lysithea returns to work more refreshed than she could remember feeling in years. This time she and Hilda take the train from the apartment together. It is far too easy to go about her usual daily routine with Hilda in it; Lysithea does not even pause to think that it might be odd. It isn't until they are ordering their coffees at the cafe just around the corner from the university, that it strikes her that this is a departure from the norm. 

Lysithea murmurs her thanks to the barista as she accepts her mocha, a slight furrow in her brow. She is so preoccupied with the notion that she does not even scold Hilda for stealing one of the marshmallows resting atop the lid of her takeaway cup. 

The feeling lingers when they are waiting for the elevators with their coffees in hand, as though the return to what used to be the normal routine was more jarring than what had occurred just previous. Lysithea tries to shrug it away. Hilda doesn't seem to notice. Or if she does, she does not mention it. 

They do the crossword in Lysithea's office. Hilda leaves for her class -- late, as usual -- and Lysithea opens up her work emails for the first time in two days.

A few of the usual suspects litter in inbox. Three spam emails that had slipped through the cracks of the university's firewall. A flurry of students worried about their upcoming assignment at the very last minute; the paper is due at the beginning of next week, and by the looks of it some of them have only just started now. No surprise there. 

Midway through clearing the list of emails, Lysithea goes stock-still. Tomas has replied to the final thesis draft she had sent him on Friday. His response takes up only one ominous line on the screen:

‘We need to meet to discuss further. Come by my office Monday 2pm, if it suits. -T.’

Her heart races in her chest. A million possibilities pop up into her head about what could have possibly gone wrong this time. Or perhaps it has gone right for once, and she is simply over-reacting. 

The latter seems unlikely. And besides, Lysithea had never been predisposed towards optimism. Life had taught her that, and if nothing else she is an expert study.  

She responds to the email with an affirmation, and then spends the next few hours agonising over it. She wishes Hilda were here. She wishes Edelgard were here. But Hilda is in the second floor lecture hall, and Edelgard is four hours time difference away and probably busy with very important meetings. 

Briefly, Lysithea considers going to Hanneman to pick his brain, but by the time she has thought to do so it is half an hour before she must meet with Tomas. She was supposed to have spent the day writing up her lecture for tomorrow, but instead she stews in a soup of anxious anticipation, unable to bring herself to do anything more than stall and not dissolve into full-blown panic.

She arrives at Tomas' office fifteen minutes early, unable to stand the idea of waiting a moment longer. In one hand she clutches her notebook and pen, and in the other her bag. Thankfully, he is inside. The door is ajar, and the lights are on. Lysithea has to steady herself with a deep breath before she raps lightly on the door, and pushes it open.

"You wanted to see me, Tomas?"

For a portly old man who dresses all in unassuming beige, his presence never fails to fill her with dread. He glances up from his computer. "Ah, Lysithea. Good. Come in."

This is how it always starts. With smiles. With a veneer of kindness and understanding. 

Lysithea perches herself gingerly on the edge of a seat which is located at the end of his desk. She puts down her bag at her feet. He already has a copy of her latest thesis draft printed out. She feels ill at the sight of his handwriting scrawled all across the margins. 

"About this draft -" she starts, but he cuts her off before she can get more than a few words in edgewise.

"Yes. I'm glad you sent it to me." Tomas pulls his chair a little closer so that he can angle his notes towards her and they can both read them. "I have a few concerns."

"O-Oh?" She clears her throat, and tries to hide the tremble of her fingers when she opens her notebook to a fresh page. She has already labelled the top of the page with the date, time, and meeting title.

Tomas flips to midway through her thesis, where a portion of her data is spilled across the page. The rest of the extensive tables and figures are located in the appendices. Meticulously, he puts on a pair of round spectacles, and pulls out a pen of his own. 

"This main section here," he taps with the end of his pen at the corner of the data table. "It still isn't clear enough. You don't prove the correlation between your data and your results." 

Even though Lysithea is poised and ready to take notes, she cannot bring herself to write anything down. Her notebook is filled with pages and pages of figures and sketches and explanations and minutes of their meetings on this exact topic. 

"I don't understand," Lysithea says slowly. "How else can I explain it?" 

"In a way that makes sense, preferably." His answer is dry and biting. 

She has to mask a wince at his tone. She takes a moment to respond, and when she does so, it’s like hearing her own voice from a distance. 

"With all due respect, I think that what you're asking me is outside the scope of this project."

He goes still. He leans back in his seat, and studies her. His eyes look very small through the lenses of his glasses. "I beg your pardon?"

"I just -" Lysithea swallows thickly, and forces herself to sit up a little straighter. "I just don't think that what you're asking of me is what this thesis is meant to deliver."

"Incorrect. This -" he taps at the pages, "- is not a thesis."

A chill settles over her. "What?"

"This is not a thesis. If you submitted it to anyone, they would fail it."

"I don't understand," she repeats. It's a sentence she has said many times in this office, and which she imagines she will say many more times yet. "I received independent advice from other academics in the field, and they said that -"

"Which academics?" Tomas' face has gone hard. 

"Ha-Hanneman, of course -"

"A secondary supervisor is not an independent source."

"And Dr. Goneril," Lysithea adds. 

It feels like a trump card, using Hilda’s name. The rising star of the department. The young up and coming darling of the field with a bright future and an academic matrix to die for.

This time when Tomas smiles, it looks forced, like a baring of teeth. “And what did Dr. Goneril have to say?”

“She gave me constructive feedback, which I took. And then she said it was ready to submit,” Lysithea answers truthfully.

The last bit in particular had made Lysithea’s chest swell with a sense of accomplishment at the time, as though her thesis had already passed the examination stage by the grace of Hilda’s approval alone. 

Tomas takes a moment to clean his glasses with the edge of his beige sweater. “Well,” he perches the spectacles back upon his nose, “Dr. Goneril is very young. And unless I am very much mistaken, she has never been an examiner before.”

“Then, can you please tell me what you would have me do to fix whatever problem you think there is with my thesis?”

“Get more data.”

A prickle of fear down her spine. “That would take months. It’s not feasible within the timeframe to -”

“And yet it must be done. What you have here is -” He shuffles a few of the pages, and then waves at them like they’re garbage that has sullied his desk. “- nothing. It doesn’t prove anything. You’re miles away from finishing. You need more data, and you need clearer explanations as to how you arrived at your conclusions.”

“I -” Her mouth feels dry. Her stomach squirms like a bed of snakes, and with a sense of unreality she says, “No. I won’t.”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t change it anymore.” Lysithea shakes her head. Her voice is faint, but immovable. “I don’t have time to rewrite my thesis to be what you want. It’s - It’s never going to be what you want.” 

Tomas stares at her for an uncomfortable length of time. A muscle leaps at his jaw. Then, he tosses his pen down, and crosses his arms. “In that case, I will not be endorsing your thesis for examination.”

