#big sky one shot
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kaleldobrev · 1 year ago
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Lookin’ at the Stars
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Pairing: Beau Arlen x Mom!Reader
Summary: Beau takes you and your daughter out on a special family date to look at the night sky
Original Prompt: Requested by @deansbbyx | I don’t think Beau Arlen gets a lot of love so I was thinkin som fluffy family fic with him and reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: A whole lot of fluff
Authors Note: So this is my first time writing for Beau and I hope I was able to do his character justice! | Thanks to my lovely friend @thatonewriter15 for beta reading this for me | I hope this came out just as fluffy as you were hoping my friend! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
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You woke up groaning to the sound of your alarm. 6am on the dot. For as long as you could remember you’ve never been a morning person; but that quickly changed once you had Amelia — your daughter who, despite being a pain in your side sometimes and thinks she’s attached to your hip, is honestly one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.
Once you had her, you had to become a morning person much to your dismay. In the beginning it was hard as prior to having her you never got up before 9am as you worked afternoon shifts — there was simply no reason to get up at 6 or 7am. But once the two of you developed a routine it became easier; the two of you working as teammates.
But today, for some reason, it felt even harder for you to get up. You felt drained, your eyes were still heavy, all you wanted more than anything was to get back to sleep. Your alarm went off again and you tried your hardest not to throw your phone across the room. With another groan, you shut off your alarm and got out of bed slowly, the hardwood flooring of your apartment felt cold against your feet. As soon as your feet touched the wood there was a knock on the door. Another groan left your lips; Amelia jumped out of bed and started running down the hall.
“Don’t worry mommy I got the door!” She beamed, her little feet smacking against the wood.
“Mel, let mom get the door okay?” You said, rushing out your bedroom door.
“But what if it’s —”
“It’s not him Sweetheart. He doesn’t come over this early you know that.” You said, and her face dropped. “Don’t be sad Sweetie. I know you want to see him, I want to too. But we’re probably not going to see him until later when he’s done with work.”
“At the Sheriffs office!” Amelia said, happy with herself that she remembered.
“Yes, at the Sheriffs office.” You smiled, slightly praising her.
Another knock came at the door and there was a part of you that was getting a little mad at the persistentness. It was 6 in the morning — who could possibly be coming at this hour? “Special delivery!” You knew that voice from anywhere, and it a matter of seconds that annoyance you had melted away.
Amelia looked at you, hands on her hips. “Told you it was your boyfriend!” She said, sticking her tongue out at you. You stuck your tongue out at her back, and she couldn’t help but giggle. Once opening the door you didn’t even have a chance to greet your boyfriend before Amelia was running past you to get to him. “Beau!” She called, and without warning jumped into his arms.
Not fully prepared for her to do that, the bag of what you assumed to be food almost fell out of his hands as he wrapped his arms around her, making sure she didn’t fall out of his arms. “Hey Kiddo,” he said, his voice in a similar joyful tone as hers was in. “How we doin’ this mornin’?” He asked, his accent a little bit more prominent than usual.
Amelia looked at him, her arms around his neck. “Good now that you’re here!” She beamed — you couldn’t help but agree with her answer.
Beau looked at you and smiled, and you couldn’t help but look at the two of them; happy that he had taken an instant liking to Amelia (and vice versa). “How about you darlin’?”
“You know I’m always happy to see you.” You grinned.
“You better be. Because I come bearing gifts.” He stated holding up a white paper bag.
“If that gift is food you are more than welcome to come inside.” You teased. “Let me take that since you’re too busy with your favorite.” You said, gently tickling your daughter in her side as she wriggled.
“Mom! Stop!” She laughed.
“Okay, okay.” You said kissing her on the cheek. “And one for you,” you said as you gave him a quick peck.
“Gross!” Amelia said.
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“So, what brings you here so early? You never come this early.” You said, taking a sip of your orange juice.
“I uh, I took the day off actually.” He said, and you couldn’t help but look at him with disbelief.
“You? You took the day off?” You asked. “You never do that.”
“Yeah well, first time for everything.” He said. “Jenny insisted.”
“Ah.” Was all you said before taking a giant bite out of your breakfast wrap.
“I like her. She’s always so nice to me. And her hair is really pretty.” Amelia chimed in, mouth full of waffles. “Mommy when are you going to hang out with her again?”
“Probably this weekend Sweetheart. But we have to see, you know how busy she can be.” You stated; Amelia’s face dropped. “But I’m sure as soon as I mention you she’ll try and rush over.” You winked, causing her to smile. “You know how much she adores you.”
“Oh she sure does.” Beau let out a small chuckle. “I was thinking, you two don’t have any plans today right? Well, besides school for this one.”
“Not that I can think of. Why? What did you have in mind?” You asked curious.
“I was thinking, if you two are up for it, we could find a nice empty field somewhere, take some chairs, make some food, make a fire, watch the night sky.” He said, his voice sounding a tad nervous. It almost sounded more nervous than it did when he initially asked you out on your first date a few months ago.
“So camping without the camping?” You clarified.
“Essentially yes.” He said. “Think of it as a
family date night.”
“Family date night?” You smiled, loving the sound of that.
“That sounds like fun!” Amelia almost yelled. The only reason it didn’t come out as a yell was because her mouth was still full of waffles.
“What she said.” You said pointing to Amelia.
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“Okay mommy how do I look?” Your daughter asked as she did a small spin to showcase her outfit. Like usual, she decided that she wanted to wear something sparkly for the occasion as she believed wearing something with sparkles was the epitome of fashion — reasons why she somehow convinced you to wear something sparkly on your first date with Beau, thankfully he found it cute.
“As cute as always Sweetie.” You said. “How about me?” You too did a similar type of spin as her as you showcased your outfit. It wasn’t sparkling (much to your daughters dismay), but you thought it matched her outfit well.
