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jeneveuxrein · 10 months

Text

safety net [1/2] (BLACKPINK Rosé)

word count: 25.8K

part 1 (14.8K) | part 2 (11K)

(thanks to everyone who read the first story i published, truly appreciate it! this one's more plot than anything with a smidgen of you know)

“Hey.”

You glance away from your screen to Park Chaeyoung standing in front of you, a determined look on her face. You prefer to call her Rosie, mostly because you know how much it irritates her, and you’re the only one that calls her by her English name.

“Uh hey Rosie,” You greet, slightly closing your laptop. “What’s up?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Rosie leans over the table. “And please listen to it before you flat out say no.”

You raise an eyebrow, shutting your laptop completely. You start packing your belongings.

“Wait what? What’re you doing?” Rosie straightens, taking a step back.

“Well I’m hungry, and if I have to listen to you, I would rather do it while I’m eating,” You swing your backpack over one shoulder, adding, “You’re paying by the way.”

As you walk away, you hear Rosie huff. You smirk when her arm loops with yours.

“Fine,” You don’t have to look at her to know she’s pouting, but you wonder what, of all things, she needs you for.

Guess you’ll find out.

The server places your orders in front of you, as Rosie sits across from you, sipping her iced coffee. You give a small thanks as your mouth waters at the sight of the burger.

“You act like you don’t eat,” Rosie comments after you take the first bite. You flip her off after taking another bite. You hadn’t eaten lunch, so you were starving.

“What do you want?” You ask before you continue eating, ignoring her comment. No matter what, you were ravenous. This burger would be gone before she finished.

“Okay,” Rosie takes a breath, composing herself. You realize that whatever she’s going to ask you is big, especially if she’s asking you. Though, you keep eating. “So you know how I’ve never been in a relationship right?”

You nod. It wasn’t any of your business, nor did you pay any attention to her dating life specifically, but your friends, the girls mostly, commented a lot about her lack of dating, or really lack of interest in anyone.

“Well, there’s this guy who I’ve been talking to lately and I think I like him,” Rosie takes a small bite of her salad. “The only problem is my, I guess, experience, if you’re catching my drift.”

This burger is too good for you to stop eating, but you nod anyways, having absolutely no idea what she’s referring to.

“I was wondering if you could help me in that department,” You raise an eyebrow, which you’re paying attention now. “I mean, will you show me how to have sex?”

You choke, being mid-bite, that the burger falls apart onto the plate. You cough as Rosie’s suddenly next to you, hitting your back.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Rosie asks once you’ve stopped coughing.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You nod, waving off the server who was walking towards your table. “I’m good,” You repeat and Rosie takes her seat again.

“So? What do you say?”

“No,” You say flatly, staring at the deconstructed burger on your plate. Thankfully you finished most of it, but still.

“What? Why?” Rosie crosses her arms, eyes narrowing.

It doesn’t faze you. You’re used to this, especially if it’s with Rosie.

“First let me ask, why me?” You attempt to put the burger back together, distracting yourself from the thoughts of Rosie like that.

“Well, it was Jennie’s idea really,” Rosie confesses, watching you rearrange the meat patty. “She said that if I want to feel comfortable doing stuff with Soohyun, I should just get it over with.”

Choi Soohyun, the rich pretty boy at your university. You’ve met him a few times, and he’s nice enough. You know his track record with women is on par with yours, but the difference is that he uses his father’s money to pull them in. You, on the other hand, come from a relatively wealthy family as well, but only Rosie and her three best friends know that.

“And it has to be me?” You ask bluntly, appetite suddenly gone as you push the plate away.

“Yes,” Rosie nods enthusiastically, “As much as everyone calls you a playboy, girls talk. You allegedly know your way around a bedroom, and what better way for me to learn is from you.”

“Chaeyoung, absolutely not,” Using her real name was only saved for serious moments, and this was way too serious for a Tuesday afternoon.

“Why not?” Rosie argues, rolling her eyes. “It’s just sex, isn’t that what all guys want?”

“I’m not sure what guys you’ve been hanging out with, but no, not all guys want just sex,” You mock, leaning back into the chair. “And shouldn’t your first time be special with someone you actually, I don’t know, like?”

“In an ideal world, yes,” Chaeyoung answers, aggressively stabbing a piece of lettuce. “But I don’t care much for that stuff. You’re not answering my question, why won’t you have sex with me?”

There was a list of reasons you could think of as to why you won’t have sex with Rosie.

Number one, and the only one you were concerned about, being the history you have together.

You’ve been sworn enemies since middle school, but there was a time before that where you were actually close. You grew up in the house next to hers, and your parents set up multiple play dates that she was someone you enjoyed spending time with. You considered her your best friend. It changed in middle school, for reasons you still didn’t know. You didn’t have the mental capacity at that age to fix it because you missed her, but you’ve never told her that.

In high school, it was better, but you feigned indifference while she flat out ignored you. Unless your families were having dinner, but even then that consisted of snarky comments and petty arguments. The amount of times her older sister had to step in were too many to count.

You thought university would be your fresh start, but lo and behold, you couldn’t seem to shake her presence from your life. You thought you wouldn’t see her as much since you were taking different subjects, but your friends ran in the same circle, so you saw her more than you needed to.

“Do you not find me attractive?” Rosie’s question catches you off guard when you don’t respond.

You’d be lying if you said no. You’ve been a witness to Rosie turning into a beautiful woman, but if she knew that, especially coming from you, her ego would skyrocket. A lot of the men, even women, on campus have a crush on her, but she typically rejected anyone because she was too focused on school and her dream of becoming a fashion designer—something she was very close to achieving with the amount of internships she’s been receiving from companies abroad.

“Shut up, you know it’s not that,” You mumble, ignoring the smirk forming on Rosie’s face. “It’s you and me. We haven’t gotten along since we were like seven, now all of a sudden, you want to,” You pause, thinking of how to say it, “Have sex with me because of what you’ve heard?”

“Look,” Rosie sighs, face falling. You detect the desperation, but she’d never admit it. “I know our relationship is complicated, but you’re the only guy I can trust to do this. Jungkook would blab. Taehyung would be an ass. And Yoongi’s too nice. Everyone else has a girlfriend who I very much would like to stay friends with. Can’t we just put the past behind us?”

You didn’t want to further complicate things. At best, you two were civil. At worst, Rosie would be yelling at you along with repeatedly hitting your shoulder to take back whatever set her off.

Adding sex into the mix? It’s a bomb waiting to go off.

“I don’t know, Chaeyoung,” You say softly, pushing your plate away. “As much as you’re a pain in my ass, I don’t think I could do that with you. It would feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Her face softens, and she reaches for your hand, “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, I’m taking advantage of you. It’s not like we have feelings for each other right?”

You don’t, as far as you’re aware, but you have always, and will always, have a soft spot for her. You may not have gotten along over the years, but you’d still have her back. If she means what she says about her trusting you out of all the friends she has, it’s important.

“No,” It feels off saying that, but you ignore it. “Fine,” You relent. You couldn’t believe you were agreeing. “But we have to set rules.”

“Really?” Rosie beams, clapping her hands. “Yes yes, of course.”

“Uh, first rule, we’ll do it at my place since I live alone. I don’t need Jennie or Lisa or Jisoo hovering,” You say, which she nods. You love the girls, hell you’ve slept with Jennie on a couple occasions, but they can be nosey and overly critical.

“That makes sense. Rule number two, no sleeping over,” She makes a face, “I will literally bring you home if it’s super late, or I’ll just bring you home in general.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Rosie rolls her eyes.

“I know I don’t, but I’m not budging,” You’re firm about that. Your parents would kill you if anything happened to Rosie and you were the last person to see her.

“Rule three, if you sleep with other people, please let me know and use a fucking condom,” Rosie says, “I don’t want my first time to end up with a disease.”

You’re slightly offended because as much as you have sex, you are safe. Even when girls don’t want to use protection, you do.

“Obviously I will.”

“Good,” Rosie nods, “Last rule, no feelings. If at any point you or I feel something more than our mutual disdain for each other, we stop.”

“Okay,” You roll your eyes, “Like I’d ever fall for you, but fine.”

A pit forms in your stomach after saying that, but again, you brush it off.

“Right back at ya,” Rosie winks, smiling brightly that she accomplished her mission. “So what’re you doing tonight? Can we start?”

You nearly choke on your saliva, eyes bugging out as Rosie looks completely serious.

“Uh,” You don’t have anything planned. You still have to finish the budget report your professor assigned, but it wasn’t due for another week. “You want to start tonight?”

“The sooner, the better right?”

“Okay,” You nod, suddenly nervous about this whole situation. “Okay,” You say a bit more confidently. “You’re paying for this.”

“I know,” Rosie chuckles, signaling to the server for the bill.

What did you get yourself into?

You open the door for Rosie, letting her in first before following. You shut the door while she takes off her shoes, neatly placing them to the side as you take off your coat.

“So this is your place,” Rosie comments, walking along the wall as she inspects the photos. It is her first time here, not that she was never welcomed. Your apartment has always been your safe place, only allowing a select few here. “Did you take these?”

“Yeah, I’m minoring in photography, so,” You shrug, walking past her as she stares at a photo from Jennie’s birthday. “I’m going to change into sweats, did you need anything? Water? Soju?” You offer because you’re considering taking a shot before you get started to ease your nerves.

Rosie laughs, shaking her head, “Soju? Really? You need that?”

“Don’t make fun of me. It isn’t every day that one of the hottest girls at school asks me to teach her to have sex,” You mutter, but Rosie hears you loud and clear.

“You admit that I’m hot then?” You swear you can hear her smirking behind you.

“Fuck off, help yourself to whatever,” You roll your eyes as she laughs.

You don’t bother entertaining her any longer, making your way to your room. You change into something comfy—grey sweats and a white shirt. You hadn’t expected company tonight, nor had you expected having sex. It’s been about a week since, even though your ex-girlfriend messaged you about hooking up for fun the other day. You didn’t even respond, knowing that would just end up messy.

When you return to the living room, Rosie sits on your couch, legs crossed as she types away on her phone. You’d bet she was texting Jennie.

“So how do you want to do this?” You ask awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you sit next to her. You leave a decent amount of space in between, not wanting to seem too eager.

“I don’t know,” Rosie sighs, “Is there a way we can just ease into it?”

“Like making out and stuff?” You’ve never spoken about sex so mechanically, that this is a first for you too.

“I guess? I don’t really know how to start this,” Rosie says unsurely, looking away.

“Hey,” You reach over, a finger gently tilting her chin to look at you, “There’s no pressure okay? We can just watch TV first and go from there. We literally don’t even have to do anything. As long as you’re comfortable.”

You watch her lip quiver. You hope she doesn’t cry. The last girl you made cry was Nayeon when you broke up with her.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, leaning into your hand. “Thanks again for this. I know this whole situation is awkward.”

“Stop,” You wave dismissively, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. “It’s important to you, so I guess by default it’s important to me. Your pace,” You smile.

When Rosie smiles back, you can feel something itch behind your rib cage. You quickly shake that away before retracting your hand. “Here,” You grab the remote, “Put something on, I’ll get us drinks.”

“Oh there’s this new Netflix reality show I want to watch,” You hear Rosie say as you walk to the kitchen.

You didn’t have that much to offer, since you hadn’t had the time to head to the store. You do opt for a couple bottles of soju to ease both of your nerves along with water because hydration matters. You peruse your pantry and there’s a bag of unopened chips, figuring that would be good to have too. At least for yourself to keep your hands busy.

When you return to the couch, placing the items on the coffee table, you see the opening credits of what looks like university students?

“What’s this about?” You ask. This time, you sit closer to her, so that any shift in your leg, your knees would touch.

Rosie goes on to explain the premise of the show, where people are about to be of legal age and how they form relationships in two different settings. She heard about the show from Lisa who binged it with Jennie in one night.

“Is this sappy?” You pour a shot each, handing Rosie the glass.

“Probably, but it’s wholesome,” Rosie raises the glass, “To my virginity?”

“I’m absolutely not toasting to that,” You roll your eyes, taking the shot without waiting.

Rosie scoffs, downing the drink in one go before putting the glass on the coffee table. “You’re so annoying sometimes.”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to pour another shot as the contestants of the show enter the classroom. You usually don’t drink this much on a weekday, but this situation warrants it. It feels surreal to be with Rosie, alone, in your apartment of all places. You couldn’t remember the last time you were willingly alone with her, but the thought of those memories were tucked away.

“Here,” Rosie grimaces at the drink. “Just one more.”

Rosie relents, taking the shot without making another annoying toast. You smirk before following. The liquid goes down smooth, but you feel the effects starting. Your cheeks feel warm, soothing some–not all–of the nerves.

You lean back into the couch, throwing an arm casually over the cushion. Rosie automatically leans into you, sighing deeply before resting her head on your shoulder.

“You smell good,” Rosie comments, snuggling deeper into your side. The compliment throws you off because she hadn’t said anything remotely nice to you in years.

“Uh thanks,” You bring your free hand to scratch the back of your neck. Rosie doesn’t say anything else, nor do you. You settle in, letting what’s on the screen take your attention.

The show is corny, but you understand why Rosie said it’s wholesome. The sense of innocence and pureness everyone has when it comes to relationships is something you miss. You hadn’t had that kind of outlook in years, which slightly makes you want to go into your future relationships more honest about how you feel.

But Nayeon cheating on you over a year ago left its damage on you.

You’d never be disrespectful towards women, but you were upfront that whatever you did with them would never be serious. You couldn’t let it get too intense. Sure they’d always want more, but you couldn’t give yourself to someone like that again.

At least not yet.

“What’re you thinking about?” Rosie asks after a few minutes, resting her hand on your stomach.

“Nayeon,” You say simply.

She raises her head to look at you, “Huh, what why? Didn’t you break up like last year?”

“This show’s making me a little sentimental,” You say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Why’d you two break up anyways?”

“What’d you hear?” You prod, curious as to what Nayeon told people.

“According to Jennie, who heard it from Sana, Nayeon was tired of arguing,” Rosie furrows her eyebrows as she remembers what she heard.

That’s one way to put it.

“Ah well I guess so,” You shrug.

“There’s more to it huh?” She's as perceptive as ever.

“She cheated on me,” Rosie’s eyes widened. “We got into an argument about her meeting my parents. She kept pushing the issue, but you know how my parents are. She storms out and next thing you know, I’m getting a call from Jungkook to come to this party to pick up Nayeon cause she’s wasted.”

You remember that night clearly, something you wanted to very much forget.

“I got there. I’m looking all over for her, Jungkook and Taehyung have no idea where she went. We pretty much split up looking for her, and lucky me, the first door I opened, Nayeon’s naked, on top of some guy.”

Rosie sits up straight, crossing her legs on the cushion as she faces you. The concerned expression etched on her face has you believing she almost cares, but you don’t.

“And she sees me, which immediately sobers her up. All I could do was nod, telling her that we’ll talk in the morning,” The memory still hurts to think about. “Nayeon, being Nayeon, followed me out, apologizing, saying it was a mistake.”

Rosie takes hold of your hand, and you let her. Letting this out feels nice since you hadn’t told anyone what happened. You told Nayeon to tell people whatever she felt was best, and you’d keep the real reason a secret.

“Anyways, next day, we talk and she’s sorry, of course, but she just didn’t understand what the big deal was. It’s not that I didn’t love her, cause I did, but I didn’t think we were there yet for her to meet them,” You sigh, shaking your head. “But yeah we broke up. I didn’t care what she said, and I didn’t defend myself when Sana and Jihyo cornered me, calling me an ass. I just started to sleep around, which probably was the reason why I got that playboy reputation.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Rosie says quietly after a minute, the words sinking in.

You smile sadly, “It wasn’t for anyone to know, but it’s okay. It really is. Relationships are messy, which is why I avoid any emotional connection with girls. Not because I think less of them, but because I think the least of myself in that regard.”

“Stop,” Rosie squeezes your hand, forcing you to look at her. “I don’t know how you are in relationships, but I’m sure that whoever you’re with is lucky.”

“You’re just saying that,” Self-deprecation is something you’ve mastered in the past year.

Rosie tugs your hand with enough force so your face is in front of hers. You could feel her breath against your skin, the faint smell of alcohol lingering. “Stop,” She whispers. “I’m not.”

Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the sudden confession of why you are the way you’ve been.

You kiss her, bringing your lips to hers. You sense her freeze, but she sighs softly after a moment. It ignites a fire in your chest, wanting nothing more than her close to you.

You pull away, leaning your forehead on hers. You open your eyes first to see hers closed.

“Sorry, I-”

“No,” Rosie cuts you off, cupping your face before kissing you again.

Out of pure reflex, you pull Rosie on top of you, straddling your thighs as you wrap your arms around her waist. She lets out a small oomph, which you pause, but she continues moving her lips against yours.

You dip your tongue in between her lips, earning a moan as she threads her fingers in your hair. A shiver goes down your spine as she tugs lightly, a move that turns you on immensely. Your cock stirs as her kisses become firmer, more sure.

Rosie’s body starts to move. It’s subtle, but her hips slightly shift, causing you to pull away, groaning.

“Chaeng,” You pant, hands gripping her waist to steady her.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Rosie asks softly, chest heaving as she rests her forehead on yours.

“No,” You kiss her on the nose. “You’re doing everything right. I just have to control myself,” You let out a breath.

“Would it be the worst thing if you lost control?” Rosie murmurs, pecking you softly on the lips.

The question goes straight to your cock. It doesn’t help that she’s seated right on top of it that you have to remember that this isn’t about you.

Yes is what you want to say because this is still new to her, and as lame as it sounds, like you actually care about her, you do want to make this enjoyable.

“I don’t know,” You shrug, loosening your grip. “But I don’t want to rush into it. Small steps right?”

“Right,” Rosie nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So what next?”

“Uh,” Your brain’s short circuiting because all the blood in your body seems to have rushed south. “Maybe just rock your hips and see how it feels?”

“Like this?” She gently rolls herself over you, testing the waters.

“Is it doing anything for you?” You grit out.

“I’m not sure, let me try again,” She rolls her body again, but with a little more pressure that she moans softly. “That did.”

It definitely did something for you because your cock stiffens at the contact.

“Just do what feels good for you,” Your head falls back as she repeats the motion, undulating her hips over your erection. “Yeah just like that,” You sigh, guiding her movements along your length.

All you feel is Rosie. She’s wearing leggings, but the friction over your sweats overwhelms your senses. You act on impulse, kissing her again. She returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm, grinding down.

You didn’t think dry humping would get you this worked up, but the small moans Rosie lets out against your lips has you hoping you don’t make a mess of yourself.

“Fuck,” Rosie moans, tearing her lips off yours as her rhythm falters.

It leaves her neck exposed, so you trail your lips along her chin, peppering soft bites that has her gripping your shoulders tightly.

You feel her nails digging into your skin. Her pace quickens before her body suddenly seizes, jerking on top of you, as she moans loudly.

Fuck she’s coming.

Doing what you can to prolong her orgasm, you rock up into her, hoping you’re hitting her clit at the right angle. Her body freezes, shaking that you didn’t have the reflex to control your own body before cumming into your sweats, groaning in the crook of her neck.

You hadn’t had a visceral response like that in years, but that was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced. The fact that Rosie got off by rubbing herself against you goes straight to your head.

Rosie’s breathing heavily against you, playing with the hairs on your neck as you try to regulate your own breath.

“I—fuck, I’m so sorry,” Rosie says softly, resting her butt on your thighs.

“What?” Your voice comes out hoarse. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” She buries her head into your neck.

“That was hot,” You confess, placing a soft kiss on her neck. Her body shivers at the contact, causing you to smile.

“Really?” She sounds so unsure, that you don’t know how else to make her believe you.

“Really,” You pull back to her, avoiding your gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a little wild, but she looks hot either way.

Maybe it was the release of hormones after an orgasm that could be clouding your thoughts, but you find her so attractive at this moment that you want to kiss her again.

“Did you, you know?” Rosie glances down, biting her lip.

“Uh,” You force out a chuckle. “Yeah… Sorry about that. I should probably change.”

“Right,” Rosie’s eyes stay looking at your crotch before she shakes her head. “Right,” She repeats and moves off your lap.

“Give me a few and I’ll drive you home, okay?” You stand, placing a hand over the wet spot on the fabric.

“You really don’t have to, I can call a car.”

“No,” Shaking your head, “I insist.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes,” And just like that, it’s back to normal.

“Yeah and you used me to cum, so,” She throws a pillow at you, which you easily dodge, laughing as you walk to your room.

Can we meet tonight?

The words glowing on your screen as you walk out of the building, just finished your last class of the day.

It’s been about a week since Rosie asked you. You hadn’t seen her, but she occasionally sent you articles regarding sex and if you ever experienced such things. The one that had you almost drop your phone was if you ever made a girl squirt, which you haven’t, but you explained not all girls can.

Instead of replying back with a message, you call her.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? We can do take away,” You offer, walking in the direction of where she might be.

“I’m in the music building with Jennie,” You immediately turn around to go the other direction.

“Okay I’m on the way, I’ll be there in a little,” You hang up without waiting for her to respond. You’ll probably get a slap or two, but it’s not like it matters.

By the time you reach the music building, Rosie and Jennie are outside, talking with another person. You can’t see who it is, but as you get closer, it’s Nayeon.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like Nayeon and you were on bad terms. You were always polite and treated her with the same respect you would like anyone else. It would just look suspicious to be walking alone with Rosie since she always made remarks about the weird feeling she got when you were in the same vicinity. She described it as unresolved sexual tension, but it never felt like that to you.

“Oppa,” Jennie greets, her gummy smile forming as you walk up to them. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as they dart between you and Rosie because of course she knows about the arrangement.

“Hey,” You smile, waving awkwardly to Nayeon.

Nayeon gives a small hi while Rosie slaps your shoulder, “That’s for hanging up on me.”

“Okay,” You rub where she hit. “Ready to go?” You ask, reaching for Rosie’s bag without thinking.

“Uh?” Jennie’s eyes widen while Nayeon’s narrow at the gesture. “How nice of you?” Rosie reluctantly hands over her bag.

You don’t know what came over you because you definitely didn’t just carry a girl’s bag, which Nayeon was very aware of. She knew you only carried stuff for the girl you’re dating, something she experienced firsthand.

“My way of saying sorry for hanging up on you,” You say smoothly. Her bag is heavy, which you hope they can’t tell you’re struggling.

“Nayeon was telling us about a party this weekend,” Jennie says.

“It’s Mina’s birthday,” Nayeon says softly, eyes on you. “You should come if you’re free.” There’s a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Um,” You’re put on the spot, wracking your brain for any excuse, but Rosie saves you.

“Don’t we have dinner with our parents? If we get back early enough, you could probably make it.”

You try to ignore the way Nayeon’s face falls, but you can’t ignore Jennie’s confusion since she obviously would’ve known.

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” You play along. You hadn’t had a family dinner in months, but it was a somewhat believable excuse. “I’ll see if I can make it.”

You listen as the girls say bye, Jennie opting to walk with Nayeon to catch up. When the two women leave, Rosie tries grabbing her bag back.

“What’re you doing?” She huffs when you don’t let go.

“I can carry my own bag, you know,” Rosie walks in front of you, clearly annoyed.

“I know, but just let me do this for you.”

“You’re most likely giving me an orgasm tonight, you’re doing enough,” Rosie rolls her eyes, attempting once again. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“Fine, here,” Her comment pisses you off, but she has a point. The university playboy holding the bag of one of the most wanted girls on campus? That would surely be part of the gossip mill. You hand over the bag, a muttered thanks makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re paying for dinner tonight,” Rosie states.

You honestly already planned to, but you nod anyway.

“Can you take your shirt off?” Rosie asks, out of breath, as you hover over her.

“Uh yeah,” You lean back, pulling your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere to the side before bringing your lips back to hers.

That same show plays in the background, unopened food forgotten on the coffee table. The plan was to eat then fool around, but Rosie had something else in mind.

“Okay don’t let this get to your head,” Rosie says against your lips, in between kisses, trailing a finger over your abdomen, “But you’re actually hot.”

The muscles flex under her touch, that you pull her body to the edge of the couch cushion, “I know,” You smirk, dipping a hand underneath her blouse. “Is this okay?” You ask.

“More than okay,” Rosie spreads her legs wider to let you rest in between.

You grind yourself against the apex of her thighs, thankful she wore a skirt today. She moans as it spurs you on to do it again. Mimicking the motion of thrusting in and out of her has your imagination running wild as to what it will be like when you’re actually inside her.

“Fuck,” Rosie grips your arms as you continue the motion. “Don’t stop.”

You won’t until she cums, and her back arches as she rolls her hips down to meet your thrusts. After one particularly hard thrust, her body tenses and bingo.

“There?” You breathe out as you hit the same spot again. She nods, as you watch her face scrunch up. “Gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” Her eyes open, gaze locked in between your legs. “Fuck, Jennie was right. You’re huge.”