Lysithea glances down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Her fingers are still clenched around the pen, poised to take notes upon a blank page. She closes the notebook, and clips the pen into its sheath. 

She grabs her bag, stands, and is surprised when her legs support her. “Then I suppose we are finished here.”

As she reaches the door, Tomas’ voice gives her pause. “You’re making a mistake, Miss Ordelia.”

She doesn't answer. Her fingers rest upon the door's handle. She pushes the door open, and walks out into the hallway. 

When the door closes behind her, Lysithea stands in the hallway for a long moment, unsure of exactly what to do. She looks at the opposite wall, at the abstract painting of a cancerous cell hanging there, until she begins to walk. Her feet carry her down the hallway in a daze, and Lysithea does not think of her destination. Indeed, she has no destination in mind, but her legs seem to know.

She strides towards her own office, but freezes when she sees that Hilda's door is open; she must have just finished her lecture. Lysithea approaches, and walks in without a word.

Hilda is wearing earphones. She hums merrily along to a song that is playing on her phone while she texts simultaneously. Upon noticing Lysithea's presence in the doorway, she glances up, beaming. "Hey! What's up?"

Lysithea's mouth opens, but no sound comes out. 

Hilda frowns, and reaches up to take out her headphones. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Um -" Lysithea swallows and tries again. Her hands are trembling uncontrollably now. "I - uh - I just had a meeting with Tomas, and he told me he isn't going to support my thesis."

Hilda looks blankly at her, as though she had not understood what was said. "I'm sorry -- what?"

The words fall from Lysithea’s mouth in a torrent she can’t stop. "He - He said that I would need to collect more data and rewrite whole sections for clarity, but I don't - I don't have time. I came to the university on a grant basis, which pays for full tuition and ensures I have a job, and it runs out in three months, and if I don't submit - if I drag this out any longer I'm not going to be able to stay without paying out of pocket, and my family isn't - I can't ask El to do this for me. I can’t go home like this. I can’t do that. My parents are - they aren’t -"

The world is spinning at the edges. Her chest aches, and it is difficult to breathe. Lysithea hardly registers the fact that Hilda has risen to her feet and shut the door so they are alone. Gentle hands are suddenly on her shoulders, but Lysithea flinches so abruptly she drops her pen and notebook.

"Woah. Okay. No touchy. Got it." Hilda turns off the lights, and twists the blinds shut so that the room is dimmed and nobody can peer inside. 

Faint music is still playing from Hilda’s headphones. The cheery pop tune is a stark contrast to the all-consuming panic that washes over her. The whole scene feels surreal, like she’s watching herself drown in a dream. She covers her face with one shaking hand. Her breaths are sharp and rapid against her palm. Lysithea closes her eyes and tries to will the world to stop turning so that she can collect herself -- just for a moment. 

"Do you have your phone on you?" Hilda mumbles as if to herself. This time when Lysithea feels a hand start to sneak into her bag, she does not move away. 

Hilda grabs Lysithea's phone and pulls up the screen. She unlocks it without any trouble, and starts flicking through the contact list before lifting the phone to her ear. 

A familiar voice answers on the other line, but without the speaker on, Lysithea can't quite tell what Edelgard is saying.

"Hi! Nope. It's Hilda. Yeah, sorry, no time to chat. Lysithea is having a bit of a meltdown right now, and I need you to talk to her, okay?"

A touch at her wrist. Hilda gently tugs Lysithea's arm down so that she can press the phone between her fingers. 

Trying to calm her breathing, Lysithea's voice is still a trembling mess when she says, "H-Hello?"

"Lys," Edelgard sounds grave and concerned. "What happened?"

Lysithea gasps on a sob. She tries to bite it back. Her teeth dig into her lower lip hard enough that she can feel them cut into skin. Her eyes burn, everything goes blurry, and suddenly it's all coming out in a rush. 

Edelgard listens while Lysithea babbles on the phone about the events of the day, and even her silence is thunder-graven, as though she were hanging off of Lysithea's every word. When Lysithea finally stops to choke on a sob and wipe at her cheeks, Edelgard says in a soothing tone. 

"You know I wouldn't let that happen."

"No, El."

"Lysithea -"

"No!" Lysithea has to lower the phone for a moment to compose herself. She roughly drags the back of her hand across her eyes, and brings the phone back up. "Accepting gifts is one thing but this is - this is too much. I can't. You can't solve everything for me with money. I don't want you to. I just - I just want -"

For this to have never happened. To submit her thesis. To pass. To graduate. To teach. To live without something horrible looming on the horizon, like she had for so long.

"I know," Edelgard murmurs. "And if that's what you want, of course I will respect that. But it isn't weakness to let others help you. This isn't the end of it. There is a way to solve this. You just have to find out how."

It takes a good fifteen minutes on the phone with Edelgard for Lysithea to finally get her breathing under control. By then, she has sunk down to sit on the ground, her back leaning against the wall. Hilda is sitting on the corner of her desk nearby, waiting patiently even as her foot jiggles and her fingers play with one of the gold bangles at her wrist.

Edelgard’s voice sounds distant for a moment as she pulls the phone away to speak to someone else, “Just another moment, Hubert. I’m almost done.” She brings the phone back. “I’m sorry. I really need to go.”

“Yeah,” Lysithea closes her eyes, and leans her head back against the wall. “I know you do.” 

“I will call you tomorrow.”

“Alright.” 

“Can you put Hilda back on the phone?”

Wordlessly, Lysithea holds the phone out, and feels Hilda cautiously take it from her. 

“Y-ello?” Hilda chirps into the phone. “Nah, it’s fine. Got it. Yup. Yuuup. I said I got it, didn’t I? Geesh. Sure thing. Bye.” 

Lysithea’s eyes are still closed. She can hear the soft beep of the call being ended, followed by silence. She opens her eyes when Hilda sits down gingerly beside her. Their thighs are pressed together. Lysithea stares down at both their shoes; her own outstretched feet stop midway somewhere between Hilda’s calves and ankles. 

“I’m sorry,” Lysithea says; she sounds raspy and wooden to her own ears.

“Sorry?” Hilda stares at the side of her face, incredulous. “For what? Tomas being a bully?”

"For -" Lysithea waves at herself and then at Hilda's office. "- barging in here and just -"

"Oh, no. You don't have to apologise for that. You know how many people in their mid-twenties I have made cry in these very walls?" Hilda leans in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So many."

Lysithea can't keep a watery laugh at bay. She wipes at her eyes again, and sniffles. "What if he's right? What if it's all complete rubbish, and I've just wasted the last three years of my life?"

"Look at me." Hilda tugs at Lysithea's hand until she reluctantly glances up. Hilda is wearing a stern expression, as though she has just been insulted. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Lysithea blinks in confusion. "What -?"

"Because that's what it sounds like to me."

