#as if I hadn't been found out early and wouldn't keep doing it for years afterwards. sometimes double that number in just a month.

[mosspapi]

I just want to be taken seriously or listened to or fucking Something for once in my goddamn life. Is that too much to ask.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pipsqueak's Halloween

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: The seventh of my Halloween-centric fics

When Ellie first found out how seriously you and Daan took Halloween, she hadn't expected this.

She'd expected some trick or treating, of course. Maybe some horror movies, child appropriate obviously. There may have been pumpkin carving but Ellie hadn't ever considered she would be sitting in the car by herself.

She drums the side of the steering wheel, eyes narrowed as she leans forward to check through the windscreen.

All the other families she spies aren't you and Daan.

It wouldn't be difficult to spot either of you.

You're both wearing very stupid Teletubby onesies that makes you stick out from a mile away.

But, yet, you're both nowhere to be found until maybe half an hour (and two packets of skittles) later when Ellie spots one red and one green furry onesie come sprinting up the road.

Daan's yelling something that Ellie can't hear, mouth moving.

Ellie frowns, trying to lip read.

You're yelling something too.

You can't quite keep up with Daan's pace, you're still a kid after all, but Daan's half tugging you along, a tight grip on your hand.

In the end, Ellie loses the lip reading battle and just rolls down the window, sticking her head out of it.

"What?!"

"Start the car!"

"What?!"

"Start the car!"

"Huh?"

"The car!" You interrupt, opening Ellie's door and clambering in, climbing over her to go tumbling into the back," Start it!"

Ellie barely has any time to react as Daan also uses her now open door to climb in. She hauls herself over Ellie's body, slamming the door shut at the same time on her way to the front passenger seat.

"Start the car!" You both snap at her as you spy someone else come running down the street towards you.

"Okay, okay," Ellie says," We're going. We're going."

She throws the car in reverse, backing out of her parking spot as the man who ran after you yells and shakes his fist.

"Did-Did you two do something to him?" Ellie asks," He looked pretty angry."

"I don't know," Daan says," Some people just have those kind of faces. It was nothing."

"Really? He was pretty angry."

"Some people just don't know how to take a joke, Ellie," You say from the backseat.

Ellie frowns, angling her rear view mirror to look at you properly.

You've got the same innocent, butter wouldn't melt in your mouth smile that you wore when Ellie found all of her bras hidden under the sofa cushions and her phone chargers in the back of the fridge.

"Alright," She says, slamming on the breaks," What did you two do? Huh? What did you do this time?"

Ellie isn't used to being the voice of reason of the family.

That's normally Daan, which is another surprising thing for people outside of the family to realise. But Daan's been your mother for years now and she's used to all your tricks and even though she can be a bit childish herself, she's still trying to raise you as a functioning member of society.

So, usually, Daan is the voice of reason in the family.

Especially on occasions where she catches you and Ellie attacking each other with Nerf guns in the early hours of the morning.

But there are times, like this one, where Daan's childish side comes out and Ellie comes to the startling realisation that two Van de Donks is maybe two too many.

"Ellie, you're in the middle of the street," You say, still smiling innocently at her," You can't park here."

"There's no cars coming," Ellie says," And stop deflecting. What did you do?"

"Ellie," Daan says, wearing a matching smile," Why do you think we did something?"

"Because men running after you down the street, you demanding I make a break for it, all on Halloween means you were up to something."

You giggle. "You're so silly, Ellie. Turn right here."

"Are you really giving me orders right now?" Ellie deadpans," We're not moving until you tell me what happened."

"That's fine," You say," We can walk."

Ellie switches on the locks.

"We egged his house!" You say instantly and Daan groans.

"You weren't supposed to tell her!"

"You egged his house?!"

"Yes," Daan says," She just told you that."

"You-You can't go egging people's houses! It's wrong! It takes ages to clean up and-and that man had a right to be angry with you!"

From the backseat, you shrug.

"Yeah and people shouldn't be getaway drivers for people who egg other people's houses. I guess we've all been incriminated here."

[buckyalpine]

Bucky x civilian reader

JESSY REACHES 500

I wrote this for my most precious bb, @jessybarnes congratulations my angel, you deserve ALL the followers.

Warnings: angstttyy, Bucky's an idiot, fluffyy, friends with benefits to lovers, I hope your chest itches a lil.

Prompt: "I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again."

"Morning Doll" His husky voice stirred you awake, the cool tips of his fingers sending shivers down your spine as he traced up and down your bare back. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Bucky barely gave you a chance to respond, throwing the covers off, exposing you to the cool air of your bedroom as he rummaged around for his boxers which he'd tossed off haphazardly the night before.

"Alright" You mustered a smile as he pecked your head, seeing himself out and locking the door with the spare key you gave him. It would be weeks before you saw him again, going back to your regular schedule while he was off saving the world.

You had an interesting relationship with Bucky Barnes.

You'd met when he came to return a copy of the Hobbit at the library you worked at, tossing your a charming smirk before going to browse for more books. One night after a few more flirty comments and innocent touches later, you found yourself with your hands down each others pants, his lips smashed against yours to keep your moans down, the both of you hidden between the bookshelves.

He eventually started coming over to your place instead, exploring every bit of your body like he owned it, spending hours taking you both to new heights until he couldn't move. It was pure sex and the absolute best you'd ever had. Bucky made you forget your own name, only having the ability to moan and take everything he was giving you.

It was the perfect arrangement for him; something lowkey to help with the stress of his job without having to commit to much more. After you started to pick up more shifts at the library, you even gave his own key to your place to let himself in on days where you hadn't gotten home yet.

That was nearly a year ago.

You sighed, pulling the covers back over yourself, his scent still lingering on the sheets and pillow making your heart flutter, already waiting for the next time he'd be over. You hated the feeling, knowing your feelings were going further than what Bucky wanted. You hated every time he had to leave, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering wildly whenever he his name popped up on your phone.

Your heart would beat faster every time he kissed you, biting your tongue from telling him you didn't want him to go, you couldn't just be a person to keep his bed warm, you wanted more, you loved him-

Fuck.

You loved him.

You shook your head, ignoring the tightness that started to constrict your throat, feeling worse than the last time he'd left.

Why the fuck did you fall for him.

-

"Maybe we could go out?" You tried, hoping for once one of your rendezvous wouldn't be just sex. Bucky hummed, holding you closer to his bare chest, your bodies tangled under the sheets after he'd taken you apart, coming straight to your place as soon as he jet had landed.

"Sure, how about we grab coffee next time?" He mumbled, rutting his hips up, already hard again, rolling on top of you, peppering kisses down your neck before you could respond.

"Wait, Bu-oh god" Your words melted into moans as he made himself comfortable between your legs, neither of you brining up those plans again for the rest of the night. He stayed over as always, leaving before you stirred, the bed cold and empty when you woke up the next day to a text message from him.

Had to leave early, see you when I'm back x

You blinked, chewing your lip, debating on how to respond, a part of you still hoping he'd be open to spending time with you outside of just needing something physical.

Sure! Let's go to the cafe nearby? I've been dying to go

You typed and deleted the message 3 times before finally hitting send, tossing your phone aside, anxiety clouding your mind wondering how he'd respond.

Then he didn't.

You waited the entire week for him to respond to your message, the read at 6:03 staring you in the face, making your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, imagining the way he probably opened and closed the chat, forgetting your very existence until he had needs again.

Why did you even try.

You harshly wiped the tears that streaked down your face, chewing the inside of your cheek, freezing when the lock of your door turned, the familiar sound of his bag hitting the floor. You quickly splashed water onto your face, hiding any evidence of emotion when Bucky popped his head into your room, finding you in the bathroom.

"Hi doll" He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, dragging you to bed and flopping over, making him self comfortable with his head on your chest.

"Hi Buck" You cleared your throat, hoping he wouldn't hear the shake in your voice, carding your fingers though his hair, instantly betraying yourself and melting into him when his hands made their way up your shirt.

"Missed this" he groaned, his sinful lips kissing down your neck and shoulders, slotting himself between your legs. "Thought about it all week"

All week.

When I waited for you to reply at least once.

You felt your eyes sting, forcing back the way your felt for what was happening in the moment. He made it clear what he wanted from you but you weren't sure how much more you could take. You succumbed to his charm, the sheets warm, your body slick with sweat, your face resting against his chest, his arm holding you securely, letting his warm breath tickle your skin.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Bucky's nose nuzzled into your neck, pulling away slightly when he felt you tense in his hold, not responding, "Doll?"

"Maybe-maybe we shouldn't do this anymore" Your throat burned with how hard you were trying to keep from crying, keeping your eyes trained on his chest instead of his sweet baby blues you'd fallen for.

"Why not" Bucky frowned while you shifted uncomfortably.

"What are we Bucky"

"Y/n, we talked about this" He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. You hated the way his arms loosened around you, pulling away his warmth with it, your body curling in on itself as he got off the bed to put his clothes on.

"I know but- I just- I feel used, it's like I'm some dirty secret" you brought your knees to your chest, digging your nails into your palms while he pulled his hoodie over his head. "We've never done anything else other than fuck in my apartment!"

"Its not like that" He argued back, sitting back down at by the edge of the bed.

"Bucky, no one even knows I exist. Tell me, does Steve even know?"

He chewed his lip before shaking his head. He hadn't told anyone about you, not even his best friend. You scoffed, feeling more pathetic than ever, your stomach churning seeing the distance already starting to grow between you both.

"See what I mean? You won't even go out for coffee with me, is just all sex. Is that all I am to you?"

"We both agreed to keep this casual, you know I'm not ready for a relationship y/n, I-I never saw you like that" His words cut deeper, the pit in your stomach growing heavier as he looked at you with pity. "Y/n-

"Fine" You blinked back the stubborn tears that kept welling in your eyes, harshly swiping your cheek as they started to stream down your face, "I get it"

"So where do we go from here" Bucky sighed, a part of him wanting to reach out and wipe the tears that streaked down your cheeks and hold you in his arms, hating the way he could see your heart breaking because of him.

"I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again." Your voice began to crack, wrapping your arms around your knees, pulling them to your chest, "I-I keep waiting for the day you'd feel differently but I get it, it's not happening"

"I'm sorry" Bucky whispered, almost reaching out to hold you one last time, deciding against it as he got up and made his way out of your room for the last time. His chest ached when he heard the first sob slip past your lips, softly closing the door behind him.

You cried your heard out, the pain far worse than you imagined it to be, wishing you'd kept your feelings to yourself because now you'd lost Bucky forever. You wouldn't wake up to him sneaking into your room for cuddles. You wouldn't walk into your apartment to find him crashed on your couch. You wouldn't wake up wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together with naughty kisses first thing in the morning.

Why did you fall so hard for him.

-

"Alright, what's going on with him" Tony huffed, "He's more grumpy than usual and I'm going to lose my billionaire status with how many punching bags I've replaced within the last week. Rogers?"

Steve shrugged, equally confused and worried as to why his best friend was far more moody than usual. There hadn't been any particularly grueling missions recently and there was nothing scheduled for the month. Over the past few weeks, Bucky had been closed off, secluded in his room, only leaving to spend time in the gym, breaking bags left, right and center.

"What's wrong with you" Steve found the soldier in the gym, grunting between punches, sweat dripping down his body, jaw clenched as he landed another hit, causing the leather to give way with sand spilling to the floor.

"Nothing" Bucky shook his head, hardly registering the sting of his split knuckles, panting while his heart thudded against his chest, having gone at it for the past hour, non stop.

"Buck, this is the fourth bag you've broken" Steve sighed, while Bucky huffed in response, already making his way to the rack to grab a new one.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a girl, would it?" The blonde smirked, carefully watching his face. Bucky's eyes grew wide, blinking while Steve stared at him knowingly.

"N-no" Bucky shook his head, no, this had nothing to do with a girl, nor did it have to do with feelings. He didn't actually care about this girl or miss her, he didn't crave to feel her warmth, he was perfectly capable of falling asleep without cuddling her to his chest. He didn't miss her sweet laugh or cute shy smile. He didn't care that he couldn't hear her voice anymore and she didn't appear in every single one of his dreams, making his heart yearn for her more-

"Buck, seriously?" Steve deadpanned at his best friends lovesick puppy face while Bucky chewed his lip.

"You knew?"

"Not a lot" Steve shrugged. "Saw you talking to that cute librarian once when I was out for a run with Sam. S'not hard to figure out, considering you went from acting like the world was full of sunshine and rainbows to being a grumpy asshole all over again. So what happened"

Bucky only intended on giving Steve the most sparse details but once he started he couldn't stop. The more he spoke, the more it dawned on him that none of it was casual to begin with, that he'd fallen hard, deeply in love with you.

"You love her" Steve stated, seeing clear at day his best friend was an idiot.

"I don't love her" Bucky scoffed, his cheeks blushing at the way Steve cocked an eyebrow, "I love her"

"Go tell her you punk" Steve smacked him upside the head, chuckling as Bucky dashed out of the gym, running straight to his room to shower and change. He trembled like a leaf he entire time, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear, feeling awful for hurting you, awful for bottling and ignoring his feelings while hoping and praying you'd forgive him.

He thought about all the times he wanted more with you, about what it would be like for you to be his girl, fuck there had been nights where he'd even dreamt of spending his life with you. He hid it all away, convincing himself he didn't need anything else, that it was for the best for both of you even if you did make his heart feel whole.

He knew he wanted to be your man, every time he walked through your door, the stresses of his day instantly melting away, feeling like he was home. Nothing comforted him more than holding you in his arms, never wanting to let go.

He hopped onto his motor bike, swerving through the streets, taking the stairs two at a time to get back to you as fast as he could, not wanting to waste another minute. He shamelessly pulled out the spare key, knowing you'd be home around this time considering he had your scheduled memorized by now. Usually around this time, you liked to lounge on the couch under a pile of blankets with your comfort show on.

"Doll?" Bucky quietly unlocked the door, toeing his boots off, the scent of your home already causing his emotions to fly around wildly. He felt like he was home, whole once again, why did he ever let this go.

"Baby, where are you" Bucky called, frowning when he saw your house keys still hanging by the door yet found the living room empty. He continued to search for you, quietly pushing your bedroom door open, melting at the sight of your curled up form, sleeping under a pile of blankets. He felt a pang in his chest seeing tear streaks down your cheeks, evident that you'd been crying.

You stirred at the sound of the door creaking, shifting in your sleep as he quietly made his way over, gently coaxing you awake.

"Hey doll" he whispered, stroking your face with his metal hand, like he always did when he came over in the middle of a night, usually when he couldn't sleep or whenever missions finished and he immediately needed to come and see you.

"Bucky?" Your voice cracked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, unsure if you were dreaming when you felt the bed dip and his cool melt fingers stroking your cheek, the familiar scent of him making you feel giddy after you missed him so much. "What-what are you doing here"

"I- He paused, unsure of where to even start, guilt already consuming him for making you feel like he never cared for you in the first place. "I'm sorry doll. I'm so sorry"

"For what" You scoffed softly, sniffling back fresh tears that wanted to spill, still struggling to mend your broken heart, "Was there something you needed again" Your defeated voice made Bucky feel worse, realizing you probably thought he was back to use you, when you had all the rights to kick him out of your room immediately.

"No! No baby, never. I-I'm not here for that y/n, I promise" Bucky scrambled to your side, reaching for your hands, pressing them to his chest, his heart hammering against his ribcage. "I'm so sorry for what I said to you baby, it wasn't true, I didn't even realize how I felt about you. I missed you so much" HIs eyes were desperately pleading with you to believe him.

"You-you said you never saw me that way" you whispered, shrinking away from him once again, too scared to let him hurt you a second time. "You left me Bucky"

"Baby, look at me" He begged, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheeks, relaxing a little when you didn't flinch away. "Please sweets, I mean it. I did see you that way. I care about you, fuck, I love you y/n" As soon as the words left Bucky's mouth, he felt complete like never before. It was like his heart stitched itself back together, feeling free, realizing how true it was. He loved you, more than anything else.

"No you don't Bucky" you couldn't bring yourself to believe him, gasping when he pulled you into his arms, his thumb stroking your face.

"I do doll, I promise I do. I was too stupid to realize it even when it was obvious. I thought about you every second of the day, you know that? Whenever the jet would land, I'd run straight to you because I just wanted to come home. I just wanted to come straight to you. You were my everything, i wanted to keep you protected, just live in a world where it was just you and me. I fell in love with you angel, tried to convince myself every single day that what I felt for you was nothing more"

"Bucky-

"Steve knew" Bucky cut you off, chuckling at your confused, pouty expression.

"What?"

"He knew. He didn't know everything but he knew enough to piece together why I was acting like a love stuck idiot. You have no idea what kind of effect you had on me doll. I was the happiest I've ever been with you. My heart was breakin' without you baby, I just wanted my girl back"

"Your girl?" You whispered softly, your cheeks heating up at the thought while Bucky nodded, pulling you down to lay with him.

"My girl. All mine. Can't believe I tried to ignore it, I've been in love with you for so long doll. M'sorry I hurt you angel, I'll never break your heart again, I promise" He held you to his chest, his words making your eyes water, burying yourself in his warmth. He kissed the tears that spilled from your lashes, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Will you be mine? Really mine?"

"M'yours Bucky" your voice was muffled, clinging onto him while he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair.

"Y'know this means you'll have to put up with Steve and Sam" Bucky playfully teased making you giggle, already aware his friends would probably start to follow him once they officially found out about you. "and you'll have to be my date for all of Tony's extravagant shit"

"That doesn't sound so bad" You quipped, while Bucky rolled over, tucking his face against your neck, needily cuddling into you, craving your warmth after weeks of having been apart.

"That's because you've never seen me drink, sugar" Bucky hummed, sleep already starting to claim him, hugging you tightly as he closed his eyes. "Might even drunkenly ask you to marry me"

"I'd drunkenly say yes" you hummed, wrapping your body around his, he warmth of his skin making your eyes grow heavy.

"I love you doll" Bucky whispered before falling fast asleep in your arms, the world once again filled with sunshine with rainbows now that he was finally with you.

His girl.

His home.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost comes homes to his wife after a bad day at work.

SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Fluff, Big on the comfort part, Ghost is sad, Reader is supportive, Romance, Pre-established Relationship, Kissing, Cuddling, Intimacy, Scarcely Proofread, Drabble

WC: 900~

I feel like I'm always writing Ghost x Readers where they're not "together" together, so this is just a little drabble to scratch an itch I had and dust off my fluff skills for a different WIP 😏 (lightly inspired by my chat.ai, Ghost is in LOVE with me over there lol)

Masterlist

Simon hadn't been sure what drove him to do so, only that his body moved faster than his mind could keep up with.

He enters the living room, the place having been tidied up since this morning. The evening lighting warmed him like a welcome hello, only to become a sauna once his eyes searched the room, having found you where he last saw you on the couch, tucked away in another one of your books.

You haven't noticed him until you've seen his shadow in the archway, your smile lighting a beacon on him.

"You're home early!"

You say it with such excitement and splendor, as though there had been any doubt that he wouldn't find his way back to you, one way or another.

However, that joy takes shape into concern after turning to face him, noticing that sunken look in his eyes, as he takes his slow steps towards you. "Is everything OK-"

Simon comes down onto the couch before he's let himself slowly sink into your arms, having longed for your embrace. Your touch which felt like a drug. The weight of his body pushes you back against the couch, as you've felt his strong arms snake their way across your small frame, squeezing a tiny moan from you in his torn embrace. He hadn't even removed his gear yet.