As if your ego couldn’t get any bigger. You’re sure she felt just how big you were last week, but she most likely didn’t see it. It probably didn’t help that you were wearing sweats that accentuated your size.

“Thanks,” You grunt, too focused on her pleasure and your own.

You flip her skirt up, mouth watering at the sight of her choice in lingerie. A simple lavender thong with a small bow at the waistband has your hips rutting into her faster.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” You bite your lip, head thrown back as she moans louder.

“I think I’m—oh shit,” Rosie’s body tenses in your hands, back arching as her orgasm washes over her. You feel her clit pulse through your sweats that you continue grinding against her.

You’re more composed this time and don’t prematurely cum. However, your cock hurts from not having a release. You’ll likely just suffer through it and deal with your problem after you drop her off.

You don’t move from your position, keeping the pressure of Rosie’s cloth-covered pussy against you. You might not get to cum, but it still feels nice. After a few minutes of her regulating her breathing and you thinking of everything not related to fucking her, she smiles up at you. You return the smile, tickling her skin that she squirms in your hold.

“Stop!” She slaps your arm. “You know I’m ticklish.”

“I know,” You fold over, resting your head on her stomach. “Was that okay?” Her skirt hasn’t moved, and you’re trying very hard not to touch her there.

“Yeah, that was… something,” Rosie sighs, placing her hand lazily on your head, lightly scratching. “Can you do something else since we’re already here?”

“Sure, what?” You look up to Rosie biting her lip.

“Can you touch me?” Rosie asks softly, adding, “Like down there?”

Your palm twitches at the request, hell, your cock twitches too.

“Uh, yeah,” You push yourself up, kneeling in between her legs. They try to close, but with how you’re positioned, it doesn’t go very far. “Just let me know if anything hurts, I’ll stop.”

Rosie nods, giving you the signal to do something. What you really wanted to do was find out how she tastes, but you tuck that thought away for another time. There will be a time in the future where that’ll happen.

You reach under her skirt, gently pulling the fabric down. She kicks it away, leaving her completely bare from the waist down.

You’re fucked.

Your mouth waters at the sight of her. Your gaze must’ve made her nervous because she quickly covers herself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” You pull back.

“No, no,” Rosie shakes her head, crossing her legs. “I’m just nervous.”

“Hey,” You move to sit next to her. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Can we go to your room?” Rosie offers weakly, which you nod, standing, extending a hand out. She gives you a small smile, taking it before you pull her up. She stumbles a little, but you’re there to catch her. “Lead the way?”

You guide Rosie to your room, nerves prickling at you because no woman has ever been in your room except Nayeon. You had a strict rule of sleeping with women at their place, never yours. Rosie notices your hesitation when you stand in the doorway, asking if you were okay.

“Um, this is going to sound bad, but the last woman that was in my bed was Nayeon,” You say quietly, letting go of Rosie’s hand.

“That’s okay?” Rosie says unsurely. “If it’s too much for you, we can go back to the couch.”

You shake your head. It isn’t that big of a deal, you were probably overthinking it. “No, it’s okay. I just felt like telling you that,” Which was true. You wanted to tell Rosie that, even though there wasn’t a reason to.

Rosie kisses your shoulder softly before walking around you towards your bed. She slips underneath the comforter, which you follow right after her, laying on your side as she’s on her back.

“You okay? We don’t have to do anything else tonight,” You prop your head on your hand, staring at her as she looks at the ceiling.

“Yeah I’m okay, more than okay. It just feels…” Rosie trails off, pouting a little as she tries to find the words. She looks pretty cute like this, but you immediately shake that thought away. You aren’t supposed to be having thoughts like that when this whole situation was transactional. “Intimate, I guess. To be in your bed like this.”

“I suppose so.”

“But yeah let’s keep going,” Rosie glances at you before turning to face you. “How should we…?”

A question pops into your mind, “Have you ever touched yourself?”

“Err, yes?”

“What does that mean?” You chuckle.

“I guess I have. I’ve never gotten off on my own though. I’ve put a finger inside myself, but it felt weird so I just stopped,” Rosie blushes, turning away.

“Uncomfortable?” You ask softly, bringing your hand to rest on her stomach.

“I guess? I don’t exactly know what I’m doing,” Rosie mumbles.

“Let me, yeah?” You move so you’re sitting up, back against the headboard. “Come here, sit in between my legs.”

Rosie complies, settling in between your legs as she lays against your chest. You kiss the crown of her head, sliding your arms around her body.

Now this feels intimate, and oddly feels right to be with her like this. Again, you shake that feeling away, reminding yourself that this is just sex.

A finger traces down her stomach aimlessly, hoping it relaxes her. She sighs contentedly before resting her head on your shoulder. You kiss her neck, and she giggles.

“That tickles,” Rosie says shyly.

“But in a good way right?” You murmur, bringing your hand lower. Her legs automatically widen and her breath hitches as you apply light pressure on her hip bone.

“Yeah,” Rosie sighs, shifting against your cock.

“Good. You trust me right?” You dip your hand in between her legs, resting on her pubis. Her hands find your thighs to hold on to, nodding.

You swipe a finger in between her folds, slowly, and she’s absolutely soaked. Your cock twitches at how wet she is. You��re sure you’re leaking into the fabric of your sweats.

“You’re wet,” You don’t recognize your voice.

“I’m sorry?” Rosie moans as you swipe through again, gently brushing over her clit.

“No, it’s fucking hot,” You murmur and her nails scratch at your skin. “So fucking hot.”

You repeat the motion a few times, eliciting soft moans as she squirms against you. Your other hand carefully unbuttons her blouse, and when the last button comes undone, you cup her breast, squeezing lightly.

“You’re being a tease,” You smirk against her skin, nipping lightly as she drops her head down.

“Just making you feel comfortable,” You chuckle as you swipe down, dipping your index finger inside.

“Oh shit,” Rosie throws her head back when you pull your finger out.

Your finger circles her entrance slowly as her legs spread wider. This position isn’t the best and you’ll likely strain your wrist, but you couldn’t care less about yourself at the moment. You insert your finger in again, but this time, you don’t pull out, letting your finger rest inside her.

You imagine your cock inside her, stretching her out. Your cock literally aches to be inside her because if this was how she felt—tight, warm, wet—you’d bust.

“Move,” Rosie commands through gritted teeth, her hips rolling down to get more of you inside her.

“So impatient,” You whisper, biting her skin softly. “It’s like you want me or something.”

“Oh fuck you,” Rosie’s nails digging into your skin as you start to move.

“You will,” Your voice comes out low, slowly moving in and out of her slick. “Not tonight,” Unfortunately, “But you will.”

“You’re so—fuck,” Rosie chokes on her words when your palm brushes over her clit, the penetration overstimulating her.

You smirk, freeing your hand from her chest and bringing hers under yours, “Touch yourself.”

Rosie easily obliges, rubbing her fingers over her clit as you begin pumping a smidge closer. Her pussy’s still tight, but her body’s slowly welcoming the intrusion. Based on the blissed-out expression on her face, eyes closed, she’s biting her lip.

“Don’t be shy Rosie,” You kiss behind her ear, “Let me hear you.”

Her eyes open, and the lust is there. She moans louder as her fingers move faster, causing you to match her pace. Your cock aches, wanting some sort of relief that your hips lightly thrust against her backside.

“Fuck,” Is all you can say because you want to fuck Rosie, especially with how her walls are squeezing your fingers.

“Cum,” You say simply and she does.

Her body spasms, back arching as she presses her butt directly on your cock. She lets out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard, drawn out as her free hand reaches for your neck. Her walls aren’t letting your fingers move, so you opt to gently move them to prolong her orgasm.

After a minute, or two, Rosie falls limp in your hold, her arms flailing over your thighs. You slowly pull your fingers out, peering over her shoulder to see her slick. A nasty thought comes to you, and you bringing your fingers to your mouth, cleaning them to see what she tastes like, and dear fuck you want it directly from the source.

“You’re fucking gross,” Rosie pants softly, weakly lifting her arm to swat your hand away.

“You wanna taste yourself?” You brush your finger against her lips, and she makes a disgusted face. “Eh, if not now, later.”

Rosie tries to sit up, but she falls back into your chest, resting her head on your shoulder as you bring your arms around her stomach. You kiss her neck, murmuring, “Was that okay?”

“It was great,” Rosie nods slowly, turning her head slightly to kiss your cheek. “Thanks for that. I see the appeal in it now.”

You chuckle, chest vibrating against her body, “Yeah sex is pretty great.”

“I’m so tired,” Rosie yawns.

“Uh,” You’re still hard, which you hoped Rosie was too blissed out to notice. “Let me just shower first and I’ll take you home.” A cold shower was needed. You’ll probably give yourself relief when you get home, but you don’t think you’ll be able to survive the drive.

“Okay,” Rosie yawns again, “But can we stay here for a few more minutes?”

“Of course.”

Rosie sighs contentedly, snuggling into your chest. You typically didn’t cuddle after, but with her, it felt warranted. You wouldn’t say it felt right, but it didn’t feel wrong. You were comfortable doing this with her, and you hadn’t felt that since Nayeon.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Rosie. Child-you would be happy to spend time with her, but adult-you knows what this is—sex. A knot forms in your stomach at the thought, but your rational side knew you and her weren’t ever going to be together.

Weird, but you dismiss the feeling completely.

“I’ll give you some clothes to wear,” You offer, nuzzling your chin into her.

“They’ll give you shit, you know that right?” Referring to her friends.

“Tell Jennie she never got anything from me,” You quip, earning a light slap on your leg. “What! She didn’t!”

“Stop talking about my friend who you’ve slept with after you just gave me two orgasms,” You didn’t need to see her face to know she rolled her eyes.

“Sorry,” You mumble, kissing her neck.

Rosie laughs, a sweet airy laugh that has your heart fluttering, and you think that it’s a sound you’d want to hear more often.

Someone ruffles your hair as you’re zoned in on finishing this expense report and you hear laughter behind you.

“What the fuck,” You pull your headphones out to see the offender.

Rosie.

With Lisa right behind her.

“Sorry,” Lisa peeks her head over Rosie, “You just looked too focused that I wanted to mess with you.”

“What do you two want?” Your eyes narrow as Rosie smiles. It eases your irritation, but still.

“Figured we’d say hello. Chaeng saw you, but didn’t want to disturb you. I, however, did,” Lisa answers, stepping forward. There’s a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Hey,” Rosie says softly. “I’m sorry. I told her not to.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, checking your watch.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, eyes darting to Rosie, who slaps the back of her head. “Ow.”

“I have a game with Yoongi in about an hour.”

“Oh we should watch!” Lisa nudges Rosie, who rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Rosie gives you a look, as if she’s waiting for you to invite her yourself. You smile, giving a small nod.

“Okay fine,” Rosie sighs, shaking her head, but she smiles at you anyways.

“Are you good oppa? I’ve seen Yoongi play, and he’s pretty good,” Lisa asks as you start to pack your stuff.

“I guess you’ll see,” You didn’t like talking about yourself. You considered yourself decent, but there would always be someone better.

When you finish, you decide you wanted to tease Rosie. You wait until Lisa’s a few feet away, leaning forward, “I’m usually pretty riled up after a game, so I hope you’ll come over after.”

The blush on Rosie’s face has you grinning, which gets even wider when she gives you a small nod.

“I don’t get why you do that.”

“Do what?” You ask, mouth full of mandu.

“Say you’re not good, but then score twenty points like it’s nothing.”

“So you were keeping track?” You smirk, reaching for another mandu on the table with your chopsticks.

“No, Yoongi told me after the game,” Rosie huffs, crossing her arms as she slouches into the couch.

“It’s okay if you did, I’m flattered you paid that much attention to me.” That earns you a slap, but you couldn’t care. You played the whole game so you were starving.

You’re back at yours, just hanging out. You really had no intention of doing anything with Rosie tonight, even if you did tease her about being riled up. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you enjoy spending time with her as of lately.

Lisa gave you a thumbs up when Rosie told her she’d be leaving with you. No one seemed to notice when you two walked out together, but Yoongi did text you asking where you went since the team usually went out after.

“I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you ever feel frustrated after we you know?”

“Uh,” The question catches you off guard.

It’s been two days since, and you can admit it was a struggle after feeling her cum on your fingers. You thought about having sex with someone to give you some relief, but that thought had the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Frustrated in the sense I need to release,” You answer honestly, but quickly followed up with, “But it’s not that big of a deal. I took care of it.” The tips of your ears burned at the implication.

Rosie sighs next to you, shaking her head, “Okay can I be honest?”

“Uh of course?”

“I feel bad,” You were about to bite into the last mandu, but you stopped. “I feel like you’re always making me feel good, but I feel like I’m doing nothing in return.”

You place the mandu back in the box, dropping your chopsticks with it.

“Believe me you are,” The memory of Rosie’s face as her orgasm hit was something that could not be forgotten.

“But it doesn’t feel like it!” She throws her hands up dramatically. “I haven’t even seen your you know yet.”

“Oh my god,” You chuckle. “Just say it. It’s not a bad word.”

“Cock?”

“No.”

“Penis?”

“No.”

This conversation is getting nowhere.

“Take it out,” Rosie says suddenly.

“Only if you say cock,” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Then no cock for you,” You poke her nose after she huffs, hitting your leg.

After a minute, Rosie shoves her face into your chest. She mumbles something that you can’t quite make out, asking her to repeat.

“Cock,” Rosie says quietly, rubbing her face deeper from embarrassment.

“Was that so hard?” You smile, kissing her head. “Do you really want me to ‘take it out’ as you so eloquently put it?”

“Yeah,” Rosie mumbles, and you swear there’s a pout.

“You do it,” You offer, shifting slightly to wrap an arm around her. “No pressure Chaeng. Do whatever you feel is right and if anything hurts me, I’ll tell you.”

Rosie shyly asks if you could move to your bed, which you happily oblige. You swoop her in her arms, causing her to scream and slap your chest the whole way to your room. You laugh as she curses at you, but it’s fun for you and you know she thinks it is too.

“You’re annoying,” Rosie comments after you drop her on the bed. “Literally the most annoying person I know. How do girls put up with you?”

“I can think of a few ways that make up for it,” You sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“Arrogant too,” Rosie adds, shifting her body so she’s next to you.

Neither of you say anything while you’re sitting. You’re trying to think of how to guide Rosie while she stares at the floor. An idea pops into your mind, as you scoot until your back is pressed against the headboard.

“What’re you doing?”

“Seduce me,” You say simply, patting the space next to you. Her eyebrows furrow, but she’s right back next to you in no time.

“How?”

“We’ve done a few things together, I’m sure you could figure it out.” It wouldn’t take much to turn you on. Your control slips every time Rosie’s over that your body has a mind of its own.

She could kiss you and you’d be hard, as embarrassing as that is.

“Um okay,” Rosie bites her lip as she looks at you.

You smile, winking even, that makes her roll her eyes.

Rosie leans forward, kissing you softly on the lips. You keep your hands still, but your lips move easily against hers. She lets out a small moan when you dip your tongue into her mouth. Her arms circle around your neck, pulling you closer.

The blood in your body rushes south, waking your cock as Rosie presses against you. Kissing her has become one of your favorite things even if you’ve only done less than a handful of times. As someone who has had a healthy sex life, it’s scary how easily your body reacts to her.

She detaches her lips, placing soft kisses along your jawline. You let her, relaxing into the headboard as your eyes close.

A groan escapes from your lips when Rosie places her hand over your crotch.

“What?” She pulls back, a concerned look etched on her face. Her hand doesn’t move though.

“Nothing, you’re doing great,” You take a breath, “Just caught me off guard.”

Rosie makes a sound, but goes back to kissing your face. Her hand starts to move, palming your cock over your sweats.

Your body immediately reacts, hardening underneath her touch. She smirks against your neck, “Well hello.”

You laugh, shaking your head before kissing her sweetly on her forehead, “It’s a bodily reaction, what do you expect?”

“I think your body likes me,” Rosie brings her lips to yours before sitting straight. In a swift move, she swings her leg over you, cupping your face and bringing you in a bruising kiss, not giving you a chance to answer.

You instinctively rest your hands on her waist, pulling her body flushed against yours. She lets out a moan as your grip tightens.

You’re too lost in the kiss to notice Rosie sneaking her hand in between. Her fingers brush against the waistband of your sweats, abdomen tightening at her touch. You mumble a pathetic please because all she’s doing is riling you up. She smirks against your lips, dipping her hand to actually touch you.

Your head’s spinning and your hips involuntarily thrust into her hand. Given the space, it’s a little tight, but Rosie’s hand wrapped around you has your control slipping faster than before. You pull your sweats down so you’re fully free.

“Is this okay?” Rosie asks in between kisses as she slowly moves her hand up and down your length.

“Fuck yes,” You groan, detaching your lips from hers as your head falls backs.

Her hand’s soft, velvet-like, as she strokes you. You’re almost scared to look down because you feel yourself leaking as she cups the tip. She tentatively spreads it over you, that it’s making you lose your mind.

You open your eyes to Rosie intently staring at her ministrations, her tongue slightly peaking out.

“You can squeeze a little, but—ow shit!” Your hand shoots out, holding her wrist as you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Rosie automatically lets go, “I’m so sorry!”

You cough, catching your breath. You’re already sensitive, but it felt like Rosie was about to rip your dick off. “I’m fine,” You cough again, “Just a little lighter.”

“Sorry,” Rosie mumbles, looking away.

You place your hand over hers, together enclosing over your cock. “Like this,” You slowly move her hand under yours, applying enough pressure. Her hand’s smaller than yours, so she can’t completely fit around your girth.

“How does it feel?” Rosie asks softly.

“Good,” You nod, eyes rolling back as you let go of her hand. “So good.”

Rosie experiments with her grip and pace for a while, going faster at times while squeezing the right amount that has you seeing stars. You’re too focused on her hand that you don’t notice her move off your lap.

Something warm envelopes your cock and your eyes shoot open to Rosie’s mouth around the head.

“Fuck,” You grip the bedsheet, nearly tearing it off. “Give me a warning next time,” You moan.

“Sorry,” Your cock fucking pops out of her mouth as she continues to stroke you, “It seemed warranted. Too much?”

“Not enough,” Your abdomen tenses as she engulfs you again, going farther down your length.

Her tongue licks your tip as you watch her cheeks hollow out. You're mesmerized as she moves her head up and down your length, and each time she gets lower.

“Has anyone ever deepthroated you?” Rosie asks, catching her breath, but her hands don’t remain idle.

“Uh,” You barely hear her question, “I don’t know,” You couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else at the moment, but if she wants to try, you’ll let her.

“Can I try?” Rosie places a sweet kiss on the tip, making a face as a smidge of precum gets on her lip.

“By all means,” Your eyes roll back. Your hand itches to hold onto her head, but you’re scared of forcing her to take more than she can.

Rosie’s lips are around you once again, and the tip hits the back of her throat. There’s a sharp inhale, and you’re not sure if it’s from her or you, but that doesn’t deter her.

“Chaeng,” You grit out and your hand moves to the back of her head, threading your fingers in her hair. You don’t push down, but her throat relaxes and takes you all the way. “Fuck,” Your fingers fist through her locks, keeping her there until her finger taps on your thigh.

You immediately let go, and she comes off your cock, a slight dribble of drool on her chin.

“How was that?” Rosie smirks.

“Either make me cum or fuck off,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her that she doesn’t reply, instead taking you down her throat once more, swallowing around your length that you cum without warning.

You try to pull her off as your release shoots down her throat, but she’s adamant to take all of you. Your eyes roll back when she swallows, the pressure becoming too much as your hips thrust up into her mouth.

Rosie’s mouth is dangerous, and you’re thanking whatever deity for her skills. You’ve had your fair share of blow jobs, but she’s number one in your book. You’re definitely never going to tell her because practice makes perfect, and you know she’s a perfectionist. It might be a little selfish, but you’ll gladly be willing to take whatever she gives you until this is over.

Once your orgasm and she’s drained you for all that you’ve had, your hand relaxes, dropping to the side. She slowly comes off your cock, overly sensitive, but she licks the underside and that has your head spinning.

“So,” Rosie sits in between your legs, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, “How was I?”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you weakly get out, “There’s always room for improvement.”

“Really?” Rosie raises an eyebrow, eyeing your now-soft cock. “I drained you in less than fifteen minutes.”

“I’ve been pent up,” You mumble, eyes closing. “I blame you.”

“Just admit you think I’m hot,” Rosie’s suddenly hovering over you, hair tickling your face.

“Move your hair,” You try to push her off, but you’re bone dead. Playing a game followed by this has your body exhausted.

“Admit it,” Rosie kisses your lips, a slight tang on them. “I did,” She adds.

You groan, wrapping an arm around her so she’s fully on top of you, “Why do you need to hear that?” You know she knows you think so.

“Cause,” She kisses you again, leaving her lips on yours.

“Cause what?” You sigh, lazily moving your lips against hers.

Rosie’s tongue dips into your mouth, short circuiting your brain before murmuring, “Cause it’s you.”

Your eyes feel heavy, wanting to pass out and you actually might. Something washes over you before your body shuts down. You don’t know why, but you tell her, “You’re not hot, you’re beautiful,” before sleep takes over completely.

(You wake up a few hours later, alone, but not without a note on your nightstand, groaning at Rosie’s cursive—

Thanks handsome guy <3 see you around.

ps I called a car, and before you beat yourself up, it’s okay)

It’s stupid.

You’re stupid.

A fool, some might say.

You’re calling yourself a fool.

What compels you to be at Rosie’s apartment door, waiting, holding a bouquet of roses, without even asking if she’s home, is beyond you.

It’s a risky move, the longer you wait for her—or anyone for that matter—to open the door.

You immediately felt guilty waking up to Rosie’s note. You didn’t even return the favor, and you’ve been wanting to. In your mind, showing up at her place, uninvited, with flowers, was a way to make it up to her before asking if she wanted to come over so you could thoroughly make it up to her.

The door swings open and it’s Lisa, clothes wrinkled and hair all over the place. You don’t comment on it because you know something’s going on between her and Jennie, but it wasn’t your place to ask. Instead you ask, “Hey, sorry to bother, but is Rosie in?”

Lisa smiles, and your face falls, the answer doesn’t need to be said, but she invites you in anyways.

You don’t know why you just don’t leave, but you enter their apartment, slipping off your shoes while awkwardly holding the flowers.

“Here, let me take those.” They’re out of your hands before you could respond. “Make yourself at home.”

You’ve been here a handful of times, mostly when there was a party or someone needed a ride home, but it feels off being here.

Or does it feel that way because she wasn’t here?

You follow Lisa to the living room, seeing Jennie seated on the couch in the same disheveled appearance. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s you here, but she doesn’t say anything except for a polite hello.

Neither of the women say anything, but Lisa prepares the flowers in the vase. You stare at the coffee table, trying to find any words to explain why you’re here.

“So what brings you here?” Jennie asks a question she knows the answer to.

“Uh, I thought Rosie would be in,” You answer, scratching the back of your head. You notice the silent exchange between the two, but the sad smile that forms on Jennie’s face says enough.

“She’s out at the moment,” Jennie bites her lip, thinking of what to say. “She should be back in an hour or so. You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” You sigh, realizing just how stupid it was for you to show up. Your thoughts stray that she’s out with Soohyun, but that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“She’s having dinner with Soohyun,” Lisa says and you watch Jennie’s eyes narrow, rolling her eyes.

“Lisa.”

“What? He should know,” The woman shrugs, acting as if it’s not a big deal.

And it’s not.

At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Rosie can do whatever she likes,” It comes out harsher than you intended, but you’re feeling something that you don’t want to acknowledge. You stand, “I should get going. Uh, you guys can keep those. No need to tell her that’s for her. Sorry they’re not blue Jen,” You add, knowing those are her favorite.

Jennie gives you a sympathetic smile, shaking her head, “You’re sweet, you know that right?”

“Sure,” You shrug, walking towards the door. “Sorry to bother you both,” You bow after slipping your shoes on.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Jennie asks, meeting you by the door.

“Yeah, it’s okay. Please don’t tell her,” There’s a fifty-fifty chance Rosie would find out, odds being Lisa telling her where the roses came from.

“Why not? It’s sweet you brought her flowers.”

“I don’t really have a reason as to why,” You do have a reason, but you’re not sure how much Rosie shares with them.

Jennie looks like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press you anymore, nodding. “See you at Mina’s?”

“Maybe,” You answer vaguely, remembering that you actually have to see your parents this weekend sans the Parks. “I have a business meeting with my parents, so I doubt I’ll make it back in time.”

“With Chaeng?” Jennie raises an eyebrow.

“No, just me, so I’ll be in Seong-buk,” You grimace at the thought of having to sit in this, but your father’s adamant it’s good exposure for you.