"Hilda, I don't -"

"Seriously though. Seriously. Have you ever known me to spout platitudes just to make someone feel better?"

Slowly, Lysithea shakes her head.

"That's right," Hilda says. She runs her thumb across Lysithea's fingers. The gold and coral rings she wears are warm from prolonged contact with her skin. "Because I am many things. Brilliant. Talented. Funny. Gorgeous -"

Lysithea's laugh is weak, but she can still feel the smile splitting her face.

"- but a liar is not one of them. I’m a modern day Oracle of Delphi; I only speak divine truths, which no one is ready to hear or appreciate," Hilda continues. "And your thesis is good. Alright? It's really good. And Tomas may be playing some fucked up game that's unfairly involved you. I don't know what it is. Maybe he's after more grant money. Or maybe he's just a dick. Personally, my money is on the latter of those two options. Occam’s razor, or whatever."

"I don't know," Lysithea sighs. 

She allows Hilda to keep playing with her hand. She even responds, turning her palm face up and curling her fingers so that their hands are laced together. It doesn't last long; Hilda is terrible at keeping still. Soon, she's toying with Lysithea's fingertips again like they're her own personal playdough putty. 

"What am I going to do?" Lysithea says softly.

Hilda mulls over that for a moment before replying. "Well, it's your thesis, you know? And a supervisor's role is to supervise. Which is very tautological of me, but tautology has its place in the world irregardless of the fact that it's mostly bunk. So, my point still stands. It's your thesis. And technically speaking you don't need a supervisor's permission to submit it. You can just submit it on your own."

Lysithea stares at their hands, and then at Hilda herself, who is watching her intently. "But how would I find examiners, or - or -? I don't know the process behind the bureaucracy."

"No," Hilda drawls the vowel out as if savouring it in her mouth. "But there are other people in the department who do."

"I can't go to Judith," Lysithea says, adamant. "She was taught by Tomas! He's the professor with the longest tenure in the school, let alone the department! He's untouchable."

Hilda uses her free hand to tap the tip of Lysithea's nose. "Au contraire. He’s very touchable.” Realising what she has just said, Hilda makes a disgusted face. “Oh, ew. Forget I said that. Anyway! I wasn’t talking about Judith.”

“Then who do you -?” Lysithea’s eyes widen, and she pales. “You can’t mean Rhea.”

“Directly to Rhea,” Hilda confirms. “Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“I can’t do that. He would be so mad.” Lysithea even checks over her shoulder towards the closed office door and drawn windows, as if he were a boogeyman lurking just outside and eavesdropping on every word. 

“Yeah, well. Maybe he should’ve thought of that before being a fuckwad.” Hilda slips her hand free of Lysithea’s in order to shuffle a little upright and turn towards her. “Listen. I get it. Rhea puts the fear of god in me, too. But she’s the Dean. She is literally everyone’s boss. And as part of her job description, she is supposed to weigh in on these things when they crop up. Speaking of cropping -- do you want me to dismember Tomas horribly?” 

Though Hilda is smiling when she asks it, her eyes are very cold and her voice very serious.

Lysithea takes a moment to mull the offer over. “Tempting, but no. Thank you.”

“Oh, anytime. You need someone’s ass kicked? You call me.” 

“Isn’t that job reserved for older siblings, not younger ones?”

“Well, la-dee-da, Miss Only Child! When did you suddenly become an expert on sibling relationships? I’ll have you know, I kicked many a deserving ass without my brother’s help.” Hilda pauses, then adds. “That being said, if Holst were to kick someone, their individual vertebrae would pop out of their mouth like a pez dispenser.”

Lysithea pats Hilda’s knee in a consoling fashion. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if you bulked up some more, you too could kick someone into low Earth orbit like a Saturn V rocket.”

“Aww...That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Yes, nothing says romance like a girl stumbling into your office and blubbering like an idiot for thirty minutes,” Lysithea says dryly. It is a testament to Hilda’s skill at distracting her that Lysithea is even able to summon up a bit of sarcasm right now. 

In answer, Hilda uses the edge of the table to pull herself to her feet. Then she turns to offer Lysithea a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

“But -” Lysithea starts to protest, but Hilda shakes her head.

“No way. You’re not staying here after this fustercluck. Take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow, too. I know you have lectures tomorrow, but I’ll bet my studded McQueen boots that you haven’t missed a single day of class this term, so don’t even think about coming into work. Now,” Hilda wraps her scarf around her neck, and hoists her black bag over her shoulder. “Do you want to go to your place or mine? Up to you.”

At the thought of having to explain this whole thing again to each of her flatmates as they come home, Lysithea cringes. “Yours, please.”

“Great choice. I’ve got that pizza place’s phone number burning a hole in my pocket, and enough ice cream in my freezer to tranquilise a horse.”

Lysithea lets herself be pulled up from where she is seated on the floor. Crying has completely drained her, and the promise of food does little to rouse her appetite. If she had gone back to her own place, she wouldn’t have eaten at all that evening. Indeed, the idea of curling up on the ground and sleeping for the next thousand years seems like the best available option, but Hilda is already opening the door for them to go. 

As they step out into the hallway, Lysithea briefly considers grabbing her laptop from her office, but the thought makes her stomach turn, so she leaves it behind. Walking to the elevators means walking past Tomas’ office, and Lysithea skulks behind Hilda the whole way. She doesn’t relax until they are leaving the building entirely and striding across the snowy street towards the train station.   

Arriving at Hilda’s apartment feels like reaching the promised land. The familiar clutter draped over every surface, and the smell of Hilda’s perfume on the air might as well be salvation. 

Hilda flings her bag into a corner of her bedroom, and taps away at her phone to turn on her automated heating system as well as order them a pizza with all the trimmings. Without needing to be told or ask permission, Lysithea opens up one of the drawers to pull out a spare set of Hilda’s overly large sweatpants and t-shirt for pajamas. 

She wanders into the restroom, but doesn’t bother to lock the door. She runs a bath, and strips. The hot water scalds at first, then cools to just the right temperature. She cries a bit more. She lets the bath wash away the day’s events until Hilda is knocking on the door to announce that their food has arrived, and that the delivery boy was a seven. 

Lysithea emerges from the bathroom with wet hair, dressed in Hilda’s clothes. She flicks a quick email off to her students on her phone that she is feeling unwell and will be unable to make it to tomorrow’s lectures, while Hilda opens the pizza box in the kitchen and puts a few slices onto a single plate for them to share. 

Four episodes of a netflix show and a tub of ice cream later, the world outside has fallen to an early wintry night. Snow gathers on the windowsill, illuminated by the glow of the laptop on the bed between them. It’s barely nine in the evening, but snuggled up beneath the warm sheets Lysithea yawns. Hilda shuts the lid of the laptop and sets it on the ground. The room is plunged into a quiet darkness. Rolling over to face the window, Lysithea buries her head into her pillow.