“You look beautiful mommy!” She said, side hugging you.
“Thanks Bean.” You said kissing her on the top of the head. “Now, I need you to make me a promise tonight okay?” You began as you kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in yours.
“No promises but I can try.” She grinned — she was becoming more and more like you each day.
You let out a small laugh. “I appreciate the honesty.” You smiled. “But, it’s gonna be a little chilly tonight so I need you to keep the jacket on okay?”
“But won’t the fire keep us warm?” She asked.
“Yes, but, we still need to keep our jackets on. You know why? Because it’ll keep us even extra warm.” You smiled.
“Okay.” Amelia said, a little disappointed.
“Can we shake on it?” You asked, now holding out your hand for her to shake.
“It’s a promise.” The two of you said in unison as you shook hands.
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The drive to the field went like a blur but it was filled with song after song of you and Amelia singing to the radio as Beau chimed in during random verses. And like Amelia fashion, she found it the funniest thing whenever Beau would chime in, as he wouldn’t be as serious about getting the lyrics right like you and her tried to do.
As soon as Beau parked, Amelia went straight to the door handle trying to open the door. “Open the door! Open the door!” Her patience running thin.
“Alright alright. Don’t worry it’s not a race.” Beau said, his voice calm.
“Sorry sorry. I’m just excited.” Amelia said as she removed her hand from the door handle.
As you were about to speak to reassure her that she didn’t need to apologize Beau did it for you. “No need to apologize Bean. I’m glad you’re excited.” He leaned in. “Wanna know a secret?”
“Yes.” She leaned in too, whispering.
“I’m excited too.” He smiled, whispering back. “Alright, I’ll open the door in five. Want to give me a countdown?”
Amelia kicked her feet with excitement. “Yes! One
two
three
four
five!” As soon as your daughter said five, Beau unlocked the doors and Amelia — without hesitation, opened the door and jumped out of the car.
As you watched her get out of the car and run into the empty field you pulled into, you couldn’t help but watch her as she ran around in circles occupying herself. Turning to Beau you smiled. “Thanks for this.” You said, placing your hand on his cheek.
“No need to thank me. I wanted to do this.” He reassured you, placing his hand on your thigh.
“I know but
I really do mean it. I really appreciate you doing this for Amelia
for me.”
“I’d do anything for both of you. You know that.” He gave your thigh a squeeze.
“I love you.” You said, slightly whispering.
“Love you too.” He said, leaning in and kissing you. “Come on, let’s go get her before she burns the field down.”
You grinned. “You know she would if she could.”
“Well, I don’t plan on making any arrests tonight. Well
not until later tonight.” He winked. “And with
permission of course ma’am.”
“Permission granted.” You winked back, the two of you kissing again.
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“Okay so I brought your second favorite thing besides waffles.” Beau began as he started reaching into a bag next to him. As he grabbed the bag he pointed at Amelia. “No peaking.”
“No peaking!” She repeated back shutting her eyes and placing her hands over them.
“Are you peaking?” He asked her and then looked over at you.
“She keeps her word.” You said rubbing your hands together over the fire.
“Alright. I trust you.” He said. “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, not even putting any of his fingers up.
“Beau!” Amelia couldn’t help but let out the biggest giggle. It was the type of giggle you hadn’t heard her have in such a long time — and that was something that genuinely made you smile.
“Alright alright.” He said. “Open your eyes.” As her eyes opened he held the bag of marshmallows in his hand and her eyes light up like Christmas tree lights.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” She exclaimed getting up from her chair and running toward Beau with her hands out. Before she asked her next question she looked over at you, slight puppy dog eyes. “Mommy can I have one now?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Ask Beau Sweetheart.”
She turned to him, her hands still out. “May I have a marshmallow please?”
“Well, you did say please.” He said opening the bag. “Just one, because we’re going to make s’mores in a few.” He placed a marshmallow in her hand, her face continued to beam with joy.
“Thank you!” She said placing the entire marshmallow in her mouth.
“You want one?” He asked, a marshmallow between his pointer finger and thumb looking at you.
“Sure. What will it cost me?” You asked, getting up from your own chair and walking toward him.
“Hmmm,” he was deep in thought. “Kiss me?”
“I can do that.” You leaned down, your hands on either side of his face as you kissed him.
“Ewwww.” You heard Amelia say from a few feet away. “Adults are gross.” She said, scrunching her face in disgust.
The two of you pulled away and you took the marshmallow from his hands. “Sorry Mel, we’ll be more careful.” Beau said, giving you a look of amusement.
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As the night went on, things started to wind down and it was finally getting to one of your favorite parts of the night: looking up at the night sky. Although it was something the three of you were doing a majority of the night between the laughing, story telling, and food eating, this was the first time the three of you weren’t doing anything but looking up at the sky.
“You know, I’ve lived here all my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at the sky.” You said, Beau’s arm around you now as Amelia made herself comfortable lying on a combination of not only your lap but Beau’s.
“It really is beautiful,” he agreed. “You know, as much as I love Texas, I’ll give Montana this, it does have some beautiful views.” He said looking at you as he said it.
You felt yourself blush at his compliment. “The views have definitely gotten better since you came to town.”
“Are you two going to kiss now?” Amelia said, looking up at the both of you.
“We could but, you do think it’s gross.” Beau commented.
“I’ll allow it.” Amelia said.
Beau and you exchanged looks. “You sure Bean?” You asked.
“I’m sure mommy. I’ll even close my eyes.” She said covering her eyes with her hands. “Whenever you’re ready.”
You and Beau let out small laughs. “With the permission of Amelia, can I kiss you darlin’?” He asked slightly leaning in.
“Yes you may.” You said, leaning in as well.