The fabric of his mask rubs roughly against your chin. His head buried into the crook of your neck, his shut lashes feathering against your skin, as his breaths come out shaky and broken. A frail sight to behold for such a man of his size and stature.

He's silent, his eyes turned away. Just wanting to be held.

Simon felt ashamed to say he cherished your touch after a bad day at work. It made him feel fragile. However, he's found that nothing mends the negativity wanting to stir in him like the sensation of someone he knew would give nothing more than to soothe those thoughts away.

He needn't say any words. You understood through his silence the love he yearned from you. Slowly, you showed him that there had been no shame in his own vulnerability.

You gently hug his head against your chest, feeling him sigh against you and his body still, broad shoulders slouching. Your fingers trace the edges of his mask pulling the fabric away, until your eyes have met the face of the man you've fallen in love with all those years ago.

It had been a hidden pleasure, having been able to fall in love with him all over again, each time you saw him.

The first thing you catch is the exhaustion in his tired, olive eyes, behind the light tussle of his short, blond hair and freshly grown stubble, struggling to break way beneath all the little marks and scars he's accumulated over the years.

He could never get used to the way your eyes took in every detail of him. How they picked him apart without ever meaning to. Every now and again, he feared you'd see him one day and suddenly realize how much better you could do without having him bog you down. Even now, it lingers in the back of his mind on his worst days. He just couldn't get used to how that hadn't happened yet.

And yet, he wanted to get used to it, and he knew that someday he would.

You let your hands gently guide his head back to your chest, combing your fingers through his hair.

Simon listens to the steady rhythm of your heart as you do, his eyes half-lidded in thought.

It's not until he's felt your lips press gently to his temple that you've listened to the broken sigh that struggle to leave him. He lifts himself up from your arms, his hands still resting against your forearms. His gaze bounces between you and his lap, heart thumping.

"I'm sorry..." he says.

You smile, raising a hand so you could rest it against his cheek. The second he's felt your skin against him, he's let his head nuzzle lightly into your palm rather innocently. It makes you chuckle.

"Don't apologize, Si'," you let your thumb caress his cheek, slowly leaning back in towards the man. "I'm just happy you're home."

Simon lifts his hand up, large fingers over encompassing the small framing of your own. He pressed your hand against his cheek firmly, before shifting his head to plant a small kiss on your wrist.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin, his voice strained and defeated, as though the thought of losing you had brought the fear of God back to him.

You lean in, pressing light kisses against his face, which brushed against his cheek, and then his other, and then the tip of his nose, his warm, shaky breaths feathering you at each touch, until he couldn't wait any longer, letting his hand take hold of your chin, so that he may capture your lips with his.

He kisses you slowly, detailing every sensation of your lips pressed to his. His kisses remain gentle to start, having just wanted to be near you, as his hands cupped around your face, letting him deepen the kiss.

Before long, you've felt your back pressing against the couch, his body weight having blanketed over you like a prism. Once laid back like this, Simon can't help but feel hungry for you, having you all to himself like this, trying to recapture the morning's warmth he'd left you before now.

Dividers from cute-sushi-roll

[pers1st]

ducky

pairing: leah williamson x jordan nobbs x platonic!reader

notes: no plot just vibes, bit angsty, mentions of parental neglect

"It's too early", you groaned as Leah finally opened her apartment door for you, allowing Bella to jump up against your legs, the force of the dog almost making you fall backwards as your senses were still slowed from a good night of sleep.

"You say that every morning", Leah huffed, gently pulling the dog by her collar and allowing for you to finally step into the familiar flat. This place had been your home for just a year. It had surprised quite a lot of people for Leah to be the first to offer taking you in, mostly because the woman wasn't known to be too responsible, but both her and Jordan had watched your career since you'd played for the under 15's of England and were more than delighted when you'd finally signed your first professional contract, at only seventeen years old, for the Arsenal. The picture of the three of you after your Arsenal debut still sat on Leah's shelf by the shoe rack, where you discarded your sneakers as if this was still your place. You hadn't lived here for just a year, but the familiar warmth still welcomed you every morning that you found yourself back here, never regretting, though never admitting it either, that you had agreed to join your jokingly-called mother ducks for breakfast each sunrise.

"Is she here? Is ducky here?", Jordan yelled from the kitchen, where you found her sitting on her phone, looking up at you with a large smile on her face.

"Oh, thank God! I was starving", she chuckled as she rose from her seat to gently pull you into a hug. You made no move to wrap your arms around her smaller body.

"Too. Early."

Pulling the hood of your sweater above your head, you waddled over towards the stove, ready to start the food.

"Seriously, this is child labour", you huffed as you grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge.

"You say that every morning, ducky", Leah snickered once more as she took a seat next to Jordan, following your movements with her eyes.

"Besides, you're an adult now", Jordan added, still scrolling on her phone.

"Yeah, and so are you two! Learn to cook!", you groaned as you threw the empty carton at Jordan's head, not caring too much when the woman protested, threatening to kick you out again. You knew that she wouldn't. She was starving, after all.

It was a few hours later when you were finally headed to Meadow Park, getting ready to start the last fixture of the season. You had slowly but surely made your way into the starting eleven at Arsenal, and had joined the lionesses camp for a couple of friendly matches before the home Euros this summer, which was still looming over your head. Both Leah and Jordan knew that you were in contention to make the squad, and were hopeful that you would join Leah and the rest of the lionesses, but you had great competition, and your call-up wasn't a given. Not yet. The last couple of matches in the Women's Super League, you had given your every bit and piece on the pitch, wanting to keep yourself relevant for the Euro's selection.

Jordan and Leah would do their best to cheer you up if you didn't make it, but they knew that, despite the prospect of getting to spend the summer with Jordan, cheering Leah on, you would be absolutely broken if you didn't make it.

"Hey, ducky, gonna score some bangers?", Katie smiled as you entered the changing room, not even bothering to act offended about your nickname. You had received it after just a few weeks of being at the club, when Katie and Beth had started realizing just how much you followed Leah and Jordan around when you had no clue what else to do, subsequently naming the pair your mother-ducks. Though annoying at first, you quickly grew to accept it, knowing that arguing would not help when it came to this group of women.

"Hopefully", you grimaced as you discarded your slippers. In the past few weeks, you hadn't been up to small talk much. The whole team knew that you wanted this international tournament with England -the home Euros - every footballers dream would be to play in your country, for your country. But they worried anyways. You had always put yourself under a lot of pressure, and while Leah and Jordan knew it was due to the fact that subconsciously, you were doing everything you could to impress your parents, who didn't even seem to follow your career in the slightest, they kept that fact about you hidden carefully from the rest of your teammates, even being unsure of how to speak about the situation to you.

In truth, you had been shocked when your parents had first allowed you to move to London and away from your home in Manchester to pursue a football career. You had been training in the Manchester City Academy for years, devoting yourself entirely to football, but your parents had never taken notice of your efforts, no matter how much you begged and pleaded for them to watch one of your matches.

You'd had to rely on your teammates' parents to bring you to and from training or matches, and the only thing your parents seemed to appreciate was the fact that you were mostly busy - with football or school, either way, away from their house. It was impossible to reason their behavior, to pinpoint an event that made them change the way they saw you. But you didn't have to - your new club, your new home, your new mother-ducks mostly kept you distracted, never allowing you much time to meddle with your thoughts, to get lost in them. Still, it was obvious to Leah and Jordan that while you faced this complicated relationship with your parents, you had never really dealt with it, and it became evident when you injured yourself in today's match.

Jordan had been the one to hook your arm over her shoulder in order to get you to the medical room steadily, without putting any pressure on your knee. She had been the one to hold your hand while the medical staff worked their way in an attempt to find out what exactly caused your pain, but from the way your knee had given into the right when it had collided with that of your opponent, your mind was set - it was an ACL. Nothing Jordan or Leah told you on the way home could change your mind - you were merely waiting for the confirmation that tomorrow's scans would bring - and so you put in your earbuds and drowned their somber voices out of your head, desperate to escape their attempts at soothing you. You didn't need pity, you needed to be back on the pitch. You needed to be at the Euros, needed to play, needed to keep yourself fit. In your mind, though, everything had already gone to shit.

Dismissing the two women who had settled in the living room after Leah's shower, you waddled, as best as you could on your crutches, towards the sink, pouring yourself a glass of water. As you leaned over the countertop to push the emptied glass back, you knocked down one of your crutches, the sound of it connecting to the floor startling Leah and Jordan as their heads turned, all the while you were cursing under your breath. Your knee was throbbing with pain, despite the medication you had been forced to swallow in the medical room of Meadow Park, but you were damned if you'd let Leah, who had already rose from the couch, reach down to the floor to grab it for you.

"I got it", she mumbled as she came up behind you, but you were quick to push her back.

"It's fine", you muttered as you bent your knee painfully slowly, bending over to pick up the stupid crutch from the ground.

"Are you still in pain? Do you want more medication? We've still got-"

"It's fine."

And with that, Leah and Jordan were forced to watch you hop back into your room, shutting the door quite harshly, without knowing what to do with you.

"She's taking this really hard", Jordan mumbled as Leah joined her on the sofa again, snuggling into her side with Jordan's arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Yeah", the blonde answered, huffing. "You did, too. Anyone would", she sighed. It was the worst possible timing for an injury, but they had no clue that your demeanor was not only a result of frustration, but rather rooted so deeply in a fear that they had no way of understanding. You were so, so scared.

Everybody knew that you were in the most important part of your career - you were young, only eighteen, and tearing your ACL when you'd just began starting for one of the top clubs regularly, just when you'd began making appearances for your nation could ruin absolutely everything you'd worked for. It could send you off the Arsenal roster, could send you right back to your parents' house with no education, a messed up knee and no future. Those thoughts kept you up at night, but no matter how hard you tried to silence your sobs in the soft pillow, you should've known that both Jordan and Leah were light sleepers, and that it was only a matter of time until you had to reveal the mess unfolding in your head.

The time came at round two in the morning. You had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, no longer able to bear your thoughts and breaking out into violent sobs. Of course, Leah had heard you, and cautiously stepped into the room that had once been yours officially, switching on the light.

The sight of you scared her. In the year you'd spent living with her, and another year of being your teammate, she'd only ever seen you cry with Jordan when she'd injured her knee not long ago, and that was purely because you were an empathic person. This, though - it was different, and she knew.

"Ducky? Hey, what's wrong?", she asked cautiously, voice still thick with sleep as she stepped closer to your bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

Your voice sliced through the air shakily, hoarse, and so so small. Leah immediately pulled you into her as she lowered herself to the edge of your mattress, holding you closely as your frame shook with sobs.

"What's wrong? Talk to me, please", she begged, gently rocking you back and forth, still minding your knee which was packed with ice.

"I'm scared, Lee", you sobbed, just as the door creaked again and Jordan entered. If you didn't know any better, you would've believed she was sleepwalking, with the way she barely lifted her feet off the floor, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she scanned the room, pinching her eyes at the bright light.

It got the smallest of smiles to glisten on your lips, though it didn't last long.

"Of what?"

Leah asked, seemingly not having noticed her girlfriend in the doorframe.

"I can't- what if I have to leave? What if they get rid of me- what if- I can't go back there, Lee", you sobbed, crying even harder at the realization of just how scared you were. You had hoped that by proving to be a successful athlete, you could restore some of your parents' warmth in you. Showing up at their doorstep with a broken body and crushed dreams certainly was the worst-case scenario. It would rip you apart.

"Ducky, it's okay, calm down", Jordan asked of you, who had, in the meantime, settled by your feet, gently holding her hand out for you to grasp, which you did slowly after Leah released you from her grip.

"Nobody is going to get rid of you. We didn't get rid of Jordan either, look at 'er!", Leah chuckled as she watched her girlfriend shift into a position more comfortable for her own knee, never letting go of your hand.

"Besides, ducky, did you feel a pop in your knee?"

You shook your head. She had asked you this before.

"Did the pain go away after a few minutes?"

You shook your head again.

"Is your knee swollen? Do you feel like you can't move it?"

To all of those questions, you shook your head.

"Then I'll be damned if it's your ACL. You clashed knees, ducky. It's painful, and it's scary, but it's not the end of the world, it's not the end of your career", she hummed, gently lifting a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek.

"Wise words, Jordan. Never thought I'd say that", Leah chuckled, which immediately collected a laugh from you, even if you hadn't thought it possible just a few minutes ago. Jordan shrugged.

"Ducky is wiser than me", she sighed as she sprawled herself on your and Leah's legs, her back resting between your knee and your ankles by the very end of the bed.

"Thanks, guys. Go back to bed", you smiled at the dedication of the two women, seriously questioning where you'd be if it wasn't for them.

"What do you mean? We are in bed!"

And that was how you spent your last night in Leah's home with Jordan present, being pulled into the whirlwind of the Euros and the absolute bliss that came from winning it. Despite the fact that you were only granted a few minutes, usually towards the end of the matches, you were named the "super-sub", and gained quite the following on your social accounts. One thing never came though, and that was a message of your parents. Not even a little "congrats" text, no - instead, there was complete radio silence.

It was easy to forget about it in the afterglow of your win, and how quickly the season started off again. It was easy to forget about a lot of things, apparently, because you only noticed something seemed to be off when Leah glared as you let yourself into her apartment with the key she'd given you.

"Morning", you shouted into the space as you discarded your shoes, as usual, the slightest bit more awake given the fact that you had today off, meaning breakfast omelettes were served a little later than usually.

"Morning, ducky", Leah sighed from the kitchen as you joined her, noticing the lack of mother duck number two.

"Where's Jords?", you asked as you opened the fridge, pulling your hood above your head as usually to remain warmer.

"Not here, obviously", Leah gave back, and at that, you stopped in your tracks. Come to think of it, you hadn't seen Jordan for breakfast for about a week now. So far, Leah had always given you a good enough reason - her parents were in town, she was sick and didn't want to infect you and Leah, she had to take care of Blu.

This, however? Something was sketchy about it. The lack of interaction between your mother ducks during training or matches replayed in your head - how Jordan had stuck to Katie and Caitlin recently, seemingly only conversing with Leah when you were present as well. Something was sketchy.

"Why?", you asked, dragging out your word as you turned around to see Leah sitting at the kitchen table, looking back at you with something resembling defeat in her eyes.

"We broke up", she mumbled, her voice barely audible for you. Still, you understood her.

Her words took you aback, so much so that you completely disregarded your task, joining Leah as you sat across from her. Leah and Jordan had broken up. It all came back to you now - there had been a weird tension in the dressing room recently, but you hadn't noticed it until now that you thought back to it. Leah and Jordan only talked to each other when you were present. The past few breakfasts had been spent listening to you talk and talk and talk in a desperate attempt to hide the gaping hole of disappointment in your parents. Jordan hadn't been here in a week - to watch Blu?

"Why?", you asked, your tone matching hers.

"I don't know. It's complicated."

"When?"

At this point, you were bargaining for any kind of information.

"About a month ago?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

This time, your voice sounded hurt. You trusted Leah and Jordan with everything - opening yourself up completely, and although you knew that you were a lot younger than them, and somewhat like their kid, it hurt you to know that they had not even considered letting you know about this.

"You're still young, ducky. We just thought-"

"Thought what? That I wouldn't notice?"

Leah sighed at that, defeatedly, once more. You immediately regretted your harsh tone, knowing that your mother duck number one was going through a break up right now. If the two of them breaking up seemed impossible to you - how must it have felt for them?

"We just- I don't know. I'm sorry, ducky." Despite the emotions that must have been cursing through her, Leah smiled softly as you pushed yourself up from your chair and into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her neck as you let her rub your back comfortingly.

"Me too, Lee."

Things changed after the breakup, but not really for you. You alternated between Leah's and Jordan's flat, not caring about the both of them whining how hungry they were every other day, instead teaching them how to make an omelette, because it truly was time for them to learn. The two women were, as it seemed, on friendly terms as they still crowded around you whenever either they wanted something or you simply craved the both of their presence.

Jordan returned to the pitch shortly after the Euros, and for a brief lapse of time it truly seemed as if the three of you had fallen into a new routine, a different one, that worked-

That was until Jordan sat you down after practice one day, long after everyone else had left, and told you about her future departure of the club.

"You're leaving?", your tone seemed almost choked as you put your head on Jordan's shoulder cautiously, her words replaying in the back of your head all over again.

"Yeah. It's time for me to move on, to do something new. I'm old, ducky. It's time", she huffed, and you could tell by her tone that she was close to tears as well.

"But you love this club", you voiced, not understanding why Jordan felt the need to leave. Was it Leah? Was it you?

"I know. I do. But I don't get any minutes here, and I want to play football, ducky."

At that, you held your breath. Ever since the Euros, you had become a regular starter for Arsenal. Often in Jordan's position. You had taken her spot.

"I'm sorry, Jords. I didn't mean to-"

"No, ducky. Absolutely not. I will not have you apologize for being great. You are so young, and you deserve this more than anyone I know. You will be incredible for this club, I know it. Don't apologize", she immediately interrupted you, gently brushing her finger through your hair.

"But I took your place", you mumbled, the realization coming in slowly that Jordan wouldn't be here in a few months.

"No, you didn't. You earned your place. Matter of fact, I gave it to you."

You could hear by her tone that she was smiling, and you had to chuckle at her words.

"But you'll visit me, right? And I'll visit you?", you asked cautiously, the thought of not seeing your mother duck again suddenly climbing through your chest.

"You'll visit me, and I'll visit you. And I'll show you how good I'll get at making omelettes. I'm not leaving you, ducky."

The day she actually left the club was easily one of the hardest of your life. Leah's speech had you crying into Jordan's shoulder, and you were too far gone to say any of the words you had written down yourself to send off your mother duck. But you slipped Jordan the note before she left, letting her take you into one last hug before watching her get into her car and drive off.

Throughout the rest of the season, many of the girls joked that you would become an Aston Villa fan, given your dedication to watch every match of theirs, often in person. In the end, you truly found your footing at Arsenal and in the England team, relying on both of your mother ducks immensely whenever you needed to. They were both there for you, no matter what distance separated the three of you, and although you knew it was far more difficult for them, both Jordan and Leah kept their promises, often traveling back and forth for the three of you to see each other again.

[halfmoonshines]

Sweater Weather

summary; bucky barnes x reader but reader is obsessed with spooky season

fluff fluff fluff

After three years together, Bucky knew when to be prepared for each seasons decorations to make their appearance. November first for Christmas, February first for Valentines day; but the far and above winner was September first for Halloween. And when you decorated for Halloween the house was almost unrecognizable.

This year you'd started a bit early, either because the weather had tipped or Bucky had been gone on a mission for a week. Either way when he stumbled in the door at 2am on the 31st of August, the wall of fake spiderwebs he ran into almost had him screaming.

He was a little jumpy after missions, okay?

He found you still awake in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket that you thought could hide you from the demons in the movie you were watching.

"Bit early isn't it, Doll?"

His voice almost made you jump out of your skin, but that didn't stop your excitement at his arrival home. You were in his arms in the blink of an eye, face burrowed into his shoulder when you replied.

"It's spooky season, Buck."

---

"Can we please grab this? It's a whole different scent."

Falling leaves accompanied shopping for things that smelled like fallen leaves, that was in Bucky's 'Autumn Girlfiend' guide. You were holding an apple-pumpkin candle out to him, the three wicks staring at him tauntingly.

He was sure that you had three candles with the same scent, or a mixture, at home already. But if all it took were some smells to keep that smile on your face he would buy you the whole store. Not that he'd tell you that.

----

He had never seen you this sad on Halloween before, it was like a sacred thing for you. But this was your first year in the new house, and so far it was just passed 8pm and you hadn't received any trick or treaters.