The mattress dips slightly as Hilda shuffles around. “You still in no touchy mode? Or are cuddles acceptable?”

In answer, Lysithea gropes around in the dark for Hilda’s hand. She finds her wrist, and pulls it over so that Hilda’s arm is wrapped around her stomach. Lysithea lets her eyes fall shut as Hilda curls up against her. And as she drifts off, she dreams that Hilda presses a chaste kiss to the back of her neck. 

--

Lysithea decides she is very bad at playing hooky. She spends the day at Hilda’s apartment. She tries to not do work -- she really does -- but the itch is so overwhelming that it’s a relief to use Hilda’s tablet to plan her Friday lecture. 

She may not have had the crossword with Hilda that morning, but at least she can do one thing that feels normal and routine. Today of all days, Lysithea clings to any creature comforts she can get her hands on. And if that means meticulously planning out notes and a slideshow for a two hour lecture, then that's what she's going to do, god damn it.

Eventually however even that isn't enough to keep her occupied. Hilda had promised to return early from the university, but without her the apartment feels haunted by her absence. More than once Lysithea looks up, ready to speak to Hilda only to realise that she's not there. Disappointment twists her gut, which only makes her frown and throw herself back into her work with more zeal than before. By the time it reaches one in the afternoon, Lysithea has finished with her notes, and has even added a few extra slides to her powerpoint in case she needs to pad out the time, leaving her with nothing to do.

Opening a new tab in the browser, Lysithea goes to the university website. She looks up the dean's page. She chews nervously at her lower lip as she stares at Rhea's email address. And then, before she can convince herself that it's a bad idea, she copies the address and pastes it into the send bar.

The email she sends to Rhea is simple, a request for a meeting to discuss her main supervisor.

No sooner has Lysithea put down the tablet and gone hunting through Hilda's kitchen for the ingredients for a hot chocolate, than she hears a faint chime of an email in her inbox from the other room. It takes her very little time these days to find things in Hilda's apartment, and she returns to the tablet with a mug of steaming cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a cinnamon stick as a garnish. 

She almost drops the mug when she sees that Rhea has already responded to the email.

'Of course. I have fifteen minutes in between meetings tomorrow at 3:30pm. Your schedule permitting, come around to my office then. -Rhea, President of the University for Biology and Medicine, Dean, Division of Biological Sciences and Physical Sciences, PhD.'

Lysithea takes a hasty gulp of cocoa that's too hot, but the scalding grounds her. Her stomach was a hive of anxious activity again. She didn't know if she could handle another meeting like the one she'd had with Tomas just yesterday all in the same week. 

And the worst part about it is that Hilda was right. And Lysithea just knows that Hilda is going to be insufferable about it. 

--

Lysithea sits in a chair outside the dean's office. The walls in this level of the building are sleek and wood-paneled. She feels excruciatingly out of place with her knee-length skirt and tattered old notebook clutched in her hand. For the fourth time since arriving and being told by the assistant to take a seat while she waited, Lysithea checks her watch. As she turns over her wrist, the door to her right opens, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. 

Rhea stands in the doorway, wearing a white dress. Her hair is long, extending down her back, and from beneath the hem of her dress Lysithea can just see the hint of sandals, the kind that Hilda would have liked and therefore must have been fashionable. On anyone else, the outfit would have made the wearer appear to be an ancient Graecian noblewoman or perhaps a lost ghost from a gothic Victorian novel, but on Rhea it just makes her look sleek and imposing. 

Rhea opens the door a little wider and steps back in a wordless invitation. "Miss Ordelia. I'm glad you could make it."

Lysithea rises to her feet. When she slips past Rhea, she tries to stand a little straighter, but it has very little effect. Rhea is one of the tallest people she's met, and somehow Lysithea always feels even shorter when around her. As though Rhea were not tall at all, but that other people were merely too short to stand beside her and meet her gaze. 

"Thank you," Lysithea says. She holds her notebook and pen in both hands as though they were a shield. "I really appreciate you making the time to meet with me so promptly."

"Not at all." Rhea closes the door so that they are alone in the office. She gestures to a chair. "Please. Sit."

The office is large enough to house an enormous desk on one end, and a seating area for guests in another. Also an entire wall of floor to ceiling bookcases, complete with a marble bust of some religious figure or another that Lysithea does not immediately recognise. Rhea had gestured towards the desk half of the room, so Lysithea takes one of the seats there.

Rhea meanwhile rounds her desk and sits behind it as though seating herself upon a throne. She leans her elbows on the polished wood surface, her gaze sharp and green and attentive. "How can I help you?"

For a moment Lysithea fiddles with the lavender-coloured ribbon that marks her place in the notebook. Then, steadying herself, she explains the events of not just yesterday but the last year during which all her troubles with Tomas began. 

Rhea listens, calm, never once interrupting. Her face is a mask of composure. Lysithea wishes she could read her, but Rhea has always come across as cold and distant no matter the occasion, be it during Lysithea’s entrance interviews, or during departmental holiday parties. It makes Lysithea even more nervous, and more than once she has to pause to collect herself before she can continue once more.

Finally, when Lysithea stops, Rhea speaks. "First, allow me to apologise on the university's behalf. Students in your position are vulnerable to this sort of behaviour, as they are reliant upon their supervisors for advice and information through a very stressful time. Had this issue been brought to my attention sooner, I might have been able to act upon it then."

Hearing that, Lysithea can feel the small ballooning of hope in her chest fade. But then Rhea continues. 

"However, I believe the solution to your problem is quite simple at this point. I understand that there are certain time sensitive elements to your employment and connection to this programme, but this works in your favour, not against it.” Rhea raps her fingers against the desk as she speaks; her fingernails are painted a pale green, like Wedgwood porcelain, or the shell of an egg. “I am going to make the recommendation that Tomas’ supervisory role be transferred immediately. I will ensure the paperwork is expedited so as to take into account your grant deadline, but I will need you to first send me an email outlining everything you have told me here today. Spare no detail.”

Lysithea blinks in confusion, wondering for a brief moment if she has heard that incorrectly. “You’re going to give me a new supervisor?” she asks slowly. 

Rhea cocks her head to one side. “No. While I understand that due to the interdisciplinary nature of your work that you had two supervisors, I trust that between you and Dr. Essar, you will deliver a more than passable thesis. Unless you take objection with this option?”

Lysithea shakes her head furiously. “No! No, this is fine. Thank you.”

Hanneman as her sole supervisor. It’s better than fine. It’s what she wishes had happened to begin with, but which she only could have known in hindsight. 

“Excellent. Now,” Rhea leans forward in her seat. Her glass-green gaze is fixed and unblinking, like that of a great serpent. “Have you by any chance been keeping record of specific dates and notes of your meetings with Tomas?”

Lysithea nods. She holds up her notebook and gives it a little wave before placing it back in her lap.

Rhea’s gaze flashes with something keen and sharp. “Good. Be sure to include those as well.”