“Are you two kissing?” Amelia asked her eyes still closed. “Cause it doesn’t sound like it.”
Beau and you looked at Amelia, both of you holding back a laugh. “Come ‘ere.” You said, fully leaning in now and kissing him.
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Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @deansbbyx @justletmereadfanfic If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!
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spnbaby-67 · 1 year ago
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Montana Stars
Just cute one shot between Beau Arlen and his girl, Y/N.
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No warnings needed other than Beau being adorable.
Under the Montana skies, Sheriff Beau Arlen and Y/N found themselves on a date night to remember. They sat on a cozy blanket, gazing up at the starlit sky. The air was crisp, and the only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of a nearby stream.
Beau turned to her, smiling, "Y/N, I can't believe we finally made it out here. I almost forgot how It's so peaceful."
Y/N, nestled closer to the handsome cowboy, "It's perfect, Beau. Just like you said it would be."
Just then, he reached for Y/N's hand, fingers intertwining as they continued to admire the stars.
Breaking the silence, Beau whispered, "You know, my granddaddy used to tell me stories about these stars. He said each one had a story to tell, and if you listened closely enough, you could hear it."
"Really? What kind of stories?" With curiosity, y/n looked at him.
"Well, let's see... That one," he pointed to a bright star, "he always said that's the guardian star. It watches over us and keeps us safe."
She found herself following his finger as he pointed to the star. While she gazed at the brightest one."That's beautiful, what about that one?"
Beau smirked, "Ah, that one's the mischief-maker. It's said to be responsible for all the unexpected kisses under the Montana skies."
Y/N giggled as she turned to face him. "Is that so?"
He whispered as their eyes locked on each other, "You bet. But you know, those stars have been awful quiet tonight."
Y/N felt herself blushing, "Maybe they're waiting for the right moment."
The moment was perfect, the Montana skies serving as their backdrop, and the stars, their silent witnesses. In that embrace, Beau Arlen and Y/N shared a magical night under the stars, where words weren't always necessary to convey their feelings.
@deans-baby-momma
@jackles010378
@nancymcl
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zepskies · 8 months ago
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Long Fics vs. Parts
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Hey there, friends! Quick question for you, just because I'm curious.
If a one-shot fic is 6,000 words or over, let's say, do you prefer it split into shorter parts, or do you like a long story?
I tend to prefer one long story, but I know some people find shorter parts more manageable. What say you? 💜
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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years ago
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I Can Feel You
Summary; Beau Arlen x Fe!OC (or reader if you wish) -> Agent Sandy Fletcher is brought to Montana to help on a case.
Warning: Swearing, Violence (crimial minds level - not a tie in), mentions of tortue, fluff (kinda) towards the end, angst.There is also an SPN reference if you can spot it.
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They had plastered her as a rookie. Made it out that she didn’t know much but she knew just over the normal amount to pass every test in the field. 
By the gods were they wrong. 
Agent Sandy Fletcher arrived in Montana in the early hours of Thursday morning. She was picked up by Deputy Poppernak who kept her both entertained and up-to-date on the case at hand. 
She had been given her orders by her Chief. He wanted her away from town for a while. And, even though he wished that he didn’t have to, he needed to. Sandy needed out of Oregon. At least for a while. 
“Tell me, is your Sheriff as talkative as you?”
Popp blushed a little. “Sorry. I’m talking too much.”
Sandy smiled. “Oh, no. It’s nice. The people I’m usually with don’t speak more than two words a day.”
Popp went on to explain a few things about Sheriff Beau Arlen and his deputy Hoyt. “I’ve heard good things so far.” Sandy assured Popp. 
By the time she arrived at her home for the following however-many weeks, Sandy managed to grab a few hours of sleep before heading into the station at 8am. 
And they got straight onto the case. 
A double act. Childhood friends turned into a serial killer duo. They’d kidnap the helpless and weak, keep them alive for a few days but in the meanwhile make them wish they were dead until finally
they’d grant the victim one final wish. 
To let them die. 
It was better than going through the pain again and again and again. 
But it was two weeks after Sandy had joined the team and was with Beau, Denise, Cassie and Jenny that she was taken from them. 
The duo had been watching Denise’s house the entire evening, waiting for someone to come outside alone and be distracted long enough to be taken out. 
It just so happened to be Sandy. 
She had offered to take out the trash since Denise had cooked, Cassie and Jenny were handling the pots and Beau was clearing the dining room. 
But after 5 minutes, Beau popped his head outside from the backdoor to shout Sandy back inside. 
“She still not back yet?” Beau had smiled as he entered and Jenny took the stacked plates from his hands. 
“Wonder if she got lost?”
Beau chuckled and popped his head around the door. “Hey, Sandy! You get lost?”
But then nothing. 
Not a single thing. 
“Sandy?”
Beau looked back inside, the other three growing a little more concerned. “Sandy?”
Beau walked outside and around the corner cautiously. 
On the floor was the trash bag open, pouring its contents onto the grass whilst the lid was thrown across the lawn. 
“Hoyt!”
Jenny shot outside of the door and came to his side. “Where is she?”
Three sets of footprints. Sandy’s and two others. 
They’d got to her. 
Storming inside the station, Beau gave out his instructions to his officers, giving Hoyt things to follow up on and asking Cassie to keep Denise by her side at all times. 
“We don’t know how long they’d been watching us but I’m gonna guess the whole night.”
“Beau?”
“I need every officer reporting back to either myself or Hoyt. You go out in pairs. You do not-”
“Beau?”
“Separate from your partner-”
“Beau!” Poppernack shouted, finally catching his boss’ attention. “Look.”
Popp picked up the remote on his desk and cast the live tape from his inbox to the Tv screen. 
Sandy. 