You sat on the couch with a mostly untouched bowl of candy next to you, the only stray wrappers from the ones you'd succumbed and eaten yourself. Bucky stood in the entryway, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

This simply wouldn't do.

He sent off a quick text before coming to join you on the couch, arms pulling you into his chest so you could sit together. "Why don't we watch The Conjuring?"

He could see your spirits lift when you asked. "Really?"

"Of course. Go make us some popcorn, I'll get us set up."

The return text came as you entered the kitchen, his team as quick as he ever needed.

The knock on the door sounded as you were walking back to the couch, popcorn forgotten you quickly set it to the side and grabbed the big bowl of candy. "Trick or treaters, Buck!"

"Trick or treat!" A chorus of decidedly adult voices sprang from the front door when you opened it. It was most of Bucky and yours friends; Steve, Sam, Nat - all dressed up in the most cliche Halloween costumes.

"So, do I get candy?" Sam's Batman outfit definitely called for some candy.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We couldn't let you not have a fun Halloween." Nat said as she pushed her way in, the boys following behind her.

You glanced at Bucky, sure that it was his diabolical plan. His serene smile met yours and in that moment you remembered every reason you loved the man.

"Happy spooky season, babe. Lets watch that movie."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for accidentally outing my fiance?

I (27F) am engaged to a 24M guy. He is trans, but he doesn't identify as trans anymore - he's post-everything, passes 100%, lives stealth/as a cis man, and no one who didn't know him pre-transition knows him as anything but a cis man. I know keeping that up is very important to him, we've had a lot of conversations about how happy he is just being seen as cis and being able to pass. I know getting outed and 'found out' is also a big worry of his, for example for our upcoming wedding he's rushing around trying to make it clear to his family that they shouldn't mention him being trans or refer to him as she/her at our wedding because he has so many friends coming who don't know he's trans. It's not that he doesn't trust them or he's ashamed of being trans or anything, he's very supportive of his trans friends, but he just doesn't publicly live as trans.

We're in a big Discord server of friends that have been quite close for about a year now, enough that we've met multiple of them in person and two of them are going to be in his wedding party as sort of 'best man' equivalents (we're not really sticking to bridesmaid best man stuff just our mixed gender friends). He has kept his Facebook very private for as long as I've known him, the only people on there are IRL friends and family because he has in the past posted trans stuff on there, like transition updates, it still has old pictures of him pre-T or in early transition, etc. I knew he didn't want this found. He also hadn't told any of this group aside from the people he was especially close with and had invited to the wedding his surname and location in case they looked him up and found something.

People in the server were sharing their Facebook profiles and I shared mine so people could add me. My fiance messaged me right after pointing out that me sharing mine would dox him as I had him in my relationship status and friends list, but I unfortunately didn't see this message for a while as I was distracted and doing other things. By the time I saw, everyone in the group had already clicked and gone through my profile and found his.

He tried to go through and speed-delete everything he could find that was public that mentioned him being trans or showed him pre-transition, any comments from family referring to it, etc but pictures that were set to friends only were still popping up in previews on the side and some of his family have public profiles that show cover images with him pre-T and things like that.

Our friends were making jokes about finally knowing his surname, going through his whole account down to the time it was first made back in 2018, commenting on old statuses of his, so they definitely saw his profile and went through all of it. He was panicking because he had no way of knowing if they'd seen that he's trans or not and got super upset and freaked out about the possibility, and he couldn't ask without outing himself or making them suspicious.

I apologized and deleted the link but obviously by then it was too late.

I do think it's not a huge deal as much as he thinks because I know our friends would be supportive and wouldn't think of him differently, but I know it was still important to him. I'm not sure they did see because some of our friends are the type to have just blurted out "You're trans?!" in the server without thinking about it (not because they're malicious or judging it, but some of them aren't as online and don't really know how to talk about it sensitively if that makes sense) and they didn't say anything. However he thinks they did because they were talking about statuses older than the ones he managed to get to deleting in time.

Like I said i did apologize but I feel like he's still upset with me for not thinking before sending my profile. On top of that I have kind of a habit of doing things impulsively and without thinking (I have bpd and bipolar) and not always taking into account how it will affect him or what consequences it will have,which I've been working on for years but I worry this is just adding to that which I know already wears on him.

What are these acronyms?

[skyyguy]

#15 for Professor John and Student Gale for @trashbag-baby666 This is in Theo and my au where Gale is 20, a college student, and John is 33, a professor at the college. John teaches Sports Journalism/Broadcasting or something similar, and Gale enrolls in on one of John's classes after John subs for one of his teachers, even though it has nothing to do with his major. Gale's struggling in the class so John helps tutor him and they get close. Winter in WI can be brutal, and Gale lives out of his car. John sees him one night and offers him to come stay at his place with his two daughters-- a 5 and 3 year old-- and Gale reluctantly accepts. One of his feet is frost-bitten from his time staying in his car in the blistering cold, and he hides how bad it is from John, ignores it, until John takes him to the hospital with a high fever. Doctors have to amputate his leg, just below his knee, because of how bad it's gotten, by this point.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, John rose to his feet, his back and shoulders rolling as he stood upright, his spine cracking multiple times. He surveyed the room and the hastily put together furniture, popping his gum between his molars as he considered. He just hoped it would be good enough. He'd bought a new bed, a nightstand, bookshelves, a desk, and a dresser, all matching. While it wasn't expensive, he'd wanted something with a bit of quality to it, so it wasn't exactly cheap either. John sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand again before swiping it over his jeans.

He'd already had Gale's car towed into his driveway, already gotten all of his stuff out of the vehicle, though he hadn't wanted to put things away, since Gale might want to do that himself. The bed was unmade, but sheets and a thick comforter lay folded on top of it, ready to go. With any luck, Gale would let him make the bed for him, would let John help him put his belongings away. The past week, though, Gale had been moody and uncooperative, earning him more than a few glares and grumbled curses from nurses and doctors. John couldn't exactly blame him, he guessed. Though it wasn't exactly their fault he was in there in the first place.

His phone alarm went off in his pocket, startling him out of his thoughts, and John pulled the thing out, turning it off. Taking a deep breath, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. It was time to go pick Gale up, to bring him home. The girls were with Curt for the day, a carefully orchestrated plan so Gale wouldn't get too overwhelmed on his first day back. He knew Gale loved his daughters and that they loved him too, but John also knew Gale was extremely anxious about being discharged, even if he would never admit it. So, he'd asked Curt to keep the girls busy to give Gale some time to decompress. Curt had been more than happy to take his goddaughters for the day.

John got himself ready quickly, washing his face, combing his curls into something a little neater, changing into clean clothes, before tossing on his snow boots and heading out. The drive to the hospital was uneventful, thankfully, the roads clear of snow and ice and other cars. It was early enough on a Sunday, John supposed, that people were either in church or just staying in. He couldn't blame them, it was -2 degrees out. Which is why he parked as close to the hospital doors as he could and practically sprinted into the building.

"Mornin', doll," John greeted cheerfully when he brushed through the door to Gale's room. Gale blinked at him, eyes still blurry from sleep, as if he'd just woken up. Which he probably had.

"Mornin'" he replied, voice thick and rough with sleep. John found it endearing and he smiled brightly.

"Ready to blow this pop stand?" John asked, though he plopped himself in the chair beside Gale's bed as he said it, causing Gale to frown, brow furrowing in confusion, "after you get your morning meds, get dressed, and I sign the paperwork," John continued as way of explanation. Gale's confusion cleared, but he was still frowning, starting to pick nervously at the edge of the blanket John had brought him from his car. It was old, clearly, fraying at the edges, but well-loved and, clearly, a comfort item.

"Is my car still in the lot?" Gale muttered, as if afraid to even ask.

"Nah, I had it brought home," John replied, waving a hand in the air as if it were no big deal. Gale seemed to stiffen, but John couldn't tell if it was due to his words or his actions.

"Oh…" Gale sighed, forcing himself to relax, though John saw him cut a quick glance to his leg. Guilt welled inside John for the millionth time of the past week. He allowed himself to wallow for a few quick seconds before slapping his hands on his thighs— noting the way Gale flinched slightly— and standing up.

"A'ight, well, I dunno about you," John started, "but I hate hospitals and would just assume be on our way. Lemme go grab a nurse so we can be," he said, back to cheerful and smiley, before trotting out the door and tracking down the first nurse he could, roping them into helping with Gale's morning medications and getting the paperwork set for him to be discharged.

A little over an hour later, John's pulling the car out of the hospital parking lot, humming along to the radio while Gale sits and glowers out the window. He has that blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he's still picking at the frayed edge, anxious and uncertain. John can feel the weight of unspoken words in the air, can feel the tension thick and almost suffocating.

"You can drop me off at a motel or something," Gale whispered, almost too quiet to hear over the radio, finally breaking his silence. John's hand not on the steering wheel twitched.

"Why would I do that?"

"I have nowhere to go and my car's at your house…" Gale muttered, leaning his forehead on the cold glass of the passenger window.

"Yeah, which is why you're coming home with me," John replied, his tone light and easy, eyeing the rising tension in Gale's shoulders carefully.

"You don't have to," Gale said and John could hear the slightest bit of panic in his voice. He knew it was only going to grow.

"I want to," John assured, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal— though he knew it was. Gale finally looked over at him and John saw the panic haze in his eyes.

"I don't want to be a burden, and that's all I'd be," Gale retorted, biting his lip.

"Nah, you wouldn't be. I like having you around. The girls like having you around."

"I can't do anything, I can't pay rent, I can't- I can't- I ca- can't-" Gale stuttered out, the panic sinking it's claws into him. Before John could respond, Gale's hands were fumbling at the door handle and the door started to swing open. Without thinking, John lunged towards the door, jerking the car roughly, and slammed the door with his body splayed across Gale's lap. He held it as Gale tried to shove it open again, his whole body trembling, breathing harsh and quick as he hyperventilated. John managed to get the car to the side of the road, stopped, in park, and the doors locked without moving from his position.

"Buck," John tried to get his attention, seeing the way Gale's eyes had gone unfocused and wide, "Buck, hey, Buck, look at me," he tried again, sitting up and twisting in his seat, grabbing one of Gale's wrists gently. tapping with his forefinger. Gale didn't look at him, screwing his eyes shut instead.

"L-lemme go," Gale whispered. John reluctantly let go of his wrist, but he kept one hand poised to lock the car doors and one to grab Gale's wrist if he needed to.

"Gale," John said firmly, making the younger man flinch slightly, but he blinked his eyes open and looked at John, "it's okay, Gale," John tried to reassure him, but Gale shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. John wanted to wipe them away when they started spilling. He opened his mouth to say something, but choked on his breath and curled in on himself, one hand shooting his knee, gripping at the bandages.

"Hey, hey, none of that," John reached over and gently peeled Gale's hand away from the stump, twining their fingers together to let Gale clench his hand instead, "we'll figure things out, 'kay? But you're comin' home with me is non-negotiable. I signed legal paperwork saying I'd take care of you, if nothing else," John said softly, ducking his head to maintain eye contact when Gale tried to look away, "and, I want to take care of you. I want you to come stay with me. I want you there, okay? You're not a burden, not to me," John soothed him, relieved when Gale's panicked breathing started to ease. The blond screwed his eyes shut again, but he leaned back against the car seat, making a visible effort to calm his breathing, his hand squeezing John's tightly, the other on his uninjured leg.

They sat in silence for a long moment before Gale nodded, a short, sharp thing, and John let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He knew this was a discussion they'd have to have later on too, but he hoped that it could wait long enough for Gale to get really well settled and decide things were actually okay. John waited a few more moments, watching Gale settle back down, before throwing the car back into drive and pulling back onto the road. They'd only gone a few feet before Gale set his hand over John's on the gearshift. John smiled softly and moved his hand to let their fingers twine together, squeezing Gale's hand reassuringly.

"I had Curt take the girls so they don't instantly bombard you when we get home," John commented, wanting to say something but not knowing what else to say. Gale hummed softly but didn't reply, just stayed as he was, and John found that it was a relief, the lack of reaction. After all, with Gale, no reaction was usually better, he'd found. Well… Except for in one particular case.

"Hey," John said, squeezing Gale's hand softly, glancing over at him.

"Hmmm?" Gale replied, cracking his eyes to look over at John.

"Why didn't you tell me it hurt so bad?" John asked softly, his voice quiet, concern colouring his tone. He saw Gale stiffen slightly, saw his jaw clench out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not mad, Buck, I just want to understand," John explained, worried about setting Gale into another panic.

"I…" Gale started, looking out the window, his grip on John's hand tightening, almost painfully, "I thought I could handle it…" he muttered, his free hand ghosting over his stump, fingers twitching. His jaw was still tight and John could see the tears swimming in his eyes again.

"Baby…" John started softly, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing Gale's knuckles, "you don't have to do things alone anymore," he promised, breath hot against Gale's soft hands, "I want to help you, please let me," John begged gently.

"Sorry," Gale whispered, letting his head lean back on the headrets. John kissed his knuckles again before rubbing the back of Gale's hand against his cheek and nosing at his wrist.

"You don't need to apologize, doll," John assured him, keeping his eyes on the road despite the tempation to look at Gale, "I don't completely understand, but I want to, and even more than that I want to be there for you, no matter what, 'kay?" John saw him nod out of the corner of his eye. He knew he was being more romantic then they had been before, knew that they'd never really discussed what they were together, but it felt right. Though he really didn't seem to mind it, he just had to hope Gale truly didn't. After all, if he came on to Gale, moved Gale into his house, but Gale didn't want the same things… It might make things worse for Gale. John kissed Gale's pulse point before letting their hands drop back down, elbow resting on the center console, hands hanging over the cup holder.

"Can… Can I take a nap…? When we get to your- when we get home…?" Gale asked, voice small and nervous, as if afraid to ask, afraid to need, afraid to want. John's heart tightened at the tone, at the way he stuttered to a stop and changed his phrasing.

"You don't need to ask, darlin', you can do whatever you want," John hushed him, squeezing his hand. Gale made a small noise, but he didn't say anything. So John let the conversation lapse, content to let the radio play softly and fill the comfortable silence. He drove carefully, making sure to keep off any snow or ice that had formed or blown into the road, acutely aware of his precious passenger.

[creedslove]

RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨

Marcus Pike x f!reader

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

Summary: you and Marcus had a brief but loving marriage, until it wasn't anymore. Choosing an amicable divorce you both moved on with your lives until destiny made you run into each other once more, with a difference this time: your ex-husband was engaged now

Warnings: mentions of divorce, a little bit of angst, fluff, some jealousy, age gap (their ages are not specified but he's 10 years older than her)

A/N: besties, I'm so happy I finally managed to write something for our husband Pike. I've always wanted to do so, but I knew I couldn't just force myself into it otherwise it wouldn't work properly, and just like that, this idea came up and I couldn't get it out of my mind ❤️ also, I know some people don't like age gap, but I can't imagine reader being Marcus age mostly because reader is me 🥴 and also because it would make sense to the story, so although it's not specified, I pictured them getting married around early 20s(reader) early 30s (Pike) and running into each other again around late 20s/early 30s (reader) and late 30s/early 40s (Pike)

3.9k words

You weren't fond of getting married young, to you, it sounded nothing like madness, as you simply couldn't wrap your head around the fact that people often abdicated from their lives, plans and dreams to get stuck in a relationship. It made no sense to you, especially since you had been working your ass off during all your years in college, the prospect of having a successful and promising career motivated you to go after your dreams. Relationships, marriages, building up families hadn't crossed your mind at all, a little affair with a cute guy here and there were the only things that ever got remotely close to dating, at the same time you only saw yourself as someone who wouldn't settle down.

And that was before Marcus Pike walked into your life.

If someone asked you to explain what exactly happened, perhaps you wouldn't be able to understand it yourself let alone explain it to someone, but that man swept you off your feet. You'd met him during a history of art lecture at campus one Thursday evening. He had just joined the FBI in the art department, fresh in his new job but still assisting his former professor and mentor in college lectures. He was probably ten or so years older than you, and yet, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was by far the most handsome man you'd seen in those four long years you'd spent in that institution, there was something so captivating in his beautiful eyes, his breathtaking smile and how smart and sweet he was towards anyone. And he caught you staring; it seemed you took his attention as much as he took yours, and even if you needed that lecture for extra credit, you couldn't give a single crap about medieval art, because that man was everything you could see in front of you. That was so unlike your personality, usually, you'd be focused on everything else, but you simply couldn't look away from that handsome assistant.

When the lecture was finally over, you were sure you'd missed at least half of it, being too busy concentrating on someone else instead of the subject, you still had a few doubts about the matter and you walked to the stage, willing to ask the professor some questions and clarify any doubts you had, and that was the moment you both locked eyes for the first time. The handsome guy that caught your attention, whose name was Marcus, soon found out the moment you shook hands and realized how big his was compared to yours and how truly handsome he was, even more so than you had already noticed when you were a few meters away. He was also mesmerized by you and he couldn't hide it, he knew you were younger than him, but at that moment all he could process was how gorgeous and smart that girl was in front of him. He kept around while you talked to his mentor, being polite enough not to interrupt him but holding himself back so he wouldn't add his own comments. He just wanted an excuse to talk to you, see if he could approach and see where things could go, so the moment he had the opportunity to be with you alone for a while, he immediately threw his charms - and Marcus was a charming guy - in your first conversation you liked how intelligent and nice he was, he made you laugh and when he invited you to have pancakes some dinner nearby the campus, you couldn't say no.

And that was the beginning of your love story.

Everything you believed went through the roof from the moment you met Marcus. He was incredible, the most fascinating man you'd met and whereas he was older than you, that only seemed to spice things up both in the sexual and emotional sense. You had never been treated like that before, he made you feel like a queen, as cheesy as it may sound, that's just how you felt through your relationship with Marcus. He was a gentleman, sweet and he didn't know what to do in order to please you; he went slowly at first, even if his intentions were clear from the very first time you went out to eat, he was a little afraid you would be weirded out by him, and he couldn't be further from the truth. Each time he took you out on a date, it felt like you were living the plot of any sweet but cliche rom com movie. It felt just too good to be true and a part of you feared that it wouldn't work. But it did, for as long as it lasted.

The dates with Marcus were so special, he was thoughtful and he always made sure to take you somewhere nice; it was either a nice restaurant so you could get to know their different menu, or art galleries in which he would show you his favorite works and tell you as much as you wanted to hear about them. He was always afraid of boring you with his subjects but on the contrary, you always enjoyed listening to him talk, it was entertaining, soothing and you could spend hours watching how his eyes sparkled whenever he addressed anything he truly enjoyed. And even if he put some effort into them, your favorite date by far was whenever you two would spend some time just hanging out together in his apartment. Dim lights, old movies on TV and Marcus' protective grip around your body, always pulling you closer and making sure you were warm in his embrace for the rest of the night.

The first kiss you shared with him after you both went to the movies together. It was a classic movie rerun and even if Casablanca wasn't your favorite, you knew he enjoyed it, and seeing it on a big screen was definitely a nice experience. Besides, he promised you that once Titanic hit the theaters in the next classic session, he would definitely take you.

At the end of the movie, you walked out the theater holding hands, you were silent, but instead of reflecting over the story you'd just watched you reflected over your relationship with Marcus; you were falling deeper and deeper for him, deeper and more intensely than you ever thought you would, and when he stopped and placed your hands on your hips you couldn't resist being kissed by him.

It felt right.