“Might I ask -?” Lysithea hesitates, waiting for Rhea to give a slight incline of her head before continuing. “What exactly are you going to be doing with this information?”

Rhea smiles, and for the first time Lyisthea notices two things. One: that Rhea has not seemed to blink even once during this entire encounter. Two: that Rhea’s teeth are remarkably sharp.

“While I cannot speak too much on the matter outside of a confidential arrangement, I can tell you that yours is not an isolated incident, Miss Ordelia. Let us say that Tomas has a not insignificant file on record. Any details, any specifics at all you can give me may be instrumental in current proceedings.” Rhea’s long, pale, green-painted nails are like talons atop the darkly-varnished wooden desk. “So, do be sure to send me that email at the first available opportunity.”

--

Less than two weeks later, Tomas is no longer her supervisor, and Hanneman is signing the administrative paperwork to submit Lysithea’s thesis. That sense of unreality still hangs over her like a cloud. Hanneman hands her the pen to sign on her own dotted line, and it feels like reaching for a piece of candy that is going to be snatched away at a moment's notice. 

The giddiness starts up when Lysithea is carrying her final bound and printed thesis copies from her office for submission. There's a bounce in her step that she hasn't felt in ages. There are two copies of over two hundred pages each, bound in white with her name in simple gold lettering embossed on the cover. 

Her step falters when she has to walk by Tomas' office. She had avoided him ever since that meeting. Every day where she went without seeing him was a day she breathed a sigh of relief. Today however, as she strode down the hall towards the elevators, she noticed his office door was wide open. 

Lysithea walks a little faster, but then pauses. She turns and peers into Tomas' office. 

The desk and chairs remain, but the shelves are empty. Indeed, all personal affects seem to have vanished. Tomas himself is nowhere to be seen.

Her grip upon the twin copies of her thesis slackens. As if she had seen a ghost, Lysithea hurries off towards the elevator, stabbing at the button with her finger to call the lift from the second floor. Her heart is hammering in her chest, and her mind whirls at the speed of light. 

Upstairs, she drops off her thesis copies and the forms Hanneman had signed onto the desk of one of the dean's many administrators. The woman seated at the desk checks over all the paperwork before stamping it with an official seal that she then signs and dates. Afterwards, she smiles up at Lysithea, and ensures her that everything is completed. She also reminds Lysithea that neither she nor Hanneman are to attempt to contact the examiners in any way, no matter how long the process takes. 

"You will hear from the dean when your examination results are in," the administrator assures her. 

"Thank you," Lysithea says for what must be the fifth time since she arrived just moments ago to turn everything in.

"Not a problem. Go. Relax." The administrator waves at her in a kindly fashion. "Try to think about something else for a while. You've earned a break."

"Thanks," Lysithea repeats, then realising that she has said it yet again, turns to leave. 

The dean's offices are located on the top floor of the building. Between the wood-paneling and the statues and the light streaming through the stained-glass windows, it feels like standing in the wing of a cathedral. Lysithea bounces on the balls of her feet, and hums to herself as she waits for the elevators to make their long haul back up to this floor. Before the elevators can arrive however, someone steps up beside her.

"Good afternoon." Rhea smiles down at her in that chillingly beatific way of hers. 

"Hello." Lysithea tries to return the smile, but it feels tremulous all the same. 

They stand in silence. Lysithea watches the light counting the floors over the shining elevator doors. She has never thought of herself as being a particularly fidgety person, but beside Rhea's poise, Lysithea feels like a child unable to keep her hands and feet still for longer than a few seconds. Perhaps she really has been spending too much time with Hilda lately.

The doors open, and Rhea gestures for her to enter first before following after her. Lysithea hits the seventh floor button, while Rhea presses the third. As the elevator doors slide shut, the image of Tomas' empty office puts an immediate dampener on Lysithea's recent triumph. The elevator shudders, then begins its descent. 

Bracing herself, Lysithea turns towards Rhea and asks, "Excuse me for asking this, but I was walking past Tomas’ office and - well. What happened to him?"

Rhea does not glance in her direction, instead watching the floor counter overhead. "I fired him."

Lysithea stares. "You - You what?"

"Perhaps I misspoke," Rhea says in that same decorous tone she always seems to use. "There was an official panel inquiry by the board of directors, and then I fired him."

Finally, Rhea looks over at her, and all of a sudden Lysithea very much wishes she hadn't. 

Lysithea drops her gaze to study her own shoes. The long hem of Rhea's elegant dress brush against her ankles, and Lysithea has to resist the urge to shuffle further away. She thinks of all the notes she had typed up and sent to Rhea in that email, all the dates, all the hours Tomas had spent berating her over data and clarity and other nonsense, all the correspondence she had forwarded between them. Damning evidence, to be sure, but she never could have dreamed it would be enough to get someone with that much history at an academic institution actually fired.

Somehow she knows even without looking in Rhea's direction that Rhea has turned her attention away again. 

"I really ought to thank you. The panel had already been meeting for over a month at various times. Your notes came at just the right time."

Lysithea's head spins. She swallows past an obstruction in her throat, but does not trust herself to speak.

"Though I should also tell you that this was not your doing alone. Tomas tied his own noose long before you arrived on the scene.” Rhea gives a wave of one hand, as if trying to clear the air of flies. “He was near impossible to get rid of due to his tenure, and so I began building a case against him some time ago. You were merely the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.”

Despite Rhea's obvious attempt at mollifying, Lysithea does not feel very soothed by her words. After a few seconds of chilly silence, Lysithea manages to croak out a weak, "Oh."

Rhea hums a note at the back of her throat as if in agreement. The elevator slows its descent, and Lysithea is eager to escape being alone with Rhea in a small steel box. When the seventh floor illuminates on the screen, and the doors slide open, Lysithea nearly trips over her own feet in her haste. 

“Miss Ordelia?”

Lysithea hesitates, and glances over her shoulder.

Rhea is smiling that cold smile of hers, a smile that never seems to touch her eyes. “Congratulations on your submission.”

--

The moment Lysithea returns to her office, feeling dazed and bewildered from her run in with the dean, Hilda is already waiting for her. 

"You all done?" Hilda asks. She stands leaning against the closed and locked door to Lysithea's office. Her thumbs tap away at something on her phone, but after a moment she puts her phone away and awaits Lysithea's answer with an expectant expression.

Lysithea nods. "All done. It's submitted. Now, I wait."

A slow smile spreads across Hilda's face. She pushes off from the door, and links her arm through Lysithea's so that she can steer her back down the hallway towards the elevators.

"Where are we going?" Lysithea asks. 

"Out to celebrate." Hilda hands over Lysithea's own bag, presumably pinched from her office just earlier. "You forgot this at home, by the way."

"Oh." Lysithea flushes. 