She was out cold. A single lightbulb was somewhere, lighting her up just enough for them to all see the damage that had been done. 
She had blood dripping from her nose, cuts across her cheeks and collar bone. She had bruises around her eye but they’d hit her so it wouldn’t swell up. 
They wanted the station to know it was her. 
Everyone watched in silence, waiting for something to happen.
“It’s live, too. They’re streaming it but I can’t get a location.”
“Keep trying.” Beau was holding back every emotion he could so he simply sounded deflated. His eyes never once left the screen, even as he walked the few steps towards a desk to sit against it. 
Popp nodded and continued to try and find her. 
For a few moments, nothing happened and then a groan. 
Slowly, Sandy was coming around. Her head felt heavy and her neck was sore. How long had she been out?
Squinting her eyes due to the light, she finally managed to find some strength again and then she saw him. 
Sandy closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh, it’s you.”
“You’re still alive I see?”
“I’m guessing you were expecting a different ending.”
The guy behind the camera stood up. “Perhaps.”
“What is it with villain's being so vague in their answers?” Sandy questioned. “You never just get straight to the point. You have to make a whole song and dance about it and even then you don’t get to your point!”
A loud smack came across her cheek. Her hair covered her face but opened up the back of her neck for the camera to see yet another cut and taser markings. 
“Well, aren’t you just the perfect gentleman?” Sandy looked back up to him. 
Sharply, he yanked at her hair and placed another hand under his chin harshly. 
“I wouldn’t speak to me like that if I were you, Alexandra.”
“Don’t call me that.” Sandy gritted. “You’re not my mother.”
“It’s your name, though? Isn’t it? Alexandra Fletcher. Special Agent. Only child- well, that’s not exactly true. Is it?”
Sandy laughed. “What? You been looking through my family’s medical records again? Wasn’t smart enough to become a doctor to get them legally so you stole them? That it? Oh, your parents must be so proud.”
He sharply gripped at her throat again. 
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Didn’t know this was your angle. Always thought this was Ernie’s method.” Sandy continued. 
“What’s she doing? She’s going to get herself killed!” That was the main comment coming from the officers until Beau shushed them all. 
“Where is Ernie by the way? I thought you two were attached by the
” Sandy looked down a little. “You know? Everything.”
He placed more pressure on her throat but before she felt herself begin to pass out, Ernie walked inside. 
“Let her go. I want to have some fun with this one. She’s special.”
“Thanks.” Sandy steadied her breathing. “Last person who called me that was my 5th grade teacher.”
“Humor? Is that your distraction?”
“More of my entertainment than anything.” Sandy shrugged. “The Sesame Street writers have really gone down the drain since they replaced some of the acts.”
Ernie threw back his head in a laugh as he picked out his tools. “Ha! Let me guess? We’re Bert and Ernie?”
“Congratulations, you have fucking ears. You mom must have been so proud when you finally listened to her.”
“Oh, she was. She asked me to kill her neighbor for her. The dog kept shitting in our garden.” He explained before lowering his top half to be eye-level with her. “Just one thing? Why Bert and Ernie?”
“Well
I’ve read your files. And you both seem to have this
ooh, what’s the word?” It hit her. “Codependency. Well, one of you does.” Sandy whispered before gesturing over to Bert. 
Ernie smiled. “Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
Ernie’s face changed, no surprise to Sandy and he swiped his knife across her as he distracted her by punching her gut. 
“Your folks ever tell you it’s not nice to beat on girls?”
“Pops encouraged it, actually. Said women needed to know their place in society. Thinking. Having an opinion. It wasn’t right.”
“Do you believe that?”
Ernie shrugged. “Not really. I have met some extraordinary women along the way.”
“Who you’ve killed along the way?”
“Most.”
“What about him?” Sandy nodded over to Bert. 
“Oh, he'd be too afraid of them to try.”
“Seems pretty confident to me.” Sandy argued. “I mean, he had me shaking in my boots before you came in here.”
“I’m sure he did.”
Beau and some more of the officers continued to watch in silence whilst Jenny stood over Popp’s shoulder, trying to find a location on Sandy. 
Beau’s eyes stayed glued to the screen in front of him looking for any sign or hint for where she might be. 
She couldn’t be that far. She’d only been gone 3 hours - although it felt longer. 
And clearly, they’d had tied for a while. 
“Where are you, Sandy?”
“Do you have anything you’d like to say? Perhaps to that Sheriff of yours?” Ernie now asked as he circled her before finally leaning down behind her. “I saw how he was looking at you at dinner.”
Sandy rolled her eyes, “Oh, brother.”
“Now, I might not be the best expert but even I know when a guy is into you.”
“Why? Did you catch yourself in the mirror when checking Bert out?”
Ernie gave a harsh, fake smile. “Funny,”
“Oh, no. Please. Do continue.” Sandy’s voice was laced in sarcasm as she watched Ernie walk away. 
“You laugh, but I guess
part of you hopes I’m right.”
Sandy didn’t say anything but simply shot him a look of slight confusion for him to continue. 
“Because I also saw how you looked at him?”
“And how did I look at him?”
Ernie turned around and lent against his weapons table as another blade sat comfortably in his hands. “Like you’d do anything for him.”
Sandy thought about it for a moment. “Hhm, maybe. But he is my colleague so
maybe not anything.”
“Please, you were planning your wedding invitations.”
“Actually, it was our joint grave stone.” Sandy corrected. “Much like you with your very own partner in crime. I mean, there is a lovely plot of land for you out in the field. I mean, watching the stars from the little pond by that old willow tree? It would be very peaceful.”
“Sounds like you’ve found your own resting place.”
Sandy smiled, “Maybe.”
She could only hope that Beau or someone caught onto what she was saying. 
And he did.
Beau gave the order and after a final few minutes, they’d found the spot. 