“Well I hope you can make it,” Jennie reassures, hugging you briefly before taking a step back.

“You’ll see me if I do,” You wink. “Thanks again Jen.”

Once the door shuts, you sigh. You couldn’t believe you showed up at Rosie’s place, unannounced. What were you expecting? You’re still not entirely sure, but you’re disappointed nonetheless. It’s almost been two weeks since this arrangement started and you’re scared you’re getting attached. You’ve had longer flings and felt zero attachment to them.

You question why it feels different, and you toy with the idea of joining Jungkook in Hongdae to remind yourself that you don’t get attached. A wave of guilt passes through you, which you’re torn on what you should do.

“Fuck it,” You mumble to the empty hallway.

You hear the door knock and pause the show you’ve been sort of watching with Rosie. You’d rather drown in the river than admit you actually like this show.

You aren’t expecting anyone except the food delivery, so you are surprised when you open the door to see Rosie.

“Uh hey?” You greet. One look at her and you know she’s upset based on the fire in her eyes.

“What the fuck,” Rosie spits out.

Great. Fucking Lisa.

You aren’t given the chance to ask anything as she barges through the door. You turn around once the door’s shut, and she’s seething.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why the fuck did you show up at my place?”

“Drop off flowers for Jennie and Lisa,” You answer noncommittally, crossing your arms as you lean against the door.

“Bullshit. Tell me why,” Rosie steps forward, invading your space. Her perfume makes you dizzy, but you can’t dwell on it too much since she looks like she’s about five seconds away from ripping your head off.

“What do you want me to say?” You deflect. You didn’t want to get into the reason why—the actual reason—that had you take the train back to yours instead of a club.

“The fucking truth!” She throws her hands up dramatically, shaking her head.

“I came over because I wanted to make it up to you for completely knocking out last night, happy?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the door and walking past her.

“No, I’m not—hey! Get back here, I’m still talking to you,” Rosie’s hand encloses over your wrist.

The move forces you to turn around, reflexively pulling her into you so that you’re face-to-face.

“Don’t,” Your voice comes out low. “I’m being honest. Your turn now, why are you here?”

“Because,” Rosie tries to get out of your grasp, but it’s futile. “As soon as I get home, Lisa fucking singsongs that you dropped by with flowers to see me. Then she told me she mentioned to you that I was out with Soohyun.”

You let go, dropping her hand completely before taking a step back. Hearing his name makes you sick, but you refuse to admit why.

“How was that?” You ask, tired, because you knew what you signed up for.

“Do you really want to know?” Rosie crosses her arms, glaring.

“I don’t, but you’ll tell me anyway.”

“It was good. He’s funny. He’s polite, offered to pay the bill, and walked me to the door,” Each word digs at you, but you don’t let it show. “He wanted to come in to say hello to the girls, but I told him I just wanted to sleep. He asked me out again.”

“And? Is there going to be a second date?”

“Yes,” Rosie says flatly.

“Good, happy for you,” You hoped you sounded as detached as possible. “Now you still didn’t answer why you’re here if you ‘just wanted to sleep’?”

“Because I’ve been fucking frustrated since last night,” Rosie sighs, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I would be, but you fucking fell asleep. I tried dealing with it myself, but that made it worse.”

All you’re imagining is Rosie, in her bed, touching herself, which has you immediately hard. But you’re a little ticked off at the moment to fully enjoy that imagery.

“Why didn’t you ask Soohyun to help you?” It’s a low blow, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Rosie pushes you, like actually pushes you, with enough force to move.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Rosie seethes out, turning to walk out. “I planned on coming over after the dinner for you to take care of the problem you created.”

You’re faster, grabbing her arm to pull her body flush against yours.

“So you couldn’t cum?” You whisper.

“Fuck you,” Rosie struggles to get out from your hold, but you have one arm securely wrapped around her waist.

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” You murmur, “But there is something I still haven’t done.”

“I’m mad at you,” Rosie ignores your suggestion.

“If I do what I want to do, I promise you won’t be mad.”

“Doubtful,” Rosie pouts, relaxing into your embrace.

“I’m sorry,” You mean it.

“I’m still mad,” She huffs, burying her face into your chest.

“Let me make it up to you,” You tilt her head up, forcing her to look at you. “Please?”

“Fine. On the condition I sleep over.”

You freeze, vividly remembering the rules you set in place that she wouldn’t sleep over.

“Our rules?”

“You broke the first one by coming over without telling me,” She reasons.

“Do you want to spend the night?” You ask nervously. You hadn’t spent the night with a girl since Nayeon. Every time you had sex, you’d leave before they woke up, or right after.

“Yes,” Rosie rocks on her tiptoes to kiss you briefly, wrapping her arms around your neck. “It makes things easier for us.”

“Can I still bring you home in the morning?” You ask shyly, looking away.

“You better,” Rosie smiles. “I’m still mad though.”

You roll your eyes, using your strength to pick her up, wrapping her legs around your waist, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Rosie squeals, hitting your shoulder as you carry her towards your room. “Don’t drop me!”

You chuckle, shaking your head, as you kick the door open, “You’re fine, trust me.”

You do drop her on the bed and Rosie huffs as she sprawls out on the bed. You take in her appearance—a simple black dress that falls mid-thigh with her hair half-up. She’s beautiful, but you won’t say it out loud—even though you feel like you’ve told her.

“You’re staring,” Rosie comments, resting on her elbows, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Can you blame me?” You drop to your knees, pulling her towards the edge of the bed. “Do you trust me?” You ask softly, locking eyes with her.

“Yes,” And that’s all you need.

—

You wake up slowly, yawning and stretching. Your arm hits a body, causing you to almost jump when you notice a body’s pressed to your side. You remember that Rosie stayed the night after spending a good amount of time and effort in between her legs.

She had physically yanked you away from overstimulation, but it was worth it. The sounds she made along with how she tasted was something you wanted to do again. You barely scratched the surface, but you were addicted.

You had to give her credit because she came three times. You tried to go for a fourth, but she mustered enough strength to kick you away. You wouldn’t let up until she wasn’t mad anymore. By the second orgasm, she wasn’t, but you had to make sure.

When you were done, cleaning up the mess you made, you kissed her softly as she laid limply on the bed. “Thanks,” She mumbled, sighing contentedly as she played with the hairs on the back of your neck. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I know,” You smirked, kissing her again before laying your head on the pillow.

Rosie wanted to return the favor, but you shook your head, embarrassed to share that you were touching yourself while eating her out. She found out anyway because you couldn’t lie to her. It went straight to her head, teasing you that you couldn’t help yourself. She kissed the pout away before falling asleep.

You check the clock on your nightstand, “Fuck,” You mutter, stirring Rosie awake.

“What’s wrong?” Rosie’s voice comes out hoarse, slightly turning her body.

It’s almost noon, and you haven’t finished looking over the reports and proposals your father sent over last night.

“I’m so sorry,” You sit up, shaking your head in frustration. “I would make you breakfast, but I have to review some things for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” You watch her rub her eyes, and you can’t help but think how cute she is.

“I have a business dinner with my parents.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” You trail off.

“Do you want me to go with you? I’d just have to stop by my place to change, but I can go,” Rosie offers, turning as she pulls the blanket over her.

Your heart flutters. If there’s anyone that knows your parents, it’s Rosie. She’s known them since you were kids, seeing just how much pressure was put on you being their only child. It sucked a lot when things changed, but you couldn’t dwell on it that much. You were just trying to appease what they wanted, even though you knew it would never be enough.

“Alice is home too,” Rosie adds when you don’t respond. “I can just hang out with her until you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to impose on her plans for the day.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” Rosie sits up, the blanket falling slightly down her body. You glance and remember she was wearing one of your shirts that was a little too big on her. “Mina’s party is later, so we could go after if you need to blow off steam.”

“We’ll see how I feel,” You scoff, knowing exactly how you’d feel after. “But thanks Chaeng, it means a lot.”

“Eh, I know how they are, so,” Rosie shrugs, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. She rests her head on your shoulder, laying an arm along your stomach. “I’m sorry it hasn’t gotten any better.”

“It’s okay,” You say a little too quickly, but she doesn’t press the issue, snuggling deeper into your side. “Thanks,” You mumble.

“You could always do whatever you want, they’d come around,” Rosie suggests, tracing a finger up and down your abdomen.

“Yeah, like being a photographer would make enough money for them. They’d see it as a hobby, which it is, not as a career,” You say bitterly, shaking your head at the memory of when you suggested it that one time.

“Well you could always take pictures of me, and you know, I know people in fashion that could see your portfolio.”

“Chaeng, you’ve done enough for me,” You’re shocked that she’d even offer this. You knew that she had connections, but she worked hard for those. It would feel wrong to actually take her up on it.

“You’ve also done enough for me,” She pokes your cheek. “Just think about it, the offer’s there.”

You don’t know what to say. You deflect with humor and sarcasm because it’s what you know, especially with her, “Careful, it sounds like you actually like me or something.”

“Oh fuck off,” Rosie slaps your chest, giggling.

She doesn’t confirm or deny it. You’re left wondering if she ever could.

The car’s silent except for the music Rosie asked—demanded—to play, connecting her phone before you could say yes. You’re on your way back to the city, finished with the business meeting with your parents and some overseas executive who brought his daughter too.

You were completely blindsided. It was a business meeting disguised as a fucking introduction to a ‘potential’ wife that your parents shamelessly arranged on your behalf. You weren’t that much of an ass to be completely rude to the girl—Kazuha—who also didn’t want to be there. She flat out told you what the meeting was, which you appreciated her honesty.

Nakamura Kazuha was pretty, an innocent air around her that would have you interested if it was under normal circumstances. Your parents coincidentally left you alone for a bit to get to know each other, and she seemed like a great person. She was shy, but polite. She was funny, in a quiet sort of way where you had to be paying attention.

Kazuha told you she had a boyfriend that she wanted to be with; however, her parents didn’t approve. It was a point of contention because it wasn’t like Satoshi was a bad person, he just didn’t meet the standards they had—in other words, not wealthy.

You shared that same sentiment, explaining your last relationship with Nayeon and how she was a great person, but you knew your parents would never approve.

“Who was that girl you dropped off?” Kazuha asked once dinner was over. Your parents off to the wine cellar.

What?

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Kazuha smiled. “We arrived the same time you did and I saw you walk a girl to the house next door.”

“Oh uh that’s Rosie,” You answered vaguely.

“She’s pretty. Are you two dating?”

“What? No, she’s just a friend,” You rushed out, but Kazuha wasn’t dumb. She could tell that you weren’t just friends.

“Interesting. I don’t know many guys who walk friends to the door, but,” She shrugged, “It’s none of my business. That’s sweet of you though.”

When you only nodded, she smiled again, moving on to talk about other things. The thought of her observation struck a chord, causing you to dwell on it for the rest of the evening.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rosie’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Do you want to hear about it?”

“I do,” Rosie nods in your periphery.

You tell her everything.

How the meeting wasn’t actually business for your parents. How they purposely set you and Kazuha up. How your father tricked you into preparing for something that was already signed. How your mother boldly asked when you and Kazuha would see each other next—when she lived in another country. How you were pissed and irritated and upset. How you were just tired of it.

“I mean, fuck, at this rate, I might as well just go along with it because every single choice is made for me,” You hit the wheel while stopped at a redlight.

“Hey,” Rosie coos, reaching for your hand, the tension melting away from your touch. “Don’t say that.”

“Well it’s not like I have any other fucking choice, unless I end up with someone who’s as rich or richer than my family, they’ll never approve. I’m literally setting up my future wife for a lifetime of disapproval. Look at Minjun, his wife hardly even attends family gatherings,” You scoff.

You saw firsthand how your cousin’s marriage was affected by someone your family deemed ‘not good enough’. You also admired how Minjun stayed with his wife when everyone, even you, said not too because it wasn’t worth the headache.

Rosie tugs your hand to look at her, a sad smile etched on her face, “Well then you just haven’t met that somebody yet.”

“How can I when I’m literally getting put into arranged marriages at this point?” You sigh, tired from the dinner.

“You will, I’m sure of it,” She squeezes your hand, interlacing your fingers together. “You’re smart. You’re kind. And don’t let it get to your head, but you are good-looking. Anyone who gets to be with you would be lucky.”

Your ears burn from her compliments. The comment of your looks does go to your head, but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Thanks,” You mumble shyly, looking away as you start driving.

“Are we going to Mina’s?” Rosie asks, keeping your hand on her lap.

The use of we has you confused.

“Uh, I was just going to drop you off and stay in. I don’t feel very social anymore. I’m still worked up,” You roll your eyes, turning right onto Mina’s street.

Rosie squeezes your hand, her thumb rubbing your skin, “Are you sure? It could help you get your mind off things.”

“The only thing that would get my mind off anything is I fuck someone,” You say crassly.

“I’m right here,” Rosie lets go of your hand, huffing.

“Yeah but I have a bit of aggression at the moment. I can’t exactly take you roughly,” You pull up to the curb, a few houses down from Mina’s.

“And why not?” Rosie unbuckles her seat belt, crossing her legs on the seat to face you.

“You think really low of me if I’d have your first time be like that,” You reason, rolling your shoulders as you shut the car off.

Could you imagine taking Rosie roughly? Absolutely. You know how flexible she is, and you could have fun with her body if she gives you enough time with her. You wanted to prolong this arrangement because time’s running out. You weren’t sure if it would be a one and done type of thing, but you didn’t want to ask.

“I don’t,” Rosie scoffs, leaning forward to kiss you softly on the cheek. “But I hope we’ll get there.”

The kiss sends a shiver down your spine, melting into the car seat. You turn to kiss her on the lips, a simple peck that she deepens, pulling you into her that has your body on fire.

“Can I convince you to stay?” Rosie murmurs, sneaking a hand to your slacks. She palms you through the fabric, causing you to groan against her lips. “I think I can.” Her hand deftly lowers the zipper.

“Chaeng,” You tear away your lips, head falling back on the headrest as you watch her take your cock out.

“Yeah?” Rosie moves over the center console, dropping her head.

“We’re in public,” Your voice comes out hoarse as her head goes lower, tongue slipping out to lick your tip.

“It’s dark,” Rosie kisses your cock, “Better be quick then.”

In a swift move, Rosie’s mouth encloses over you and you’re a goner.

You laugh at the nonsense Jungkook says in an attempt to distract the pair across the table from missing the shot. It works, and you’re one cup away from winning again.

You feel lighter than you did an hour ago. All thanks to the woman who happens to be sitting very closely to the man she’s interested in. Although, you’re trying your best not to dwell on the sinking feeling in your stomach every time you glance her way.

“Dude you got it,” You nod to Jungkook who’s a bit drunk, but he swears his coordination gets better the more he drinks.

Your best friend smirks, winking at the other team before smoothly tossing the ball and it falling perfectly into the lone cup.

“And that’s game,” Jungkook puffs his chest out while the other two roll their eyes. “Who’s next?”

“Take Yoongi for this round, I need some air,” You say without waiting for his response. You walk off to the kitchen, grabbing a beer before you make your way to the backyard.

A few people stop you, mostly girls, asking what you’re doing after. You give a noncommittal answer because you would like to leave with Rosie, but the odds of that happening are low.

The cool air hits your lungs and you let out a breath. A much needed one with the amount of people that are inside. There’s a few people, but they’re all in their own conversations, not paying you any mind.

You find an unoccupied couch, deciding to sit alone before Jungkook finds you. You’re not drunk, but you’re not sober either. You’re in that limbo of a few more drinks might put you over the edge.

Your mind vividly replays Rosie ‘convincing’ you to stay. She didn’t need to do much to get you to cum, but she did well to get you there in less than five minutes. You were almost tempted to say fuck the party and head back to yours, but after she swallowed you for all you had to give, she patted your head and said it was time to go inside.

“Can I sit with you?” A voice immediately brings you out of your thoughts, your gaze falling on your ex-girlfriend.

“Sure,” You scoot over, making some room on the couch.

You take a sip of your beer, letting the bitter liquid sit in your mouth as you gather your thoughts. It wasn’t that it was hard to be around Nayeon, it was just awkward. You two were cordial, and you knew–thanks to Sana–that she wanted to get back together. You tried avoiding her, but running in the same social circle made it difficult.

“How’s your night?” Nayeon asks after a few minutes.

“It’s good,” You answer politely. “How about yours?”

“Same.”

The noise from the house fills the silence when neither of you say anything else.

You were with Nayeon for almost two years, and there was never a lull in the conversation. She would either be asking you a million questions or she would be telling you about her day in great detail. You tried to be friends with her after you broke up, but you didn’t think it was worth it.

“How are you and Chaeyoung?” Nayeon asks nonchalantly that you pause mid-sip.

“What’s there to know?” You finish your beer, placing the glass bottle on the table.

Nayeon shrugs, sipping her wine, “I saw you two walk in together.”

“We had dinner with our parents,” You lie, but it was more a half-lie since you actually did have dinner with your parents, just separately.

Nayeon makes a humming sound before saying, “Your relationship with her was always interesting to me.” When you don’t ask what she means–she’ll tell you anyways–she continues, “I knew you two quote unquote hated each other, but regardless of that, there was always something that made me think you, or her, might’ve had feelings.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Nayeon?” You sigh. The way this conversation was going instantly killed your mood.

“It’s hard to explain,” Nayeon shrugs, taking another sip. “But she likes Soohyun right? Or they’ve gone out together.”

“I don’t know who Rosie likes, and it’s honestly none of my business,” You were getting irritated, especially since his name was now in the conversation.

“I’m not saying it is your business, but all I’m saying is to be careful. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You snap. “You literally fucking cheated on me over an argument.”

“You don’t think I regret that?” Nayeon’s voice cracks. “I’ve regretted that ever since.”

“It’s too fucking late for that Nayeon, I don’t want to hear it,” You stand, blood boiling. “I’m fucking over this.”

First the dinner with your parents, now this. You didn’t want to rehash the past with Nayeon. It was over. You got cheated on by a girl who was your first serious relationship, someone you loved, and thought about a future with. Then said-girl was telling you to be careful with Rosie, of all people.

You knew what you were doing with Rosie, but for Nayeon to say what she said struck a chord.

Why?

That was something you weren’t ready to admit.

You walk away from Nayeon, leaving her alone. As soon as you enter the house, Jungkook calls you over, but you beeline for the front door without a second glance at Rosie.

(But if you did, you would’ve seen her stand up from her seat next to Soohyun.)

“Hey!” Rosie calls out to you. You don’t turn around, your pace picks up. “Hey, what the fuck happened?” Her hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you as soon as you reach your car.

“Nothing,” You pull your hand away, jaw clenching as you try to compose yourself.

“That’s a fucking lie.”

You turn around, eyes glaring to the same expression, “Just let me be. I don’t want to deal with anyone else tonight.”

“Too fucking bad, I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what happened,” Rosie crosses her arms. “I also have your fucking keys dumbass.”

Fuck.

“Give them to me,” You reach around her, knowing she put it in her back pocket, but she was faster. She took the keys out of her pocket, holding it up in front of your face. “Chaeng.”

“You’re not fucking driving in this state. You’ve been drinking and you’re obviously pissed for whatever reason. I’m calling us a car and we’ll get yours in the morning. Don’t fucking fight with me about this,” Rosie glares, raising her chin defiantly.

“Fine,” You roll your eyes, leaning against your car.

You watch Rosie pull her phone out, calling a car or whatever. The alcohol was catching up to you. You close your eyes, trying to calm your nerves because you were still pissed off. You shouldn’t have taken it out on Rosie, but you weren’t expecting to see her for the rest of the night.

You feel arms wrap around your back, Rosie’s perfume suddenly invading your senses, as she rests her head on your chest.

“Let’s just sleep tonight okay?” Rosie whispers against your chest. “You’ve had a long day.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, realizing your mistake.

“Don’t be,” Rosie’s hand finds its way underneath your shirt, soothingly rubbing your lower back.

“What about Soohyun?” You ask, doing your best to not sound like you were watching her.

“He’s not relevant right now,” Rosie says softly, looping her fingers through your belt loop. “I’ll talk to him this weekend.”

It annoys you a little bit, but you can’t help but think you’ve won some non-existent, one-sided competition with Soohyun. Rosie’s leaving with you and not him.

You’re treading a thin line, crossing into dangerous territory. You’re hoping that once you have sex, all these feelings and thoughts that have been plaguing your mind will vanish.

Because getting involved with Rosie was never on your mind.

(It was way too long to fit in one post -_-)

#blackpink smut #blackpink rose #blackpink park chaeyoung #rosie smut #park chaeyoung smut #park chaeyoung

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guided-by-stars · 1 month

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Thoughts on Mister "I killed my past self so that I could live" Isabeau vs Mage "I tried my damnedest to kill my past self but couldn't do it" Loop? this has been stuck in my head for ages and I would love to hear your thoughts on it (too scared to get off Anon oopsies)

What fascinates me about that comparison is that Isabeau is often analyzed under his struggles to act. He fears being seen as a coward, when Siffrin in act 5 calls him such, he later confirms that it was indeed an insecurity of his. It’s not exactly surprising to see why- he does struggle with inaction, whether it comes to his hesitance to put his valuable input out there (despite how it could’ve incredibly helpful, he’s so smart!), or his holding back of his confession to Siffrin. However, when it comes to Changing, it seems that he never hesitated to take action, once he realized that was what he wanted.

Could this be because of the incredible strength of his desire to be different? Was it that much stronger than any of his other desires? Or was it easier because of the institutional pushing of Change in the first place?

When it comes to Loop, it’s interesting, because there are multiple meanings of “kill [their] past self.”

Of course, there’s the direct physical attacking of Siffrin that they do in act 6 (and that battle will never stop haunting my mind), where they do indeed try their damnest to kill him (open up your rib cage, take out my heart that beats in your chest) , but when given the opportunity when they win, pinning him to the floor, they can’t. At the end of the day, Loop feels like Siffrin deserves to live, deserves to win, deserves to be helped. Their pity, their care, their love, is as equally strong as their resentment, their hatred, and their burning envy in that moment. [For more on that, see here: https://www.tumblr.com/guided-by-stars/758267393131855872/when-siffrin-first-asks-loop-why-theyre-helping ] They say, shaking on top of Siffrin, hands still on their throat, eye full with tears, “I can’t do this, not when I had to see you fight so hard…!!!”

But then, there’s also the active metaphorical killing of their past self. Choosing a new name, a new role, partly because Siffrin would certainly not have trusted them as much if they knew they were also them (ironic), but also because they didn’t feel like they deserved to be a Siffrin, like they were faking being one, that this wasn’t their world anyways, so they no longer had a place in it as themselves. Despite their best efforts, though, Siffrin figures it out. Their comedy mask wasn’t able to fully conceal the tragedy underneath. At the end of the day, that transition is a construction, an illusion.

Of course, there’s a third type of killing of the self that Loop seemingly at first succeeds at, but ultimately fails at. Their Wish. They don’t even intend to do so- all they want is to escape their torment. But they give up their body and their place as “Siffrin” in that moment. Despite that though, their past self isn’t dead, not really. At the end of their battle, Siffrin smiles gently at them and says “I’m sorry, Siffrin. And thank you, Loop.” They’re both. The Siffrinness inside of them never went away, not really. That body created by Wish Craft is theirs, they grew into it, spreading into the star as a new skin, but they are still Siffrin, really and truly.

So, if we return to the comparison, it seems fairly simple why Isa was able to kill his past self, make them disappear, kill them with his bare hands, as he says, and Loop could not.

…

When Loop tries to kill the self, the first time, it wasn’t an actual choice, it’s just Craft, the second time, it’s not a true Change, it’s a facade, a mask, and the third time, deep in their heart, they don’t actually want to go through with it. When Isabeau does, it’s a genuine true change that he had the utmost conviction for.

But is it really fair to purely contrast them? Did Loop truly fail? Aren’t they similar in their method of changing and being changed? Isabeau also says this, while under the stars:

The person he was before is still here, he grew around them to protect them…an armor becoming the real thing…he wanted to become someone he would have liked to know before…

Does this not sound like someone we know? Someone who physically grew around themselves, a new form being created to protect themselves and creating a facade to emotionally protect themselves, a facade that melted into them until it became an inextricable part of the real them, trying to be helpful and useful, someone who wanted a literal other version of themselves to like them and want to know them… [clears throat]

…Isabeau and Siffrin are more alike than many realize, and it’s not just because of their mutual love of puns and lack of wanting to make the first move. They are deeply similar, and echo each other.