So, not pinched from her office, then. Lysithea must have been so distracted this morning at the thought of printing and submitting her thesis that she had left her bag behind at Hilda's apartment, where she had been staying for -- well, for weeks now. 

At this point, Lysithea is greeted with surprise by her flatmates when she actually returns to her own apartment.  

Hilda drags her back to Claude's bar, which Lysithea has learned was her favourite haunt in the city, though certainly not the only trendy place she frequented on her nights on the town. It's only three in the afternoon, but still the bar is flooded with customers. When they enter, Hilda waves at a few people as they call out to her. One or two even flash Lysithea a familiar smile as well, to which Lysithea reacts with pleased puzzlement. 

She has never been recognised at a bar before. Especially not one like this.

Hilda breezes her way through a few customers to get at the bar and order drinks. Lysithea has a soda, but despite the hour Hilda orders herself a fruity drink with more vodka than sense. Grabbing up both their drinks, Hilda heads towards her usual seat in the house: a series of rich leather couches on a raised platform like incredibly comfortable thrones upon a dais. The walls behind them are festooned with gold-lacquered deer antlers for which the establishment takes its name. A well-stocked fireplace keeps this area warmer than the others. Logs are meticulously stacked against one of the walls all the way up to the ceiling to give the impression that they are lounging in a luxury lodge in the middle of the woods.

Hilda leans back into one corner of the couch, her feet propped on the low table before them. From her seat, she can see everyone in the room, and they can all see her. Lysithea feels like she’s on stage sitting next to Hilda here. And indeed a few other customers glance curiously in their direction.

“So,” Hilda sips at her drink, and says around the bright yellow straw, “how was Rhea?”

“Terrifying,” Lysithea admits truthfully. 

Hilda sniggers. “You gotta admit though: she gets results.”

“She fired Tomas.”

“Good. I never liked that guy anyway. Gave me the creeps the first time I met him.” When Lysithea squirms somewhat in her seat and doesn’t answer, Hilda rolls her eyes. “Oh, please don’t tell me you feel guilty about this.”

Lysithea frowns, indignant and a little irritated that Hilda can read her so easily. “I just wish we could’ve found a better way around this whole situation.”

“Honestly? To be honest? To be perfectly frank?” Hilda gestures emphatically around the drink in her hand. “I think everyone got what they deserved. Tomas got fired. Yay. Hanneman gets to be your main supervisor. Yay again. Good for him. And you got to submit your thesis on time. Double yay.” 

Lysithea still hasn’t touched her soda. It remains on the table, atop a coaster because she remembered from the last time their visit how one of the wait staff had scolded Hilda for not using one. 

“And you?” she asks.

Hilda tilts her head. “Me?”

“What did you get?”

For a moment, Hilda appears utterly puzzled by the question. Then, she snorts. “I got to help a friend. Duh.” 

It occurs to Lysithea then that of all the times she had thanked everyone throughout this process -- Rhea, Edelgard, Hanneman, even the administrator whose name she couldn’t remember -- she hadn’t thanked Hilda. Thanking her for offering to maim Tomas just doesn’t feel the same. 

“Thank you,” Lysithea says. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Oh, pssht!" Hilda waves her away. "I didn't do anything. You and Edelgard and Hanneman and Rhea did all the work. I was just an accessory."

Lysithea shakes her head. "You and I both know that's not true. If you hadn't been here, I probably would've given up."

"Bull. Shit." Hilda slams her drink down on the broad arm of the couch, where it teeters precariously. "You would've pulled through just fine. You're amazing! I've never met anyone more resilient and hard working. Not gonna lie, it's a bit spooky. You were, like, super intimidating when I first met you."

The idea that Hilda could have been intimidated by anything let alone by Lysithea is ludicrous. Lysithea doesn't believe it for a second. She scoffs.

"That's ridiculous. I'm not special. Not like you. I'm just diligent, whereas you're -" Lysithea gestures to Hilda, "- actually gifted. You just chose to be lazy. And even then you make it all seem so effortless. I wish I were more like that."

“As much as I just love being complimented, the sincerity of your delivery is kinda starting to freak me out. Are you feeling alright?” Hilda reaches over to test the temperature of Lysithea’s forehead.

Lysithea doesn’t pull back, but she does scowl. “I’m trying to express my gratitude!”

“Yeah, well, gratitude expressed. I’m great, and you’re welcome. Anyway -”

Lysithea isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She sits up a little straighter on the couch and looks Hilda dead in the eye. “I mean it. It’s important to me that you know that I - well, I -”

The dim lights of the bar wash the room in a golden sepia glow. The fire flickers and warms the air around them. Hilda is watching her with an expression that can only be described as star-struck, and Lysithea wonders how long Hilda has looked at her like that for, or if this is just the first time she’s noticed. 

“- appreciate you,” Lysithea finishes slowly. “And everything you’ve done for me.”

A steady flush rises up Hilda’s cheeks until her face is bright pink. Lysithea stares. Hilda is the first to break eye contact. She snatches up her drink, and slouches back against the couch to sip at the straw, holding the glass like she’s trying to hide behind it. 

It hits Lysithea like a freight train, the sudden realisation. Her jaw goes slack. Hilda has already recovered, and is striking up some new spirited conversation about the band that’s setting up across the room, but Lysithea can barely hear over the blood-dimmed rush in her ears, roaring like the tide. 

She doesn’t know what’s worse. That she now has to wait a harrowing few months to find out if her thesis has passed. Or the newfound knowledge that she is absolutely, irrevocably head over heels in love with Hilda Goneril. 

[mittensmorgul]

How long does it typically take you to write, edit, finish a fic?

It depends, honestly. I probably shouldn’t count things I write for bangs, because even when I’ve finished writing and editing, I still have to wait for my posting date, and I’ll probably edit it a couple more times before posting.

Like my pinefest fic that posted in February, I actually wrote the draft of it in July and August of last year, gave it an edit in December, and then edited it again in January. This is the problem I’ve run into the last two years of the dcbb, when I started writing my intended fic when registration opened in April, but finished by June and was like... I don’t want to wait until October or November to post this...

Ultraviolet I just wanted out in the world. I started writing it in early March 2017, and posted it June 25. So, maybe three and a half months? It’s not a horrendously long fic at 45k.

Cakepocalypse! (a bit longer at just over 64k) took even less time, almost exactly 3 months. So it just depends. (but come ON that’s the perfect post s13 hellatus fic and there was no way I was holding on to that until s14 started... it would’ve been cruel, even if I would’ve LOVED to have seen art for it :’D)

Worst Case Scenario, at right about 30k, took two months. McMansion Hell at 21k took two weeks... (this is proof that I am a case fic machine, I think?)

The first fic I ever posted (25k) took a month, and the next thing I wrote... Project Beyonce (37k)... took three whole weeks... 