For any main road, it would take just over an hour. 
“Okay, I need squad cars, Popp take Alpha,” Beau then pointed to a few more officers and gave them their orders. 
“Stream this to my phone.” Beau told Popp and the moment they got into Beau’s car, Jenny turned up the volume. 
“Is she okay?”
“I think.”
“You think? What do you mean-”
“Beau, she’s okay.” Jenny assured him. “She’s just sitting there watching them.”
“Okay.”
“She’ll be okay, Beau.” Jenny reassured him. “She’s tougher than we think.”
Beau couldn’t talk. He just nodded and pressed his foot on the gas. 
By the time they arrived, Beau and the others all switched off their headlights and sirens as they got closer to the barn. 
Once the SWAT and officers were surrounding the building, SWAT kicked down the door and they all entered. 
If Beau wasn’t so determined, the sight he was met with, he would have frozen. 
SWAT took care of the serial duo whilst Jenny searched the rest of the barn for evidence to further the conviction. 
Beau searched around the place before finally reaching Sandy, holstering his gun and leaning down. 
“Beau Arlen,” Sandy smiled in a weak laugh. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Beau smiled as he quickly untied her and let her rest her weight against his arms as he helped her stand. 
“Could say the same for you, Sweetheart.”
Sandy smiled weakly as he took her in his arms and helped her walk outside to the medics. 
“Are you sure you can walk?”
“Beau, I have been through this a million times. I’m fine.”
As much as Beau would have once upon a time pushed her comment aside, he couldn’t. “What?”
“I’ll explain later, can we just..hurry?”
By the time Beau helped her out and got her to the medics, she was being rushed into hospital. 
“They haven’t cut too deep. I should only need a couple of stitches.”
“Try 30.” The paramedic said in response. “Maybe more.”
Beau gave Sandy ‘that’ look but she just rolled her eyes. “What?”
“How can you be so calm about this? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Beau, I told you I’m fine.”
And she said the same when he finally was alone with her in her medical room once her nurse had finished the final stitches. 
“You keep saying you’re fine-”
“Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“Sandy.”
“Beau.” She copied his tone. 
Then he gave her that look again. 
And she folded. 
“Okay. So maybe the reason I was sent here wasn’t just to help out.” Sandy explained. “There had been a few incidences, back in Oregon. I worked a couple of cases in the Organised Crime Unit and - long story short - they found me. Tied me up in their grandmother’s basement and said if I didn’t join them I’d be
swimming with the fishes, if you will.”
“But this isn’t on-”
“My record? I know. It’s for highly classified officials to know, only.” Sandy nodded. “It was both for my protection, should any of the family somehow make their way into the databases and for any future employers I may have. Being tortured by a crime boss isn’t exactly something that would sell when trying to get a job in law enforcement.”
“When did it happen?”
“A few years back.”
“And have you-”
“Received counseling? Yeah. Just over 18 months and now we talk every couple of months.”
Beau nodded and hung his head. “Beau? Look at me?”
Beau looked up. 
“I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m okay.” Sandy assured him in a soft voice. She reached out and took his hand. “Can you feel me? I can feel you.”
Beau squeezed her hand lightly. “I can feel you.”
Beau then pulled her into a tight hug which she gave back just as tight. He almost lost her tonight and yet she had been acting like nothing had happened. 
But, just as Beau’s arms began to relax around her, Sandy’s arms tightened. 
“Not yet.”
It was only two words, but Beau knew. Beau knew she was falling. That she was about to collapse beneath the weight of everything that had just happened. 
Eventually, Sandy let go and moved back to wipe her eyes. “When these pain meds wear off, I might need your help. I love Denise but she scares me.”
Beau nodded. “Oh, me too.”
Sandy smiled. “Thank you for finding me.”
“Thank you for telling me where you were.”
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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years ago
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Beau Arlen Masterlist
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Here you'll find all the fics I've written about this beautiful Sheriff. Settle in and let that Texan accent melt you to a puddle.
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Only the Strong Survive
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Can Be Grouped Together or Read Separately:
When Fantasy Pales When Thunder Rolls When the Law is On Your Side When the Moon Watches Over You
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Problem Solved
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Stoking the Flame (Beau and Jenny Fix it Fic for S3 Finale)
I See You
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*Beautiful dividers above created by @firefly-graphics
*Header created by me.
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mla0 · 7 months ago
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I have way too many fic ideas... I was like "Oh I'll work on the next Ways to Go chapter. Oh I'll start the first chapter for the fic for my wings AU. Oh what if I wrote a MLA0 fic set during Princeton." and now I'm switching between all three. Head in hands.
SAMEEEEE MAN we're in hell together. to continue the big fic now, to do the like, 2-3 oneshots floating around in my brain, to continue the original writing that's mostly just for me and my partner..... DECISIONS HAVE NEVER BEEN MY STRONG SUIT!
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rnolduga · 2 years ago
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Was rewatching one of the totk teasers and realized something about the enemy that appears for a second.
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A seemingly ancient automaton. That doesn't mean much on it's own, honestly, but I'm thinking of that in conjuncture with a specific part of it's design.
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These look like hands. Nintendo loves keeping reoccurring naming methods, designs, and motifs in zelda, and it just so happens we have two other enemies that also fit the description of an ancient automaton with hands.
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Gohdan, the boss from the tower of the gods in Wind Waker...
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and Mazaal, the boss from the fortress of winds in The Minish Cap.
Gohdan was a guardian of the master sword- created by the gods as a trial for the hero to determine whether or not he was worthy of wielding the blade (and more directly, entering hyrule castle to attain it). Mazaal is a guardian of the fortress of winds, created by the wind tribe to protect the fortress.