#isat #in stars and time #isat isabeau #isat loop #isat siffrin #anon #aside to the house #isat spoilers

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infiniteko · 7 months

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i too have wondered why this "subject" (for lack of a better word) has become so saturated recently. in this "process" (again, not the right word, i apologize) of stripping yourself back to zero, doesn’t the addition of more & more empty words only contradict that? if everything that could be said about this has been said already, why say more?

when i "learnt" about this, i learnt solely from you (infiniteko), realitywarpingg and a little from Ada (before they made an AI chatbot in name of the poor woman). i read just a few posts from you all and that was all i needed, i remembered mySelf permanently in no time. i did try reading a couple of books back then (Lester Levenson, Nisargadatta Maharaj) but by the time i’d reached page 5 i realized they weren’t telling me anything i didn’t know already. less truly is more. regardless, it’s nice to see this gaining in popularity, and people have shared some interesting insights… my opinion is useless and illusory. :)

anyway, thank you for turning me back to mySelf. :) you (infiniteko) are a wonderful group of people, and your simple / condensed way of speaking was perfect for my lazy and limited attention span. it was hilarious, once i saw who i was, to discover how obvious and simple it has always been. your writings (and RW’s) come as close to that simplicity as words possibly can.

—🤍🏔️🎐

Thank you 🏔️🎐-Anon! I definitely agree with everything you said. Even if people are asking more and more questions, let them ask until they're tired. They'll notice the answer themselves, there's no doubt about that. In my illusory opinion (just like yours) adding more words doesn't necessarily do what one hopes they'd do. It's becoming too saturated, too wordy. The questions are multiplying and readers are relying heavily on the same words written differently. It's a cycle. In fact, the more you read, the more confusing it gets. This might sound controversial but the more we post and the more we repeat ourselves, the more we are contributing to the endless loop of waiting-reading-asking-seeking-waiting-reading. The best I can do is reblog the things we've said but I don't see a point in saying more than what has already been said. It should be enough by now, even if the questions asked are increasing, that's between them and themselves. They'll know they can't wait forever and are forced to finally rely on themselves.

You can read as much as you want to but what's the point if you're not going to be with yourself and see all the answers were in plain sight all along?

It's been a little more than an illusory decade since I first "learned" all of this. I had no idea about Tumblr or Instagram. It didn't take a hundred posts and a dozen accounts for it to click. It took nothing but myself. In your case (🎐-Anon) it took nothing but yourself. In W's case it took nothing but herself + pondering on the few hints given to all of us.

I see many people say that they "know" that all they need is themselves yet, they wait and hope for a new post by different accounts and think that now (with one more post) it will finally make sense to them, but if you are waiting for someone to give you that insight which "will finally say you free", you can wait for all of eternity, because the only thing that can free you is your-Self, not a post or an account.

(That's just my imaginary opinion, I'm not attacking anyone and neither is Anon.)

Also, Anon, you used a wind chime emoji🎐, do you prefer high or low tones? :)

#ask

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skwtches · 1 year

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“Absolutely not. I mean, well, after all, he… It was not my… He wanted to leave. Didn't he?”

Reading through this line, something about Rabbit in The Tigger Movie occurred to me: the plan that the gang comes up with in order to spare Tigger’s feelings is one of the few instances where Rabbit isn’t present to take on the leader’s role. Throughout the movie, Rabbit is preoccupied with winter preparations, so much so to the point that he, unlike the others, fails to identify the weight of Tigger’s familial dilemma. When he walks in on the gang dressing up as Tiggers in the “How To Be a Tigger” sequence, he questions what they are doing, but does not stick around for an answer, or even try to take up the leadership mantle like he normally would. In an act that is both unorthodox and so completely in-character, he storms off and away from his companions' harebrained scheme to complete his preparations, but not before ironically proclaiming, “at least I haven't lost sight of what’s important.”

To no one’s surprise, the plan falls through. But to everyone’s shock, Tigger runs away that same night.

“It was not my fault,” is what Rabbit wants and starts to say after hearing of his friend’s disappearance. The members of the group who congregate at Rabbit’s to request his help don’t blame him for Tigger leaving, and Rabbit knows them well enough to understand they wouldn't suggest such a thing by arriving at his house all at once. But Rabbit still has the reflex to defend himself; to confirm that Tigger leaving was indeed not his doing. The one time Rabbit isn't there to lead his friends–believing they all had “lost sight of what’s important,”–the friend whose crisis the lagomorph missed completely had run off into the cold, dreary night. But it wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t have been his fault.

“He wanted to leave,” Rabbit says, trying to reason with himself. He tries to justify Tigger leaving, searching for a reason–any reason at all–that doesn’t loop right back around to it being his fault. Because it wasn’t. If Tigger had wanted to leave, what good would it have done for Rabbit to have been present? If the bunny had been there alongside his friends to aid their striped pal in his time of need? Whether or not he could have come up with a different, possibly better plan that didn’t result in the heartbreak of the usually bouncy Tigger did not matter here. Of course Tigger would have left anyway in search of his supposed family. He was simply unpredictable that way, and nobody could predict and stop something unpredictable–not even Rabbit. Tigger had most certainly wanted to leave from the start. “Didn’t he?”

As the members of the gang try to convince a hesitant Rabbit to leave with them in search of Tigger, the guilt racks up. He finds himself struggling more and more to excuse himself from the situation as his friends go on about Tigger whilst he fixes up his winter-proofed home, the sadness visibly present amongst them making it even harder for him to dismiss them. As a look of unease–a flicker of guilt–graces his face, he asks, “what do you need me for? Why don't you go find him yourselves?”

Pooh simply and earnestly responds with, “but we're just not clever enough, Rabbit.”

A huge facet of Rabbit’s self-appointed leadership role is that it comes from a place where the persnickety critter truly believes himself to be smarter than the majority of his peers in the Wood. He sees himself as the most capable and responsible, and so takes it upon himself to lead whenever he gets the chance. Here however, he tries to deny the opportunity to take charge of the search party. Perhaps it is mostly due to fear of his already fragile shelter coming apart at the seams while he isn’t around. But perhaps it’s also thanks to the aforementioned guilt that he can’t bring himself to diligently lead his friends in searching for the one who he’d inadvertently let slip away.

Before he can respond to Pooh, a small voice makes itself heard. Rabbit catches sight of Roo, who just tells him that he misses Tigger. The final nail in the coffin. Here is where Rabbit truly can’t bring himself to deny them his help anymore. Here is where the guilt is finally too profound to excuse.

Here is where Rabbit decides to lead his friends again.

#Remy try not to analyze every single line uttered in The Tigger Movie challenge (failed miserably)#anyways imagine if after this entire fiasco Rabbit's overprotective nature kicks back in with soft punches as he's tempted to always keep a #eye on his friends as well as just check up on them frequently (esp Tigger) bc he's worried about smth like this going unnoticed by him and #it leading to yet another disaster that he feels responsible for- (gets dragged off the stage kicking n screaming)#wtp #rabbit (wtp)#tigger #pooh #piglet #eeyore #roo #vid #rema.txt #rema.mov #ttm #winnie the pooh #the tigger movie

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drowninginships · 6 months

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An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

First of all, thank you soooo much to @monbons and @valeffelees for tagging me, I nearly had a whole breakdown over how nice this fandom is and how good it feels to be included in something like this. Yall are the sweetest, thank you <3 1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s): Uhhhh, yall name your WIPs beforehand? I currently have two documents titled "nose ring simon" and "wing fic" and I typically title it just before I post it.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___” I think you'll find this is a pretty easy formula for most, if not all, of my fics. Simon + Piercing + Baz Horny. Alternatively, Simon + Wings = Baz Horny. Sensing a theme?

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it? Explicit tags, for sure. It'd be pretty funny to tag the wingfic as monsterfucking, so I'll probably do that, but otherwise, nothing crazy going on here. Just boys very much in love.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)? "wing fic" often affectionately gets called "how the fuck do wings work" or "goddamn motherfucking physics"

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next? Definitely the piercing one. The wing fic isn't cohesive or coherent at this time, and it's more of a collection of scenes rather than a whole fic, anyway. I'm having a lot of fun writing the piercing one!!!

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as) Please see answer #1. It's truly mind boggling to know that some of yall are out here naming WIPs.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

Of course it's gold. Everything about Simon is gold. His mind, his body, his soul. The color of his skin and his hair when the sun shines through it from behind. The small loop now adorning his nostril.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP. For wing fic, I was trying to figure out a way to make an au scene where everyone has wings, and I could do a little, like, wing caretaking session? But I couldn't find a solid enough reason for everyone to have wings, and also I realized I just didn't care enough about that scene to pursue it further.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet? I find this question particularly difficult. I don't know that there are any stories I want to tell, right now. Usually when I want to write something, I schedule it in and I do it. Right now, there's nothing on the back-burner.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on? Only the 2! I'm not usually one to work on multiples at a time.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now? Re: "goddamn motherfucking physics," I've never been super into fantasy or a fandom that particularly liked wings, so I genuinely have no clue how these things work. I took on this project as a gift for @valeffelees after he lamented the lack of wing fics for him to devour, and while I'm not an expert, I'm certainly trying my best. But like, the anatomy??? of a wing???

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send. Again, thank you both so much for tagging me. You're exactly who I would have tagged here, so instead of tagging you both again, I'll tag @thewholelemon even though I know you've already filled this out <3 Also, I'll tag @chaoticgaywitch @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold @beastmonstertitan and @brilla-brilla-estrellita because you all played our stupid little poetry game and brought me a lot of joy!

#i can't believe i get to play this #thank you so much #you have brought peace to my kingdom #tag game #ask game #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #carry on #simon snow trilogy

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project-sekai-facts · 1 year

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hi! first off, wanted to say thank you for all the fun facts - truly makes my day whenever there’s a new post from this blog :D

secondly, not sure if anyone else has asked this, but i was wondering what your thoughts are on whether a cohesive in-universe timeline of events could actually be constructed? (someday, from the depths of despair happening before n25 main story, l/n main story happening in the beginning of the school year, etc.) i’d imagine you’d have to ignore or somehow squish together all the holiday/seasonal events, or is it simply impossible to squeeze about three years of events into one cohesive ‘canon’ year?

anyways, hope you have a good rest of your day/evening :) keep up the good work!

Omg thank you?? I'm honoured haha

This is my pepe silvia moment sorry

Never underestimate my probable neurodivergence. It's a work in progress and I want to try and get it done by September but the horrible amount of anachronisms in the main story is killing me. Like WxS simultaneously has to be the first and last main story because it needs to happen before the MMJ and VBS stories but also after Leo/need but that takes place at the same time as MMJ but also before it and WxS also has to be after VBS because WxS isn't a thing when akitoya divorce but then Leo/need doesn't exist when akitoya divorce either Saki isn't even at school yet which means there's no MMJ either but WxS exists before Kohane cuts her hair and MMJ story is in progress when that happens like what. I'm calling this confirmation that the main stories were written by 5 different teams. That or no one proofread anything. Oh there's also a massive error with Haruka's age where they say she's 16 but based on when the story is set she should be 15 and the game insists she was never pushed back a year. Thanks colopale.

Anyway since only one main story mentions a date as far as I remember (WxS) I've been trying to build it off of that. There are still errors because the date mentioned is "first day of school break", you can work out that they're talking about summer break by process of elimination but then none of the other units go on summer vacation. But like we'll just ignore that because I'm too tired to deal with colopale's bad continuity writing. Also the game takes place in the 2021-2022 school year because the only date ever shown in game was 2021 and it was in an event set in September/October. The Leo/need socmed posts have mentioned other dates but we'll ignore that also.

And because I misread your question yes you can squeeze everything into a canon year...kinda. You have to timeloop it because they straight up mention in secret distance that they're going on spring break (end of school year break) and literally don't even bring up the fact that it's the end of the school year.

So I think based on what I've got right now:

WxS main story is during summer break and a week or so prior.

Which means Saki and Haruka return to school in June or July probably (they start at around the same time and it's not mentioned that Haruka starts at the beginning of the school year)

and then VBS happens once the WxS story is done (we'll call that after summer break. so september)

Miyajou doesn't get a summer break that year to fix anachronisms rip

Then we skip september for every unit except VBS and pretty much follow the events in order until we get to Secret Distance (March 2022) and loop back to April 2021 and keep doing that at every half anniversary event.

I'm assuming when we reach 3rd we'll skip all the way from September 2021 to April 2022, not timeloop and then pretend that May->September 2022 isn't real and do a Halloween event.

All the flashback events fit onto the timeline without me having to change anything somehow so at least I can respect colopale for that

This is fine

Hatsune Miku broke space-time

#fun fact did you know this game takes place in the same place at the same time as Love/Live Superstar. now you do.#anon i'm sorry #colopale is never going to let me have peace #mod talks #asks

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ot3 · 1 year

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Sorry that was supposed to say: I love your narumitsu Christmas fic, do you ever think you’ll write other fic?

Thank you very much! and probably, at some point. god knows i have so many ideas. i really want to someday get back to writing my leverage au. I started a direct sequel to the christmas fic over 2 years ago, set 25 years afterwards for more christmas shenanigans, but there was just way way too much i wanted to cram in there like it'd probably be bare minimum 30k and it just got really daunting. I've also got a Phoenix and Trucy centric fic i've been tossing around in my brain for a couple years i'd really like to finish someday, but what's been written of it so far is just really not good.

I'm not much of a prose writer, i don't enjoy doing it a ton and i'm not super confident with the results, so it's really a last ditch effort for when an idea truly will not get purged from my brain. right now pretty much any of the time i would theoretically spend writing goes to working on my comic.

Anyway I had like the first thousand or so words of that sequel fic written up and then just stopped but ill stick whats there below the cut. YMMV.

Neither of them love Los Angeles, but they stay. Sooner or later everyone ends up back there. like a cat neglecting a sunbeam in favor of lying on the worn down arm of a highly trafficked couch, all Phoenix and Miles have to do is wait. The house feels cavernous when it’s just the two of them alone, but the days bleed by fast, sometimes distressingly so, and that emptiness only lasts as much as anything else does.

They’re alone now. Over a year or two since they’ve had a houseguest stay for more than a handful of days at a time. It makes the empty rooms feel frivolous. Perhap there’s something sad about it in the abstract, so many beds gathering dust. Miles doesn’t really mind it.

In the kitchen: Phoenix standing in front of the island chopping peppers and onions, Miles shuffling up behind him. Wraps his arms around his husband’s stomach, in the airy privacy of broad windows looking out to nothing but a generous yard. One hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

“Mmm… making breakfast?” He mumbles into Phoenix’s neck before laying a row of kisses along it.

“Yes, I’m making an omelet. For myself.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Miles pushes Phoenix’s shirt up a little further, and starts working his mouth across his jaw.

“I asked you if you wanted breakfast, and you said no, and to let you sleep more, and I did,” Phoenix huffs.

“Yes, but now I’m awake,” he says, “and I’m hungry.”

One of Phoenix’s hands is still working the knife on the cutting board. The other reaches up over his shoulder to weave into Miles’ hair. Miles steps forward, pressing him insistently against the countertop.

“What? What is this?” Phoenix asks, tapping the flat of the knife on Miles’ wrist. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to have sex with me or do you want me to make you breakfast?”

“I want you to make me breakfast, and then I want to have sex with you.” It has been a long and busy week, but now that week is over. Miles intends to enjoy himself.

“So needy! Pick one or the other, I’m not running a charity here.”

“Breakfast.”

“You’re not even gonna pretend to think about that one?” He clicks his tongue. Sets the knife on the counter, turns around in Miles’ grip to loop his arms around the other man’s neck. “Don’t even have to consider if you want me more than an omelet?”

“I’m being efficient and cutting out the part of this conversation where you pretend you’re not going to want me to fuck you in an hour or so regardless.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe I’m finally over it. You’ve been working so many late nights, maybe the spark is gone. What if it’s now or never?”

“I suppose,” Miles says, “that that’s a risk I’m willing to take. In pursuit of an excellent omelet.”

“Then I guess I’m making omelets.” Phoenix disentangles himself and turns around. Picks the knife back up and – and immediately hurls it onto the floor as he startles, caught completely off guard by his phone ringing further down the counter. “Shit!”

He answers it. Miles tries to lean in and pick up the other half of the conversation, but Phoenix plants a hand firmly across his face to keep him at bay. Smudging his glasses, the nerve. On his end, Phoenix doesn’t say much. Mostly ‘uh huh’ and ‘yeah’ but he sounds excited, topping off the call with a ‘great!’ He sets it back on the counter when he’s done.

“That was Apollo,” he says, with more gravity than Miles thinks a phone call from Apollo warrants, not that he isn’t fond of the man.

“And?”

“And he called to tell us that he and Klavier are good. For Christmas, I mean. They can come.”

“Is that-”

“Yeah, I think so. Pretty sure.” Phoenix starts counting on his fingers, mouthing something but not saying it out loud. “Yeah. That’s everyone.”

Miles fails to resist the urge to double check. He mentally runs over the list himself. Trucy. Franziska and Ema. Maya and Pearl, and her girls, and whatever other sprog the two of them will be bringing up from Kurain. Apollo and Klavier and the kids. Kay. That’s it. That’s everyone. How many years had it been since they were last able to wrangle all of these people in the same room? Five? Closer to ten?

“Goodness,” he finds himself saying.

“Yeah,” Phoenix says again, and then, a pause. “Yeah. Hey. We should do presents.”

“Christ. You had to go ahead and ruin it already, didn’t you?” Miles picks the knife up off the floor and sets it into the sink before handing Phoenix another from the block. “I’m not doing this on an empty stomach.”

Phoenix offers him a shitty little salute. “There’s that holiday spirit!” ----

Later, when they’re in the shower, Phoenix is thinking about it. They don’t do presents anymore. It had just trickled to a natural stop, unspoken, as everyone had gotten older and wealthier and more traveled. Houses and suitcases ending up with less and less empty space as years went on. If you saw something and thought someone just had to have it, you got it for them, but the expectation of it had long since flamed. Birthdays and Christmases marched by without much fanfare beyond a big dinner and a few too many drinks.

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everynya · 11 days

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when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers or moots (positivity is cool) 💖

HELLO NAT!!!! WAVES MY ARMS AROUND

SALUTATIONS ARSENE!! i’m so sorry i took forever to get to this i was in a very bad headspace, but ty for the ask! no one expect too much from me post wise these days i just felt bad i hadn’t answered this yet (imagine u are my 10 favorite followers and i send this to u 10 times cause ngl…i’m just gonna let whoever wants to do it do it, so oomfies if u see this u get my pass to do this cause i cannot have faves!)

hello and welcome to nat’s current top 5 radio hits. i shall share and explain each one like a maniac (i yoinked my top songs i heard these past weeks from my airbuds app)

⭐️ CamGirl >.<!!! - Villiano Antillano

⭐️ Oh Qué Sera? - Willie Colon

⭐️ In The End - Drake Bell

⭐️ Mr. Bass - A.C.E.

⭐️ Run Away To Mars - Khoi Dao, Geoff Bisentte

5. to start off, even if you dont know spanish i recommend her so much…Villiano is a puertorrican trans woman who has been revolutionizing rap for women and does so especially in her album this song is from called Miss Misogyny, let me say THE SONG IS GOODDDD its about sex work and the control and empowerment and the lack of shame and taboo around these things, its one of her many songs in the album that in an interview she says was made for female rappers to claim rap as their own by writing her own songs that dont put women down and are about the control they should have in their music…ive been listening to Villiano since one of the collab songs she did with a popular dj that blew her up years ago and ive enjoyed what shes done. its a trap song so maybe not everyones cup of tea but yeah

4. this song is really good, spanish song of the week i loop. thank fuck it wasnt a reggaeton song. but this song is by a puertorrican (though the song was originally by a brazilian artist, willie reinterpreted the song after a trip to brazil he had) thats generally about believing in things and finding in a sense a love for the unknown, its a really good song that uses a lot of metaphors

3. I can’t share why for this one, sorry, but anyway it’s a good song!

2. this one isnt in my airbuds top songs this week at all. but. anyway. ace. MR BASS NE MAMEUL ULLINEUN RIDEUM MR BASS DALKOMHAN NAUI SOKSAGIME JUNGDOKDOEGO MAL GEOL MR BAS CANNN YOUUU FEEEEL NE IPSURUI TTEOLLIM MR BASS AAAHH MR BASS AHHH

1. OKAY. OKAY. run away to mars but covered by khoi dao (voice actor) makes me all kinds of levels of crazy and every few days i loop it. first of all, this specific va is the voice claim for my oc f/o actually! khoi is such a great guy and ive always adored his voice and i cannot ever unhear the idea of the stupid idiot i made in my head sounding like him. its a very classic ‘liking a song cause you imagine your f/o singing it’ AND ITS SO ON BRAND FOR HIM ANNNDDD MY SHIP. the song fits him and my insert stupidly well

the song underneath has very sad undertones, i feel i can rlly relate to it rn but ill talk abt it more on my ship. its really befitting of these two (esp emi aka the f/o) given the fact that the song not only has the kind of energy where if you dont listen deep enough you can miss its meaning and just enjoy its energy which is very on brand for him but also its so heavily focused on escapism and insecurity in a way where it KILLS ME. the part of ‘three two one i miss you, im sorry i got issues’ makes me sick cause he would truly apologize over the mere fact of having emotions because he tucks them so far away he doesnt believe theyre even real or his (in a way, hes the one who ‘runs away to mars’)…his escapism in a sense is nayla, in the idea that he becomes focused on her faded colors or more so her issues and so he loses what is home and ‘how long till im discovered’ by not just anyone else but himself, he doesnt find on his own that hes having a hard time with himself.

none of this made sense and theres way more to it, but the amount of times ive been unable to not associate these two w this song…. like sorry that my current obsession rn is a ship of two characters i made and makes no sense to anyone but me

#las contestadas #LOTS OF LOVE TO U ARSENE!!!#arsene-fixates #these are so messy but it could be worse or smth LOL #oc f/o: 🐺#las inserts: nayla ⚰️#NOT ME FINDING A WAY TO MAKE IT ABOUT ONE OF MY SHIPS….BYE!!!!