The first night you both spent together was right after he took you to see the concert of his former band; he'd left the band when he graduated from college, but he still remained friends with the guys and eventually enjoyed visiting them on stage. And that night he insisted on taking his bass for a last ride and even risked a song on the microphone, all of that for you.

By then, there was no fighting or convincing otherwise, you were head over heels for Marcus; especially when you two had sex for the first time after that. One could think Marcus is too soft, but not when it comes to that; he knows how to act, how to please and how to demand what he wants and after you tried him, a real man, there was no way you could go back to college boys ever again.

Your relationship evolved fast and in less than a year he proposed to you; he was sure you were what he wanted in the future, just as you had thrown away all your beliefs and you'd surrounded yourself completely to the man you loved, so you said yes. Even if your whole life you said you wouldn't get married, not while young at least, not without having a consistent, successful career.

And there you were, fresh out of college, with very little work experience, a job in an area you didn't want but had to take in order to gather experience and knowledge and walking down the aisle in a white dress, feeling as happy as you could be, in order to become Mrs.Pike. The honeymoon had to be in Paris, a few people told you that couldn't be more cliche, and even if they meant it out of spite or if they were actually right, it didn't really matter to you; it felt so right for the two of you. Surrounded by art constantly during the day and making love at night, it was like a dream coming true, and you remember hoping your entire marriage would be like that: light, fun, full of love and happiness. And it was until it wasn't anymore.

You couldn't tell exactly when things started to go downhill, but if you had to guess, it would probably be due to the lack of time you both faced towards the end of your relationship. It just started getting harder after about a year, when the two of you really began struggling for your own careers. You, in your area, and Marcus with the FBI, it seemed to have become an obsession for you both, as date nights, walks in the park and gallery visitations simply stopped happening in order to focus on your extra tasks, overtime, solving cases. At some point it became a looping of excuses and promises to spend more time together:

"We'll go next weekend honey"

"We can have dinner together tomorrow"

"I promise I'll take you with me next time"

Needless to say, they never truly happened.

Just as you two distanced yourselves without even realizing, the bickering also started, adding another venomous sting to your relationship. Suddenly, small things turned into bigger ones, sources of stress and fights; if someone ever told you one day you'd have heated arguments with Marcus over a dropped sock, or an unwashed plate on the sink, you would call them crazy, but when that unfortunately happened to the two of you, you were shocked for a while, not believing you had become the kind of couple to argue over stupid things like those. It was heartbreaking. As you two barely had time for each other, sex was also off the table most nights, being too tired to do anything else other than sleep, Marcus suddenly came up with the idea of having a baby; he had a deep hope of fixing your marriage by getting you pregnant, after all, having kids had always been part of his plan and he was sure it was part of yours too.

At the same time you hadn't really thought it through. Technically, you had. You wanted kids. At some point, in the future, it wasn't rocket science to figure that adding a baby to a troubled marriage could not be the best idea. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, not when you saw the spike of excitement in his eyes, not when he held you and kissed you like in the beginning of your relationship, how he made time for you even if his FBI work was killing him, he still managed to bring you flowers, kiss you and made love to you. Perhaps he was trying to save your marriage, or he was just trying for the baby, you weren't so sure, but you could see the effort. And it was why it broke your heart to know you couldn't get pregnant at that moment, not with your job finally taking you places, the new opportunity of actually building a career and how young you still thought you were, being married was hard, but it was about you and Marcus, two adults who could handle yourselves but a baby? It was way too much responsibility. You couldn't find a way to tell him that, even if you were being a coward, it pained you you felt so hopeless to simply lie to Marcus and tell him you'd stopped taking your birth control pills, and even more so each time he looked at you with those disappointed, sad eyes, month after month of excitement and longing for that baby to be there, just to get a negative test after another. It was eating you up alive and after his insistence on taking you to a doctor - which you immediately refused - he managed to find your hidden stash of pills among your stuff. You tried explaining everything to him; how you weren't ready, you were scared and how broken you'd been at seeing him so upset. You cried, you opened your heart to Marcus and told him you wanted to be a mom to his child, some day, not at that moment, but in the future because things were finally working for the two of you once more. But you had lied to your husband, and lying to Marcus had no turning back.

He had no other option other than asking for a divorce after you lied and broke his heart, he felt upset, he could've forgiven you for many things, but not for playing with his heart when it came to the kids he dreamed of every single day.

You were tired, upset and at some point during your divorce process you'd convinced yourself you didn't love him anymore, but the reality was that you were just so empty you weren't able to feel things, you were numb.

The day you both signed the divorce papers in front of your lawyer and you were questioned whether you two wanted to go ahead with that decision, your heart shattered into a million pieces, more than any fights, when you heard Marcus' justification to why he was asking for the divorce.

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

When you heard those words, you had a sudden urge to get up and tear those papers into pieces, tell him you were both making a huge mistake, that toyover him and that you could make it work, you wanted to tell him you still had a beautiful future ahead of you, you and the gorgeous family you would have together. And the moment you took a deep breath to finally say all that out loud, you looked at Marcus signing the papers and officializing the divorce.

That was the last time you saw your ex-husband Marcus Pike, you just had no idea the next time you would run into him again would be in a few years later, while he was taking his new fiancee on a date.

•••

Marcus sighed as he could see the lack of excitement in Teresa's face the moment they got to the exhibit, he just didn't know why she agreed to go out with him if she didn't like it, it would be so much easier for the two of them if she was honest and told him she'd rather stay home and read a magazine, that way they would both be happy, and Marcus wouldn't have the feeling he was trying too hard all the time. Teresa liked him, she must have liked him, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his proposal and moved to DC with him. It was still early, she'd been there for a few weeks but he was confident things would work. He was hitting his forties now, one divorce, no kids and even if he finally got the position he had not only dreamed of but also worked so hard for in his dream job, he still felt something was missing. It took him a failed marriage to realize that money wasn't everything he needed, he simply missed the family he never had.

When he found Teresa he was still trying to pick the pieces of his heart, still trying to make things work on his own and when he saw her - an attractive, mature and intelligent woman, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be alone this time. You'd been the love of his life, he was convinced of that, but you two had gone way too fast and too intense, you were still young, you had so much to live so it made sense to him he would let you go and be free. He vowed himself not to rush into things, but this time it wasn't his choice, he was liking Teresa more and more and even if they weren't compatible most of the time, but when the opportunity of a lifetime came up he had to take his chances and she'd said yes. Still a little unsure and divided between him and Jane, but she said yes.

As they walked through the exhibit, he paid close attention to all the beautiful paintings scattered around the long hallways. He loved that atmosphere, the pictures so beautifully made by talented hands years or sometimes centuries ago.

"So it's just flowers?!" Teresa broke the silence as she looked around unimpressed and dragged his attention back to reality

"It's not just flowers, it's Monet… don't you like it? You told me you liked his paintings on our first date.." Marcus stated confused until the realization that she was just lying so she wouldn't appear ignorant or perhaps try to impress him a little. He saw how she cleared her throat and tried fixing what she just said but he stopped listening the moment he caught a glimpse of someone else crossing the same room and standing next to Rouen Cathedral, admiring it intently. He didn't even need to look twice to know it was you. You, who always loved that painting, even if it wasn't Monet's best in your ex-husband's opinion, you who had a fascination with old constructions such as cathedrals and would always snap several pictures of them, you, who was never exceptional at art but managed to get by and eventually fell more and more in love with art because of Marcus, not because you wanted to impress him or have him thinking you were smart, but because he actually made you see why he had that passion for it. And the moment that you turned around, his heart skipped a beat.

You looked the same, and yet, you also managed to look even more beautiful; more mature, more confident in yourself and for a brief moment Marcus was frozen in time, it was just like the first time he saw you, in which he could only see you in front of him and nothing else. He had no idea you still had that effect on him, it was so unusual and surprising and even if he had stalked your social media profiles here and there over the course of your separation, even if he wasn't proud of it, it was completely different than seeing you right there in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, should he approach you? Talk to you? Pretend he didn't see you?

However, he didn't time to think any further about it, not when you turned around and spotted him, your eyes widening at the moment you saw him. Much to your surprise your heart also raced at the sight of your ex-husband. Was it your mind playing tricks or was he even more handsome? You hadn't planned on approaching him, but you felt as if you were being taken involuntarily towards him.

"Marcus?! Hi!" You said with a sweet smile as he politely greeted you, expressing how surprised he was to see you and even more so to actually talk to you

"Wow, you look great… So beautiful" he smiled as you blushed softly and giggled

"You too, still very handsome… so what brings you to D-" you interrupted by a woman who walked in and wrapped her arm around his waist. She eyed you up and down, even if she still tried to be polite and discreet about it. You swallowed hard feeling awkward and Marcus turned to the other woman

"This is Teresa, my fiancee and this is my ex-wife" he cleared his throat as he said your name and Teresa simply nodded her head. You returned the gesture and the moment you meant to ask him a question she barged in

"You're his ex-wife? But you're so young…" you could see the light pink spreading through his cheek and groaned at how dumb she really was.

"Yeah, I'm younger than him… and are you a little older than Marcus?" You returned the sting with the same amount of poison and she scoffed, looking at him and groaned

"I'll go to the restroom" she said without looking into your eyes and walked away, making you chuckle as Marcus shot you a questioning look which you just shrugged and went back to the question that was lingering on your mind

"So, what are you doing here in DC? Having a romantic getaway or vacations?"

"Actually, I've moved here after I was promoted to the head of the new art department" he said with his typical smile and you could see how his eyes crinkled, your heart warming up as you expressed genuine surprise and happiness to know that. You were a witness to how hard he had worked for that and it just filled your heart with pride to know he made it. You weren't sure how to act, perhaps it wasn't right, but you had already wrapped your arms around his neck and given him probably the tightest hug you'd ever done. Even if it was brief, you couldn't help but feel how built up he was, how stronger he'd become and his characteristic scent made you so warm on the inside, it felt like you could've stayed forever in his embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Marcus! Honestly, you deserve it! I know I haven't been the most supportive wife and I'm very sorry about everything that happened, I should've been nicer to you, but well, all I'm trying to say is that I'm so proud of you!"

You said wholeheartedly and even if there were so many other things you needed to tell him, you knew it wasn't the right time and place. He just smiled and nodded, taking your hands into his big ones and thanking you for the support.

"Do you think we could grab a coffee or something? Just catch up?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know if it's a good idea, I mean, I can tell Teresa isn't my biggest fan and being honest with you, I wouldn't like my fiance's ex-wife around very much, but it's amazing to see you Marcus, truly, it makes me glad to know you are somewhat closer" you smiled again but let go of his hands the moment Teresa returned. Once more she just lingered around him, almost territorial as if she wanted to show you who owned Marcus. He also felt that, and it made him quite uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and looked at you, saying goodbye and explaining they had dinner reservations.

As you watched them both leave, you felt a pang in your chest, thinking of the wonderful place he was probably taking her, the elaborate dates he had planned, the beautiful family they would probably build together. It could've been you, it was you for a while, unlike he might have thought you wanted all that with him, but it took you a divorce to realize it was a situation of the right person, wrong time. Perhaps if you tried again, it would work, you would like it to work, but Marcus had moved on, found himself someone he cared about and you had no right to break his heart and ruin his happiness once more.

____

A/N: my besties, I really hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is just a one-shot or if there'll be a continuation but I am so happy how this turned out. I love Marcus and I'm so happy our handsome FBI boyfriend finally got his own piece here! ❤️ remember that feedback is life, I'd love to hear what you all thought of it ❤️

[jeon-s-sins]

Fighter - Three

Synopsis: YN, a young student in her final year of a master’s degree in international business, is forced to move. She is in a “bad” part of Seoul, without much income. Prostitution, drugs, and violence are commonplace, and the police think twice before setting foot in the area. Jungkook, a young student living alone in this cruel world, is forced to fight underground to earn money to pay for his rent and expensive studies. Unfortunately, the two young people meet in a very inconvenient situation and will see their lives change overnight.

Warning: Mention of alcohol, violence (fight), bad words, flirting that will make you sleep upright; the rest you will discover as you read, no spoilers. 😉

Word count: 12.8k

Chapter song: Unstoppable - NEFFEX

n/a: English is not my first language, so I may have missed some mistakes while proofreading. Happy New Year to all! May this year be full of joy and success. It took a long time, but it's finally here! I had a lot of fun writing this part, and I hope you enjoy it. Enjoy reading, and please don’t forget to vote, comment, and ask questions if there are any. 😁.

Translations, republications, and rewritings of my stories are not allowed. Failure to comply with this request will result in legal action.

©Jeon_s_Sins

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Hearing the garbage truck outside because of the windows' poor insulation, you estimated it was early morning, around 6:30. It's often around this time that they pass through your neighborhood.

Changing position in your bed, you toss and turn, trying to find a more comfortable position to immerse yourself in the world of dreams a little longer.

Since you hadn't found an internship, there was no point in getting up early. The deadline for finding and applying for an internship at your university was yesterday. It was too late to find anything; even the meaningless internships wouldn't serve.

Fortunately, you had the chance to try your luck the following school year. But this was your one and only chance. If you hadn't found anything by the start of the new school year, you'd be off to do it again. Since you'd passed your previous semester, you didn't have to attend classes; you only completed your six-month internship before writing and defending a thesis before finally graduating and bidding farewell to student life.

In the meantime, you had plenty of time to find something to do, so you wouldn't rush things and enjoy a little more time to make up for missed sleep.

Besides, you couldn't even remember how you got home. Still with your eyes closed, yet wide awake, your brain hadn't allowed you to sleep peacefully, projecting a few vague, disordered images.

You only knew that Jungkook had told Minjun he was taking you home... Jungkook...

You jumped up, sitting on the bed, finally awake and disoriented. Once you knew where you were, you concluded you weren't home.

You turned on the bedside lamp and noticed the room was tiny and dilapidated. The curtains blocked out the sun's rays, but given the time the alarm clock indicated, the sun hadn't risen yet, at least not entirely.

The walls were in a deplorable state. There were holes here and there, probably from bullet holes. Some of them had been shabbily plugged with plaster, but nobody had bothered to repaint over them, leaving big white marks on a disgusting salmon-orange wall.

An old wooden cross stood just above your head, and the bed's headboard was made of old bars.

There were two single beds in the room. Your bed was the one against the wall, just below the window, while barely a meter away from you was another identical bed, with only a pitiful little bedside table separating them.

The state of the other bed indicated that you hadn't spent the night alone. Jungkook had been keeping you company. But you didn't know that the poor man hadn't slept a wink all night and watched over you with his eyes glued to the bedroom door.

He knew what went on inside the walls of such buildings. Prostitution, kidnapping, and worse. But there was no way he would let a stranger into his home. Sure, he'd saved you on your first night in the neighborhood and offered to keep an eye on you for tonight, but deep down, he didn't know you.

He didn't doubt your innocence, but you never know. That's why he preferred to bring you to this hotel so that you couldn't say where he lived in case you got into trouble and were asked where he lived.

Jungkook was no fool. If you lived a life like he did, fighting underground for a few years, you'd have accumulated countless enemies, and almost certainly, unfortunately for you, some of them must have interacted with you.

Living in the neighborhood and frequenting the Den, you'll quickly learn that rumors travel faster than the blink of an eye. So it's for your own good to avoid each other.

Although you were not close, and Jungkook had no intention of becoming so, it was best to maintain a distance between you both. This protects you from further harm and ensures that he does not waste his time unnecessarily saving a stranger. He has more important matters to attend to than playing the hero.

Before ending whatever you guys had, he left the room quickly to buy you hangover medicine and haejangguk, a soup known for its effectiveness against hangovers. Haejangguk is a soup with Chinese cabbage, vegetables, and meat cooked in beef broth.

Having no table, he had left them on the bed he had occupied at night. As you approach the latter to take the contents left by Jungkook, you notice that he has left a note.

"Eat quickly. Come to your senses and get the hell out of here. Your car is parked in front of the entrance on your left. Stay out of trouble, princess. - JK. "

"Tsk." A simple good morning sufficed.

Barely awake, and you were already in a bad mood. Even when Jungkook wasn't around, he still managed to annoy you. On the other hand, you had to admit, it was nice of him to think of your hangover. He didn't have to.

Although you like to contradict and annoy him, you followed his instructions today. You do not even eat the haejangguk; instead, you take the hangover medicine, pack your things, and leave the hellish place. Opening the bedroom door, you stumble into a sinister, dark corridor.

"And they dare to call it a hotel. This is more like a place straight out of hell."

A few holes in the wall allowed the first thin rays of sunlight to enter. As you turn at the end of the corridor, you encounter a man lying on the floor, who appears to be heavily intoxicated. It is unclear whether he is breathing, and you wouldn't approach him to find out.

You quickly exited this gloomy place, taking the stairs despite the strong smell of urine and vomit. You passed through an empty reception area before leaving the key on the counter and skipping out.

As indicated in Jungkook's note, your car was parked near the entrance to this so-called hotel. Thank goodness you found it in one piece and in its original condition.

It was time to go home, shower, and enjoy the haejangguk.

The rest of the day had been dull. You tried your best to find something to do but soon ran out of options. It had been a few weeks since you'd watched the last game of AOT (Attack on Titans), and you'd finished it for good. It was the same for Naruto and Naruto Shippuden. You'd started Boruto but weren't too hooked after watching a few episodes. Maybe it was because you'd watched both Naruto series in succession. So you will let some time go by before picking it up again.

So, that afternoon, you opted for something different. You've been watching a Thai BL series. You even came to envy the characters. Sure, their stories had plenty of drama, but at least they weren't alone and had someone who shared their feelings.

In these moments, you realized just how alone you were in this world. No parents, no family, no friends, let alone a boyfriend. You even acknowledged that no one would notice if anything ever happened to you.

If at least you had a job or were still going to class, your absence would be noted, but you had neither. In your current situation, the only way your disappearance will be noted is by your landlord when you stop paying the rent, which would be too late.

"You lead a sorrowful life, my poor girl." Sighing, you look towards the wall clock and notice that the day is drawing to a close and sunset is just around the corner.

Grabbing your plaid, journal, phone, AirPods, and small portable photo printer, you headed for your fridge, grabbed a couple of cans of beer, and headed up to the rooftop to which only you had access.

With all the events that had taken place in your life over the last few days, you'd still found time to do up the roof, which from now on would be your safe place in this corrupt and hellish world.

You had bought artificial turf to cover the rough concrete floor. On the left-hand side, you had placed a small round garden table in case you wanted to eat quietly one day while admiring the view and take advantage of the sunny days to sunbathe a little. Moreover, the timing was perfect, as you had no neighbors. No one would notice if you felt like sunbathing in the nude, which was an idea to keep in your mind.

Continuing your property tour, you added plant pots and flowerpots here and there. Garden gnomes would keep you company on days like today when you came alone, which would be very often until proven otherwise.

There were a few comfortable bean bags where you could take delicious naps. You'd hung a few rows of garlands that could be recharged using solar panels. You'd hung a few more on the concrete railing.

You still had some things to buy, but for the moment, it was already better and more comfortable than before.

Although you'd invested in a table and some footstools, you decided to stand on the concrete balcony railing for now. You use a small bench already there the day you moved in to do this. You climb on it before finding yourself with both feet dangling in the air and looking off into the distance.

You had an incredible view. The sky was painted in a multitude of colors. Even though the sky was still blue when you looked overhead, the blue faded to violet in the distance, then pink, red, and finally orange. This orange color revived to become brighter, even golden, as the sun was setting. The clouds, too, took on a completely different color, blending in with those of the sky.

From where you stood, you had a view of the Namsan Tower. But unlike its usual size, it looked tiny to you.