The thing I’ve been writing for the last two months is maybe... 2/3 done? maybe 3/4? But it still needs editing, and I still won’t be posting it until DCBB time. :D 

It really does depend... how “easy” is a particular story for me to write? Some just flow (like Project Beyonce), and others require more research (Around the World in 24 Days, Revenge of the Subtext). And THANK YOU for including editing time! Because the times I quoted above include at least two editing passes with time in between. Including a final editing pass as I upload everything to AO3, which can take a couple days on its own. Posting a long fic for a challenge? I always allow a week to upload, format, and edit everything on AO3 in my schedule, so that on my posting day I just have to click the post button (biggest stress-saver ever tbh).

Obviously shorter things are quicker... the last thing I posted is only 600 words, which I wrote a couple of years ago as a tumblr post that probably took half an hour and edited and posted it on AO3 last week in about an hour. I try to write at least 1k a night (except for a couple nights a week... Mr. Mittens’ night off, and during the season Supernatural nights are for meta), but usually get more than that. Last night was an okay night... about 1200 words, but the night before was a banner one at almost 3k, some nights suck and I’m lucky to get a few hundred, and that’s fine! sometimes I can’t write at all, I’m just too tired or my brain won’t cooperate for whatever reason. I just get back to it the next night.

I’m also a compulsive editor. I have designated “writing time” (which technically was an hour ago on a normal night, but I was out with friends tonight so I might not even write... pffft who am I kidding I will probably write eventually here). Every night I HAVE TO go back and reread/edit at least as far back as the beginning of the previous night’s writing. Some people will tell you to NEVER do this, because of the tendency to rewrite stuff and fail to make any new words. I’ll tell you that for ME, I can’t NOT do this. Going back and rereading (and yes, editing some, but not heavily) gets me back into the feel of the story. My writing would be a disjointed emotional trainwreck unless I took that time (usually 15-20 minutes depending on how much I wrote the night before) to get back into the right mindset for that fic. This also spares me from the trap of repeating stuff that I just said, or leaving stuff out that needs to be there (like all that stuff I keep writing in my head after I close the laptop and go to bed... Sometimes I can’t remember what actually made it into the document and what’s still floating around in my head).

This was wild to answer, btw, because I’d never really thought about how long it takes me to write fic, and just looking up dates to make these estimates was both a trip down memory lane thinking about my life during all these periods, as well as a bit surreal because whoa I cannot BELIEVE it only took me 3 weeks to write Project Beyonce :’D.

(more than a decade ago I wrote a draft of a 105k novel in 15 days, and I do not recommend ever writing anything that quickly... it’s not healthy... pace yourselves better than that) :P

But writing takes as long as it takes. Some people are quick, some are slow, and some are George RR Martin.

(even worse, some are Tolkien)

(thank you for giving me an excuse to look this nonsense up... if this wasn’t the sort of answer you were looking for, let me know and I’ll try to answer differently :D)

[k--havok]

So, even tho I wrote a novel back in like fuckin... 2017 I have been SO STUCK on re-drafting it ‘cause honestly every time I try and outline an original story, I have so many issues. I have no idea why I can outline fanfiction fine but original fiction just. Kicks me in the butt. 

However, I’ve been analyzing how I write and what sort of style I use to plot. And, by NaNo definitions, I am neither a pure plotter or pantster, but a mixture of both. Which can be good and bad mattering on what I am doing. 

I took a deep look into the manuscripts I’ve been writing. I mainly have 2--one complete and the second halfway complete. However, the first I need to completely rewrite and the second draft I stopped halfway since I realize I already started going off outline and need to redraft it... again. 

And that’s when I had my first realization; that I put too many details in my outline. I don’t always look at my outline while I write. Usually, I look at the main ideas of my outline and write the scene from there, figuring out the setting and dialogue and everything else while I sit and write, which is def a panster trait. However, I need to have the purpose of the scene planned out before I write it or I get too rambly and get too distracted from the plot and stuck. I found my previous outlines really messy for the most part due to this issue.

Another issue is my poor organizational skills. I am... a horrible organizer. Completely awful really. I keep a lot in my brain and on paper don’t always write everything down. And when I do it’s out of order and messy to boot. 

My original outline format was to write down a two sentence plot summary for whatever I am writing (which I still do; it’s useful tbh) and then start drafting what should happen in the beginning, middle, and end, then connect them all together. From there, I write out the entire plot and then write it a second time breaking it into chapters. And I always did that all by hand.

It worked okay for my fanfiction but original story wise it was? Horrible. I think it’s because my fanfictions tend to be simpler and have shorter plots and not be so long. I have no idea. 

So I decided to stop doing all that work and started doing the sticky-note method so I could arrange plot details around and add them in and take them out quickly. It actually helped a lot! I did that on my second manuscript and it’s first draft is a LOT better than my first novel’s first draft. However, I was still having a lot of problems... and didn’t know how to fix it. 

I dunno where or how I stumbled upon this, but I found out a different way to track ideas altogether called “mindmapping” I think it’s sometimes called the “subway method” too (or at least that method is really similar) where you start at points and connect everything together using a infograph of sorts. It’s similar to the sticky-note method except this way, you use arrows and can group and connect large chunks of the plot at a time and at-a-glance see where new subplots begin, end, affect the main plot, merge, and stuff of that sort. 

I’ve been stuck on the new outline for my first novel for over a year now. I finished the thing in 2017 and it is now 2019 and I have made almost no progress on it. But I decided to open up a mindmap, grab my notes, glance over them and start connecting shit together, and also utilize ANOTHER new tool called the “fichtean curve” method for writing that I found and WOW 

I have done more substantial work in two hours than I have in OVER A YEAR 

It’s too early to say if this method is the one for me... I haven’t actually gotten into the rewrite process yet, after all. However. However. I am feeling so much better and these tools I have found have been so helpful for me I cannot believe it. 

And, for the first time in a very long time, I am actually excited about outlining. 

Sometimes, it may just be trying again and again until you eventually find a method that works for you...

and there, I suppose in the future I’ll end up refining it to suit my needs perfectly. 

It’s interesting as not many people talk about struggling with outlining with they do and I also think it’s important to remember every writer has a different way they outline, just as every writer has a different writing style. I doubt two people will have the exact same process and routine and that makes things difficult for sure... but knowing that, it at least helps me not get so stressed out about not outlining the “correct way” since there is no correct way. And that’s just yet another great thing about writing. 

[themagiciansreccenter]

The Great Blank Spot: Greywash

So much goes into creating fanfiction even before the first words hit the paper. And in-depth spotlight on our writers and the process behind their work.

Tell us about your current project.

I'm finishing up the sequel to "Firebird"—or, well, really, the story that "Firebird" is a prequel to. It's called "The Marriage Plot" and it's a fake-fake-marriage story, or an un-arranged marriage story, or something: basically it starts with a political misunderstanding that *looks* like the only way out is going to be Eliot and Quentin getting married. Spoiler: that's not what happens.