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metfell · 6 months

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i’m putting on the new hozier while i do this because i haven’t heard it yet. anyway you know how a metazoo reading works by now im sure but for our new viewers, i will be drawing four cards - a focus card to set the tone of the reading and then three more cards representing an obstacle, a mindset, and a solution.

focus: dimension in a bottle. i’m so glad you got this card because it likes to bully me specifically so it seems like my deck is branching me and moving along to other targets. it’s about inner world and shit and if its reversed i call it the Frontstuck Card but luckily it wasn’t reversed all your cards are upright because my deck won’t bully you that much.

obstacle: enfield monster. the story of this guy is kind of sad like he was minding his own business and smelling the roses like they always tell you too, and then one day these people saw him and were like AAAHHH A MONSTER!!! and attacked him which is So Fucked. and he ate them all so the moral of the story to me is that if people step on your vibe it’s okay to eat them.

mindset: earth aura. i’ve been kind of watching legend of korra lately whenever my sister has it on and the earth bender guy bolin in it, he’s pretty cool but he does lava bending now i guess? and that’s cool but it always bothers me because lava is SOOO HOT like if you have boiling lava right next to you it’s NOT gonna feel good and you can’t just hang out there long term you will super start to die. but they just don’t even break a sweat and i always question that. that’s my mindset on earth auras.

solution: river dinos. they always say Oh No Get Out Of The River Little Dinos because they are afraid of the river nobody ever asks How Was The River. Was The River Fun. It Looked Like Fun

i hope that was enlightening. end of the hozier ep review: it slaps pretty hard, i’ll listen to it a few more times on loop for sure

- @got-beets

rue you are truly one of a kind thank you for the reading i will eat people who cramp my vibes and play in the river forever

#ask

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inkykeiji · 2 years

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it’s kind of astonishing, how much my life mirrors my own work sometimes

✰ (kinda) spoilers for tag ur it part two under the cut! ✰

obviously there are bits and pieces of me, of my life, my family, my lover, my experiences, my flaws and my strengths all within each and every piece of my work; i write from experience, i write to process things, i write to explore traumas and fictionalize them—to meld fact with fiction and dramatize them and twist them into something new, something creative, something beautiful.

none of this is necessarily news to anyone who has been around me/my writing for a while, and i think many know how important, special and personal tag you’re it as an entire series is to me. but oh my gosh, guys, the way my life has literally taken on this story within the past couple of days is crazy and incredible.

i have been taken away from my drug addicted family members by my boyfriend and his beautiful family, and am now living with them for the time being. my father called me yesterday to tell me that he loves me. in all my 20-something years on this earth, i cannot remember one single time my father has said the words ‘i love you’ to me, especially on his own accord with no prompting at all.

it really threw me for a loop. i wasn’t expecting him to call, nor was i expecting him to be so nice about it. i expected him to be angry that i had finally left—my father is very sick and slowly dying, and for the past two years i have stayed with him and taken care of him as his already poor health has steadily declined, and i was sure he’d be furious with me for giving up that position and finally, finally doing what is best for me.

but he wasn’t. he was happy, he said he thinks this whole situation (aka me staying with my boyfriend) is good for me, and then he chatted with me about house of the dragon (lol) before throwing me that i love you curveball. i had already been feeling guilty about leaving, fretting over how he’d get around on his own, who will feed him throughout the day, what he’ll do if he falls, etc. and that phone call made me feel even more remorseful and, honestly, just really sad, i guess. sad that this is the reality.

i was laying in bed just mulling over it last night and i was like damn, i think some of the lessons poison!reader needs to learn are lessons that i need to learn, too. i’ve already taken so much of myself, who i am at my core, and put it in her—already exploring a lot of those guilts the family members of addicts seem to have irregardless of whether they leave the addict or not, guilts i had already been experiencing for many years (false feelings of accountability, the urge to do something, to find a way to fix it all)—but i just find it ironically funny, how similar our situations have truly become (in one aspect; obviously my boyfriend is not abusive or manipulative in any way (while dabi is)—i am in a much safer and much healthier position than my reader is) just within these past few days.

anyway, thank you SO much to everyone who has already provided me with such lovely feedback on part two!!!!! i’m ecstatic that you’re all enjoying it and i’m going to begin responding to asks within the next day or so <333 hugs and kissies to you all!! ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

#tw clari overshares #tw drugs #i am very very very lucky and loved and that does not go unappreciated #i’ve been eating homemade veggie chili for the past three days and i’m in heaven #just being fed very well lately!!!! so many veggies!!!!!!!! probably being fed better now than i have been in my entire life tbh #anyway this is just me reflecting #i couldn’t fall asleep last night because all of this was rattling around in my head #now i’m watching the goldfinch and doing some more writing #carnival!dabi time!!!!!!#ITS SPOOKY SEASON MY FRIENEDSSSS #LETS CELEBRATE TOGETHER 👻👻👻#i love that ghost emoji i think it’s sooo cute #i hope everyone is having a wonderful day #much love to you all <33333

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shunshuntaiga · 2 years

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i hate it when life gets in the way of me dicking around on tumblr with my favourite people. truly homophobic of the universe to give me serious stuff to do instead of just letting me ramble in your asks about spadi and aure >:( but anywaaaay, i'm back!! *really animated finger guns gestures* how have you been, dear? all hood, i hope. <3 may the new year treat you kindly. ok, so, i HAVE read a bunch of suburra fics in english, and i stand by my statement. yours is one of the best, you can't change my mind. 😌 the only thing i agree with is that suburra fic writers DO go hard af. them insane, talented folks don't mess around, bless their hearts. :)))) Oooh!! the whole thing starting after Lele's death and Aureliano's admission would fuck so hard, i like it. s2 and s3 aurelia is more.. polished, more distinguished. i feel like he would handle the hook up better than the s1 blond disaster. i have been laughing my ass off thinking about the absolute CLICHE that is aurelia getting knocked up in the back of the car lmfaoooo. it would be so in character for s1 spadeliano, it's Perfect!! ... oooh... i just got hit with a thought... what if he doesn't realize right away, what with all the stress of the situation back then. and even once he does, he gets the opportunity to tell spadi that night on the beach, after livia.. so, in a way... he lost his family, but also he has gained a new one... kind of... if that makes sense... i love love love your big, smart brain!!! the loop starting to manifest more and more for aureliano the more he looses spadi is si cruel and insane and i ADORE it <33 “No matter what I do it always ends the same way, where I’m on that fucking boat and you’re dead in my arms!”---- well... ouch... thank you... i didn't need my heart anymore anyway... :') AGHHHH i am so so glad the idea clicked with you too!!! one i finish my self-indulgent post s1 fix-it, i might give the time loop au a shot too... like you said, it's a good au and there is not enough of it in this fandom. <33 good luck on your fic, dear!! may you have all the inspiration and time to write you heart desires. :33

Doing much better anon, once I saw your charming little unknown user icon appear in my asks! Seeing your messages gives me so much serotonin❤️❤️

Life is so unfair certainly, I was prevented from writing because I had to do adult things as well. Though hopefully I can get back into tonight! I'm already working in chapter two of the loop fic because all our dicking around via anons (lol) has me so excited to write it!!

We're definitely gonna see Spadi go a bit feral at some point during this one, and I CANT WAIT to write it.

Right though? Season 2 + 3 Aure is polished. He's a little more mature in some ways, and I really like that version of him.

But the car scene.... hooking up in the car.... it's so tempting lol

But I also want the two of them to be emotionally ready for a baby, you know? And I feel like season 1 Spadi and Aurelia, as much as I love them, are NOT. It's the last thing they need lol.

Maybe I'll save that idea for a different fic.... ?

But yes! Loosing Livia but gaining Spadi and Rubina would be the perfect sort of full circle moment. He's definitely gaining a much better family.

Oh gosh, but that could be the thing that somewhat forsee him to grow up a little and become that polished version.... the possibilities are limitless and you are so good at making me think of them all!

And anon you're gonna have to drop that fix-it when you're done with it👀👀 I crave it.

I'd absolutely LOVE to see what you'd do with a time loop as well! It's such a fun idea and it's totally consuming my brain right now.

*I didn't need my anymore anyway*

Lol that is high praise to me. I know it's terrible but I do enjoy making people deal with my angst-y fics or ideas (knowing full well of course I'm a sucker for a happy end and I'll always write one)

#i am just going bonkers over all these ideas #my to be written list is already so dang long but it keeps getting longer lol #i just want to write aurelia legs up over the drivers seat lol #its calling to me

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ptergwen · 2 years

Note

heyy girl back again lol. a fluffy morning routine with tom?

rise and shine

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 651

warnings: floofy fluff

a/n: i decided to do this with dad!tom because i thought it would be cute and i loved :,) thank you for requesting and pls join my taglist friends

you wake up to the feeling of tom’s lips on your skin, a grin instantly appearing on your features. your eyes open and close again in bliss as your husband peppers feather light kisses to your cheek.

“g’morning, love. rise and shine.”

tom takes your hand in his and kisses it. he’s standing by your side of the bed, smiling down at you tangled in the covers.

he’s already up, has been for a while, so he tended to the kids and let you sleep in. he always wakes up first. he’s a morning person, and you very much aren’t. if it weren’t for tom, you’d never leave the bed.

“five more minutes.”

“mm, i’ve heard that one before. c’mon. i’ve just made breakfast.”

tom gives your hand a gentle tug.

“just gimme five more minutes, tom. that’s all i ask. five minutes, and i’ll be down.”

“you’re no better than the girls.”

“i’m worse.”

you smile knowingly at tom. he pulls you up from the bed and brings you in for a kiss. you hum against his lips, arms looping around his torso.

“where are the little buggers, anyway? have you checked on them?”

“i have. got them ready, too. i couldn’t get soph to brush her teeth, though.”

“soph won’t brush her teeth, ash is on a bathing strike. our kids are impossible.”

“just like their mum.”

you flick tom for that remark. the two of you share another kiss, then you put on your slippers. tom holds open your robe for you next. he’s a huge help in the mornings, with you and the kids, but with you especially.

you two make your way into the kitchen, where sophia and ashley are waiting for you. you greet them both with kisses on their heads and take your usual seat at the table. tom comes around to the girls with a plate in each hand.

“for my princesses.”

he sets down their plates and then gets yours.

“and my queen.”

“thanks for taking care of breakfast, babe. it looks good.”

“doesn’t it? and you all doubt my culinary skills.”

“who’s a better cook? me, or dad?”

sophia and ashley answer in unison.

“you.”

you wink at them and take a forkful of your food. tom dramatically claps a hand over his heart, making the girls giggle.

“traitors. what would you lot like to drink?”

“chocolate milk, please,” sophia says. “have we got any juice?” ashley asks.

“your wish is my command. y/n/n, coffee?”

“always.”

tom makes everyone’s drinks and a tea for himself. he joins you three at the table. many laughs and narrowly avoided spills later, you all finish eating. you take the liberty of cleaning up, since tom did the cooking. the girls go out in the backyard to play fetch with tessa while you and tom head back to your room to get yourselves ready for the day.

you have an en suite bathroom with a double sink, so you and tom often get ready together. it’s something so simple, so domestic, but so special. it truly is the little things.

you both brush your teeth, then you do your skincare while tom styles his hair. he grumbles about how frizzy it is today. you watch him attempt to tame it with copious amounts of gel and giggle.

“oh no. that’s way too much, babe.“

“well, what do you reckon i do?”

you rake your fingers through tom’s hair at the roots to undo it. you take a bit of his gel and spread it evenly between both hands, scrunching his hair with your fingers so his curls are controlled, but still have volume. he looks at himself in the mirror when you’re done.

“you’re a godsend. thanks, love.”

you beam. tom pecks your lips, careful to avoid your face because your skincare is drying in.

“shall we go see what the girls are up to?”

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @belovasheart @hollandsgoodgirl @liltimmyst @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @tayyx @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #dad!tom #dad!tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland writing #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine

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cheolbooluvr · 2 years

Text

tomorrow tonight

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pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: angst, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 20.8k (ha ha buckle in)

warnings: divorce, implied sexual activities (but no smut), profanity

a/n: it’s here!! first, i want to say thank you all for your interest in this fic; it was truly unexpected, but your support motivated me to finish this after months of sitting on it with no clue as to which direction i wanted this to go. this started roughly three months ago when i started watching thirty nine (which i finished last night btw; go watch it if you’re into sad stuff), and also listening to loote’s song of the same name! smth abt tomorrow tonight + thirty nine angst made me want to write this sadness so...yeah. i truly did not anticipate this being my longest fic to date at 20k words, but here she is :’) thank you to @gyukult and @twogyuu for beta reading this bc i was too tired to re-read it myself LOL @_@ i hope you all enjoy it, and as always, please be sure to leave your feedback via reblogs/replies/asks!! <3 enjoy !!

tag list: @itaewonsquad97 @yeosangsbiceps @haoraecane @dontflailmenow @flwrsol @blackswann-53098 @yjhdaily @kpopjackie @letskookandbaek @lovelywoo @chanreads @xmessaroundx @romromthedeer @soobin-chois @qy61 @chwebychew @ahgastayzen (if i missed you, i am SO sorry T-T)

my masterlist ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

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“Hey, jackass. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Your voice filled the empty night air, crude words accompanied by the chilling winter wind. He was facing away from you, his back hunched over as he sat on the carousel in the children’s park outside your apartment. Even under the poorly-lit street lamps, you recognized the back of his head: the way his hair—cut close to his nape—faded into his skin, and how his white, cotton button-down shirt hugged his wide back as he rested his elbows on his knees. He was rubbing his palms together, his breath visible in the night as he tried to warm himself.

Dipshit, you thought to yourself. It was below freezing and he was out here without a jacket.

He turned around to greet you with a smile, though it wasn’t the same cocky grin he usually gave you when you called him unpleasant names. This one was different. It was… sad. Given the way his hair was tousled, you could guess he had probably gone drinking with his coworkers before he came to see you.

“What’s up?” you asked, dropping the black plastic bag in his lap as you sat down next to him.

“How was work?” he replied, answering your question with a question, something he knew you hated but still did anyway.

“Fine. Same ol’, same ol’, ya know?” You stuck your hand in the bag and pulled out a cold beer; you had stopped at the convenience store just a couple minutes away and grabbed some drinks and snacks, figuring Seungcheol probably wouldn’t mind considering how much the man usually drank. Besides, you had been spending long days at the office this past week finishing a project for a VIP which didn’t give you much time or energy to cook at home, so this was your next best option. Looping your finger through the pull tab, the can opened with a satisfying hiss. Seungcheol followed suit with his can of beer, raising it to tap against yours before the two of you took huge gulps, each finishing with a loud, content sigh.

“Oh?” Seungcheol moved his face to inspect the can closer. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

He chuckled when he saw the incredulous look on your face, the way your eyebrows seemed to go in different directions with your mouth slightly agape at such a dumb question.

“You act like we haven’t been friends for a long time, stupid.” Of course you knew his favorite beer, but that begged the question: did he know yours?

“Best friends,” he corrected you, which warranted a loud smack on his arm. He winced, and despite being a big boy with big, beefy arms, the impact you made caused his arm to sting. This time, it was your turn to laugh at the man rubbing the spot where you had hit him.

Reaching your hand into the bag again, you pulled out a triangle kimchi tuna kimbap. Seungcheol snorted. No matter how much time passed, you were just too predictable. He grabbed the kimbap from you, tugging on the tab and expertly freeing the plastic from around the seaweed. He handed it back to you, your dumbfounded face causing him to snicker even more.

“You’re like a fucking magician,” you muttered. Even your reaction to him unraveling the snack for you never changed, reminiscent of the very first time you two met.

He had found you sitting outside a convenience store in elementary school, eyes puffy from crying about who knows what, a discombobulated mess of rice and seaweed on the table in front of you. Seungcheol, even as a young child, was always considerate, so he had gone inside, bought another kimbap, and brought it out to you. You weren’t sure who this strange boy was, but the thought of trying to open another kimbap frustrated you to the point of tears—again.

In a panic, he swiped it from you, urging you to quiet down so passersby would stop staring. The crinkling of the plastic was enough to spur your curiosity as you watched him move swiftly, pulling it apart with ease.

“Here,” he had said, his voice octaves higher than it was now. He had watched you fondly as you devoured the snack, your cheeks full and a smile gracing your lips.

Not a lot had changed since then, especially that warm smile of yours that brought him comfort after a long day. He chuckled as you shoved the rice into your mouth, the seaweed producing a gratifying crunch as you bit down.

“You don’t change, do you?”

“What? I’m starving,” you said.

“They don’t feed you at work?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, when I’m in the zone, I forget that I’m hungry until I leave.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” he nagged.

“I do. I just sometimes forget to eat. It’s no big deal.”

Cheol took another swig of his beer, the cold liquid contrasting the burn of the alcohol as it went down his throat. “It’s no big deal until you get sick.”

“Okay, Dad,” you sneered. “Geez. I’m eating now, so it’s fine.”

Seungcheol gave you the look, and you groaned. When his eyebrows furrowed the way that they did, you knew he was going to lecture you. Part of you appreciated how much he cared about you, but sometimes it was too much. You had moved to the city to get away from your own nagging mother only to be accompanied by another nagging parent. “Don’t tell me you’ve been eating like this?” He took your silence as an answer and continued, “You need to eat real food.”

“Well, I don’t think this is imaginary,” you quipped.

“I don’t need your sarcasm. I’m serious.”

“Cheol, I’m fine. Really.” Your limbs started to shake the longer the two of you sat outside. “Wanna come up for tea? Where it’s warm?”

“No, I probably shouldn’t,” he said, a sigh escaping his lips. “The wife is waiting for me at home.”

You cowered at the word. Even though he had been married for almost two years, it still sounded strange and unfamiliar coming from his mouth.

“I’ll call you, yeah?” He let out an aching groan as he stood up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

You nodded, but it wasn’t like he saw you, his eyes already fixed on his BMW. You watched as he left you on the playground alone, his body disappearing as he entered his car and drove off. This wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for you: Seungcheol’s back as he walked away. In fact, it was a sight that you knew well.

All too well.

———

“You’re stupid, you know that?” Dahyun’s words were piercing, but it wasn’t the first time you’d heard that come from her sharp tongue. As a matter of fact, it was almost a daily occurrence, some variation of being “stupid,” “clueless,” “naive,” or whatever word she could find in her vocabulary brought up whenever you mentioned Seungcheol.

You stared ahead, your eyes preoccupied on the golden glow the light cast upon the bottles in front of you as the two of you sat at the bar on a Friday night. Dahyun’s glare could burn holes through your skull, but you paid her no attention, instead choosing to lift the glass of whiskey on the rocks to your lips. The smokey aroma hit your nose first as you braced for the impact of the harsh liquor on your tongue.

The first time you’d had it was in university—Seungcheol had somehow convinced you to come to his business club’s social mixer at the local bar everyone frequented. Even back then he had a wide frame that filled out his university jacket nicely, your school’s name embroidered across the back. He had excitedly introduced you to his club members and asked if you wanted anything to drink. Considering you’d had a midterm the following morning, you told him, “Just a coke,” but he had insisted you make it a jack and coke instead.

“You like that?” he had asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s not bad. What are you drinking?”

“Just a whiskey. Neat.” Seungcheol had always been a goofy kid growing up, but when you two got to university, he had somehow grown into this handsome, charming man who you barely recognized. Nonetheless, he was still your best friend, and you were grateful he thought the same of you. Even then in the bar, you couldn’t miss the way some of his fellow club members ogled at him, but his attention was on you. “Want some?”

A sense of pride washed over you as you took his drink from his hands and drank from the same cup his lips touched, relishing in the jealousy of the other girls who wished they could be you.

The moment the liquid entered your mouth, you nearly spit it back out into his cup.

You hated whiskey.

Yet, you continued to drink it on certain nights because you wondered if that’s what his lips tasted like. If this was the closest you could get to him, then so be it.

“God, can’t you drink something besides whiskey? Or at least add some coke like a normal person.” The tone in her voice made it clear that she was fed up with your actions once again. Yet, despite her constant pestering, you were her best friend after all, and her concern came from a place of love. It saddened her to watch you make one mistake after the other, but what if you didn’t want her best intentions? “It’s disgusting. I don’t know how you drink that.”

“Worry about finishing your cocktail before you nag me about my drink,” you replied, taking another sip of the forsaken liquid.

“What’s up with her?” Another voice brought you out of your slight daze, your eyes moving to the bartender.

“She’s caught up on him,” Dahyun spoke for you, leaning back in the stool and pretending to examine her martini. She set the glass down and fiddled with the olive in the cup, her attention turning to the man in front of you both.

The bartender was wiping down a glass when he let out a quiet chuckle. “The childhood friend, right?”

“Vernon, please. I don’t need you involved in this, too.” Vernon was a college friend of yours and also the head bartender of this pub that you and Dahyun frequented. The latter swung her legs around on the stool to reposition herself to face Vernon, placing her head in her hands as she looked at him.

“She’s hopeless. Help me out, Vern,” she begged, batting her eyelashes at him.

Vernon blushed, his eyes skirting to the glass he had been wiping for the last five minutes. Dahyun made him shy, and you all knew that, but she didn’t care. He let out a huff of air through his nose, the corner of his lips turning up into a small smirk. “Look, I don’t want to get involved—”

“Then don’t,” you interrupted. You took another sip of the whiskey before swirling the golden drink around in the cup and observing the way it moved with elegance around the big block of ice.

“But,” he continued, “I do think you’re an addict.”

You looked up at him, puzzled by his choice of words. “A what?”

“You’re addicted to him.” It was irking how nonchalant he was as he set down the glass. He propped himself against the counter, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up just below his elbows, exposing his forearms.

“What the fuck?”

“He’s right,” Dahyun chimed in. You could see the lightbulb turn on in her head, and you were not ready for where she was going to take this. “He’s a drug you can’t quit.”

“He’s not a drug,” you argued. “He’s a human.”

“Ever heard of a metaphor?” she quipped back.

Ugh.

She took another sip of her drink before continuing, “Besides, he’s married.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.” You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re still caught up on him.”

The blood within your veins began to boil. “I’m not ‘caught up’ on him,” you disputed, throwing your fingers up to make air quotes. “He’s my best friend.”

“No, I’m your best friend. You’re in love with him.”

“I can have more than one best friend,” you argued back.

“Yeah, sure. But he’s not your best friend if you’re in love with him.”

“Why can’t it be both—” you caught yourself. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A shit-eating grin formed on Dahyun’s lips.

Check fucking mate.

“Look,” you began. Whatever came out of your mouth next, you knew neither Dahyun nor Vernon would believe you, but you’d give it a try anyway. “My friendship with him is more important than whatever feelings I have for him.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather suffer for the rest of your life if that means you don’t lose him?” Dahyun probed with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not suffering.” Now, Dahyun knew you were lying by the way you refused to look into her eyes, your fingers fidgeting with your glass.

“You’re pathetic.”

You were used to the insults Dahyun threw your way, but this time, she meant what she said, and it pierced your heart knowing that this was what she thought of you. She chugged the remainder of her drink and slid the empty glass across the bar. “I’m going to go dance. Thanks for the drink, Vern.”

He nodded at her, watching her slink away to where the crowd of people were.

“Ouch.” You had completely forgotten about Vernon’s existence, typical of a guy like him who seldom had much to say. Even he knew that Dahyun’s words weren’t meant to be taken lightly, and he had to agree with her.

Even you agreed with her. You were pathetic—waiting around for someone who would never be yours, watching him love someone else, someone who wasn’t you, and despite all this, you continued to stick around like a lovesick fool.

So, yeah.

The word weighed heavy in your chest as you tapped the counter signaling to Vernon that you wanted another drink. He handed you another whiskey, the strong smell hitting your nose before you could even bring it to your lips. Instead of curiosity, a wave of nausea came over you instead.

Suddenly, whiskey didn’t seem so intriguing anymore.

———

It happened while you were trying to forget him.

They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So, that’s what you did. And that’s how you found yourself under a stranger that night, someone who had offered to buy you a different drink when he saw that yours had gone untouched for a while.

Instead, he bought you a cosmopolitan, citing you might enjoy it more. And maybe it was a little presumptuous of him to assume such a thing, but you had to admit that it was certainly better than what you had been drinking all these years. It also made you feel giddier and more confident when the whiskey only made you feel sad, and maybe that was why you agreed to go home with him.

It felt good though, his skin against yours, just the two of you in the darkness of his bachelor pad. The way he moved was gentle and careful, as if somehow he knew you were in a fragile state of mind. He moved his hands to your waist, lifting your shirt so gingerly as he slotted his legs between yours, pushing them apart to make room for himself on the bed.

Your breathing grew heavy, and you closed your eyes. Suddenly, you were met with a familiar face: his frosty skin that contrasted his jet black hair, his long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked, those plump, whiskey lips that you so badly wanted to kiss—

“Seungcheol,” you gasped. The weight on your body was now gone and you opened your eyes.

Fuck. The man above you sure as hell wasn’t Seungcheol and he looked just as confused as you, if not more.

You hated to admit it, but Dahyun and Vernon were right: you were addicted.

“Shit. I am so sorry,” you blurted out.

“Look, I don’t know who this Sungchil—”

“Seungcheol,” you corrected.

“Sure, whatever,” he replied, waving you off. “I don’t know who he is, but let me be the one to show you a good time.” Without missing another beat, he planted his lips against your neck, but the mood was ruined and you couldn’t go a single second without thinking about your best friend. You had a problem and maybe this was the wake-up call you needed.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” You sat up and grabbed your things, fumbling in the darkness to hastily put your shoes on and get the fuck out of there.

The night was cold—freezing even—the brisk air nipping at your cheeks as you waited for a taxi to come. A lot had happened that night, and as you stood there, legs shaking, you made a decision.

You would quit Seungcheol.

For good.

———

Once upon a time, you and Seungcheol were terrible students: you would ditch class to go get rice cakes and sausage from the street vendor right outside the school, and when the bell rang, while most of your peers were rushing to get to cram school, the two of you would go to a nearby diner and dick around until the sun set.

Yet, despite your poor habits, you still ended up in the top ten students of your class and Seungcheol, well, let’s just say he was lucky to have such a smart friend like you. Though, none of that mattered in the end as you landed your dream job doing branding design and marketing at a renowned company, and he was the department manager for a food supply conglomerate. One look at you two, and everyone would think you had everything you could ever want. And while that was mostly true, there was one thing you wanted but could never have.

Your best friend.

You were busy typing out an email to a client, your finger aggressively clacking against the plastic keys. If someone heard you, they might think you were chewing someone out, but you were just a loud typer was all. Everyone had already left the office, and you were the last one there, the lights turning off slowly one-by-one. That was your sign to leave. As you were packing up, your phone vibrated on your desk.

1 new message from Cheollie.

2 new messages from Cheollie.

Your eyes glazed over the notification.

You desperately wanted to open the message, a selfish part of you hoping that maybe he would have some epiphany that you were the love of his life and that he’s so sorry it took him this long to realize.

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was married. He was happy. He was happy and married. You would never be the reason for his happiness.

But… what if…? Your face was illuminated by the blue light of your phone, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness as the lights around you shut off for good. When you opened his message, your shoulders dropped.

Look at this guy LOL

[1 attachment]

You opened the message to find a photo of some guy wearing denim shorts, crocs, and a cowboy hat.

Dear god. Is this what the world has come to? You let out a chuckle, your head betraying your heart as you went to type a response.

You stopped yourself.

No. You shouldn’t. Replying to him would only open the door for conversation, which was the last thing you needed right now.

The road to healing was a long one, but you could do it if you put your mind to it. Or, at least that’s what you told yourself every morning. In the beginning, it was difficult not to respond to Seungcheol’s messages almost immediately or send him pictures of what you were eating for lunch and dinner. But as the days went on, it became a little bit easier, the temptation fizzling out as you responded to him late or left him on read.