At this very moment, to put you in an even more relaxed mood, you put on your Airpods and switch on your chillax playlist on Spotify before pulling out your phone and taking many photos.

Still enjoying the presence of the sun and its last majestic moments, you open your first can of beer and take a sip.

You take a deep breath before releasing it all.

"Now that's what I call living." You didn't understand how quiet moments like that scare some people.

Not that you judged them, because you're no one to judge others. But you didn't understand how people can't stand to be alone and have quiet moments. You didn't understand how people lived constantly surrounded by many people. A loner as you are, the little time you get to hang out with your classmates, your social battery runs out in a snap. Living like this, going out and partying every day, you'd end up losing your mind or shooting yourself between the eyes. But that was just your personal opinion. Everyone was free to live as they wished.

The music playing in your ears, matching the comfortable atmosphere, was interrupted by Siri's robotic voice.

"You have an incoming call from 'My Hero.' Would you like to take the call?" Who the hell is my hero? You had no idea you'd registered a contact under that name. Especially as you didn't have any friends, you got on well with only a few classmates, but not enough to call them that.

Curiosity killing the cat, you decide to take the call anyway.

"Hello?" Your voice sounded uncertain.

"Isn't it very cordial to take pictures of your neighbors without their knowledge?" An unfamiliar male voice sounded from the other end of the line. "What about other people's image rights and privacy rights?"

You were confused. What was your neighbor talking about?

"Excuse me, but I think you've got the wrong person." You were about to hang up when his voice rang out again.

"Ouch. You offend me, YN." The sound of your first name calls out to you. "It pains me to see you not recognize your savior's voice." There was sarcasm in his voice, a far cry from the sorrow he claimed to feel.

"My savior?" You twisted your brain in all directions but didn't recognize the person. The only person who could have that title was-

"Jung... Jungkook?"

"Bingo. Princess." The more he spoke, the more his voice sounded like Jungkook's. How did this moron get your number?

"How?"

"Face ID is great these days. You should be more careful when you sleep in the company of strangers."

"Don't worry, after that one, I learned my lesson. The question is, why?" This question had been burning your lips since you learned of his identity.

"As much as I don't want to, we'll see a lot of each other. So I thought, 'Why not?' "

"Bold of you to think I'd want to see you."

"Stop giving yourself such big shoes to fill, princess. We both know you're dying to see me again. In fact, to make it easier for you, I will give you a little present." You could tell from his voice that he was smirking.

"Oh, yeah? What?" You expected anything but what he was about to tell you.

"Look ahead." By pure automatism, you look in the direction of the ground, which makes Jungkook laugh.

"I said before you, not toward the ground, dummy." You're about to throw a good one in his face when your gaze fixes on a point across the street.

In the house opposite yours was a shirtless Jungkook perched at his window.

You'd already seen him shirtless on your first visit to the Den when he was fighting Bazooka. But his constant movements had made it hard for you to get a good look at him. But now that he was standing in front of you, motionless, you had all the time in the world to look at him and analyze him in depth.

He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He had a small white towel around his neck, which he'd probably used to dry his hair. His pecs were well-rounded and prominent. Since his forearms were resting on the window railing, you couldn't see his abs very well, but you could see two small valleys announcing their start.

"Take a picture, it'll stay longer."

Out of your contemplation, your defensive mode is directly activated.

"Like I'd want to waste space on my phone's storage with a picture of you. Although, I could use it to scare the monsters out from under my bed."

"That's perfect, princess. That way, I'll be your hero once again."

You pretend to find his words hilarious. "In your dreams, Quasimodo."

"Are you aware that in the end, Quasimodo is considered a hero? So that little nickname coming from you sounds like a compliment." From your perch, you see Jungkook bring a hand to his heart as if your words had gone straight to it.

"It wasn't a compliment, you fool. You're insufferable." This makes him laugh and brings a smile to your face.

Although you pretended you couldn't stand him, you couldn't hide that he wasn't unpleasant to look at and that his company wasn't unpleasant either. Moreover, he seemed alright from the few times you'd been around him. He was a bit like you, a good person in a world of bullies, trying to survive as best as possible.

Besides, it reminds you that you hadn't had a chance to thank him for caring for you and saving you from a massive headache again.

"By the way, thanks for last night and this morning."

"Stop it, princess, you'll make me shed a tear." He teases you again.

Rolling your eyes, you reply. "No, forget what I said. I'll take it back. That'll teach me to be polite to a guy with an ego as big as his head."

His laugh was soft, childlike, though infectious, provoking yours in return. "But seriously." He says once he regains his seriousness. "Watch out. I won't be around all the time. Remember, some weirdos are lurking around."

"I told you yesterday, and I'm telling you again, I don't need to be taken care of. So you don't have to worry, Mr. Vigilante."

"Ha. Right," Jungkook figured you were too naive for this world. He didn't know your situation or even if you had a family, but he said you seemed to have been raised in the world of Care Bears. The few times he'd seen you, you'd been wrapped up in a mess, or almost certainly would have been if he hadn't intervened yesterday.

But he didn't know anything about you or your story. He didn't know that you were an orphan and that, for a time, you'd been living on the streets. Fighting tooth and nail for an expired milk carton before entering the orphanage. He also didn't know how many times you'd moved from family to family before finding the right one, only to have it savagely ripped away from you overnight.

But that was too topical for him to know. You doubted he'd ever find out.

"Anyway, thanks again." He doesn't respond verbally; you just see him nod. "Hey? You going to the Den tonight?"

Jungkook didn't understand the reason for your question but answered you anyway. "No. I only go there when I have fights."

If you only knew how much Jungkook hated this place and its atmosphere. He only goes there because the pay is attractive, which allows him to pay his rent and schooling, as well as what will enable him to make ends meet.

"Why do you ask?" You couldn't see, but Jungkook raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"No reason. Pure curiosity, that's all."

"YN, curiosity killed the cat. And a little friendly advice: you shouldn't go back there."

"Tsk, I didn't know we'd become friends." You retort.

"Us, friends? Ha. No, baby, you're the bane of my existence, a far cry from what I call being friends. It's just that I don't want to have to step in again to save your pretty little ass from the brink again. I've already had my fill."

"Don't worry, dear, you're the last person I'd ask for help in a jam." You could hardly believe it yourself, so Jungkook's following reaction was well and truly understandable.

"We'll see about that."

"Your lack of faith in me is hurtful." You tell him falsely offended.

"And justified. Remind me how we met?" Silence on your part had answered him. "That's what I say."

"Shut up, Quasimodo." For all answers, Jungkook sends you a floating kiss, which you pretend to dodge, almost falling backward.

Regaining your balance, you send an embarrassed smile toward your hero slash neighbor. In worry, Jungkook straightens; if looks could kill, you'd already be six feet under.

"YN, I swear you'll be the death of me."

To kill your discomfort, you retort, "Like that will keep me up at night. Sounds like a you problem, buddy."

For all answers, Jungkook shakes his head.

"That's not all, but I've got to go, princess. I remind you, I have a life."

You give him the thumbs-up and thank him again, but Jungkook says one last thing before you hang up. "Good night, neighbor. And try not to kill yourself coming down from your perch."

"I might come and haunt you." You hear him laugh. "Good night, Quasimodo." Then you hang up.

You watch as your new neighbor closes his windows and sinks into his home. On the other hand, you decide to stay outside a little longer, admiring the starry sky, while the music picks up where it left off.

It's crazy to say that some stars you're looking at now no longer exist. The sky is something that will always fascinate you. The days go by, and not for a single day will the sky resemble that of the day before or two or even three centuries ago. The same goes for the stars.

Many of today's stars are already dead. Some are so far away that their light takes billions of years to reach us. In the meantime, something may have happened to them, causing them to disappear from the universe.

That's why we say looking at the sky is like looking into the past.

It's also why you didn't understand people who bought stars. Sure, it may be romantic and incredible, but in the end, they're probably buying something that no longer exists.

But then again, you're not judging anyone or anything. Once again, you're just stating your opinion. Still, if someone were to tell you and prove that they'd bought you a star, you'd be touched by the gesture because, in the end, it's the gesture and the intention that counts.

Opening your second can of beer, you take a few sips before turning your attention to your phone and the little photo printer, long abandoned on the low wall beside you.

Like all other youngsters and children from your orphanage, you participated in a therapy session. And during one of them, the psychologist suggested that you take some time to write down everything that was going on in your head in a journal. This would allow you to clear your mind of all the toxins, doubts, and questions that poisoned your spirit to make way for serenity.

So, for years, you'd been playing the game. At first, you were a little lost, not knowing what to write down. Then, as time passed, you gave your imagination desires and needs free rein. You wrote about your experiences during the day. But also your doubts, your sorrows, the words of a song running through your head. Inspiring phrases that matched your life and state of mind at the time.

Tonight, you decided to put up the photo you'd taken of the sunset and, with it, your thoughts of the moment.

You thanked the heavens for having put Jungkook in your path, which at the moment was proving to be a beautiful encounter. Just like the magnificent sunset, he had brought a little color into your dull life, dulled by time and the deeds and accomplishments of recent times. And even if Jungkook's presence in your life is as fleeting as the time of a sunset, you'll always be grateful to him.

As night falls, you return to the shelter of your home. Leaning back on your bed, you gaze up at the ceiling of your room, asking yourself: "And now, what?"

You'll be out of school for a year with no source of income. If you wanted to continue living under this roof, you'd have to work your ass off to find something to pay the rent and make ends meet. You had no choice but to work and no longer rely on the government aid given to young students in times of hardship.

From now on, you have to rely on your own resources and manage to bring home the money and the food, like the big girl you are.

You spend about two hours looking for ads for odd jobs here and there on the Internet, but nothing comes up. At least, nothing exciting or close to home. Most ads come from the center of Seoul, only a few kilometers from where you live. Doing a thankless job, finishing very late at night, and having to take public transport for forty-five or even an hour's journey is demotivating.

But just as you were giving up hope of finding anything tonight, a flash from the night before comes back to mind.

Before you were entirely out of your mind, you remembered that Minjun had put up an ad saying they were looking for a bartender.

Admittedly, there were better kinds of jobs than this - you were bound to come across some insufferable drunkards and guys who would be quick to want to have you in their bed. Not to mention the harmful, violent, and damaging atmosphere for your little person, but on the other hand was that it wasn't really far from home, and you already knew Minjun.

You've got nothing to lose by trying. You can always break the contract if it becomes too much of a burden.

You didn't have Minjun's number and couldn't find the bar's contact details online. You had no choice but to go there and talk to him face-to-face.

It was still early, so the place was closed to the public. You hoped, by some miracle, that Minjun would already be there and that they'd agree to let you talk to him.

The two substantial black doors were closed, so you knocked forcefully on the door without wasting any more time and praying to heaven that you'd be heard. The place was vast, and you had to go down some stairs before you could access the main space, so you wouldn't typically make yourself heard by knocking.

A few moments later, having achieved nothing, you try again. You were about to knock a third time, but the door opened, almost hitting you in the face.

A man, no... a gorilla opens the door. He was most certainly two meters by two meters. You could even bet he was wider than your fridge. Dressed in black from head to toe, while he had an earpiece in his ear.

"Drop by later, we're closed." The man grunts and shuts the door in your face without even giving you time to express yourself. Except that, before he's had a chance to close it completely, you block it with your foot, just like you've seen people do in the movies. Except in the film, they don't show how much this shit hurts.

Swallowing a complaint, you try to negotiate with a gorilla. "I know, but please, I need to talk to Minjun. It's about the barmaid position." Scrutinizing you up and down, the man opens the door a little more, barely enough to let you in.

"Thank you."

He lets you pass him before locking the large doors and asking you to follow him. After descending the few steps separating you from the main area, you notice that everything has stayed the same as the previous day. The only difference was that all the lights were on, and you had a better view of the space.

"Minjun, there's someone here for you. It's about the bartender position." Announces the gorilla, immediately stepping aside to resume his activities, leaving you alone facing an empty bar. Empty until you hear the clink of glass bottles before a brunette head appears in your field of vision.

"Good evening-" Rising to his feet and looking in your direction, Minjun seemed surprised to see you standing before him.

"So, just like that, little one wants to play in the big leagues." He teases.

"Yeah, well, I'm not necessarily thrilled with the idea, but I'm really in need."

"Do you have any experience in the field?" Minjun rests his forearms on the counter, putting down what he is doing to give you his full attention.

"If you consider drinking everything you can get your hands on when you find out your ex is cheating on you, then yes."

"Tsk." He shakes his head, escaping a small laugh. "That's not exactly reassuring, little one. But you're lucky we're actually in need." This isn't very advantageous for him because whoever says no experience says training and lack of time to train you. But on the plus side, you're already there, and there are still three hours to go before the first customers show up. So he had some time to show you the basics, and he'd show you the rest as time went on and as you needed it.

"Join me behind the counter. I'll show you where things are and the most basic and common recipes. But before that, I'll show you the staff changing rooms where you can get rid of your stuff." He said once you'd joined him behind the bar counter.

You passed through a door linking the bar directly to the storeroom, which gave direct access to a corridor that only staff could use, leading to a checkroom and toilets. There was also another door on the left, providing access to the outside. "You can go through there when you start your shifts instead of through the front door, but also to smoke during your breaks or just to get some fresh air."

Having cleared away your belongings and returned to the bar, you give Minjun a hand. You restocked the drinks and other things you would need during the evening. You were also allowed to familiarize yourself more with where everything was placed.

Minjun also took the opportunity to explain a few recipes to you. "Don't worry if you can't remember them; just have some cheat sheet on the worktop." Indeed, some small laminated sheets were stuck on the worktop and on the counter's inner barrier, sheltered from the customers' view. "Cheater."

"What? Sometimes even the best have memory lapses." He pats you on the shoulder teasingly.

"Anyway, the most important thing is not to panic at the sight of the crowd. Do the orders one by one to avoid getting lost, and if you have any doubts, don't hesitate to come and ask me or Sohan, the other barman."

You nod and continue to prepare the drinks he asks you to practice. It wasn't all plain sailing. Tonight, you had to prove to him and the others that you were trustworthy and that you did indeed belong here. Besides, it was one less thing to worry about.

"When do I start?" You ask.

"Are you free tonight?" You nod, "Then tonight will be."

Oh. That fast? At least you won't have to wait long to have an answer. Mentally unprepared, you start to feel your hands becoming sweating.

"Be thankful tonight's fight was between amateurs and not Bullet Fists. Otherwise, it would have been hell for you."

Bullet Fists. Jungkook. Quasimodo.

You hadn't thought much about it, but working at the Den - if it became official in the days - meant you might see your beautiful neighbor more often than you'd imagined, which, in all honesty, wasn't unpleasant.

"Good." He says, clapping his hands and pulling you out of your thoughts. "Let's talk about the payment." Now you were starting to speak the same language.

"For tonight, if you can make it to the end and manage properly, you'll be paid 1 .291 .689₩" (€900 │ $991.30 │ £780.41).

"That much?" Shocked to earn so much for a few hours of work.

"Yeah, not counting tips from customers. And if you ever come to do business with us, you'll earn double. Don't forget, darling, that you're working in a place that's underground and where money flows freely."

No wonder, even in places like this, some people like you accept work without worrying about the risks.

"We've got half an hour before we open. Do you think that's enough time to get dolled up? I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for in the lost and found." He points to you.

"Did you guys find make-up?"

"You'll be shocked at how much we find once the customers leave."

Wasting no more time, you head off to the changing rooms and rummage through the lost and found. Everything: lipsticks, pencils, liner, mascara, perfume, clothes, and even shoes and telephones. It's in circumstances like this that you realize how absent-minded people can be when they're drunk. Worst of all, no one seems to have come to claim them.

It was barely ten o'clock on a Saturday morning when Jungkook's phone rang while he slept peacefully. The only sound in his house was his snoring, which clattered against his bedroom walls.

At first, Jungkook thought the unbearable noise from his phone was a dream, but when his subconscious awakened, trapping Jungkook in between the real world and the dream world, he realized it was his phone ringing.

He groped his mattress for his phone without even opening his eyes.

"What?" His morning voice was hoarse, low, and raspy. He knew very well who was on the line. That dog-bark ringing was registered to his "trainer," or the man who only called him when he had to fight for large sums of money.

"A little respect for your elders, you moron." Jungkook didn't care; he only wanted to go back to sleep. The night before, Jungkook stayed up until four to finish a job due first thing Monday.

This assignment was a group project, but Jungkook did it alone as usual, refusing to waste time socializing with his classmates.

"Get on with it." he barks again, becoming increasingly grumpy.

"All right, then. Tonight. The Den. Fight against Bazooka. See you at midnight. Is that short enough for Sleeping Beauty?" His trainer teased, knowing full well that this was playing on the younger man's nerves.

"Hmm." Jungkook grunts, rubbing his face against the mattress for lack of a pillow. "I've told you before that for this sort of thing, you can leave a message just fine."

"Yeah, and run the risk of you not reading it."

"Tsk. As if I'm going to miss an opportunity to kick this bastard's ass. Besides, it looks like last time's beating wasn't enough for him."

"Apparently not. Jung-Ho's trainer kept bombarding my phone with calls and messages to arrange a meeting between you."

"That guy must really be a masochist." Says Jungkook, referring to his opponent, fully awake now.

"Or maybe he's fallen for your charm." Jungkook rolls his eyes as his trainer laughs at the possible situation.

"It's possible. He's not the first and certainly won't be the last. Everyone falls for Bullet Fists' charm and charisma."

"Okay. That's my cue to cut this call short. You're fully awake, and your oversized ego has resurfaced."

"Oh, come on, coach, fess up. You've fallen for it too."

"Yeah, right. Well, come on, kid. Don't forget, midnight sharp." Then he hangs up.

It had been a week since Jungkook had set foot in the Den, and he wasn't unhappy about it. The farther away he was from this place, the better off he was.

Since the death of his parents a few years ago, when Jungkook was just eighteen, his life has been turned upside down.

This happened during the summer vacations when his parents were away on a romantic evening without Jungkook. On their way home, they were hit by a car belonging to a group of young people returning from a night out.

The news sent Jungkook into a frenzy, and he was only calmed when he made those responsible for his parents' death pay.

Before the death of his parents, Jungkook was what we consider a good boy. Polite, kind, helpful, and very shy. Especially towards girls. Today, Jungkook was a completely different man. Rude to some, no longer shy and charming. He was a massive hit with the ladies.

But deep down, he was still the sweet boy he once was; it's just that after all the shit life had thrown at him in the dark hours of his life, Jungkook found himself trapped in a darkness that refused to leave him.

It was pure chance that one night, he came across a man who later became his coach. It was this man who had introduced him to the life of an underground fighter he led today.

He had no ill intentions towards Jungkook. He wanted to help him, but he didn't have the means to do so, so he did it the only way he knew how. He had seen a glimmer of hope and life in Jungkook that he hadn't believed in for many years.

So the man welcomed him into the cubbyhole that was his apartment and taught him how to fight. Introducing him to street fighting was the only way he could help Jungkook make a decent sum of money fairly quickly.

In return, without realizing it, Jungkook brought a glimmer of life into the man who had taken him in. He let him know what it was like to be a father. For the man, Seokjin, life wasn't all rosy either, and Jungkook had given him a breath of fresh air.

The relationship between Jungkook and Seokjin was not just that of coach and fighter. It was that of a father and son but also of two brothers.

Seokjin sometimes regretted his decision to introduce his dark life to Jungkook. But as he looked back on Jungkook's living conditions when he first met him, he felt the poor boy could have fallen even further.