So, all three of them bear a resemblance to each other, being a head with two hands seemingly floating independently. The two we're familiar with are guardians, they have a similar fight strategy (shooting the hands to take them down before being able to go for the head), and were both made by ancient, powerful people.
Something to note specifically about Mazaal being made by the wind tribe is that they're no strangers to advanced tech and ancient enemy-building, especially when you note their ruins are also protected by armos, robotic statues built for them by the minish.
So... a boss made from ancient tech by a tribe that lived in the skies, that shows similarities in appearance, purpose, and battle strategy to another boss that's fought near the top of a tower that reaches toward the sky. And now we have an unidentified enemy in a teaser for tears of the kingdom that shares the design trope with them and is clearly fought in the sky. Very interesting
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sylvanaiello · 11 months ago
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Une ff cross-over entre la sĂ©rie « Big Sky » et « Walker » ? đŸ€  HELL YEAH !
Venez jeter un coup d’Ɠil đŸ«¶đŸ»
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ducksbyday · 2 years ago
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Oh my goodness, is that another day empires headcanon post?
Ye
(cw// Jimmy has backpain lol)
Which is the weirdest cw I've ever written
Empires smp/double life headcanon where winged humans (Elytrians) is its own species and Jimmy is one of them. Elytrians are born without wings, which start developing when they're around 15/16 years old and they grow to their proper size until 21. Jimmy was an exception, his wings already started forming when he was 11 years old and they continued to grow, even after he turned 21.
He quickly got a name for himself as the largest winged elytrian in all of empires and he was praised for it.
For elytrians, wingsize is extremely important. Large wings are a sign of power, good health and beauty. A lot of people wish to have larger wings than they have. So when they saw the size of Jimmy's wings, they saw it as the best gift anyone could ask for.
Jimmy harshly disagreed.
The wings were heavy, got in the way and in almost all indoor places he couldn't even spread them to fully. Eventually they got so heavy, that he started developing horrible back problems and his posture became absolutely awful. He knew that if he did nothing about it, he'd evantually succomb to it. He might never be able to walk again.
All he wanted was just to get rid of them, but any time he'd see a doctor about it, they would go "oh no! You can't possibly cut them off! You're going to regret it!" or "but you'll never be able to fly again! You won't be free anymore". Others would say that it was selfish if he got rid of them, because there were people out there whos wings never even worked in the first place.
Jimmy evantually got enough of it, and before he left to Empires to become The Sherrif of Tumble Town, he cut off his own wings.
It's been years since anyone has heard the name Jimmy. He doesn't even use it anymore, simply going by "The Sherrif" now. He doesn't even tell people he is, or ever was, an elytrian. It's not worth the hassle.
He might not be able to fly anymore, but he feels more free than he ever did.
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hollypies · 2 years ago
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So I told management about my issue an UH LOL. Deb (my manager) got mad at me and uhhh gave my mom the cold shoulder all day???? Also I got yelled at over the radio a lot which is so fun
In other ! Better news I went home early. It's been a . It's been a day folks
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wizardnuke · 2 years ago
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elven felicia day is bullying me in da2 rn
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kaleldobrev · 1 year ago
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KalelDobrev's Masterlist
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Hey gang! I decided to make a rebloggable version of my masterlist since my masterlist isn't able to be reblogged at the moment. I hope you enjoy! ♡
Desktop Version Masterlist (Main)
Sam Winchester Masterlist
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Jack Kline Masterlist
Castiel Masterlist
Misc. Characters + Pairings
Misc. Supernatural Characters
Robin Buckley (Stranger Things)
Harley Quinn (DC)
Soldier Boy/Ben (The Boys)
Beau Arlen (Big Sky)
Felix Catton (Saltburn)
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softgrungeprophet · 6 months ago
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I'm sitting here like
G5
KP 9
very negative bz
clear skies
moon is a tiny sliver this week
waiting for the sun to set with bated breath 😂 it's only just before 7 here though so sunset's not for another hour ish, and apparently predicted best time in WA is around 11 pm, so i guess i'll put on some shoes at 10 and see if there's anything i can see with my naked eyes
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kurooh · 5 months ago
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HORNY BRAINROT.
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☆ includes: aged up! various characters from bnha
☆ warnings: 18+ content, reader is gn or fem depending on the scenario, drug use (weed & alcohol), somnophilia (consent given prior!!), nsfw. not proofread
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thinking of izuku coming back home after a long day at the agency; he bends you over the kitchen table you were both about to eat on, and he skips dinner and goes in for dessert between your thighs.
sucking on eijirou’s cock desperately while he pushes your head down and tells you to take it. when he gets close, he yanks your head off him and you switch to jerking him off, your eyes closing as his cum sprays on your face. he groans loudly when you sweep your fingers across your wet skin and then suck on them, looking up at him innocently.
always a lover of public sex, dabi fucks you in alleyways, on rooftops, behind cars at night, and all across the city. he especially enjoys taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat — he often fucks you like this in sight of the sky during the #2 hero’s patrols.
sometimes hitoshi can’t sleep, so he gently pulls the blankets away from your sleeping figure, admiring you in the dark. he’ll kiss your tummy, hips, and pelvis, then peel away your underwear, his tongue rushing to taste the sweetness between your folds. when you cum, you moan as though you’re in a dream, rarely waking up — occasionally he’ll make you cum so hard you wake up gasping his name.
keigo finds himself feeling overwhelmed when you ride him, his eyes rolling back and his entire body shaking each time he sees your greedy pussy swallow the whole length of his cock. as he unravels more and more, his wings represent how he feels with their wild movements. when he cums loudly, his wings rush in, wrapping around the both of you, pulling you close to him.
despite his shy demeanor, tamaki is a FREAK. he’ll have you sit in a chair, blindfolded, limbs tied to the back and the legs. then, he’ll tease you with kisses and touches, lightly slapping your thighs if you try to pull free to touch him. after a long while, he’ll spread your pussy open and spit onto your clit, then tease you further.