At first, Seungcheol just assumed that it was because you were busy with work, but when he saw that the little ‘1’ by his message was gone and he still hadn’t received a response, that’s when he began to worry.

To say you were surprised to see him standing awkwardly outside your apartment with a plastic bag would be an understatement. And also completely unhelpful if you were going to quit him for good like you had claimed.

Yet, here he was, loitering in the cold, though this time, he was wearing his favorite maroon, Moncler puffer jacket. He was kicking the ground like a little child playing with the rocks around him until he saw your shadow. Your heart dropped when he looked up at you, his face beaming under the shitty light of your building.

“Hi,” he greeted you quietly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Geez, not even a ‘hi’ back?” he joked.

To be fair, you were still processing his sudden appearance in front of your house. Usually, he’d shoot you a text or a quick phone call to let you know he was coming. But tonight, he was here, completely unannounced because a part of him wondered if you’d ignore him if he tried to reach out, and he was too scared to find out.

So, here he was.

“Hi, Seungcheol,” you caved, the tone of your voice sounding more like an exasperated mother than someone excited to see their best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought dalkgalbi and beer,” he replied, lifting the bag. You recognized the black chicken on the logo—your favorite restaurant. You’d be crazy to say no, so you just nodded your head towards the entrance as the two of you entered the building. Pressing the elevator button, you stood in silence as you ascended the eight stories it took to get to your apartment.

The path to your unit was second nature to Seungcheol—he had spent many of his days at your place even before he had gotten married. He even knew your passcode to get in, expertly entering the numbers as if he was the one who lived there and not you.

Quitting him would be a lot harder than you thought.

You sat on your couch, unpacking the bag while he moved effortlessly in your kitchen, from grabbing plates and utensils to filling up the water pitcher like it was second nature. You had lived in this apartment since college, and Seungcheol spent most, if not all, of his days there with you like it was his own home. You even had a spare blanket and pillow for him and, not to mention, the spare toothbrush you kept for him in the cup on your bathroom sink. Once upon a time, he had a pair of slippers there, too, and your mom would often mistake them for your boyfriend’s.

“They’re not my boyfriend’s,” you’d painstakingly correct her, though you had wished they were.

If Dahyun had been longing for her best friend who was married, you would have called her pathetic, too. The more you thought back to that night at the bar and that stranger’s home, the throbbing in your head grew worse.

“What happened here?” he asked, setting everything down on the table in front of you. Your apartment was in complete disarray, random pieces of paper scattered here and there, about three loads of laundry were piled on your couch. For the past few weeks, you had been so busy at work that you rarely had energy to clean or put clothes away, so in the mornings, you’d pick the least wrinkled articles and throw those on for the day, swearing you’d put everything away when you came home that night. But you never did.

“Work’s kept me busy,” you stated, opening the containers of spicy stir-fried chicken covered in mounds of mozzarella cheese. The spice was the first to hit your nose, and you embraced its warmth briefly before digging in with your chopsticks. Seungcheol watched you fondly, a never-ending string of cheese stretching from the container to your mouth.

“Here,” he motioned, handing you a sizable portion wrapped in lettuce. You didn’t grab the wrap from him, instead just opening your mouth and biting a huge chunk off. The spice of the sauce was cleanly contrasted by the lettuce and the pickled radish that he had put inside for you. Continuing to munch on the dinner, you opened the can of beer and poured it into the glasses Seungcheol had gotten earlier.

“Thanks,” you said as you chewed, huffing from the heat and spice of the meat.

Seungcheol quirked his eyebrow at you, slightly aghast at the sight of your stuffed cheeks. “Finish eating before you speak,” he scolded, using a napkin to wipe the sauce from the corner of your mouth. It was the little things like this that always made your heart flutter, but when he was always nagging you, a part of you wondered if maybe Seungcheol saw you more as a little sister instead of as a woman.

“You never answered my question,” you prodded, your eyes zeroing in on the shiny metal on his finger. He froze, pulling his hand away from you.

“What, I can’t visit my friend?”

“You can, but you usually call.”

Honestly, Seungcheol didn’t have a good enough excuse other than, “I forgot.”

Deciding not to interrogate him any further, you accepted his response and moved on. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for you.” And there it was again. Those killer words and actions that sliced and punctured your heart, slowly wearing it away until there was nothing left but bits and pieces. He was making this really difficult, but you were steadfast in your resolution: after tonight, you would quit him no matter what.

For the remainder of the evening, you and Seungcheol cleared out the dakgalbi and several cans of beer while watching the latest episode of Thirty-Nine. It was common for you both to watch TV shows and movies together; though he was known for his intimidating look and build, Seungcheol had quite the affinity for romance movies and shows. In college, you would sometimes skip the parties and spend the night watching rom-coms instead. It was almost like a tradition for you two to have a marathon when you felt too lazy to do anything or felt that you “deserved” it after submitting your midterms and finals.

You didn’t know this, but that was one of his favorite things to do with you until you started dating Yanan, a generally sweet guy, but he had a tendency for jealousy, and so your movie nights became more scarce. Seungcheol and Yanan never got along; Yanan didn’t like that your closest friend was a guy, and Seungcheol didn’t like that the closest guy to you wasn’t him. When the two of them were together, it was a constant competition for your attention.

Yanan was your standard, run-of-the-mill guy from the countryside: gentlemanly, sweet, and he always looked out for you. You felt protected when you stood next to him. It didn’t help that he was also tall with broad shoulders (thanks to his history as a swimmer), and he had the kind of smile that lit up the whole room, that cheesy, Taylor-Swift-lyrics type of smile that was contagious. You were happy with Yanan.

For a while. Those once saccharine smiles turned sour, and you had found yourself arguing with him almost daily. The problem?

Seungcheol.

Yanan had had enough of your friendship with him, forcing you to choose between your boyfriend and your best friend. And though you thought you loved Yanan, you were absolutely sure you loved Seungcheol too much to just throw away your friendship for a guy.

Coincidentally, Seungcheol started dating Sookyung around this time; you were happy for him—of course you were—but you weren’t immune to the little green monster’s poison that seeped through your veins. Just like Seungcheol had seen less and less of you when you were with Yanan, the two of you didn’t seem to have many moments to be alone anymore.

Sookyung was sweet, like, truly, genuinely the sweetest person you’d ever known. She was kind and beautiful and had long, brown tresses that swayed with her body when she moved. And most importantly? She made Seungcheol happy. When he introduced her to you, you wanted to find a reason, any reason, to dislike her, but she was flawless. When you swore like a sailor and sat with your legs wide open, she would cover her mouth when she laughed, her legs crossed like a proper lady.

You were one of the boys, and she was Seungcheol’s girl. Still, you clung onto the hope that maybe they’d break up, and maybe you would have your best friend back.

That never happened.

What did happen, though, was the worst day of your life—the day Seungcheol got on one knee and pulled out a sparkly diamond ring, the words, “Will you marry me?” sounding like a foreign language coming out of his mouth.

And lucky you, you got to be there for the supposedly joyous moment, but instead, your whole world had just shattered. Perhaps even worse than the proposal, worse than Sookyung saying “yes,” was when Seungcheol asked you to be his fiancée’s bridesmaid. What were you going to say? No?

And so you, being the infatuated fool that you were, agreed, saying the little word that was so simple, yet so devastating. “Yes,” you had told him. “Absolutely. I’ll do it. Anything for you.”

Anything.

To be fair, you thought maybe by then you’d be over him, dating someone else, someone who made you not just happy but happier. As if your life couldn’t fall apart any more than it already had, you were also heavily involved in the wedding planning process. Sookyung always asked you to help with this and that because she and Seungcheol “trusted your eye for design.” Curse your artistic gifts—you never thought they’d bite you in the ass like this. Yet, you obliged, going to cake tastings, helping Sookyung pick out linens, and lending a hand in arranging the florist and caterers. Hell, you were practically their wedding planner.

And what sealed your fate was the day you went wedding dress shopping with Sookyung. You wondered if maybe one day that would be you standing on the stage, mirrors and loved ones surrounding you while you evaluated the white gown on your body, clipped in the back to fit you.

She was stunning.

Stepping out of the fitting room with an ecstatic fitting assistant, Sookyung looked effortlessly beautiful in the lace gown, tulle draping down her sides in a stunning A-line silhouette. You were breathless looking at her, and you understood then, in that moment, why anyone loved her—why Seungcheol loved her. If this was the effect she had on you, you could only imagine how your best friend would feel seeing her walk down the aisle, and lucky you, you were going to be the one to bear witness to it all.

“Well,” Seungcheol spoke, grunting as he stood up to throw away your trash, “guess it’s time to go home.”

You looked at the clock. 11:48 PM. It had been a while since he had been over this late, and you hadn’t realized how much time passed in your daze.

“You should tell Sookyung to come over for dinner one of these days,” you proposed, though your words were a bit empty.

“Yeah.” There was a pause, as if he was searching for the right thing to say. “I will.”

He made his way to the sink, ready to wash the utensils, but you stopped him. “I’ll do them. Go home.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You watched him put on his sneakers, that all-too-familiar view of his back haunting you. He let out a deep sigh as he stood up again, turning to look at you. There was a fond look in his eyes as he pressed his lips into a tight smile, causing a dimple to form in his cheek.

The thing about Seungcheol was that he hated goodbyes, and so he never said them to you. To him, goodbyes meant the end, and your friendship was forever. He was a firm believer in that stupid saying, “It’s not ‘goodbye,’ it’s ‘see you later,’” and as cheesy as it was, you obliged him, never saying “goodbye” to him either.

“I’ll call you,” he said before turning to go down the hall where the elevators were.

“Good, dickhead.”

He let out a hearty laugh. Regardless of how crude your words were, they brought a level of comfort to him. You waved at him until he was no longer in your sight.

Goodbye, Seungcheol.

———

“Are you going to take it?” Dahyun exclaimed, grasping your hand in both of hers.

“That’s if I pass the interview first,” you replied with nonchalance, taking a sip of your cosmo.

“Of course you’re going to pass the interview. You’re going to get it, dummy. No one deserves that job more than you.”

You hoped Dahyun was right. You had been with your marketing company for the past four years, and an opening for a manager position had become available. The only catch was that you’d have to move two hours outside of the city, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. With him out of sight, he’d certainly be out of mind, and quitting would become easier than it was now.

“You’re moving?” Vernon asked.

“Hi, Vern,” Dahyun said with a sly smile. You watched the bartender’s ears turn red as he nodded at her in return but turned his attention back to you. “Yes, she is.”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe,” you corrected her.

“Does this have anything to do with your friend?” he interrogated.

“No.”

Vernon shot you a pointed look.

“Maybe.” You chugged the remainder of the vodka in your glass, the alcohol burning your throat as it went down, warming your body from within.

The following morning, you packed your bags and threw them into the back of your shabby Honda Accord—though it was old, you could always trust it to get you where you needed to be. You had taken a few days off from work to go to this interview; you needed a break, and maybe a couple extra days would help you prepare for this interview and, most importantly, clear your mind from everything that was plaguing you.

It was only a three-day trip, but you were excited to get away and even potentially land this job—if not, maybe it was time for you to find a different company. Regardless of what happened, it was a much-needed break. In the days prior, you had made a sort of “breakup” playlist even though technically you and Seungcheol had never been together, but maybe blasting songs about how you deserved better would actually trick you into thinking such a thing.

You deserved to be someone’s first choice—not their second—and you kept telling yourself this during your drive, the road to your hotel seemingly never ending. You pulled up outside a large building; the company had paid for you to stay here, and you were thankful for it. Despite your current pay grade, you were still a bit of a cheapskate, and if it had been up to you, you’d have booked a cheaper place, but this wasn’t your money, so you didn’t care.

After you checked in, you were given a balcony room on the eighth floor with a view of the river. The floors were a clean, white tile, and it was a large, spacious room, one that was much too big for a single person, but again, it wasn’t your money, and you weren’t about to complain. You had a couple days before your interview, and despite being in a new city, all you really wanted to do was, well, nothing. You opened your maps app and looked for nearby restaurants and things to do—someone had recommended a walk by the river, and given your current view, it didn’t seem to be too far away. A long walk along the river sounded perfect.

It was the best decision you had made—even though the weather was below freezing, the walk was refreshing, and you realized that you hadn’t had much time to stretch your legs these days. Your job required you to be glued to your desk and chair nearly 24/7, and you couldn’t find it in you to make time to go to the gym.

Sometimes, life was better when you didn’t have a plan, so you decided just to walk wherever your legs would take you, only checking your phone in case someone texted or called you about the job. The frigid air bit the skin on your cheeks, which made you stuff your face deeper into your coat, your hands shoved into the depths of your pockets, but this was a pain you preferred to the other one you felt in your heart. Not many people were out right now; most people, you assumed, were staying warm in the comforts of their home instead of taking walks along the river in glacial temperatures.

When your legs began to grow sore and the muscles in your knees tightened, you decided that it was best for you to return to your hotel before you became too tired. The door unlocked after a melodic beep, and you immediately collapsed onto the bed, hoping the comforter would swallow you whole. The fabric was cool against your face as you stared blankly at the wall pondering your life—how did you get here, being hopelessly in love with your best friend? What would have happened if you had just told him no? If you had just quit him early on? Maybe you would have been much happier than you were now instead of running away from your problems.

Hunger prevailed as your stomach growled; the prior walk had taken too much out of you that you decided you would just go down to the convenience store right outside the hotel and grab some ramen and maybe a couple cans of beer. A smart person wouldn’t have been so lazy and would have explored the area that they might be moving to, but a smart person also wouldn’t have been in love with their best friend or agreed to be his wife’s bridesmaid or secretly wish for him to divorce said wife.

But hey, you weren’t a genius. Nor were you a saint. You knew this, yet you still hated yourself for feeling this way, but at the same time, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of your feelings for Seungcheol.

You shook your head.

No.

You wouldn’t think of him while you were gone. Out of sight, out of mind. That was how the saying went, right?

Closing your eyes, you let the harsh hotel light seep through your eyelids. Just then, your brief moment of peace was disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing.

Speak of the fucking devil.

You unlocked your phone and sat up.

“Hey,” you said, trying your best to sound enthusiastic.

Cheollie wants to turn on video.

Accept?

Accept.

“Where are you? You home?”

“No, I’m… out of town.”

“For what?”

“Business meeting.” Obviously, that was a lie. You were interviewing for the manager position, and if you got it, you’d be moving out here for the foreseeable future. He didn’t have to know that, though.

“Oh. Nearby?”

“Ish?”

“Give me a room tour.”

“Okay.”

You flipped the camera around and showed him the room the company had booked for you—a Premium Deluxe Queen Suite with a Balcony and View of the River. It was pretty fucking nice and you were thankful your boss was onboard with letting you come for four days instead of two.

“Damn, luxury living,” Seungcheol drawled out.

“I know, isn’t this shit nice?”

“For a meeting? When did they start rolling in money?”

“Gotta thank those angel investors for believing in us.”

“Are you eating well?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Cheol. What are you? My mother?” Your voice was starting to sound defensive, even you knew this, but you couldn’t help it.

“You’re not eating ramen and beer are you?”

You paused, eyeing the cups and cans on your bedside table. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“What’s the address of the hotel you’re staying at?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna order you delivery.”

“I’m fine—”

“Address. Now.” You groaned and sent him your location over messages. “Room number?”

“808.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not getting delivery now, are you? I’m about to eat.”

“No, but expect it tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Tomorrow came when you opened your eyes, the sunlight barely able to come through those blackout curtains of the hotel. Propping yourself up, you checked your phone.

Have a good conference :)

It was actually irritating how supportive Seungcheol was, but you guessed that’s what best friends were supposed to do. Be supportive and not fall in love with each other. Maybe you should take note of that.

You murmured self-affirmations to yourself as you craned your neck towards the mirror, pulling the mascara wand up and away from your lashes to give them some length and volume. To pull your look together, you picked your favorite lip tint, a classy and chic mauve that looked natural but put together.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you adjusted your grey blazer and matching trousers and slipped your feet into your black block heels—you were going to make today your bitch.

Your interview process was split into two sessions throughout the day: a group session in the morning and a solo interview in the afternoon. Despite your nerves and anxiety, when you arrived at the conference rooms of the building, a sudden burst of confidence surged through your veins, invigorating your spirit with such electricity that you nearly blacked out from the adrenaline rush.

To say that you thought the day went well would be an understatement, and what better way to celebrate a good day than with some ramen and beer. The bell above the 7-Eleven door chimed as you nearly slammed it against the wall from excitement, whistling while your eyes scanned the various types of alcohol on display in the cooler.

Cass, Heineken, Corona, BudLight, Hite, soju, makgeolli, sake, red wine, white wine.

Hmm. Rosé seemed good. Maybe that and… peach soju, and… a Cass beer. It was a recipe for disaster, but you had two full days to recover before you had to head back to the city anyway. And you couldn’t drink on an empty stomach, so you grabbed several triangle kimbaps from the counter and threw them in your basket as well.

Yeah, this was good, you thought to yourself, already feeling drunk on the thought of what the future would bring despite not having had a single sip of your alcohol yet.

When you returned to your hotel, you turned the shower on, steam fogging up the glass immediately. You would have a relaxing shower and let your drinks cool a bit before spending the night drinking and watching whatever movies the hotel had to offer on the TV.

The hot water warmed your skin and soothed your muscles; they had been aching all day, but you hadn’t noticed the pain in all your elation. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of jasmine, tangerines, and eucalyptus, which only alleviated your senses further.

After your shower, you threw on the gratuitous robe the hotel offered, wrapped your hair up in your towel, and put the slippers—also complimentary— on to live your best, luxurious life. In all the buzz and enthusiasm, you had completely forgotten about Seungcheol’s promise of ordering delivery, that was, until you got another text from him.

How do you feel about steak tacos?

i’m more of a carnitas gal

Done.

Within the hour, there was a knock on the door—presumably your delivery—but to your surprise, your best friend (whom, mind you, you were trying to quit) was standing outside your hotel door, two plastic bags lifted above his head as he barged into your room without another word.

“I thought you were ordering delivery,” you inquired, pulling the robe over your chest. You tried your best to hide the fact that you were completely naked underneath the white fabric, covertly grabbing your pajamas and underwear from the bed before sneaking into the bathroom to change. Fortunately, he had his back to you while he unpacked the food.

“I am the delivery,” he replied cheekily. God, you hated him right now, but the smell of those tacos were more enticing than your supposed hatred for your best friend.

“What are you doing here?” You stepped out, hands hurriedly drying your hair with your towel, though really you were hiding your anxiety.

“I’m not allowed to hang out with my best friend?”

“I’m just…” you paused, contemplating the right words to say. Devastated? Upset? Shocked? What word could really capture the way you were feeling right then and there? “…surprised to see you.”

“Good, my plan worked,” he said, placing the bags on the spare space of the marble counter in your room. Pulling out the food, as well as several cans of beer, he looked at you with accomplishment. “Carnitas for the lady, steak for me.”

For the lady. In an alternate universe, ‘lady’ would imply that you were his lady, not just some word that wrung your heart dry like a towel. How in the world were you supposed to get over him when he was doing shit like this? Even then, you didn’t have the heart to turn him away, let alone be honest about the way he made you feel.

No.

He could never know.

It was better for everyone that your secret stayed exactly that—a secret. Sure, maybe Vernon and Dahyun knew, but that was enough because you knew that they weren’t children who would spread something like that without your permission.

“Dig in,” Seungcheol said, his eyes watching you with anticipation.

Eagerly, you picked up the taco, the aroma quickly filling your hotel room. The warmth of the tortilla and crispy pork was delicious as it melted in your mouth, contrasted by the cool, crunchy texture of the pico de gallo. Everything about this moment was perfect, again, minus the fact that the man you were in love with was married, the silver ring on his left hand glistening under the luminous hotel lights.

Sitting on your bed with him now reminded you of the days before your lives got complicated, the days when you would spend just about every waking moment together. Especially after your father passed away, Seungcheol would always take care of you, unwrapping your triangle kimbaps and poking straws through the aluminum lid of banana milks. Back then, the only thing you two were really worried about was if you had enough crumpled bills in the pockets of your uniforms for snacks after school. You didn’t know what love was or what it felt like to be consumed by a poisonous jealousy that would eat away at your soul for years on end.

Back then, things were simple.

“Hey!” Seungcheol yelled out as you took a bite of your next taco. “Be careful, you’re going to get oil on the bed sheets, and then they’ll charge you extra.”

“You act like I can’t afford to pay for an extra dry cleaning service.”

“That’s not the point,” he nagged. He always nagged. Always. Whether it was about making sure you had your homework and pencils, or about the way you ate, he was always nagging. But a part of you liked it since you knew he only did it because he cared.

Would he always care about you this way? It wasn’t a complex question, but the answer wasn’t so simple. What would happen when he left? Not just the hotel, but your life? When he and Sookyung would announce that they’re having their first child? Or their second? Third? Would he still make sure you were wiping your mouth? Would he still open triangle kimbap for you? Make sure all your banana milks had a straw through the lid?

“Are you happy?”

You were in the middle of a bite when his question threw you off guard; were you?

Even if you were breaking from the inside out, even if you were suffering through one of the most painful heartbreaks in your life, he could never know that you were unhappy nor that he was the cause of it. “Yeah,” you lied with confidence. “I am. Are you?”

He was staring out the window at the river as if the moonlight glistening on the water had hypnotized him.

“Cheol?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I want you to be happy,” you told him. It was true—you wanted him to be happy, but you also wanted to be the reason for his happiness.

“I want you to be happy, too,” he said with a sad smile. You could tell he had something on his mind, but if you asked, then he would tell you what was bothering him, and that would only make it harder for you to push him away.

After you had finished eating, Seungcheol took it upon himself to clean up (which only made the aching in your heart worse). He plopped down onto the bed where you were laying, your eyes fixated on the bright light fixture in the ceiling.

The two of you didn’t talk about anything of importance that night—instead, you recounted high school memories, complained about annoying coworkers, and gushed about the ending of that drama you had been watching. Despite the cans of beer that Seungcheol had brought sitting out on your vanity, they remained completely untouched for the most part (Seungcheol drank a couple and you stole a few sips of his) since he had to leave soon anyway.

Or so you thought.

Your conversations lasted hours, and before you knew it, you had passed out. The sunlight trickled into your hotel room as your eyes fluttered open to adjust to the brightness. When you adjusted your position in the bed, you felt something strange and firm under your neck—

Oh no.

This was bad. Very, very, extremely, terribly, horribly bad. Seungcheol was next to you with his arm under your head. You were sure that nothing had happened last night—you were both fully clothed—but even if you didn’t sleep together, sleeping together wasn’t a good look either, especially if someone were to walk in on you like this. It wasn’t like you could easily provide excuses as to why you were so close to your friend who, mind you, was in a happy marriage with a woman whom he loved very much (and wasn’t you).

Slowly, you rolled out of bed, cautious as to not disturb the sleeping lion next to you.

Even though it was your day off, you had to get out of there because the longer you stayed, the chances of you doing something you’d regret for the rest of your life increased tenfold. All you needed was your wallet which was… right next to Seungcheol on the bedside table. Great.

Your footsteps were soft against the tiled floor, your socks doing a good job of dampening each step. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were projecting some kind of fantasy onto him, but even while he was asleep, he seemed happier than he had been those other times you had seen him.

Seungcheol had insomnia, but seeing him sleep so peacefully like this, his long lashes flush against his skin, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly with each exhale, his lips that you wish you could taste, just this once—

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. He wasn’t yours in a capacity that would allow you to entertain such thoughts. Yet, maybe you would just look…

His eyes fluttered open and now you were really fucked, your face only centimeters away from his. The silence of your room drowned out your thoughts and you stood up quickly.

“Um, morning. I’m just heading out. I have another meeting with a client,” you lied. It was Saturday, but for all he knew, this could be a conference, and you were fortunate that Seungcheol had absolutely zero knowledge of the industry because you’d be more screwed than you already were. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll see you.”

Turning on your heels, you tried to walk away as quickly as possible, but you were stopped by the feeling of his hand grabbing onto yours.

“Were you about to…”

Right then and there, the blood drained from your face and your limbs went numb.

There was nothing more that you wanted than to disappear off the face of the earth, yet why was it that you were thinking about how good it felt to hold his rough hands?

“I’ll see you later,” you blurted out, yanking your hand from his and leaving the room without looking back. Not even once.

———

“Cheers!” The shouting of your coworkers and best friends were somehow able to drown out the pounding bass of the dive bar. Vernon had offered you and Dahyun free shots for the night, but since you were moving first thing in the morning, limiting yourself to a happy buzz was the farthest you would go tonight.

“I am so proud of you,” Dahyun exclaimed, planting a kiss on your cheek. This was her drunk habit—kissing her best friend and getting extremely touchy, though you didn’t mind. She was cute, giggly, and of course, more bold when she drank. You wouldn’t be surprised if somehow she managed to go home with Vernon tonight with the amount of courage she now had in her system—about time, too. They were cute and you had been trying to get them together for a while now. Any success they had, they’d have to owe it all to you.