The fics are finally posted from The Trials. Did you participate?

No, I came into the fandom after The Trials started, so I missed it, but I'm still reading my way through everyone's submissions and really enjoying them!

What is your current word count?

104,069 words, but I revise/cut/rewrite a lot as I go so that goes up and down.

Do you try to write daily? Do you have a word count or other goals you try to hit for each writing session?

I write every morning for about an hour and a half before work—or, well, I sit and work on fiction for about an hour and a half: sometimes that's freewriting, or reading, or editing. I'm trying to be less focused on output quantity and more on time spent this year, since trying for output goals seems to encourage some not-good strains in my mental health whatsits to go mad with power and make my life suck.

What was the inspiration for this fic?

Ahahahahahah oh dear. Um—the answer to that question is hugely spoilery, so I guess I'll say: the last six lines of dialogue, which sort of ~came to me in a vision~, or whatever, and then... the whole rest of the story sort of... constructed itself around that. But I think I can say that I'd been thinking/obsessing about Fillorian marriage, and how—like, skin-crawlingly horrific I find it as a concept, and *why* I find it so skin-crawlingly horrific, before I started working on "The Marriage Plot," and that definitely—informed the story, let's say.

How do you stay motivated between chapters/stories?

I don't have a huge problem staying motivated... for me it's more that I have SO MUCH STUFF I want to work on, so I have trouble staying focused. I have this little Penny-centric fic that I want to get done before the end of the current fan_flashworks round, so I have like 24 hours, and I also have a Penny/Quentin story that'll go up in the next FFW amnesty, and... possibly one or more *other* stories for FFW amnesties that are either done or mostly done, and I just! I am really bad!! at staying focused on one project.

On the motivation front, though, I will say that a big part of why I don't tend to lose motivation is that I never leave projects "at a good stopping point". This seems really counterintuitive, but it helped me *so* much when I started doing this: I almost always end a writing session by getting to a good stopping point, and then writing 9/10ths of the next sentence or paragraph. I like to have a sentence waiting for me where the ending is obvious but not actually written down, so I open it up the next morning and I'm like, "oh, that's supposed to end, 'with his palm'" or whatever, so I have that really easy in for getting back into the swing of writing.

Did this fic require any research? How much research do you typically do for your fics?

I do do quite a bit of research, but I don't typically do research in advance. I'm, like, the anti-planner, I am *so* bad at planning stories, so I kind of write until I hit a point where I'm like "oh, God, I actually do need to know how you go about getting a marriage license in New York, don't I," and then I spend like three hours on the NY city clerk's office website or whatever. I think the thing where I was looking up how to get a marriage license in New York came up like 30,000 words into this story, or something. And a lot of times I'll {{bracket something I need to look up later, like this}} and then just keep working, and fill it in in less high-value writing time—I do that on my lunch breaks a lot, so I can keep my block writing time in the morning for actually making new words.

Do you typically write ahead or post as you go?

It really depends on the project. Somewhat ironically, I mentioned this on Dreamwidth earlier this morning, but I actually usually kind of hate posting things as WsIP unless I am well ahead and very, very sure I can finish quickly. I got kind of trapped by a multi-year WIP in //Sherlock// fandom, which—I love that story, I just wish I wasn't posting it as a WIP. (Though it also wouldn't be that story if I hadn't posted it as a WIP, so... whatever, que sera sera, et cetera.)

When I was posting "Firebird", I started out with... I think I was drafted five chapters ahead at the start? Six? Maybe? I honestly don't remember, but I do know it rapidly fell to four and then kind of froze there, because I knew I needed to have Ch. 8 *very* nailed down before Ch. 4 went up, because I was back-editing all the way to 4 as I wrote 8. And I didn't want to back-edit live work. But then I hit a like... 9/10ths draft place on 8 and burned through that entire posting cushion *super* fast during the last few days I was finishing 8, because 8 was almost the last thing I finished—I had 9 and 10 almost completely drafted before I finished 8, and that's pretty typical of me, to write sort of medium-out of order. So 9 and 10 went up basically as soon as they were edited, because I didn't have that cushion anymore. But "Firebird" lent itself to WIP posting because it has, you know, like. Plot, and excitement, and some sort of cliffhanger-y bits here and there; "The Marriage Plot" won't be posted as a WIP, because it's very interior and relationship-focused, and it just doesn't lend itself to that treatment. The most I might do on something like that is post it consecutively over a few days just to not have to edit all the HTML on 100k+ of fiction in one go.

How much planning and outlining did you do before you started putting words on paper?

Almost none! Ahahaha. I had a freewritten story outline, but I tend to do all my fiction discovery by writing fiction, so I have to be really willing to try things and toss them out, which is what I do instead of actually outlining. I'm thinking about making a pretty huge change to "The Marriage Plot" right now, actually, and am sketching it out by writing some short stories that happen in the (mostly off-screen) 6-9 months between "Firebird" and "The Marriage Plot," and seeing how things crystallize. So I may be about to toss out like 20k of fiction! I don't know, we'll see!

Has it been pretty smooth sailing or rough waters? When things get rocky, how do you handle needing to rewrite sections or scrap scenes entirely?

Oh, I tooooootally don't mind rewriting. I write really fast but am bad at planning, or well—bad at seeing what it'll take to get the characters to where I need them to be emotionally, so mass rewriting just kind of comes with the territory. I also write in Scrivener, which has a Snapshots feature that makes it much less stressful to hose something—I can always go back and look at a previous version if I want a line or a paragraph or to take it back entirely.

Teaser

"Well, no," Alice says, and then her mouth twists, tightening up. "I sort of—I told them that they couldn't have Quentin, because he was already engaged."

"What?" Quentin says; and Eliot grabs at Quentin's tipping wine glass, just in time.

"Look, I had to tell them something, all right?" Alice snaps at him. "Sorry, but I didn't think you wanted to get married to some conceited isolationist—"

"To who, Alice?" Margo interrupts; and Alice stops again, and then flushes.

"I had—well, the only way I could think of to convince them was the—well, you know, when Eliot got deposed," Alice says.

"We *both* got deposed," says Margo, tight; and Alice says, "Yes, *yes*, you *did*, but then *you* took the throne and now *Eliot's* on your council, so I told them—"

"You told them," Margo finishes, "that to prevent civil war, I offered my most powerful rival my only virgin son in marriage."

"Well," Alice says. "Basically—yes."

There is a long moment of silence.

"Well," Eliot says, finally. "I'm not sure how anyone could've foreseen *that* one going wrong."

The Great Blank Spot is an in-depth spotlight focusing on the writing process and previewing in-progress fics for our fandom. It is meant to be an organic, ever-evolving feature. Previously interviewed fic writers can reach out to us here, to have a specific work featured. If you’d like to have a work featured but haven’t done the author spotlight, reach out to us to get started. If you have suggestions for questions you’d like to see answered, shoot us an ask!