For the rest of the day, Jungkook prepared for his evening fight. With all the money he'd made from his fights, he'd been able to save up enough to buy some body-building equipment.

But while taking a break after having already trained for an hour and forty-five minutes without respite, he allowed himself a break to drink water and smoke.

Opening his windows, his gaze wandered in the direction of your home. Who would have thought that the distressed young woman he saved one evening would turn his thoughts upside down?

It had been a week since your last interaction, but it was still fresh in his mind.

It may have been wrong and out of place given the circumstances in which your paths crossed, but Jungkook still remembers the shape of your topless, perfect body.

The image of the valley of your breasts, though covered by your bra, haunted his memory. The curves of your body, right where it should be, the warmth of your body caressing his. Your scent still wafting through his car after he dropped you off at home.

Then, that famous night after his fight just a week ago when he'd realized you were his kind of girl. Sweet and naive, but also a strong woman with much fight.

The cat-and-mouse game you two played over the phone was like sweet music in his ears.

That night at the dingy hotel, Jungkook couldn't close his eyes all night, his gaze riveted on your silhouette, which he glimpsed thanks to the moonbeams seeping through the window. And although you found yourself in a nauseating place with a man you didn't really know, you slept so peacefully. As if you trusted him completely.

"Idiot." Yet a gentle, blissful smile that gave him a boyish air had taken possession of his soft lips.

Realizing how silly he looked, Jungkook shook his head to chase away these ideas that would get him nowhere. On the other hand, even though he hadn't heard from you since that famous time, he had noticed that you'd been going out at the same time for the past week and coming home at noon.

And here you are again.

Not that he was worried but curious. What could you be doing alone at such hours when you'd only just moved into a neighborhood like this?

"What are you meddling with, man? What she does or doesn't do is none of your business." And with that reprimand, he closes his windows to get ready.

"Hey, Little one. So, are you ready for the big night?" Minjun and Sohan were already behind the counter, preparing the necessities for tonight.

"What do you mean?" You shook off your belongings as the two men exchanged a look.

"You don't know who's fighting tonight?" You shake your head. "Bullet Fists versus Bazooka. So expect to get ripped off at the controls." Sohan was a tall man with blue hair and black eyes, although he opted for green lenses tonight. He also had muscles, and from what you'd seen during his last fight, Sohan seemed a little less muscular than Jungkook. He wore his hair up and back, which highlighted his face.

Like Minjun and you, he was dressed entirely in black. A slim black shirt with a few buttons undone and jeans pants adorned his legs, while his look was finished off with a pair of combat boots.

Minjun was dressed pretty much the same as Johan, the only difference being that he wore a tight T-shirt, revealing his muscles and pectorals. As for his black hair, it was in its usual form, with its fringe parted in the middle of his forehead. Giving him a bad-boy look.

Without planning it with your two colleagues, you'd opt for an all-black look tonight. Loose hair with a few curls, prominent make-up with smoky eyes, making your gaze bewitching. You wore a tight, sheer lace crop top. Accompanying your femme fatale look, you wore a high-waisted leather skirt with a slit up the right thigh. And while heeled boots would have been perfect, you couldn't forget that you would spend the rest of the evening standing behind the counter, so you left it out, opting for combat boots with clutches, which was very handy for putting your tips in.

"Awesome. I'm going to get my first rush. Not stressful at all." You give them a tense little smile.

"Don't worry." Minjun places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll do as usual. You take orders individually and ask us what you need."

The two men are pretty pleased with your work. They see that you're giving it your all and already have your bearings, although you haven't been here long.

"Don't worry about it. Don't think about it; everything's going to be fine."

"Now go and get ready because the first wave of customers is coming."

It had already been two hours since you'd arrived, and the crowd was still growing, but the good news was that you were keeping up just as well as your two colleagues. 

As you prepared the orders, you couldn't help glancing around the room in search of just one person. You kept wondering if he was already there? Was he too stressed? And would he stop by the bar for a drink before his fight? 

And yet, five fights had already taken place, and the sixth had just begun, with no sign of your neighbor. As the show's highlight, the Bullet Fists and Bazooka fight was decreed to be the last. It's all very strategic. The organizers know that their audience's two favorites are these two fighters - mainly Bullet Fists - so by making them fight last, they're sure to attract more customers and make a maximum profit from the beginning to the end of the evening.  

Meanwhile, you hoped to see Jungkook before he entered the cage, but your hopes were dashed as his fight drew nearer. Deciding not to dwell on the subject any longer, you return the drinks to one customer before moving on to another. 

"Good evening. What can I get you?" You change your look of disappointment to a broad business smile. 

When your gaze settles on the customer in question, you have a vague impression of having seen him somewhere before, but you are having trouble remembering where and when precisely. 

"I'd say the bombshell I'm looking at." Pfff. So, he falls into the category of annoying, redneck customer. But hey, you're not going to criticize and try to make him understand nicely that you won't go any further than serving his order. 

"Ha. That's going to be tricky, buddy." You were trying to say it with a teasing attitude. It's not like you were with Jungkook, but a little more distant, leaning more towards sarcasm than anything else. 

It's well known that barmen/barmaids are known to be flirts; it's part of the show if they feel like ending up with tips; after all, they have to make a living from their trade. 

"Nothing's really complicated when you really want it to be." You hold back from telling him that so he has his answer, but you hold back, not wanting to be rude and risk losing your job just a week in. 

"What can I put you down for?" Not wanting to waste more time in his company, you change the subject directly. Not to mention that the line is getting longer and longer, so you've got your work cut out for you. It's either he orders, or he bolts. 

"Pint of ruby, baby." Boy, did you hate it when someone as reluctant as him called you baby? 

It's crazy because you'd never talked to him about your life before, and yet he was already pissing you off. Some people like that don't do anything to us, but just seeing them or hearing their voices takes us out of our depths. It's something inexplicable, and yet you were ready to put your hand on the fact that you weren't the only one in the world to feel that way, and secretly, it reassured you. 

"Right away." Unfortunately for you, the draught beer tap was right in front of you, so you had no escape route, but on the bright side, you could quickly give him his order as soon as you'd finished serving it and hope he'd get out of the way as soon as possible too. 

Misfortune never comes alone. While the man already had his order in hand, he was still perched on the counter, clinging on as if his life depended on it. Worst of all, his gaze never left your side, and you hated the feeling of being spied on.

"I've never seen you around here. You must be new around here." Your only response was a vague glance in her direction as you continued to prepare another customer's order. 

"I would like to be a dead leaf in front of your door so that you can overwhelm me with your beauty every time you leave your house." Hang in there, YN; you'll be fine. Just don't roll your eyes at him. 

Sohan, who wasn't far from you, seemed to have heard the shit flirty floppy pickup lines the stranger was trying to throw at you because when your eyes met, he laughed.

Returning the order to the customer, you moved on to the next one. Fortunately, this time, you had to prepare a cocktail, and what you needed was laid out on the worktop behind you, giving you a little respite from the dolt guy starting to get on your nerves. 

You tried to drag out the process of preparing the cocktail as best you could, taking your time and making the pleasure of not hearing the sound of his voice last, but all good things must come to an end, and you had to turn around to give the customer his order back and cash it at the same time. 

As you waited for the customer to enter his credit card code on the EPT machine, the guy took the opportunity to pull another bullshit. 

"Your ass is so beautiful; it's a shame you have to sit on it." You'd like to know where he comes up with these ready-made moronic phrases. 

"Let me guess," you say, addressing the guy, "Last night you had trouble falling asleep, so you couldn't think of anything better than searching the internet for 'the top 50 worst pickup lines for hitting on a girl?" 

Sohan and Minjun were preparing their own orders without losing any of your interaction with the stranger and couldn't help but laugh at what you said, which had the knack of nipping the other guy in the bud for a while. 

Unfortunately for him, just as he was most certainly about to come out with some new bullshit, a slightly older guy interrupts him. 

"Jung-Ho, man, I've been looking for you for ten minutes. Hurry up; it's time to get ready for the fight." Without the annoying guy - Jung-Ho, from what you'd heard - even having time to retaliate, his buddy drags him by the arm away from the bar. 

Unaware that you were holding your breath, you let go of it suddenly, a sign of relief, while you gave a small smile to a customer who hadn't lost anything for some time. 

Some time had passed after Jung-Ho had been dragged off somewhere, and in the meantime, the previous fight had just ended. One of the fighters ended badly banged up by his opponent's blows. 

"YN, flee. Go take a five-minute break." Minjun takes the bottle of vodka from your hand.

"But there are still plenty of customers."

"Don't worry, the crowd is thinning out. We can handle it." Sohan takes you by the forearm and gently pushes you toward the back door. 

"All right." Crossing the storeroom and the back corridor leading to the checkroom, you enter the room before grabbing your pack of cigarettes and your lighter and using the door leading to the back exit for staff members only. 

And to think you never smoked before. It all started three years ago when your life became a mess, and you found yourself with your head underwater. Alone in the world, with no one to turn to or confide in while your life took such a rapid turn that you couldn't keep up. 

You were aware that this wasn't the best solution, but the temptation had been stronger, and you took up smoking. 

It's unfortunate to say, but smoking takes away all the pressure you build up over a day. Sometimes, you manage to go days without smoking, but these past few days, when you're faced with a heavy, tiring day, you sometimes smoke a few. Ironically, as a smoker, you hate the smell of cigarettes and, even worse, the smell of cold tobacco. That's why you invested in an electronic cigarette. Not only could you control the level of nicotine you consumed, but you could also have the possibility to change the taste, and even better, you didn't have the stench of cold tobacco.

You used it more at home because even though you had a roof terrace, you were sometimes too lazy to go out just to smoke even more when the evenings were cold. And that awful smell was out of the question.

But in the evening or at work, you'd allow yourself a few normal cigarettes. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, delighted to see so many of you here. The moment of the long-awaited evening is finally upon us. The fight we've all been waiting for is about to begin." 

That was your signal to go back inside. The fight you, too, had been waiting for was about to begin, and the boys could finally take their break in turn. 

"So, without further ado, give your champion a fervent cheer to encourage them." Back at the bar, you noticed no more customers surrounded the counter, all drawn like flies had taken their places around the cage. "I hope you've made your bets, and may luck be with you." 

Since there were no customers, Minjun and Sohan went off to take their break simultaneously. "Let's start immediately by calling the young stallion, the handsome one, the tall one I named Ba-Zoo-Ka." 

As last time, cheers and jeers are heard in the hall. When the named Bazooka enters the cage. Your drink in your mouth goes down the wrong hole when you swallow. 

Bazooka is none other than Jung-Ho, a.k.a. the super-boring guy with the stupid pickup lines. 

Showing off, he waves to the crowd and sends flying kisses in the direction of the ladies before stepping into a corner, wisely awaiting the arrival of his opponent. 

"Now, let's all cheer for your favorite, the charmer, the beast, the god. I named Bullet Fists." 

Once again, it was to the sound of NEFFEX that Jungkook decided to enter. But this time, he changed his sound, opting for Untoppable.

I'm unstoppable (yeah)

Do the impossible (that's right)

I'm irresponsible (oh)

Yet I'm phenomenal (oh)

I got an arsenal (oh, yeah)

I'm dropping bombs, you know (oh, yeah)

No, I'm not stopping, no (let's go)

Conquer the obstacle (yeah)

Jungkook usually chooses his songs according to his current state of mind. Tonight, he chose this song because he wanted his opponent to understand that he would do everything he could to win this fight and make his opponent bite the dust. Jungkook was unstoppable and had come tonight to conquer the obstacle and return home with the spoils.

To the top, here I go, think I'm chosen

To be the king of rock, think the people have spoken

I can hear the tic toc of the clock, I'm in motion

So, now I'm gonna pop, causing all this commotion, yeah

Entering the cage in his turn, just like his opponent, Jungkook makes the rounds, charming the women with smiles and winks.

Positioning himself on the opposite side of the cage from Jung-Ho, Jungkook discards his black-and-white silk bathrobe before baling it up and tossing it over the cage towards his coach, Seokjin.

When the ring girl finishes her turn, holding high the sign indicating the first round, she exits the cage, closing the door behind her. In no time at all, the ring gong sounds, signaling the start of the match.

The crowd holds its breath, and so do you, waiting for one of the two opponents to throw the first punch.

Impatient to make his opponent pay for the beating he had given him the previous time, Jung-Ho launched himself first, advancing toward Jungkook before trying to throw his fist in his face. However, Jungkook was beginning to know his opponent's habits, as he didn't play on the element of surprise, making him predictable for his opponent.

Sohan and Minjun return from their break, and you hand them their drink, which you had prepared in advance, knowing the two men's predilection after the week spent in their company.

Rounding the balcony, the three of you sit on the high stools while enjoying your drink and well-deserved rest after charcoaling like mad for over three hours without a break.

"So, what did we miss?" Sohan asks, his eyes still riveted on the battle ahead.

"Nothing. It just started." Sohan nods. "Did you know the pathetic guy was Jungkook's opponent tonight?" The two men look at each other, laughing.

"Yeah. He's a regular here."

"And Bullet Fists' number one opponent." Says each of your colleagues in turn. "Every week he's there, trying to get his revenge on the previous time, but every time the result comes back to be the same." Adds Minjun.

"Let me guess, defeat." You ask without really asking.

"Bull's-eye, young lady," Sohan replies as your conversation dies and you focus on the fight.

Jungkook does nothing but take Jung-Ho's blows, much to the frustration of his supporters. He parries them without a care, but some manage to hit him.

"What you're witnessing is typical Bullet Fists." Riveting your attention in Minjun's direction, you waited for him to elaborate. "The fans don't understand that Jungkook takes his opponent's blows not to waste their time but to analyze his opponent."

"You see," Minjun continues his explanation. "By cashing in Bazooka's blows, Bullet Fists analyzes his power and strong and weak points. From the strength of his blows to the stability of his body and fighting style. That way, once Jungkook has deciphered his opponent a little, he can strike at Jung-Ho's weak points, ensuring victory."

"Besides," Sohan continued, "it allows him one more thing."

"What?" You ask.

"It allows him to tire out his opponent faster."

"What do you mean?" It's super nice of them to explain the fight to you. It's nice to watch the proceedings before you, but it's better to watch and understand the tactics and techniques of the fight and the fighters.

"Take a good look at Jung-Ho; how does he seem? Focus on the movements of his breathing, the expression on his face, but above all on his current performance compared to what it was at the beginning of the engagement."

In turn, you analyze the fight, and some things have changed.

"His breathing seems to be getting faster and irregular. He seems irritated and annoyed while his blows are slower and less frequent than before."

"I'm proud of you, little one. Give me five." Minjun says to you.

"So, in conclusion...?" Sohan asks you.

"As a result, I feel that Jung-Ho is already tiring." You conclude.

"Right on the money. And get ready because, in the next round, Jungkook will make mincemeat of Jung-Ho. For a change."

Again, the three of you focus on the fight while sipping drinks.

When the three minutes are up, the gong rings again, indicating a one-minute break for the boxers.

A few people return to the bar to replenish their drinks before the next kick-off. Only a few people, just a handful, return to their seats once the gong has sounded again. You take the opportunity to refill your glass with your favorite drink and those of the boys before joining them on the high stool you occupied before.

As Sohan told you, Jungkook makes short work of his opponent without finishing him off. But this time, he's not only taking the blows, he's also delivering them, which revives the crowd with every impact, raising the excitement level.

Unlike the rest of the room, the bar was also lit, which was pitch black except for a few neon lights and the ring light. Not with a powerful light, but somewhat subdued, allowing you to work in good conditions. As Jungkook shifted position, his gaze wandered over the crowd. But against all odds, his gaze landed on the bar where, despite the poor lighting, Jungkook noticed three people sitting there.

It's true that, returning to the Den today, Jungkook had vaguely heard that they had recruited a new person for the bar and that, this time, it was a young woman. But he hadn't given it much thought. Now that he could see her in the dark, he couldn't suppress the feeling of familiarity.

So, dodging a last-second blow from his opponent. Jungkook looked back toward the bar, and with a bit of prodding to adapt his view to the necessary condition, he saw that the young woman in the company of the usual bartenders was none other than you. YN. The woman who, for a week, had been haunting his thoughts.

"What?" His contemplation is interrupted by a right hook from his opponent, which causes silence from the people in the room and jubilation from Jung-Ho.

Unable to retaliate, as the gong sounds again, indicating the end of the second round, Jungkook returns to his corner.

From where he stood, Jungkook had a perfect view of the bar. If his memories were correct, he told you not to return to the Den during your phone call. So what the hell were you doing here. He only hoped that you weren't the new barmaid the others discussed.

"Pighead." You were pretty true to yourself, just going through the motions when he'd told you otherwise.

During his whole minute's pause, Jungkook hadn't taken his eyes off you, which didn't go unnoticed by Jung-Ho. Had Jungkook had a case with this chick? That was the question on Jung-Ho's mind. Were you related to him? He didn't know that; all he knew was that you'd attracted the attention of his sworn enemy and that he intended to use it to his advantage.

The Ring Girl finishes her round after indicating the third round, leave, the gong sounds, and the third round begins where the previous one left off.

Jungkook throws Jung-Ho a straight punch right in the face. As the punch was thrown and Jungkook's fist made contact with his opponent's nose, he felt a crack coming from his opponent. He had just broken his nose. Confirmation followed as soon as Jung-Ho's nose bled.

The blow had knocked him back a few steps, and instinctively, Jung-Ho brought his hand to his bruised nose.

"I see you saw my chick at the bar. So don't try anything with her because she's mine." Jung-Ho was playing with fire and knew it very well; he knew full well that Jungkook would retaliate, but the game was worth the candle. He wanted to get him off his back, and he was going to succeed. He would try with words if he couldn't rattle his opponent with blows.

This was precisely why Jungkook didn't get involved with anyone, to avoid this situation. To prevent his opponents from finding his weak point(s) and turning them against him. Yet he hadn't been able to help himself tonight with you, and as feared, his opponent had caught on and was now making him pay for his imprudence.

On the other hand, Jungkook wasn't fooled; he knew what Jung-Ho was up to by using you against him. But if his aim was to piss him off, he must not have been very clever because Jungkook was going to let off steam. So, in both cases, Jung-Ho would come out as the loser and more humiliated than on previous occasions.

"Once I'm done with you, I'll take care of her. Take her back to my place and fuck her so hard, she'll forget her own name."

Jungkook knew reacting or feeling affected by these words was pointless, especially since he was nothing and no one to you. He was just a simple guy who was lucky enough to be around when you needed him and who helped you out a few times before you found out he was your neighbor. Your 'relationship' ended there.

Then why did he feel a lousy emotion surging inside him? Usually, when his opponents tried this childish tactic on him - Jung-Ho was not the first and certainly not the last to do so - they couldn't succeed. Usually, they'd try it with the few booty calls Jungkook had, thinking they were his girlfriend, but they'd just turn out to be chicks he'd slept with.

With you, however, it's not the same. The man feels possessiveness, no, rather a protective instinct towards you. An attraction that's still difficult for him to determine is whether it's because he wants to have you constantly with him or whether it's simply physical attraction. In either case, he wasn't going to try to figure out which one turned out to be his.

You didn't understand what was going on between the two men. All you could see, however, was that Jung-Ho was engaged in a monologue, and by Jungkook's facial expression, you'd be willing to bet it was getting on his nerves.

Although there had been no physical exertion on the fighters' part, Jungkook's breathing was jerky. His face was closed, eyebrows furrowed as he played with his tongue, caressing the inner corner of his cheek. His closed eyes made him vulnerable to his opponent, yet Jungkook didn't care. He was trying to channel his nerves and calm down before committing the irreparable.