speaking of spitting, katsuki enjoys spitting into your pussy as well, or making you spit onto his cock to lube it up for sex or jerking him off.
i offer u: denki + hanta tag team. hanta’s on his back, your back is on his chest, his cock is stretching out your ass. while he’s thrusting up into your ass and holding you close, denki’s fucking in and out of your pussy with his overstimulated cock. his cum drips from your cunt and trickles down hanta’s cock, adding more lubrication. a threesome with these two would be insane because they would try out every position and cum once from it before stopping.
despite hating it when you edge him, shoto loves it. he’ll sigh shakily, hissing out, “ah— god, make me cum already, stop fucking with me!” but when you let him get real close, he begs you to stop and edge him. it’s confusing but ultimately he enjoys it, and always cries when he cums after edging.
drinking with katsuki always gets rowdy; he’ll show you off, get jealous more easily, and fuck you harder. after a night at the bar and way too many shots, he hops into an uber with you and heads to an expensive hotel instead of your home. katsuki books a big room, the one with the best view of the city and streets (it’s also 2-4 stories up from the lobby). when you get into the room, he practically rips your clothes off, pushing you against the big window overseeing the people and cars beneath. then, he fucks you right against the window, your tits pressed against the glass.
dry humping with eijirou in his agency office with an unlocked door, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy through layers and layers of clothing. when his precum is dripping through his underwear, and your panties are soaked with your slick, he removes whatever’s in the way, besides your underwear. when you start to get loud as his clothed cock creates more friction against you, he pulls off your wet underwear and stuffs them into your mouth, saying, “shh, baby. you have to be quiet, okay? don’t want any of the staff coming in, right?”
sharing a joint with keigo on the balcony of your shared apartment, plumes of smoke swirling around you as he spreads your legs. he always enjoys making out with your pussy before he eats you out, taking your folds and clit between his lips as he drags his tongue against you. he stares up at you with reddened eyes, desperate for your approving moans and facial expressions.
being fucked doggy style by izuku, either in your pussy or ass, as he praises you and your beautiful reflection in the mirror. “oh, you’re so gorgeous.. make me feel so damn lucky every time i look at you.” if you refuse to look, he leans over you, his pecs pressing into your upper back as he tugs your chin. he demands, “watch yourself cum” or “if you look away, i’ll stop pounding you”
shoto always cums within a few minutes of 69ing with you.. the way you desperately hump at his face and gobble down his cock always proves to be too damn much for him. he used to feel embarrassed, but now he just pushes through the overstimulation and adjusts you how he likes, slurping at your pussy loudly as you moan on his cock.
sexting with denki during his work hours, and sending him sneaky photos of your tits/ass/pussy when you know he’s busy. he’s always so quick to read your messages, and he rushes to the bathroom to hide his boner in a stall. he texts you to tell you what he’s gonna do to you, how desperate he is, or he’ll send mirror selfies, his hard cock visible through his pants.
phone sex with dabi, who easily makes you torture yourself. and god, does he sound good — he tells you what to do, rewarding you with his moans/groans or pictures. he’ll talk you through your orgasm, demanding that you keep fingering yourself or stop to ruin it. if you sob over his instructions, he’ll briefly reassure you, and then tell you to shut up and do what he says (he reminds you to be a good girl/slut or threatens to not fuck you).
god.. hitoshi loves filming you going dumb on his cock. most of the videos in his ‘us vids’ folder start off with him praising you as he moves the camera around your body, capturing every inch of you. “so pretty, god damn.” as the video progresses from gentle to rougher, his hand is wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough for you to gasp often. you’re a mess, babbling pleas as you cry his name, eyes rolling back and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. by the time he’s cumming, you’re begging for him to fill you up, not a single other thought in your head. later, still filming, he thumbs away the saliva at the corner of your mouth; he kisses you and asks if you’re okay.
food play with tamaki, who eagerly gobbles strawberries off your tits, or the whipped cream designs all over your pelvis. even after your skin is free from all the sweetness or its residue, he licks you hungrily, then starts to bite hickeys into your skin. he blushes when you pinch one of his sensitive ears between your fingers and give it a tug — “tamaki, put your tongue to good use and eat me out.”
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 7 days ago
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fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.
wc: 26.7k; warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smoking cigarettes, negative attitudes about smoking, quitting smoking; mentions of misogyny in South Korea; slow burn; constant bickering, tbh; smut (fem reader, striptease (?), heavy making out, scratching, penetrative sex, he puts his hand over her mouth and she licks it, multiple orgasms, handjob, fingering); non-idol!AU - smoker, pining, bratty!JK x cold, independent, insomniac!reader; reader's POV
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“Got a light?”
You reached in your pocket and pulled out the lighter that you always kept on you. It had a dragon insignia etched into the black metal. Heavy and substantial. Serious enough to bruise if thrown with enough force. You flicked it open with your thumb and raised it.
Jeon Jungkook leaned in, holding a cigarette between his lips expectantly.
You made your distaste evident in your expression.
He smirked.
You pressed the button and the orange flame shot up. Burning paper and tobacco. The end of the cigarette glowed red. You pulled your hand away, flicking your wrist to extinguish the flame. Slipped it back into your pocket and resumed not looking at him. You heard him inhale with a satisfied sigh before bleeding out smoke to the sky.
“You smoke too?”
“Fuck no,” you snapped. “I’m not disgusting.”
There was a sharp sucking sound of Jungkook’s incredulous annoyance. “Hm. Then the lighter’s just for me, huh?” His voice was throaty with nicotine. You hadn’t moved away yet. He nudged your shoulder with his knuckles. You didn’t react. “You like me that much?”