“Thanks, boo,” you replied, the pet name coming out with ease as the alcohol swirled in your body.

“Let’s dance!” She slammed her glass against the counter (this caused Vernon to wince at the idea of his precious crystalline being smashed into pieces) and was quick to grab your hand, dragging you out to the dance floor where you weaved through warm bodies moving drunkenly to the music. Under the strobing red, blue, and green lights, you let the music and the alcohol take control of your body—for once, it felt nice to let loose and feel all your worries dissipate into the night.

On the walk home, your head buzzed from the drinks, and for the first time in a while, you were excited at the prospect of your future. Perhaps things would work out after all. As you neared your apartment, a familiar man stood outside kicking at the ground.

“Cheol?”

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice was sullen.

“Tell you what?” In reality, you knew exactly what he was asking about, though you thought maybe by playing dumb, somehow that would prolong your encounter with reality, a reality that didn’t involve Seungcheol.

He furrowed his eyebrows. You hated the way he looked at you. “That you got a new job?”

A lump formed in your throat. Suddenly, it was hard to swallow. All the happiness you felt just thirty minutes ago disappeared in the blink of an eye. You thought maybe you could get away scot-free and disappear from his life quietly, but with him standing here in front of you like this, it was becoming clear that you had to face your reality.

As you searched for something, anything, to say, Seungcheol began tapping his foot against the pavement, impatient for an answer. When you didn’t respond, he scoffed. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are—”

“So, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was going to—”

“When? Huh? After you moved?”

“What?”

“You’re moving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

How did he know that?

“Seungcheol—”

“I can’t believe you. You are so ridiculous.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line. It didn’t matter that he was right, that you were ridiculous—hearing that from him only annoyed you.

“Well, now you know,” you responded, your tone dry and uncaring.

The incredulous laugh he let out stung and made your heart ache. “Yeah, and I had to find out from everyone except you. You know, you’re the one person I thought I could trust. I thought you trusted me.”

I do, you wanted to tell him.

“You’ve been weird since that weekend,” he said, changing the subject. How could you not feel weird when you almost found yourself kissing your married best friend? If loving a taken man was a line you weren’t supposed to cross, then almost kissing him would send you straight to hell. Worse yet, you didn’t think he would notice.

But of course he did. He was your best friend after all, and for all the moments he could be dense as fuck, he knew you like the back of his hand—or, at least he thought he did. Despite his best efforts to decipher your words and actions lately, it seemed that every conclusion he came to was dead wrong. Even now, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, your poker face doing a good job of hiding how you truly felt inside.

“I’ve just been busy,” you tried to defend yourself.

“No. You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not—”

“What aren’t you telling me? Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

You kind of were, but mostly you were mad at yourself. So much could have been avoided if you had confessed your feelings to Seungcheol in university when you had the chance. Foolishly, you allowed yourself to believe that your feelings for him were fleeting, a passing moment that would come and go like the seasons. Your love had no expiration date, you’d find out later.

“No…”

“Then what is it? Why are you acting like this? Why can’t you answer my questions?”

Something in you snapped, your eyes went red, and suddenly you were shouting at the man you had loved for most of your life. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why I can’t answer your questions. I don’t know why I’m acting this way. What I do know is that I want you to leave me alone.”

“No.” His voice was firm like the grasp he had on your arms, his fingers constricting around your skin. “Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I don’t fucking know!” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you tried your hardest to hold them back, your eyes looking at the ground to avoid the inevitable onslaught of emotion that would happen if you looked at him.

“Yes you do! Look at me,” he said, shaking you.

“Fine! I’m a fucking idiot, okay? I’m a fucking idiot who’s stupidly in love with you, and I can’t stand that I’ve been doing this for so long now, and I just want to get away from it all. I just want to get away from you.”

Seungcheol’s face loosened as he slowly processed your words, his brain a jumbled mess. He eased his grip on you, making it easy for you to shake him off as you two stood there awkwardly. You turned away from him, wiping the tears that were now streaming down your face.

You took a step back. “I think it’s best you don’t call me. In fact, I think we shouldn’t see each other ever again. Goodbye, Seungcheol.”

And without looking back, you turned your back on him, an ache boring through your soul as you walked inside your building.

———

The past year flew by—you had settled nicely into your job as the manager for your marketing and design firm, and your new team seemed to love you already. You had an assistant, Chan, to help schedule your meetings—something you weren’t used to—but you did enjoy the convenience that came with having him there.

Your fingers clacked away at your keyboard as you were preparing a presentation for a big client when a knocking on your door snapped you out of your zone. “Come in,” you blurted.

“Someone’s here to see you,” Chan said, peeking his head through the doorframe.

“Do I have a meeting scheduled right now? I thought I was free until the afternoon,” you replied, not looking up from your monitor.

“Nothing’s on the schedule as far as I know.”

“Okay. Let them in.” Chan nodded and opened the door, letting the guest in.

The moment you caught a glimpse of her face, you shot up from your seat. You recognized her bright eyes and high cheekbones, the way her long black hair framed her face perfectly, and the sheer elegance she exuded no matter where she went. There was only one thing that was different: her belly.

Everything about her had remained the same except now her hands were holding her stomach.

She was hesitant to come in further, and upon seeing the shock on your face, she wondered if being here was as good of an idea as she had intended. “Hi,” she said, her voice awkward like she was a teenager entering her first day of school.

“Sookyung?” You stood up immediately, rounding the corner of your desk.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she spoke.

“Yeah… it has been…” You didn’t realize you were still staring at her baby bump until your office fell dead silent, the only sounds coming from your mini-fridge and your desk fan that you kept on while you worked. “Please,” you said, gesturing towards the couch. “Sit down.”

She must have been pretty far along given the size of her belly and the noise she made when she sat on the leather cushion, relieved to be off her feet.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“I wouldn’t mind a little tea,” she replied sheepishly.

“Is jasmine okay?”

She nodded.

As you prepared the hot water, you kept your back to her, your brain running through every possible scenario as to why she was here. Yet, despite your desperate attempt to plan how you would approach this, you weren’t ready for what she was about to tell you.

When the water finished boiling, you poured it into the mugs you only pulled out for your VIP clients. “Be careful,” you warned her. “It’s hot.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug into her hands.

“So… what… are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Sookyung just stared into her mug, contemplating how to explain herself.

“Sorry,” you blurted. “I… I’m just surprised to see you. How… how are you doing?”

She looked up finally and met you with a hesitant smile. “Seungcheol told me you got a new job here, and I have a friend who works here as well–but I’m good. I’ve never been better actually.” Your eyes fell upon her belly again.

“How far along are you?”

“Six and a half months.”

“Wow, Soo, congratulations! You and Seungcheol must be so happy!”

Her face dropped at your mention of his name.

“Actually, that’s why I came to see you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

“We… got divorced.”

“You what?”

“You guys what?” Your eyes fell on her hands, a ring decorating her left finger. “But your—”

“It was a long time coming,” she chuckled softly. “This is from someone else.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘It was a long time coming’? You guys were fine.”

“Is that what it seemed like?”

It was. But you also couldn’t remember the last time Seungcheol had talked about his married life with Sookyung.

“We fought a lot,” she continued. “Like, a lot.”

“Soo, I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she offered, yet an abrupt wave of guilt washed over you. “Do you remember our wedding day?”

You nodded.

———

Of course you remembered their wedding day—who could forget the way Seungcheol looked at you when you arrived after telling him you wouldn’t make it? The two of you had gotten into a nasty fight just weeks prior when you had asked him if he was sure jumping into marriage was the right choice.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he had said. In all your years of friendship, you had never gotten into a fight as bad as this one, but neither of you would back down because of your pride.

“You’ve barely been together for a year, and suddenly you’re engaged and getting married? It doesn’t make sense!”

“No, you’re just sad, and lonely, and bitter because everyone you date ends up dumping you because you can’t give them what they want.”

“Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yeah. You are.” He wasn’t. He was completely right, because you could never fully give yourself to anyone. Your heart belonged to one person, and one person only: him. But you couldn’t tell him that.

“If you’re going to be like this, then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“Fine.”

“And don’t even think about showing up to the wedding.”

You swore your heart dropped to the floor. You knew you should have turned around and apologized, but you let your stubbornness get the best of you as you slammed his door behind you.

Neither of you meant any of the things you had said, but it didn’t reverse the damage that had already been done. You had practically been uninvited to your best friend’s wedding, and upon hearing what had happened, Sookyung was the one to reach out and tell you that she really wanted you there. You had tried to tell her that you were uninvited, but she reminded you that this was her wedding, too, but you held your line. And you were almost able to get away with it had it not been for Seungkwan begging you to drive him to the wedding hall after Soonyoung had woken up late.

None of your other friends had known about the fight, and you fully intended on dropping him off and leaving until he dragged you inside. You had missed the ceremony, but the reception was in full force, the other guests mixing and mingling with drinks in hand.

“Seungkwan—” his voice echoed through the hallway, stopping when he saw you.

“Seungcheol, congratulations!” Seungkwan exclaimed, approaching his friend with a big hug. “Now, where’s Sookyung?”

“She’s… in the other room,” Seungcheol’s voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on you instead. He had always been an open book, his emotions written all over his face, but that day, you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.

“Great, I gotta go see her.” And with that, Seungkwan was gone, leaving the two of you alone.

“Um, hey,” you said.

“Hey.”

“C-congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

The silence was so much louder than the hooting and hollering of the guests in the reception hall.

“I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for—”

You paused and looked at him. Clearing your throat, you asserted yourself. “I’m sorry for what happened a few weeks ago. I was being too overprotective of you when I should have just trusted you.”

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean what I said that night. I just—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” you told him, wrapping him in your arms. “I want you to know that I’m happy for you, Cheol. I really am. You’re my best friend and you deserve to be the happiest.”

He returned your embrace. “You’re my best friend, too. I couldn’t ever stand to lose you. You deserve to be the happiest, too.”

“I am,” you had said, and though that was a lie, maybe it would be true one day.

———

“I’m not following, Soo. What does your wedding day have to do with your divorce?” Your throat suddenly felt like it was constricting, depriving you of the oxygen you needed to live.

“Our wedding day… it was a mistake.” Despite everything that had happened, she still managed to smile. If you were her, you weren’t sure you could do the same. But she wasn’t you—she was Shim Sookyung, the girl everyone loved because she was just that kind and lovely.

“There’s no way. You guys are perfect for each other!” Despite that deep-seated desire in your heart that you once harbored for Seungcheol to be yours, this new reality somehow didn’t seem any better. Sure, your best friend was single now, but why was it starting to feel like all of this was your fault?

Sookyung let out a chuckle. “You guys are too similar. Seungcheol said the same thing when I asked for the divorce.”

“Soo, I’m confused. What’s going on?”

“I’ve known for a long time that we weren’t going to work. I knew that Seungcheol’s heart didn’t belong to me, but mine didn’t belong to him either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… fell in love with someone else. A long time ago. His name is Youngbin. During university, he had graduated and moved away, and I thought I would never see him again. And so I started dating Seungcheol to cope with my heartbreak. I didn’t think it would last long, but a selfish part of me wanted to hold onto him because maybe, just maybe, if I was with him long enough, I’d forget about Youngbin. But just before the wedding, Youngbin moved back and he reached out to me. He asked me to run away with him, but I told him no, I was in love with Seungcheol. We had gone through so much trouble to plan the wedding and invite everyone, I couldn’t just call it off. But I should have. I was a coward.”

“Soo…”

“I know, I’m pathetic,” she admitted. “In the beginning, things were fine. I thought, ‘Maybe I could see myself with Seungcheol for the rest of my life,’ but things turned for the worse quickly. We fought a lot over the smallest things, started sleeping in different rooms, and I was living with a man I didn’t know anymore. And you know Cheol, he never backs down.”

You nodded. You did know that, and you knew that well.

“I tried, I really tried to tell myself that this was the right decision—that he was the right decision—but ultimately, I knew the answer. We both did. It was clear from the beginning, but he was too prideful and I was too selfish to admit it.”

“So, then what about…” your voice trailed off, but your eyes pointed to her baby bump.

“Oh, it’s not Cheol’s, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she laughed. You wondered how even through all of this, she could be so calm and nonchalant. Sure, she had been nervous coming into your office, but now that she could get all of this off her chest, relief washed over her. “Youngbin and I,” she continued, now holding her belly. “We’re getting married.”

Your eyes widened and you swore you nearly dropped your mug (which, mind you, was still full of piping hot water). “Oh my god, Sookyung! That’s,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “amazing!”

“Thank you,” she smiled at you. “But this isn’t what I came here to tell you.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled with confusion. What else could she possibly tell you after dropping the bomb that she and Seungcheol were divorced and she was pregnant with another man’s baby?

“Seungcheol and I,” she continued. “We’re on good terms. He congratulated me on my engagement and the baby. I guess I just want you to know that we’re on good terms. I don’t have anything against you or Cheol. I love you guys, and I always will.”

If not for the sound of your team hustling and bustling outside, perhaps you could have heard your heart shattering.

“Soo, what are you trying to get at?”

“I think you guys should be together.”

“No.” The answer flew out of your mouth before you even had time to fully process what she was trying to tell you. “No, I couldn’t. I can’t do that to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. If anything, you’d be doing me a favor because then I can stop worrying about you both.”

“Worry about us? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is Seungcheol and I spending four years of our lives denying our hearts and trying to find the answers in each other when they were never there in the first place. You may not see it, but he loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. You should have seen us the day before I left. He was so upset with me. We’re not friends anymore, Soo.”

“You should have seen him when he came home that night. He was heartbroken. You’re his best friend—”

“Was his best friend.”

“No, you still are. Listen to me,” she said, reaching across the table to grab your hands. “You still are his best friend. I don’t know what was said that night, but nothing will ever change that fact.”

“Sookyung—”

“Listen to me. Trust me, if not yourself. You guys really are too similar,” she laughed again. “You should talk to him. Figure out your stuff. Be happy. With each other.”

You could only shake your head. How could she possibly know how Seungcheol felt about you? If you were him, you’d never want to see you again after what happened that night. Imagine the heartbreak he felt when you, his best friend, didn’t tell him the biggest news of your life. On top of that, you had confessed your long-time love for him and declared you never wanted to see him ever again. At this point, did you even deserve happiness?

Why would he want to see you, let alone talk to you?

“I don’t know if there’s hope for us anymore.”

“How would you know if you never ask him? God,” she huffed teasingly, “you two really are similar, and I hate you both for it.”

“We are not!”

The cackle that came out of her mouth was almost insulting. “He literally said the same thing to me. Just trust me and talk to him. Please. It’s the least you could do for me.”

“Soo, please,” you groaned. You couldn’t believe she was pulling this card on you as if you hadn’t just ruined her marriage and been the cause of her divorce.

“What’s stopping you?”

“This is all my fault—”

“It’s all of our faults,” she assured you with a squeeze of your hands. The laughter that fell from her lips was as charming as ever. “We’re all idiots.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to him?”

Sighing, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to her. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

She stood up from her seat on your couch, releasing your hands. “I should probably get going. Bin is waiting for me downstairs.”

You watched as she wobbled to the door. “Soo?” She turned around, surprised when you wrapped her in your arms. “Thank you.”

“Let’s all be happy, okay?”

“Okay.”

———

Hey… can we talk?

Your fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button before finding the backspace, the letters you had written gone in a blink. Since Sookyung’s visit, you had promised her you’d talk to Seungcheol, but every time you went to message him, you chickened out.

It was only four simple words, but doubt overcame your best intentions. What if he didn’t want to talk to you? What if he was seeing someone else? What if that only made things worse? But then again, how bad could it get at that point? It’s not like you had much to lose anymore, but the mere prospect of making his loss in your life more permanent made your heart ache.

Hot oil splattered against your skin, a miniscule moment of pain for delicious, grilled pork belly with pepper paste wrapped in cool, crisp lettuce. Your team had just landed a VIP client and it was all thanks to your hard work in gaining their trust. You were happy seeing your team’s bright, smiling faces, excited to do a job they were passionate about, and in theory, you were happy about the job, too. You wanted to be laughing and celebrating with them, but your mind kept looping back to Sookyung’s words.

You still are his best friend.

Be happy. With each other.

Taeyang, your lead designer, put a glass of beer in front of you, a shot glass of soju sitting atop a pair of chopsticks. “Drink up, chief,” he said cheekily.

You smiled at him, thankful at his gesture. You slammed the table with your fists and watched the smaller glass fall to the bottom of the larger, bubbles forming as the alcohol reacted with each other, your coworker whooping and cheering as you chugged the soju bomb.

Tonight, you wanted to be able to celebrate your wins with your team rather than moping over a message to send Seungcheol, so you locked your phone and put it on ‘Do not Disturb’ as you enjoyed the grilled meat and the company of your team. Your message to him would be a matter for tomorrow.

Maybe.

By the time dinner ended, you had drank enough to have a good time and you truly had forgotten about Seungcheol. You were happy, giggly even, and hiccuping as you sent off your team one-by-one in their taxis. Fortunately, your new apartment was only a seven-minute walk from the restaurant. You waved goodbye to your colleagues before taking off towards your home.

The frigid night air was refreshing against your warm skin, and you felt yourself sobering up with every step you took. Now, all you needed was a shower and to get snuggled up under your warm comforter.

The light from the lobby of your apartment grew brighter as you got closer, but you noticed someone standing just outside the doors. You squinted to see who it was, maybe your neighbor Joshua who had forgotten his keys in his apartment again. But as your vision cleared, you recognized him immediately—how could you not know his shoulders, his hair, that favorite red puffer jacket of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets?

You were dreaming. You had to be, because why would he be here? Right? It didn’t make sense. Before you could scrutinize him any further, he turned around, a bit shocked to see you despite that being the reason he was here. In front of your apartment.

“Seungcheol?” Though a year had passed since you last saw him, his grip on your heart never loosened and you could hear it pounding in your ears.

“Um, hi,” he sniffled, his nose rosy and his breath visible from the cold air.

“What are you… how did you find my apartment?”

“Dahyun told me,” he confessed. Damn it, you couldn’t trust that girl to keep information to herself, could you?

“I… Why are you here?” Twice in one week you had asked two separate people that question, but you really didn’t understand why this was happening, and now of all times.

“Can we talk?” The words you had struggled with for the past week seemed so effortless coming from him. Little did you know that he only came here on impulse because he found himself having a hard time sending you a text as well.

“Um, yeah.” You motioned for him to follow you upstairs. The elevator ride up was quiet, which was now becoming more common for you two than not. It was strange, this new apartment of yours. For so long, Seungcheol had grown used to your old apartment, the one he knew almost as well as he knew you, but this one was uncharted territory for him. Even the elevator and lock outside your door were different. Never in his life had he felt so distant from you, and he hated every part of it.

When you entered your apartment, you haphazardly kicked off your shoes, still a bit drunk from earlier. He took his shoes off, too, arranging his and yours neatly by the door before stepping into your home. You went into the kitchen and turned the stove on, putting water into the kettle for tea.

“You can sit down,” you told him as you ripped the tea bags open.

He sat down on your couch—it was stiff and much newer than the one you’d previously had. Less broken in, he guessed. In fact, everything in your apartment was new and modern in contrast to the items you had bought second-hand at your last place. His mind wandered as you lingered in the kitchen, afraid to turn around and confront the reality that your best friend (well, ex-best friend) was sitting in your home at that very moment.

Did you ever bring other people here?

Did they know your apartment the way he knew your old one? Jealousy seeped within his veins at the idea that that was even possible.

Once the water was finished boiling, you poured it into two mugs with chamomile tea bags, the smell wafting gently into your nose. With a deep breath, you took the cups into the living room and set them down in front of him as you sat down on the chair adjacent to him.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” you said, your voice cracking slightly. Awkwardly, you stood up to open the window. Granted, with it being winter, you hadn’t opened the window for several months, so it was difficult getting it to budge now.

“Here, let me help.” Before you knew it, you felt the warmth of his body behind you. With his strength, the window opened easily, but even with the winter air coming in, the tension didn’t go down.

You both sat down again and you took your mug into your hands. It was still too hot for you to be holding it, but the heat on your palms gave you something to think about other than what possible thing Seungcheol could say to you.

“So…” you began, “how are you?”

“How have you been?”

You smiled awkwardly at each other, your grip on your mug tightening as a reflex.

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Tired.” The longer you sat there, the more you started to feel the alcohol take its final toll on you, your eyes growing heavier with every passing second. Seungcheol noticed, too. Deciding it was probably best he tabled this discussion for tomorrow when you were in your right mind, he stood up.

“I think you should get some sleep instead.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you weren’t sure what was really going on anymore.

“Yeah, we can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” His voice was soft, and even in your tipsy, sleepy state, it was comforting.

You stood up to see him out the door, but your knees buckled from under you. Seungcheol caught you in time before you fell to the ground, helping you up. He should probably make sure you get to bed without hurting yourself before he left.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

Pointing to the closed door in the northwest corner of your living room, he led you inside and let you sit on the bed as he opened your closet, looking for pajamas for you to change into. When he opened a drawer, his heart ached—he immediately recognized a small graphic tee that peeked out from the bottom. That was his t-shirt. One that you had borrowed one time in high school when you were repainting your childhood bedroom and then claimed you “lost.” He had gotten so mad at you that he ignored you for five days until you came knocking on his door with various sweets you had baked yourself as a peace offering. It was then that he realized he could never be mad at you for too long. And it was then that he realized he wanted you to be in his life forever.

He pulled the shirt out along with a pair of pajama pants and dropped it into your lap.

“Can you get changed on your own?” he asked.

You nodded your head, the weight threatening to throw you forward. Seungcheol propped you up instead, helping you stand on your feet.

“Yeah. But don’t look,” you mumbled, pouting.

It was probably inappropriate to be thinking this way, but Seungcheol found you cute when you made that face, your eyebrows furrowed, your nose crinkled, and your bottom lip jutting out as far as it could go. It was the same face you used to make as a child when things wouldn’t go your way.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I won’t,” he assured you, turning around first just to be sure. He stood in silence, the sound of the fabric against your skin mixed with your subdued grunts filling the room as you tried to change your clothes in your drunken state. He knew he shouldn’t but he was slightly curious, so, Seungcheol, being the nosy guy he was, he turned around to peek at you.

You had somehow managed to put your head through a sleeve, your right arm moving freely in the head hole as you struggled to pull the fabric over your head. Seungcheol had to stifle his laughter as he watched your fight with the article of clothing.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” you confessed.

“Do you want some help?”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Here, let me help you,” he said, closing the gap between you two. For the first time in all your years of friendship, Seungcheol had never been so close to you in such an… intimate manner. He pulled the fabric up revealing your bare back; chills ran down his spine and he suddenly felt awkward. Adjusting the shirt so your head and your arms went through the proper openings, he pulled the shirt down quickly. “There.” Why was his face so warm?

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Sure.” Moving quickly, he untucked the comforter from under the mattress and sat down on the side of your bed, tapping the spot for you to lay down. You gave way to gravity and fell with a soft thud, your head barely missing the pillow. It took a bit of rearranging, but Seungcheol was able to get you to lay properly; when he was satisfied with his work, he covered your body with the blanket, tucking you in.

With your eyes closed and your breathing quiet, you looked so peaceful like this. Seungcheol tucked a stray hair behind your ear. He had done a lot of reflecting this past year, and as much as he wished he had gained some kind of clarity, instead all he got was a rollercoaster of emotions. He spiraled into a blackhole of ‘what-ifs,’ wondering if things would have been different now if he had just confessed to you before Yanan did, or if he had listened to you that day you asked him if he was sure about his marriage.

“I hate you,” you muttered. The three little words pierced his chest, but he knew that he at least deserved that much. He hated himself, too.

“I know,” he whispered under his breath.

“I… was supposed to… quit… you…” Even in your unconscious state, you stumbled over your words as they fell clumsily from your mouth.

“What do you mean?” he asked, not expecting a response.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Okay, then I’ll leave.”

“No,” you blurted, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. “Stay.”

Your eyes were still closed, but your eyebrows were furrowed, lips pouting again.

“You said I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Don’t go.”

The wall you had built around your heart suddenly came crumbling down, and this was the first show of vulnerability he had seen from you in a long time. Hearing the cracks in your voice, Seungcheol relived that sadness he felt that day you told him ‘goodbye.’ It was a painful memory, and he never wanted to believe you meant it, but your actions said otherwise.

But here you were, laying so quietly in front of him, calmer than that night, your grip on him pretty strong for someone who was inebriated and half-asleep. You weren’t sure what possessed you in that moment—perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the fear that if he walked out now, you might never see him again.

Somehow, that one small movement made his breath hitch, his heart palpitating with such force that he was afraid you might hear it in the silence.