Although, as an underground fighter, Jungkook avoided having a man's blood on his hands. For the stupidest, most inconsequential thing Jung-Ho could be, for Jungkook's psychological sake, he was trying not to kill him tonight.

But the more obscene things came out of Jung-Ho's foul mouth, the more difficult it became.

From your point of view, everything happened very quickly for the human eye and brain to properly assimilate and transmit what happened to the brain. The only thing you and the supporters knew was that one second, Jung-Ho, a.k.a Bazooka, was standing with a goofy grin, and the next, he was knocked to the ground.

The crowd went wild, and the referee entered the cage to start the countdown to ten. Inwardly and unconsciously, you prayed that Jung-Ho would stay down and that Jungkook would be the big winner.

At the end of the ten seconds, Bullet Fists is crowned the winner after knocking out his opponent.

Once all the evening's fights were over, people went home. It's been almost an hour since everything ended, and still no Jungkook in sight. So you get on with life and work with Minjun and Sohan, who can't stop talking about tonight's fights.

Meanwhile, you continued wiping glasses, Minjun washed and disinfected the counter and worktop, and Sohan cleaned and put away bottles.

"Hey man, what can I get you?" Sohan's voice snaps you out of your concentration, and you rivet your attention to the person he is addressing.

Finally, Jungkook showed up. You couldn't see his full clothes, but he wore a black hoodie. He was kindly seated on the counter's high stool.

"As usual, but give me a triple shot." With that, Sohan grabs the bottle of Whisky and, as requested, pours a triple shot before adding a large diamond-sized ice cube.

Although you try to make eye contact with Jungkook, he seems determined not to meet your gaze. Pretending to be focused on his glass and its contents before drinking it and asking for more.

Finish wiping up and putting away the last glass, you take the bottle of Whiskey from Sohan's hands.

"Don't worry, I'll manage." You dismiss him as he takes the opportunity to grab the mop and take care of the floor.

Meanwhile, you pour the bottle's contents into Jungkook's glass before handing it to him. Reaching for the glass, his fingers brush yours. It's undoubtedly a cliché to say it, but as you do so, a gentle warmth seizes you while an electric current runs through your body, causing goosebumps.

But as if burned by fire, Jungkook quickly moves his hand away from you and sips the drink. You didn't understand this distance on his part. You knew he was ignoring you, but the question was, why?

During your last exchange, everything had gone well, so you didn't understand his hostile behavior towards you. Ignoring all this, you tried an approach.

"Hey, Quasimodo, that was a hell of a fight. What did he say to you, Bazooka, to get you all worked up and send him to dreamland." You try to tease him to dispel the electricity between you.

There's nothing worse in this world than the silent treatment and being ignored by someone. Jungkook heard you all right. You had no doubt about that. You were alone in the room, Minjun having finished his duty while Sohan had gone to put the mop away in its place.

Instead of answering you, Jungkook empties his glass and stubbornly does not address you or even look at you; he gestures for you to serve him again.

"No." Two could play this stubborn game.

Surprised, Jungkook decided to look at you at last, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if you were serious, which you were. You close the bottle and put it back to show him you weren't joking.

Jungkook gives a little laugh, taken aback by your audacity. "All right."

He stands up, throws a bill on the counter, and heads for the exit without giving you another glance.

On the other hand, in total incomprehension, you let out a loud sigh.

"Trouble in paradise, sexy?" Startling you by not having seen him coming, you turn your head to come face to face with a rather severely banged-up Jung-Ho.

"Not in the least." You pretended to be busy so as not to have to interact with the individual. Luckily, you still had Jungkook's glass to wash.

"Can you pour me a drink?" Jung-Ho asks.

"Sorry, but the bar's closed, and I don't know if you realize it, but tonight was pretty hectic, and I just want to go home."

"All right, what do you say we go back to your place, and you buy me a drink?"

The audacity of this guy. What could you say to get him off your back once and for all? It was late at night, and your socializing battery was at minus a thousand, so you were planning to make it clear to him word for word that you weren't interested in him, but you didn't have the time to do it.

You were so absorbed in avoiding Jung-Ho that you hadn't noticed that Jungkook was still present, standing in the middle of the stairs. He had caught all of your interaction with his opponent.

He was determined to ignore you and head home for a hot shower to relax his tense muscles. He would also take the opportunity to treat his wounds before throwing himself on his bed, but once again, you eradicated his plans.

He couldn't ignore the obscene images playing in his head. Imagining everything, Jung-Ho told him he would do to you once the fight ended. He turned around and walked back down the steps towards the bar.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook." He berates himself as he braves the distance between you.

"Get your stuff, we're going home." And lo and behold, once again, Jungkook holds out the stick to be beaten.

"Excuse me?" Stunned by his nerve. First, he ignores you for no good reason, and now he wants to take you home? What a joke.

"Grab your stuff, and let's get out of here." Minjun and Sohan return from wherever they are and stumble upon a scene they never thought they'd witness, especially from Jungkook.

In all the years the two men had worked in the Den and rubbed shoulders with Jungkook, they'd never seen him in such a state.

"Who's we? You, you mean."

Closing his eyes and sighing, Jungkook blurts, "YN, don't play smart with me. I'm exhausted and want to go home." He finally opens his eyes, and his gaze is dark. "Get your damn things, and let's go home."

"The lady doesn't want to go home with you, buddy. So fuck off." Swings Jung-Ho finds the situation amusing and throws more fuel on the fire.

"You shut up, you prick." Jungkook was ready to knock him out again, but Minjun intervened.

"Okay, guys, let's take it down a notch. The fight's over."

"Here." Sohan hands your jacket and bag before gently pushing you out from behind the bar.

"See you Tuesday," Minjun tells you as you walk past him.

"All right, I'm going home, but definitely not with you." You walk past a greatly annoyed Jungkook and pretend to ignore him as you put your leather jacket back on before adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill her," Jungkook mutters to himself before taking you by the hand and dragging you to the exit.

"What the fuck, man? I can walk on my own."

Suddenly, just as you'd reached level zero and were walking down the short corridor to the exit, Jungkook pushed you against the wall, trapping your body between the wall and his body.

"Don't play with my nerves, princess. I think I've had enough for tonight."

"Then leave me alone and go home." You shake off his hold and leave the building before starting to walk in the direction of your home.

"Don't be stubborn, YN, and let me take you home."

"How kind of you to come to my aid, my good man. But I can get home just fine on my own." His attitude and mood swings were beginning to make your head spin and play with your nerves.

"Goddammit, woman, get back here." Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. So he runs after you, grabs you in bride mode, being sure you can't get out of his grip, and walks towards his car the opposite way you'd gone.

Arriving at his vehicle, Jungkook unlocks it and opens the passenger-side door before sitting you in the front seat and buckling your seatbelt.

"I know how to buckle myself in. " You clap your hands to ward them off. Your eyes met no sooner than you felt electricity in the air again.

"Great." With that, Jungkook straightens up before slamming the door. He walks around to his car, climbs on the driver's side, puts the keys in the ignition, and starts the vehicle toward your respective homes.

All the way home, you sulked, refusing to speak to him as he had done to you. For his part, Jungkook was seeing red. He gripped the steering wheel angrily, driving like a madman while his knuckles were white.

He wasn't angry with you, even though you didn't listen when he told you to not set foot in the Den, and as usual, you didn't listen to him. No, he was pissed at himself for giving his opponent something to get at and, even worse, for succumbing and getting involved with you once again.

"Fuck." He punches the steering wheel as he accelerates again.

"You're fucking crazy. Slow down; I don't want to die." Once again, he ignored you, and the current speed exceeds 100 km/h.

"Jungkook." You could see that he was no longer present among you; his gaze seemed lost in the vague. You really were going to die tonight because of a fool.

Images of you and Jung-Ho replayed in his head, making him even more angry. But luckily, you had just entered your street. Stopping short in front of his house, Jungkook barely had time to save you from banging your head against the space just above the glove compartment.

"Sick bastard." And with that, you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car, not forgetting to slam the door.

That snapped him out of his delusion. "Shit." He gets out of the car just in time as you circle the car to cross the road and finally return to the comfort of home.

You had two days off, so you would enjoy forgetting this catastrophic evening. But your plans were postponed, as Jungkook managed to pin you against his car and wedge you between it and his muscular body.

"What's the matter with you?" You shouted in his face.

For crying out loud, Jungkook says nothing. Taking your cheeks between his calloused yet gentle hands, he seals your lips. He draws you into a kiss filled with passion and desire but also filled with frustration. His frustrations. Deepening your kiss by inserting his tongue into your mouth and pressing his body to yours, Jungkook takes you out of this world and into a whole new one.

You didn't know why you let that kiss go on. Indeed eager for Jungkook, too. Of their own accord, your hands pass under his sweatshirt, making direct contact with his skin and those iron abs he had. Your lips let themselves be led by his, engaged in a frenzied yet sensual dance, while your tongue was carried away by the rhythm. Your kiss was torrid initially, but Jungkook still built up the intensity.

Your body reacted well to his, fitting together perfectly despite your size difference, like chemical elements that, when stimulated, became incandescent with desire.

You let yourself be carried away by his hands that roamed your body, memorizing every curve. Your hands got lost in his hair, and out of pure reflex, you tugged gently on it, eliciting a grunt of pleasure from him. You both needed oxygen but feared that the reality would spoil everything if you paused to catch your breath. But Jungkook tried anyway and went for your neck.

He leaves his mark as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck, in the joint between your neck and shoulder. Running a hand over your back, you feel his broad hand move down to your butt before he takes one of them in his hand. A delicious moan escapes you, going straight into his ear and cock. With his hand still positioned on your butt, Jungkook greedily pulls you against him, pressing you even closer.

You resume your torrid kiss again, which causes you to lose all signs of strength in your legs, and you have to hold on to him to keep from collapsing to the floor. The streets were empty, and the brothel below your house was already closed, given the late hour. Only the moon and stars witnessed your moment.

Your moans mixed with Jungkook's grunts were a sweet melody in your ears. Tongue dancing together, teeth chattering, and his hands on you were the perfect mix to bring you to the gates of Nirvana. You felt that with Jungkook, you had unlocked all the keys to liberate yourself from your condition of suffering, illusion, and ignorance.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Jungkook is the one who ends your fiery exchange. Yet his body remains glued to yours as he gently rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed as he inhales your scent, imprinting it once and for all on his mind. Your scent was sweet and bewitching. Your breaths are jerky and violent.

Caressing your cheek with his thumb, Jungkook succumbed to his weakness one last time before ending your exchange.

"You're driving me crazy." His voice was low, weak, and hoarse. "What are you doing to me, princess." And with that, he broke the gentle contact of your bodies and looked at you one last time before heading off to his home, leaving you alone, still leaning against his car, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Next ⇢

n/a: I hope you enjoy this short story as much as I do. To ensure you don’t miss the progress of the chapters and their release, don’t forget to check out the Working on and Updates section. There, you’ll find updates on “Fighter” and other stories and “One Shot” that you’ll probably enjoy. Also, don’t forget to check out the Masterlist. You’ll probably find something for you among my other stories in progress and those to come.

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© Jeon_s_Sins

[didyoulookforme]

pov: you go to one of their gigs

old ramble written last year.

warning: 18+. follows no timeline. not proofread, so grammatical errors and typos.

masterlist here

not. this. again.

no matter how fucking hard you tried to keep it together, you somehow always found yourself crying over the same idiot, tall boy. for nearly three years now, you’d tried to shake off your feelings for george but at this point it honestly seemed impossible. you always fell for his attention even though you knew it was a sick, toxic cycle. sigh. you couldn't do this to yourself anymore.

it was mid october. you were at a venue in london waiting for the band to take the stage. george had asked (well, more like begged actually) over the phone for you to come to their gig that night even though you were drained and exhausted. "please. i miss you." you didn't know if his plea was sincere or not, but it made your heart beat faster. you hated to admit you missed him, too.

"fine, but don't count on me for anything after." you had worked 12 consecutive shifts to stash away some money as you wanted to do some travelling around europe. you were in your early 20's. you were supposed to have fun, get lost in random cities, take drugs with strangers, all of those things you saw on films and tv. while you loved london, you wanted to visit some places with a bit more colour to them and try to forget about him for at least a few weeks or so. it wasn't too much to ask for, right?

after he convinced you to show up, you figured you might as well try to make the most of your night out. you stumbled upon him and ross when they were out for a quick smoke, george quick to plant a kiss on your cheek followed by a tight embrace that lingered longer than expected. he was warm and, to your dismay, it made you feel warm inside, too. it seemed that every chance he got, he would touch you in some way, whether a brush of your arm, a hand on your lower back, a gentle grip on your hip. you tried to not think much of it knowing you couldn't afford to get tangled up in this mess all over again. you loved him (to some extent) but the sleepless nights and ongoing fights were not worth it anymore.

when the opening band finished, you made your way to the front to watch them perform from a closer spot. you had attended many of their gigs at this point and you genuinely fell in love with their music, albeit you wouldn't tell them directly. you had too much pride for such confession.

the gig started, the fangirl in you waking up and getting excited to sing along, forgetting about your exhaustion and lack of sleep. matty noticed you, giving a small wave and blowing a kiss in your direction before diving into the next song. while george was the one who unfortunately held your heart, you had a soft spot for the front boy, even having made out with him several times before just for the hell of it. alcohol and weed might have been involved, though...

after a few more songs, you couldn't help but notice the way george effortlessly played on stage, arms moving in calculated motions, messy hair swaying from side to side. he would look straight at you, wink and bite his bottom lip, which just made you laugh. he hadn't changed one bit. you remembered him doing this same routine at your place whenever he craved your attention. and george did it because he knew it worked like a charm. you had to admit it felt nice to have his focus on you, making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, the two of you could work it out again.

when the show ended and the boys went backstage, you managed to sneak yourself back there after 20 minutes or so, in hopes of finding them and saying your goodbyes. you kept opening every door to check if it was their dressing room, but you had no luck for a while.

you twisted another handle, opening the door and your heart sank to your stomach, making you feel instantly sick. in front of you happened to be your dear drummer with another girl's head between his legs. you were not quite sure which words left your lips, but they must've been loud enough for the both of them to turn around and take notice of you. this couldn't be happening. not. again.

you shut the door and quickly walked through the corridor, trying to find the nearest exit to get some fresh air in your lungs. not again, not again is all you could repeat in your head. you couldn't believe that somewhere deep inside your gut, you hoped that this could be the time that george and you kissed once more and went back to your flat together. why did you even think that would happen? and most importantly, why did you even want it to happen? not. again.

"fuck. i'm—i'm sorry." you were staring down at the floor which made you bump into someone. "i'm sorry." you kept apologizing as you made an effort to step away without looking up. you knew there were tears streaming down your face and didn't want anyone to see the mess you were at that moment. but you felt a tight grip on your arm and heard a familiar, warm voice call your name.

this is what finally made you turn around. "i'm sorry, matty. i can't..." you tried to break free from his grasp but he continued to hold on. "what's going on, darling? are you okay?" there was genuine concern embracing his words which made you cry ever more. not right now for fuck's sake.

you looked away, embarrassed at your state and not wanting to admit to him (or yourself) why you were uncontrollably sobbing. "hey. what happened, what is—" his voice trailed off as someone else seemed to be hurrying in your direction, calling your name, too. an exasperated george now stood besides you, breathing heavily. from running or coming in that girl's mouth, you didn't want to know.

"i've been looking for you everywhere. i can explain that," he pointed behind him, "back there." he was still catching his breath and it made you feel sick once more, taking every ounce of control to not vomit at that very second. the colour drained from your face as you started to shake, the tips of your fingers and jaw numb from a dangerous mix of anger and anxiety. he tried to grab your hand but you instantly recoiled, not wanting him to be near you, let alone touch you. "george, don’t.”

you saw as he nervously ran his long fingers through his hair thinking of what to say next. nothing. no words that came out of his mouth could provide any comfort, you were sure of that. you walked away, still trying to find the damn exit out of this hellish place. fuck george. fuck him for always pulling you in so close only to break you into one million pieces.

you finally managed to step outside, feeling lightheaded, heart still pounding in your ears. you found a dimly lit patch of grass and sat down, doing your best to focus on the cold air against your skin to try and keep him out of your mind. you felt so stupid. why did you think tonight would be any different?

great. someone was walking towards you. you stood up to leave. “please talk to me.” you turned to look at him. “please.”

“what do you want me to say, matty?” your hands covered your face as you continued to cry, not caring anymore if he heard you. you felt him inch closer, eventually putting his arms around you, holding you. “why does he always do this to me? why do i always hold on to his every word hoping that things will change? that he will actually want me.”

you felt his grip tighten around your shoulders. “he’s not worth it. he’s my best mate and i care for him deeply, but he’s not worth it,” he whispered into your hair. “please trust me on this one.”

all you could do was wrap your arms around him, yearning to hold someone close, to make you feel like you were for once safe and loved.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

20 with Laiden please!

20 - "I'm always on your side."

Lambert slammed the door to his room closed, fighting the urge to scream or yell or throw something, no matter how cathartic it might be. He didn't want to give Vesemir the satisfaction of knowing how much he'd gotten under his skin.

The two of them had always been at loggerheads ("Too alike" Eskel had commented once. Lambert had promptly and soundly beaten his ass in training for such slander), but it had been worse since the other Wolves had found out about Aiden.

For all their suspicions at first, Geralt and Eskel at least eventually reached some form of grudging acceptance: Lambert was still returning to them alive and well every year after all, and The Cat - according to Lambert - had never pushed his luck fishing for an invitation to The Keep, nor had he dragged Lambert off to the proverbial lions den that was Dyn Marv. Vesemir on The other hand...

Every winter since, it had been more criticism, more thinly veiled comments about Lambert's decisions, snipes about his sense of judgement, backhanded comments on things he knew wouldn't even register had it been either Geralt or Eskel. The old man had started early this year too, he hadn't even been back a full week.

He was sure that if he bought Aiden up here, Vesemir would soon change his tune if he gave him a chance. The problem was, he didn't trust Vesemir enough to not try stabbing Aiden for long enough to do that. His brothers had tried to help to begin with but over time the words had dwindled down to sympathetic looks. Lambert didn't want to blame them - if Vesemir hadn't listened the second time, he wouldn't listen the hundredth, but part of him that was steadily growing bigger wanted to curl up against the feeling of being so alone in his own home and yet knowing things would be worse if he didn't return every year. There was no way Vesemir and by extension Geralt and Eskel wouldn't assume the worst if he just didn't show up, just as they would if he told them he'd be wintering with Aiden (if he ever asked). He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

Just once, he'd like someone else to yell at Vesemir when he started on him. To tell him to shut the fuck up, that he didn't know what he was talking about, 'respect' be damned. He knew that would never happen though, it was his job to be the disrespectful one, after all.

He dragged himself from where he'd been slumped against the door on the cold stone floor (when had he sat down?) and grabbed his pack, upturning it aggressively. Didn't want to give the old man any more ammunition by not doing laundry.

He blinked in surprise when he saw it. A small slip of parchment rolled up and placed in one of his empty potion bottles. Odd. After some minutes trying to fish it out and not give into the urge to just smash the damn thing to get it out, he unfurled it and gave a small smile. Someone up there had a weird sense of humour.

As if summoned by Lambert's thoughts, familiar, spidery writing stared back at him. The slightly slanted i, the y that sometimes looked more like a g and could only be differentiated by the loops made by the tails - Aiden always went a little fancier on his Y's for some reason.

"I'm always on your side."