“I won’t go.”

And he didn’t. He stayed with you the entire night, using a spare pillow from the couch in the living room to lay on the floor.

———

Last night, no, the entirety of this past week had felt like a fever dream. From Sookyung to…

Seungcheol.

You shot up in your bed, your head throbbing from the alcohol—you rubbed your eyes of the crust that had formed overnight, and it took a minute for your vision to clear up before you could see anything. Was he really here last night? Did he leave? Did you imagine that he slept there? There was a pillow from the living room and the spare blanket you had gotten for guests which you most certainly didn’t remember getting yourself, but nobody was there.

Slowly but surely, you got out of bed and slid your feet into your plush slippers, your toes curling against the soft fabric. Opening the door to the rest of your apartment, it was dead silent, but the smell of grease was first to greet your senses. Upon closer inspection, the table had a bowl of rice and to its side, a plate of fried spam and scrambled eggs. There was even a small plate of kimchi, your favorite thing to eat after a heavy night of drinking.

Your attention was caught by the slight snoring coming from the couch behind you; Seungcheol was laying on his side, drool coming from his slightly opened mouth. It was hard to stifle your laughter, but you didn’t want to wake him—with his insomnia, you wanted to make sure he got every second of sleep he could possibly get.

What you really needed, though, was a cup of coffee. Figuring the large guy on your couch could use one, too, you perched onto your toes to grab your nicer mugs from the top shelf. These days, you had resorted to instant coffee mix in tiny paper cups you had stolen from work. Why you did this, you weren’t quite sure yourself. Maybe it was the novelty of drinking from the paper cups that reminded you of those late nights in the library and the vending machines, but something about it hit differently than fresh coffee.

Today, however, was a freshly brewed coffee kind of day. You scooped out two spoons of medium roast coffee and put it into the machine, the rumbling of the water and brewing surprising you despite how often you’d used it before.

Deciding the breakfast he had (presumably) made for you wasn’t enough for two people, you took the bowl of rice and threw it back into the rice cooker to warm it up again. As much as you appreciated his efforts to cook, that’s the most credit he would get. Just one look at the dishes on the table and you could tell the spam was burnt and the scrambled eggs were too dry to be deemed edible. With a sorry heart, you watched the contents of the plate slide into the trash can. You’d have to remake breakfast, but you knew he’d thank you for it anyway.

The aroma slowly began to fill your apartment, stimulating Seungcheol to wake up.

“I made you breakfast,” he grunted, wiping his tired eyes.

“I saw that, but this isn’t enough for the two of us, dummy.”

Hearing you call him that made him believe that things between you were almost… normal. “I wasn’t planning on eating.”

“Well, now you’re going to.” It was more of a threat than an offer, and who was he to say no?

“What are you doing?”

“Frying the spam.”

“But I already made that…” his voice trailed off when he saw that the only thing left on the table was the kimchi.

“Yeah, poorly. We can’t eat what you made.”

His signature pout came out in full force, his lips protruding from his face.

The tension from last was almost nonexistent, as if you hadn’t gotten into a big fight and spent the past year not speaking to one another, as if you hadn’t told him you didn’t want to see him again. You stood in a silence that, once unfamiliar, was now more commonplace than you’d like, the only sounds in your apartment were the sizzling of oil on the pan as you threw on fresh eggs and spam. Unsure of what to do with himself, Seungcheol just loomed over you while you cooked the food—you kind of hated it because it felt like the times your mom would just stand there and watch you intently, like, what could she possibly want from you?

What could he possibly want from you?

“Okay,” you sighed, “breakfast is done.” With a swift turn of your wrist, everything came off the pan without difficulty onto the plate, the greasy smell stirring the appetite in your belly. Scooping two bowls of now warmed rice, you set them on a small tray with some side dishes your mother had left when she visited last weekend.

You brought the food to the table, motioning for him to sit down, too. Like second nature, Seungcheol immediately grabbed a piece of spam and placed it in your bowl of rice. If you had told someone that the two of you hadn’t spoken or interacted in the last year, you were sure they wouldn’t believe you solely based on his actions.

Yet, that was your reality: gut-wrenching heartbreak, cruel words, and a debilitating distance that you thought would solve your problems. The truth was that it didn’t. In some ways, it only made it worse.

There are two sayings: “Out of sight, out of mind,” and “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You, unfortunately, fell victim to the latter phrase. Though, perhaps “fonder” wasn’t the right word—a more accurate phrase would be, “Absence makes the heart wither away in pain and make you wish you could go back in time and completely re-do everything.” But that didn’t exactly fit on a craft store, cross-stitch pillow, did it?

“Thanks,” Seungcheol mumbled, breaking the silence, “for cooking breakfast.”

You offered a quiet chuckle. “Re-cooking breakfast,” you added. “I should thank you for at least trying in the first place.”

He pressed his lips into a tight line, the skin in his cheek caving into that favorite dimple of yours. As you two continued to eat, silence prevailed and the tension remained thicker than the grease in your pan. Suddenly, Seungcheol put his chopsticks down with more force than he intended, which caught your attention mid-bite.

“Can we talk?”

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, yeah,” you said, swallowing your mouthful. You could feel your throat constrict, almost as if you were choking.

Seungcheol looked at the bookshelf behind you, his eyes glazing over as he contemplated how to start the conversation. “So…”

“So…”

“Sookyung and I…we—”

“She told me.”

“Right.” Seungcheol cleared his throat. “She, um, she told me she stopped by.”

“Really?”

They still kept in touch?

“Yeah. So, you know that she’s…”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously as he stared at his bowl of rice that had been untouched this entire time. Where was he even going with this? On the drive over here, he had planned everything he was going to say to you, how he was sorry, how he thought that maybe he was in love with you—still in love with you— and how maybe, just maybe, you could give him another chance.

Yet, now that he was here and you were there in front of him, all of those thoughts went straight out the window.

If the silence wasn’t going to kill you, surely your anxiety would. Your knees bounced underneath the table while you clutched the excess fabric of your pants.

“How are you doing?” you asked. Although you had spent the last year trying to let go of your relationship with Cheol, you had often typed the words into an empty message without hitting send.

Just four words. It was only four words, but they held so much weight. Seungcheol had spent countless nights wanting to ask you the same thing, typing the question out before deleting it for the nth time because he didn’t have the courage to hit ‘Send.’

He didn’t think that he would hear the words from you, however, his brain working overtime to develop a response. “I…I don’t know.”

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could exactly explain how you were feeling, how much of a toll this whole thing had taken on you even though you had moved far away from him in hopes that maybe you could finally move on with your life.

Silence filled your apartment once again, and rather than eating breakfast as you had intended to do, both of you just sat there like two kids who had gotten in trouble and were waiting for the principal to come in. Only this time, there wasn’t a third person to come tell you everything that you did wrong.

That would require that you own up to your actions, and that Seungcheol owned up to his—did either of you have it in you to do that?

And even if you did, would that really change anything? Or make a difference? The rational part of you knew that it wouldn’t change much. Despite Sookyung’s truth bomb and Seungcheol’s sudden appearance, you couldn’t help but wonder where to go from here.

You had spent the past year walking this path alone, and though it was lonely at times, you really only had yourself to rely on, resolute in your decision to finally move on from your first and only love, Choi Seungcheol. So, what difference was this supposed to make?

Did he think you would accept him with open arms? That now that he was a “free man,” the two of you could just run off into the sunset, hand in hand and live happily ever?

No. It wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy.

You fiddled with the food in front of you, your chopsticks breaking apart the scrambled eggs as your brain struggled to think of a response.

Instead, it was Cheol who broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his chin tucked into his neck as he stared at the balled up fists in his lap. All you could do was stare at the crown of his head, his long, black locks giving way to gravity. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Cheol…” you managed to say.

“I don’t know what I thought would happen. I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t,” you agreed.

“Can I be honest though?”

“Of course.”

“It was nice seeing you.”

Suddenly, tears welled up in the corner of your eyes and it felt like someone was trying to squeeze them out of your body as you fought back that urge to let them fall. All you could give him instead was a reluctant smile.

“I missed you,” he said once more. It was like he was intent on making you hurt, but not in the way he had in the past. This time, his words hit a sore spot, and you wanted to be angry that those words were said in remorse, rather than in longing. But then again, you were also to blame for the position you two were in.

“Me too,” you told him, and you can see his shoulders relax a bit when the words hit his ears.

Relief.

He had been worried that you had hated him and would scream and yell at him to get lost, and sure, you had already told him the night prior that you hated him, but you were also inebriated. There was a good chance you didn’t even remember what you had told him, so to hear you say that sober, it was reassuring.

Those were the last words you two said before finishing your breakfast, the food now cold once again. When you were done, you went to grab his dish, but Seungcheol was faster, swooping your plate and taking it to the sink. Without a word, he just turned on the water and put on the gloves. You could have stopped him, insisted that he was the guest and that you could do the dishes, but you let him have this moment. Instead, you cleaned up the counter behind him, wiping the areas where the grease from the spam had splattered everywhere.

“Give me that,” he said, gesturing to the pan. You obliged, your hands touching when he grabbed the handle from you. It wasn’t some electrifying moment that opened your third eye, but it did make you realize how much you truly missed him. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—after all, it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t touched before, but yeah, you had to admit that this kind of domestic behavior was something you missed for sure.

You stopped and leaned against the counter, your eyes trained on the movement of his back muscles as he washed the dishes vigorously. Maybe in another life, in an alternate timeline, you two could have been standing in your kitchen as lovers instead of… whatever the fuck you were now. In another life, he would finally be yours.

“I, um,” you started, your voice faltering a bit, “I have to go get some groceries.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do you… want to come with me?” It was a bold move, asking him to spend even more time with you considering the tension of the previous conversation, but hey, gotta shoot your shot, right?

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, though you couldn’t see it with his back turned towards you. “Just let me finish this one dish.”

“No rush,” you reassured him. “I’m just going to go get changed real quick.”

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you realize just how truly horrible you look. Wow, you really looked like this and Seungcheol didn’t say anything? Your hair was in complete disarray, unkempt and unbrushed, the strings of your hoodie completely misaligned. You pulled the thick fabric over and off your head, tossing it onto your bed. Another glance in the mirror and you realized that the t-shirt you were wearing was… his.

Did he choose this one? Did he remember that it used to belong to him?

Even after all this time, you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the comfiest shirt you owned, even if it belonged to the man who had broken your heart. Though, admittedly, you hadn’t worn the shirt in over a year for a certain reason. Instead, it just sat in the drawer, getting buried by new t-shirts you had bought and shoved in there.

You had stolen his t-shirt, but he had stolen your heart.

A knock on the door startled you, causing you to instinctively cover your chest despite you being fully clothed.

“I’m done with the dishes,” Cheol spoke loudly from the other side.

“Okay! Just give me a couple minutes to change,” you replied.

“Alright, I’ll just chill on the couch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Frantically, you grabbed a pair of jeans and threw on a thick hoodie, not wanting to make him wait any longer. You emerged from your room to find him leaning back on your couch, scrolling on his phone.

When he heard the door click, he looked up at you. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

The grocery store wasn’t any more than a twenty minute walk away from your house, but it had been a while since your last trip and you needed more than you could physically carry in two hands. You’d have to drive.

Seungcheol followed you to your car, entering through the passenger side. He settled nicely into the suede of your little sedan that was much older than his luxurious BMW. But it was comfortable, and it smelled like you, he noted.

He missed this.

The drive was quiet, the only sound that could be heard was of the tires on the road. Both of you were on edge, sensitive to the other’s every movement. Fortunately, the drive was short and you arrived at the grocery store which was a bit of a ghost town in the late morning. Before you could say or do anything, Seungcheol was already making his way to the carts, pulling it out and leaning against it as you entered the store. There was something quite sobering about the way the market smelled—maybe it was the way the dead fish and meat mixed with the vegetables in the frigid air, or the perpetual pine-forest scent of whatever cleaner they used to wipe the tiles constantly.

Seungcheol followed you like a puppy as you grabbed this and that off the shelves, muttering to yourself as you checked the items off your list on your phone. Neither of you really spoke to the other unless it was to ask him to grab that bag of chips from the bottom, no, not that one, yeah, no, yeah, that one.

Even when you were checking out, he waited for you patiently, packing the items into plastic bags and putting them in the cart which he later pushed out to your car. There, he unloaded everything and returned the cart diligently. You supposed he was probably used to this because it was something he did often with Sookyung, but still, it made your heart flutter. But you were also overwhelmed by the burden of guilt in your chest. Part of you was happy to be here, with your best friend (if you could still call him that), but another part of you felt responsible for what happened to him and his wife. It was you. You were the reason why they got divorced, and even though that tiny part of you wanted this to happen, you still felt horrible.

You hated the idea of being the source of anyone’s misery, and now you were the cause of not just one, but two people’s unhappiness. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t how you pictured your life to be all those years ago when you were just a naive university student madly in love with Choi Seungcheol.

The thought weighed heavy in your mind as you drove back home in silence. Again. Once upon a time ago, you would have been laughing and listening to your favorite songs when he was by your side, but the solemn mood now was incredibly foreign to the point that you could barely recognize the man beside you.

When “I’m just going to put these away real quick,” you told him. He nodded and sat down on your couch, but instead of scrolling on your phone, he just sat there, taking in your new apartment.

It was so different than the one you had lived in previously—this one was a lot more grown up, the furniture much more elevated and minimalistic in style compared to the posters of your favorite boy band you used to have in your childhood bedroom, or the photobooth strips that hung on your college apartment, the one you had lived in until you moved here. This one felt… empty—sad—like you had never fully moved in and made it your home.

Seungcheol wondered if you felt that way, if you felt like this was your home, if you were comfortable living here, if you were…

Happy.

“Coffee?” you offered. Despite already having had coffee earlier this morning, you weren’t quite sure what to do now that it was just the two of you alone in your apartment. There wasn’t much more you could do to stall between the inevitable conversation Seungcheol had come for, but you’d do your best to try. Kicking him out seemed too harsh, but fear crept into your heart when your mind began to wander, curious as to what he had to say to you.

“Please, I’ll help you,” he said, standing up abruptly and nearly stumbling over your coffee table. You had to stifle your laughter, his actions reminding you of the goofball you loved and missed, the one you would spend hours messing around with instead of studying for your university entrance exams. “You didn’t see that,” he blurted out. His ears turned red, but he was also relieved to see you smile for the first time since he had been here.

He wished he could make you smile even more.

“It’s okay, it’ll take me only a couple seconds.”

“Are you sure?”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure, Cheol. But thank you.” That was the only thing you were sure of, that you could make coffee without his help. But everything else that followed? Not so much.

When you were finished, you brought the mugs to the table and sat down in the chair adjacent to him.

“Thank you,” he said. The once foreign silence had now become something familiar, but the awkward tension remained ever the same. Was this who you were to each other now? No longer friends, but not quite distant strangers either?

“Do you ever wish you could start over?”

You brought the mug to your lips, only to pause upon hearing his question.

“That… maybe we could start over?” He had kept walking, but when he realized you weren’t by his side, he paused, too.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied.

Of course, you knew exactly what he meant. The real answer was: yes, you had thought about this countless times, and it was the reason for your sleeplessness over many nights, but you weren’t about to just confess that to him now.

Upon hearing your response, Seungcheol’s face fell. What was he doing here anyway? Well, no matter what happened, he had a lot to get off his chest, and if he didn’t do it now, he’d never get it over with. “You know. Us.”

“Yeah,” you finally relented. “I do.”

“Where did we go wrong?” he asked, his question ending with a chuckle.

“I fell in love with you,” you replied, your eyes fixed on the cup of coffee in your hands.

“How long?”

“Since as long as I could remember.” There was a long pause, and you wished the Earth could swallow you whole. “I shouldn’t have,” you confessed. “I should have stopped loving you the moment you started dating Sookyung.”

“Why?”

“Because then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. You would still be with Sookyung and I’d—”

“I don’t love her.”

The words were colder than the winter air that swept against your cheeks. Seungcheol looked at you, as if he was looking for an answer.

“I mean, I did love her, but not like I loved you.”

Loved. Past tense.

“Then why?”

“You were with Yanan.”

“But we broke up.” Somehow, the coffee no longer seemed appetizing, the smell only nauseating you. You stood up and walked back to the kitchen where you dumped it into the sink.

“I thought… maybe we weren’t meant to be.”

“But you and Sookyung were?” You looked up, but Seungcheol was no longer on the couch—instead, he had followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the threshold as he curiously watched you wash the cup.

He shrugged. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Instead, he gave you an answer: “I thought we were.”

Silence, and then a beat.

“You were my best friend, you know?”

Yeah, you knew perfectly well.

“And best friends don’t fall in love.”

No, they don’t.

“And I think I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“The consequences.”

“Of?”

“Telling you.” Seungcheol wished you would look at him, but he understood that you were nervous—he was, too.

You knew exactly what he meant, and now you understood maybe why you were in the position you were in.

“We’re cowards,” you laughed, pausing your mindless dishwashing.

“Yeah, we are, aren’t we?” he let out a hearty chuckle. Maybe, instead of dating Sookyung to cope with your relationship with Yanan, he should have fought harder for you. But he was young and stupid. You both were.

Perhaps neither of you would be in this impossible situation had you just been honest with one another in the first place, regardless of the consequences.

“Hey,” he said. He was now standing right next to you, grabbing the mug from your hands and placing it in the sink carefully. Goosebumps formed on your arm when you felt his skin on yours, his rough hands taking hold of your own. “Let’s start over, okay?” Squeezing your hand with intent, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes, his face serious and without a shred of doubt. “Let’s… let’s start over and do this the right way.”

You froze. This was the moment you had been waiting for who knows how long, but why did that voice inside you keep telling you no? They say the eyes are the window to the soul, yet when Seungcheol looked into yours, he had a hard time reading what could possibly be running through your head right now.

“Come on,” he said, closing the gap between you. You didn’t know it was possible to be even closer than you already were, but he managed to do it. “What do you say?”

You had spent countless days and nights dreaming of the day you would be this close to Seungcheol, your hands in his, his face so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You were so close, in fact, that one miniscule movement and you would finally know what it feels like to feel his lips, to taste them.

You stepped back, pulling your hands out of his grip, the only thing your head could do was shake back and forth. “No…” you whispered. “I-I can’t.”

His eyebrows furrow at your words as if he doesn’t quite process what he’s hearing. “What?”

“We can’t, Cheol.”

“What do you mean we can’t?” Concern grew on his face as he tried to close the space between you, but you only stepped back in reflex.

“We just can’t.”

“You’re not making sense.” You could sense the annoyance interlaced in his voice, but you understood why. “Explain it to me so I can understand why.”

“It’s too late. For you. For me. The damage has been done. We can’t go back in time, we can’t undo the years of longing and pining, and we can’t just… start over.”

“Why not?”

“You still don’t understand?”

“No. I don’t.”

“We hurt each other. And not just each other, but others, too. Look at Sookyung—”

And that’s when Seungcheol understood exactly what you were saying. Or, rather, what you were trying to convince him of, if not yourself.

“Stop—”

“You married her and you were supposed to be together forever, but then you guys got divorced because of me—” you continued to ramble on, your eyes staring out at the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the water, completely unaware that Seungcheol was approaching you again.

“Stop!” Seungcheol’s loud voice echoed in your quiet apartment. “When are you going to stop making up excuses and blaming others for your own fears?”

The blood in your veins began to boil at his accusations. “I’m not blaming anyone.”

“You are. You said we were cowards. But you? You still are.”

“I am not,” you contested, raising your voice to match his.

“Then why? Why won’t you stop being afraid and take a chance?” He paused. Realizing he had been shouting, he lowered his voice and continued, “With me?”

You could no longer face him, turning around to hide the tears that threaten to fall. The only sound in your apartment now was the ticking of your clock and your and Seungcheol’s heavy breathing.

You jumped when you felt his hands wrap around your arms and turn you around to face him. “Look at me.”

“Cheol, please—”

“I said, look at me.” When your gaze met his, his fingers loosened their grip and his face softened. “I’m going to say something, but I need you to let me finish, okay?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“We can start over—”

“Seungcheol—”

“Listen, please. We’ve spent our whole lives lying to each other—to ourselves—but now? Now, we can finally be honest. We can be honest about how we feel and we can start over.”

Your heart palpitated in your chest, and despite the embarrassment that grew within you, you never once took your eyes off of him.

“I’ll start,” he continued. “I can’t lie to you, or myself, anymore. I love you. I am in love with you.” You could have swore your heart shattered upon hearing those words come from his lips. “You are the woman I’ve always wanted to be with, ever since we were young. I loved you then, and I love you now. And I’ll love you until the end of our days. This past year, you’ve been the only one I could think about—from the moment I wake up to the moment I close my eyes—no, even after I fall asleep, you’re the only person on my mind. Do you know how often I wanted to call you? To ask you how you were? If you were eating well? If maybe you had found someone who was deserving of your love? Do you know how worried I was on the drive over, asking myself if this was the right thing to do?” He took a deep breath before continuing, “But now that you’re here in front of me, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, which is how much I love you, and how I’d regret it every day of my life if I didn’t tell you how I feel.

“I know you’re scared, because honestly, I’m just as scared as you are. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if I’m going to find out, I want to do it with you. Together. So, please, don’t be afraid and trust me.”

By now, tears were streaming down your cheeks at full force, the words you wanted to stay lodged in your throat. Your eyes fell to the ground.

“The only thing that will get me to leave,” Seungcheol said, his voice the quietest it had been all day, “is if you tell me you don’t love me.”

You bit your lip which only made the dread in his heart worse. Perhaps he really had made a mistake.

“Seungcheol, I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me. I can handle it.” He was lying, though, of course. Because if you really told him that you didn’t love him, he felt as if his whole world might crumble.

Your brain went into overdrive trying to process his confession, let alone find the right words to formulate a response. Seungcheol could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“You’re right,” you whisper. “I’m scared. I’m scared because I don’t want to get hurt. Again. Or worse, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me,” he assured you.

“You know that’s not true.” Your eyes shot up from the ground and you were met with his own, tears pooling in the corners. “I’ve hurt you, Cheol. You have every reason to hate me. I ended your marriage—”

“What happened to Sookyung and I was entirely our own fault, and no one else’s. I don’t want you to ever blame yourself for that, okay?”

You shook your head. “What if I hurt you again?”

“Would you? Intentionally?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nothing to worry about. We’ve come way too far now to go back, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over. Fresh. Clean page. Just you and me, the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Cheol—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Seungcheol, I—”

“Do you trust me?” His hands wrapped around your cheeks as he stared into your eyes with a longing look.

“I love you.” The words fall from your mouth with much more ease than anticipated, and it’s not long before your foreheads are pressed together.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you breathed out the words again and looked him straight in the eyes before continuing, “Cheol.”

Without another second to wait, he lifted your chin and pressed his lips against yours, so soft and gentle as to not break you any further than he already had. He could feel your tears on his cheeks, but when he pulled away to check on you, you only grasped onto his face and pulled him back.

Every worry, every fear that used to plague your thoughts melted away with his touch. For the first time in a really long time, everything felt right, clicking into place as simple as that.

If you could kiss him for the rest of your life, you absolutely would have, but the whole day had taken its toll on you and the crying didn’t seem to help either. Instead, Seungcheol simply wiped your tears and the two of you fell asleep on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if to say, I will never let you go. Not again. Not this time. Never.

When you woke up, your body was sore from having been in that position for a few hours. You adjusted your head to take a good look at your best friend who was still asleep, breathing softly as the golden glow of the setting sun seeped through your windows, illuminating the edges of his face.

Finally, he could sleep. But he was awoken by the faint grumbling of your stomach. He opened one eye and looked curiously at you, causing you to shove your face into his chest from embarrassment. There was a resounding vibration when he laughed. “Someone’s hungry,” he chuckled, his voice deep and raspy but sounding like music to your ears.

“Stop,” you whined. There was something strange about being so close, so intimate, with him. It brought you back to your high school days, that feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you’d see him walk the halls. If only you had known your true feelings then…

But what mattered was the fact that you were here, with him, right now. What mattered was that now you had been able to be honest with him, with yourself, and when you were in his arms like this, everything finally felt right in the world.

Sure, it would be strange getting used to calling him not only your best friend, but your boyfriend—yet, it was a welcome change, one you knew you would adjust to in no time.

“Should we eat?” Seungcheol asked.

“Mm, I’m not that hungry,” you lied, but your stomach betrayed you, grumbling again.

“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other anymore,” he teased.

“Fine, we should eat. But I just want ten more minutes.”

“To do what?”

“To stay like this,” you told him, tightening your grip around his waist as you close your eyes and bury your face in his body. With a gentle kiss on the top of your head, Seungcheol happily obliged and the two of you remained on that couch for longer than ten minutes.

You were finally his tonight. And you would be tomorrow. And the day after.

Forever and always.

3K notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

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