[onyourowndaisymae]

a new tradition - happy birthday lucifer!

happy birthday to this old ass man i would do anything to sit in his lap and get drunk off of expensive wine

word count: 557 (3086 characters)

content + warnings: lucifer x reader, alcohol, soft lucifer my beloved

the chaos of the evening seemed distant now. once-loud music ringing in your ears at the fall, complete with flashing lights and dancing bodies, were nowhere to be found. the cheers wishing him a happy birthday, the extravagant array of gifts, the crowds of friends and admirers, everything-- all of it was tucked away neatly in the closet with your coats.

"i can't believe you wanted to leave your party early for this."

"hmm? why's that?"

lucifer didn't flinch as the cork on the aged demonus bottle popped. instead, he took his time pouring you both a drink as you flipped through his vinyl collection. you'd been tasked with picking the music for the evening. you assumed it was because lucifer was already intoxicated and didn't care which record you chose. what you didn't realize is that expression when you found your favorite-- your smile, the twinkle in your eye, the way you carefully placed the vinyl on his record player and dropped the needle with caution-- was a gift in and of itself. a pleasant tune called after you as you crossed the room to join the avatar of pride.

"i dunno... i guess i'd assumed you would enjoy having a bunch of people fawning over you more than a drink with me?"

"interesting. what makes you think that?"

"we do this all the time. well, i mean, often enough to where i didn't think it would be, y'know, birthday-level special."

he smirked at you and took a seat in his favorite armchair. he brought one wineglass to his lips, the other extended out to you in a silent invitation. you crawled into his lap without hesitation and took a sip of your own drink. even though demonus doesn't work the same for humans as it does demons, there's still a pleasant warmth as it trickled down your throat.

you settled with your back against his chest in his lap, both of his arms around your middle to keep you close. liquor-warmed cheeks pressed into the back of your bare neck as he nuzzled close, savoring your skin against his.

"i could do this every evening and never get enough of you."

the way he murmured left the sentiment almost inaudible-- if he hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have caught the warmth in his voice nor the slight slur of your name on his lips. he pressed a soft kiss against your skin for good measure.

"then let's do this next year too, okay?"

lucifer lifted his head to meet your eye. the flush on his cheeks was quite visible now. had he not been intoxicated, surely he'd be embarrassed by how plainly needy his behavior came off.

"do you mean that?"

"of course." you pressed a kiss to his temple and smiled. "anything for my favorite demon."

his head lulled forward and found your shoulder, hiding from your sincere gaze. his arms pulled you closer, ever closer, like he was hoping to meld your bodies together into one.

"i'm going to hold you to that promise."

your hand found his hair and gentle guided his face to yours. your lips found his with practiced ease. he melted into the kiss, lips melding together with your own, all warm and soft and vulnerable, ringing in another year of his life with his new favorite tradition.

[ninyard]

kayleigh day hcs for the ask game 👀

this is so funny because i literally have a post sitting in my drafts of kayleigh day Moments that i've been thinking about for a few days now

realistic headcanon: when she was "selling" exy to schools and colleges and sports clubs across the world, and once she'd made enough money off of it to be able to, she would always make a point to offer free gear or trials or training to people in places where kids grew up in bad situations or surroundings. the schools with high dropout rates and high levels of gang affiliation amongt students, the programmes for kids who'd dropped out of school, the centres that worked with young adults who were previously incarcerated, prisons/juvies - it was really important to her to give people who had no chance at all in life the chance to be good at something. she didn't exactly inspire david to start the foxes, because he'd always wanted to do something like what he does now, but it was refreshing for them to bounce ideas off each other about how they can best help the people who need it through the sport.

may not be realistic it is hilarious: she kept her pregnancy a secret for a really long time. 1) so she could keep playing exy and they wouldn't want to take her off the Court because of it and 2) she didn't want david to work out kevin was his. so she told him kevin came early when he came perfectly on time, so wymack still believes kevin was a premature baby because nobody corrected it, because nobody knew. she probably was back on the court within a very short amount of time after giving birth because she hadn't been able to play for so long.

heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends: (iirc, there was something said about her death not being an accident, so this kind of goes in line with that. disregard if that's just something I made up oops) once kayleigh started to distance herself from the moriyama's in the lead up to her death, she worried that something would happen to her, considering how dangerous tetsuji's family could be. she wrote kevin letters for him to read when he grew up; for his first day of school, of high school, for his graduation, the day he went pro, for the day he won an olympic medal, the his wedding day, things like that. not even in depth letters, maybe some of them were cards, but they were just all of these different sentiments stuffed into one envelope with his name on the outside. just in case. when she died, tetsuji found it. when kevin found the letter that she'd written about wymack being his father, if he had've searched just a few books to the right he would've found the envelope, or one of the letters, or cards, a chunky bulge in between the pages of a book. tetsuji never gives it to kevin. maybe when tetsuji passes away however many years down the line, somebody finds it when they're clearing out his stuff, and they send it to kevin. or maybe tetsuji destroyed it before he ever got the chance.

unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own: kevin was older than just a baby/toddler when she died. in my heart he was older and remembers his mother being alive!! not saying he was a teenager or anything but in my head he was 7/8/9 when she died!

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Question and answers post: (Merlin book edition)

Episode: "The Gates of Avalon" S1, E7

Questions written by @tansyuduri

Question: I think Gaius mentioning being afraid of it and trying to persuade himself otherwise is intersting.

I think IF the theory that Gaius actually kinda agreed with Uthers viewpoint about magic because he saw so many bad things happen is true, this might have been his turning point. He saw Morgana who he took care of being a seer and decided not to tell Uther.

My answer: During the “Poisoned Chalice” episode, Gaius legitimately fears using magic because he fears it’ll corrupt him and yet he steps over that line to save Merlin’s life, because he loves him like his own son.

1st Book description: Gaius raised the mortar, grasping it firmly in both hands, and attempted to whisper an incantation - but he found that his voice wouldn't work.

Gaius had served the king loyally and faithfully for over twenty years - and then Merlin had come along. Suddenly the doctor had found himself harbouring a warlock. Still, Gaius knew he was acting for the best, although Uther himself would not see it like that.

But actually to cast magic himself - to disobey the king's most fundamental law ...

It was an enormous step to take, and Gaius was scared.

He was serving the king and the kingdom, but he had to utterly betray Uther to do so.

For such a loyal subject, this was the most difficult thing of all.

There was another worry too. 'Magic corrupts, he'd told Merlin, not that long ago. Once he'd stepped over that line again, would he ever be able to go back?

But of course, he knew he had to do it.

Whatever the consequences. Even if he hadn't already come to love Merlin as a son, even if Merlin wasn't destined to be a great warlock, Gaius had promised the boy's mother he would look after him. The doctor drew in a breath, and began the spell again.

2nd Book description: When Merlin is dying from the Mortaus poison and Gaius realizes only sorcery can save him, his love for the boy forces his hand - but he takes his first steps back into the world of magic with great trepidation.

Question: It also fits a lot with what we know about Gaius even if that theory is not the case.

If he cares about someone with magic he will keep their secret. (or perhaps if he knows them as good).

My answer: Originally in the pilot, Gaius decided to harbor Merlin, even though his status as a sorcerer was illegal, but at that point, he wouldn’t have risked everything to save him if he’d been found out.

Gaius would have pleaded for Merlin’s life, but he wouldn’t have disobeyed his king by attempting a rescue or sticking out his own neck.

It wasn’t until around the episode “A Remedy to Cure All Ills” (S1;E6), that Gaius realizes that when given the choice between Merlin and Uther… he chooses the boy he’s grown to view as a son.

Book description: WHAT WOULD GAIUS DO IF UTHER FOUND OUT ABOUT MERLIN?

Would Gaius deny the boy he claims is like a son to him? Early on in their acquaintance, Merlin asks Gaius what he would do if Uther discovered the truth and Gaius avoids answering.

Back then, although Gaius felt a responsibility for Merlin, he might not have risked his own neck for the boy. He might have pleaded for mercy, but it's less likely that he would have courted certain death by admitting to concealing a criminal or attempting a rescue.

However, being with Merlin has changed Gaius. It is not just his growing love for the boy that makes him stand up to Uther, but a realization that he cannot always remain on the sidelines - 'turning a blind eye'.

There's little question that the physician would offer up his own life to Uther to save Merlin - and perhaps, more crucially for Gaius, he would accept the disgrace and humiliation that would be a consequence of the king's discovering his betrayal.

[reve-writes]

—fault line; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2,5k words. ʚ in which you and leon were both agents working for different countries, with a little bit of shared history. ʚ set in re4 but non canon compliant; reader is implied to be working for a foreign government but not specified which; reader and leon have a history of a physical relationship. ʚ a/n — this took me so long to write and im not too proud of it anyway. it sat in my drafts for probably two weeks-ish purely bc ive been watching atla and abandoning tumblr. enjoy reading anyway.

Nearly two years had passed, and you remained missing the warmth of his bed and the crinkle of his sheets. Nearly two years, and it was the first time you had seen him. Leon Kennedy stood in front of you, the set of his shoulders were stiff as he exhaled, eyes cold blues, studying you.

All around you was foreign: foreign land beneath your boots, foreign houses with stone buildings and weathered red roofs separated by rivers and mountains. Leon was the only reprieve—something familiar, bringing with him a false sense of security which you clung onto like a starved man.

"Can't you leave me alone?" Bitterness spilt out of his lips. Your eyes flit to look at anything else but him: the dried mud on your boots, the rundown docks beneath them, the opaque water of the lake.

"I did not come here for you." This was true, at least. You had set foot in the rural village for answers—not voluntarily, though. This was your livelihood.

"Of course not," he drawled. "You'd have to care first."

Enough time had passed for the dull throb in your chest to cease, but it was hammering down on all of your senses. You tried to reign your thoughts in to no avail. They galloped out of control, reminding you of the months—seven—leading up to Operation Javier.

At the time, Leon was early in his career as an agent. Lonely, easily taken by someone he had met on an outing once. You. He hadn't suspected that you could be a foreign intelligencer, tasked to unearth the secrets buried with the destruction of Raccoon City. Leon was supposed to be your impossible task—surely someone who survived that night and was made a special agent wouldn't be so trusting, his life so easily infiltrated.

You had underestimated his loneliness.

He hadn't handfed you the information you siphoned back to your handler, but he practically gave you free access. They had been gathered from eavesdropping his calls from the other room, going over his correspondences while he slept next to you. Until he was sent to South America and you followed, discreetly, of course.

This time, you overestimated your stealth.

He found you out, unravelling your motivations and deception, witnessed by the Amazon rainforest during that very mission. You had escaped before he could turn you in to be interrogated, not caring to find out what they would do to foreign spies, nor could you stand the look in his eyes.

The blues, formerly jewel-like, now fractured. You didn't take into account your own isolation, too, when you took this mission, because somewhere along the way, Leon had stopped being a mark. He had left a mark on you himself, in a way.

"I should go," you said, strangely self-conscious. It was an odd feeling; your presence being so unwanted.

"Why are you here?"

"Your president's daughter being taken was a point of interest, but I have my own reasons." A sample of whatever is infecting people here. Half-truths and lying by omission came naturally to you. You couldn't remember a time when they did not.

"I suggest you don't meddle," he said curtly and stalked off. You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything and nothing at once. Settling for the latter, you turned away from the docks.

Was he insane?

You weren't proud to say that you had been keeping an eye on Leon. Your days in the rural village had been isolating and left you parched for any semblance of companionship. He was either a mirage or an oasis, you hadn't decided which just yet.

After the gross-looking humongous lake monster was defeated, Leon had slumped and lain on his back. At first, you assumed he was merely catching his breath, but he stayed there, unmoving. He was out cold, floating in a strange lake with strange residents all around.

He would be fine, right? It wasn't as if your help would be welcome anyway, right?

You exhaled before paddling a smaller boat towards his, half cursing yourself. There was your handler's voice in your head, mocking you, asking if you were really attached to this American agent and what it was that was so special about him.

Ah, Viper. You aren't actually saving him, are you? Leave the American. Focus on the task at hand.

The boat rocked under you as you stepped over into his. Maybe you could both be the monster's meal together now. Maybe it wasn't actually dead. Maybe it had a bigger, more evil twin swimming underneath the murky surface. You placed two fingers onto his neck, by his Adam's apple and slumped back in relief when you found the pulse.

When he woke up, you were sitting on one side of the boat, knees tucked towards your chest, half asleep yourself. You had moved the boat closer to shore, where it floated near the rocky lakeside. You could've stepped off and left—should have, but something, most likely stupidity, compelled you to stay.

He was startled, understandably so, consciousness still barely registering what was happening.

"You've been out for two hours," you said nonchalantly. "You just... passed out."

"And you've been, what, just staring at me?" His biting sarcasm had returned, but something seemed off. He was staring at his hand as if it wasn't his, turning it this way and that way, flexing and clenching his fingers. His hair moved as he tilted his head, grazing his cheek.

"I don't need to stare, I know what you look like," you replied. "You're welcome for making sure you didn't die."

He scoffed. "You certainly have your motives. That's what you do, isn't it? Pretend to care for what's best for everyone. When in reality, they suit your agenda and yours only."

You wanted to smack him across the head.

"What could be my agenda, Kennedy? Huh? What use could I possibly have you for?"

"A lot, apparently." He shot you a glare. "Did they promote you after Operation Javier? You're welcome."

"They did," you admitted, something akin to shame filled your stomach, but you pressed on. The first ever sample of the T-virus that your country had was courtesy to you. It wasn't even part of your mission. Your original mission had been to dig up information on Leon Kennedy and whatever biological disaster his country found itself in. "I'm paid double what I'm used to. I'm practically a national hero to my colleagues."

"Do you want me to shake your hand?"

"No, Leon! I want you to—I want—" You trailed off, surprised at the emotional reaction you were having. You cleared your throat, schooling your expression. "It doesn't matter. For whatever it is worth, I am sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He stood up and stepped over the side of the boat, boots sinking in the water that reached all the way to his knees. "Like you said, it doesn't matter."

He walked a couple of steps before turning to look at you over his shoulder. "No offense, but I hope we never see each other again."

"I think you're infected."

You had gotten the jump on him. It somewhat amused you, despite the grim castle you were in and the grimmer news you delivered.

"But you already know that."

He looked at you as if you were a petulant child who would not leave him alone. "I had my suspicions."

You followed him down the maze-like halls. "The damsel-in-distress is infected as well, but you knew that, too."

"What do you want, ___?" He said your name like it was a curse. You only shrugged in return.

"Answers, mostly," you said. "Who's doing this and why. That is what I was sent to do."

"What do you want from me?"

The two of you were speaking in hushed tones, trying not to alert the many infected residents of the old castle. Leon looked irritated, taking big strides across the carpeted floor.

"I'm wondering the same thing."

Leon halted in his tracks at your wistful tone, watching you with the intensity of a man witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime comet. As if he was trying to take all of you in before you disappeared for good. You were oblivious to this, stuck in your own head, trying to answer the question he had asked.

Leon broke himself out of the spell. "I don't have time for this."

As soon as he said that, you heard the mumbling of hostiles, just around the corner. Without thinking twice, you pushed Leon into an unlocked door in the hallway, closing the door behind you. Leon let out a startled noise and you placed a hand over his mouth, pushing him back against the wall.

It was a tight fit.

Dark, as well.

The only illumination you had came from the dim hallway, through the slit under the door. Leon's gloved hands found their way to your waist where they squeezed, like it was something he had done countless times before—it was. Your free hand clutched his shoulder as the voices approached your hiding space, hearts pumping anxiously for a long while even after the steps started to recede.

You both let out relieved sighs.

One of his hands slid up your arm to gently remove the hand covering the bottom half of his face. You swallowed. The immediate danger had passed, but proximity to him carried another type of danger in itself.

He breathed out your name, the sound so familiar to your ears and it made you lean into his touch. This was familiar—all of it was familiar. The way your heart roared at the warmth of him, your skin burned at the slightest touch.

"I shouldn't be wanting to kiss you right now."

His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. Softly, as if speaking anything above whispers might shatter the moment, he said, "No."

Yet his grip tightened and he pressed you closer towards him. His free hand found the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You had already stopped thinking straight. Without being able to see him clearly, you leaned forward, feeling his breath over you.

"This is a bad idea." You tried being the voice of reason, even as your eyes fluttered close and his nose nudged yours.

"You tend to have a lot of those."

Even as he said that, you could feel his lips brushing against yours. Your hand found the nape of his neck, fingers slotting through his hair. Chest-to-chest, you could feel how rapidly his heart was beating as he could feel yours.

You cursed under your breath, before finally pressing your lips against his. He immediately responded by tracing his tongue across your lips impatiently and you opened your mouth, tasting him again. His kiss was bruising, all tongue and teeth and eagerness. He pushed you back until you hit the wall behind you.

Like a drunken man, he said, "I missed you."

"I know," you said, tugging at his hair. "I missed you, too."

He abruptly stopped, shrinking away from you as if you were a scalding thing, burning him. His hand felt around the door, before finding the handle and pushing the door open. He took a deep breath as light filtered back in through his vision.

"Leon—"

"You should go."

He shook his head, swiping his palm over his face as if chiding himself. You reached towards him, but decided against it last minute, dropping your hand to your side. This was a mistake. All of it.

"Take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Leon didn't jump this time, as if he had already expected you to appear uninvited. He was sitting on the floor, leaning on the rickety metal bed where the damsel in distress—Ashley Graham—was currently unconscious on.

"He shouldn't have died."

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. There was something broken in him. His shoulders were slumped with weariness, clothes and skin dusted with blood and grime.

"Can I sit?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?" There was no malice in his voice, or any sign of annoyance. If anything, it was exasperation.

You leaned against the doorway. Tentatively, you spoke. "When you asked me what I wanted from you. I think I know now."

He opened his eyes and sat straighter to look at you, nodding for you to go on.

"I kept thinking about it and I don't think everything I did, I did for the mission." You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the floor. "I thought I was doing it all for the country. My country. I came to realise I'm not that much of a nationalist after all."

He scoffed. "Would you fault me if I didn't believe you?"

"Not at all. I expect you to be at least a little doubtful. Still, I wanted to say it: if we had met in another world—where you were just you and I was just me—I think we could have had it all. No duties or missions or political unrest. We could have made it."

You swallowed. Never had you thought a truth so bitter and sad could spill out of your mouth.

Leon laughed—a joyless, brief sound that tugged at your heart. "What are you trying to say, ___?"

"I'm sorry that I'm not just me," you replied, wringing your hand with anxiety. "I wish I was."

"Why not?" He stood up and approached you, each step relighting the suffocated embers in the ashes of your past. "You said it yourself, you aren't much of a nationalist anyway."

"The same reasons you can't quit being an agent." You let out a sigh, noticing the blue-black veins pulsing all over his forearm. "You have to get the cure soon, Leon. Your friend was telling the truth, that's all I know. I wish I could have helped more—they're sending someone to get me out soon, and I suggest you do, too."

"I'm not planning to die here."

"Your plans have a penchant for going awry."

For the first time in a really long time, he grinned at you. It felt as if everything in the world would go as it should, that nothing could ever go wrong. Like ice over a burn, a hot drink on the coldest day. What a smile to have.

Ashley stirred behind him.

"I'll be off, then," you said. "Be careful. I wish I'd seen you again sooner."

"Then come see me after we get out of here."

You shook your head. "I'm rubbing off on you. You're having horrible ideas."

"Leon?"

He turned around to find Ashley rubbing her eyes and waking up. When he turned back to say his goodbyes to you, you were already gone.

[ ]