You could smell the fumes in the air even though he was attempting to be careful about it. That was the thing about smoke. It got everywhere. A gaseous parasite. You didn’t reply. Instead, you stuck your hands in your denim jacket pockets and acted as if he wasn’t there. Predictably, not a single person looked your way, even with your pleated blue plaid miniskirt was grazing the bottom of your ass and your black pleather corset showing off the ample curve of your breasts.
No one wanted to deal with the big tattooed guard dog smoking just behind you.
He was trying to stand close but not too close. You wondered if Jungkook was aware of how much subtilty he lacked. He likely had no clue. He called your name, casually, desperate for some sort of attention.
“Just say it.”
You turned your head maybe an iota of a degree in his direction, glaring at him from under your black baseball cap. Seething.
“The lighter is not for you, Jeon Jungkook.”
His lips twisted into a pout. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair which definitely worked on other people. Just not you. He held the lit cigarette away from you, and so you spared him a little more of your gaze, pivoting your black boot to view him at an angle.
“You’re lying,” he asserted with false confidence. “You’ve always got it when I ask.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean that it’s for you. Could be for someone else.”
This revelation did not pacify him. The opposite, actually. His brows knitted together. The corner of your lips ticked upward. This pissed him off even more as you seemed to imply scenarios that he very much did not like. You were curious on what how he would approach it.
“Yeah, right. Sure.” He took a quick drag and blew it towards the sky. His dark eyes locked on you. He called your bluff. “You don’t like smoking. There’s no way you would hang out with anyone else who does. You already told me that’s the reason we’re not dating.” Uncertainty etched into his stern expression. “
 Right?”
You tilted your head at him.
You watched your silence infuriate Jungkook. He puffed up his chest a little, which was admittedly impressive even in his oversized black t-shirt. He had big pectoral muscles. He had picked up working out to add an addiction in attempt to subtract one. He did smoke less in your presence. But not zero.
“Right?”
He was being very demanding and prissy right now.
You pursed your lips and sucked on the side of your teeth. Then you said, “Yup. That’s the only reason.”
Despair ghosted over his features. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. There was slightly more than three-fourths left. His eyes went from you to the concrete sidewalk and then back again. You frowned.
“Don’t even think about littering,” you warned.
He clicked his tongue and flicked ash behind him. “So? Who is it?”
“Who is who?” You taunted back in the same irked tone, minus the underlying insecurity.
“The other person you’re cheating on me with,” Jungkook snapped.
You weren’t bothered by his fury. “I’m not cheating on you if you’re not my boyfriend to begin with.”
He shot you a look that could have scalded most. “And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
“Tch, then be my girlfriend and take them from me.”
“Not how this works,” you countered, shifting your stance away from him. Slight panic flashed over his features. You ignored it. “My bus is coming soon.”
“Ugh,” he tutted. “I hate that you go to concerts alone.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend your money on smokes, you could join me.”
“I asked,” he growled. “I have the money. You said no.”
You sent him a soulless smile. “Because you smoke.”
Jungkook looked ready to put out the cigarette on his own arm. But you were already backing away. He half-followed, still talking.
“You’re going dressed like that? You’re going to get groped.”
You did your best to not call him stupid. You settled for an eye-roll. “Why do you think I stuck around after you asked for a light?” You stopped. So did he, avoiding closeness. He looked confused. “Men stay away from me when they smell smoke on my clothes. Either I smoke or I’ve got a boyfriend who does. Either way, not attractive.”
He flinched at your double-edged comment. Then, with a measured amount of bravery, Jungkook took a step forward and tapped your chest with his hand that held the cigarette. You made a displeased face. A tendril of smoke drifted upwards for the suspended second that he held his fingertips to your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him. He backed up, lifting both hands up in defeat. He licked his lower lip, looking down at you.
“If the lighter’s not for me, then what’s it for?”
There was a metal screech of heavy brakes behind you, closer to the street.
You glared up at him, wishing he picked better addictions.
Only time could tell.
“Arson,” you replied, and turned around to step onto the bus, leaving Jungkook alone once again. He would tire of it soon enough.
-
You scowled.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
The crowd was parting as you were heading to the train station. Just before you were meant to enter, a man approached you with a plastic bag and a bottle of water. He looked almost as aggravated as you felt. His hands were occupied so for once he couldn’t ask for a light.
“Is that any way to greet someone waiting for you?” Jeon Jungkook growled.
You were far from impressed. “Did I ask you to wait for me?” You answered yourself. “No, I didn’t. So, you’re the stalker here.”
His dark eyes shifted over the passerby you had no interest in. He looked back at you with a peeved expression. “Better me than an actual creep.”
“Spoiler alert: you are an actual creep.”
You kept your distance, wary, and made to walk around him. Something flashed in his gaze but he shut his eyes and sucked in the side of his cheek with a sharp sound. His body turned, semi-following you. You noticed he was wearing a black leather jacket, a different cream shirt, and dark olive cargo pants. Same black sneakers from earlier though. His black hair seemed faintly damp. He must have taken a shower. Perhaps he went to work out while you were gone for hours.
“At least take the water and food,” Jungkook scoffed, holding out the items. “You’re probably dehydrated and hungry. Don’t your feet hurt from standing so long?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing.”
You stopped and stared him down. He rolled his eyes. He seemed hurt. It didn’t matter if he was avoiding your gaze; you could tell. There was no reason to soften your tone, but at the very least you reached out and took the water bottle from him. The condensation felt nice on your palm already. You unscrewed the cap with a cold expression and heard the plastic crack. He hadn’t tempered with it, at least. A part of you felt bad for assuming the worst, but, then again, this was South Korea. You took a sip and pointed with the cap to the plastic bag.
“What food?”
Jungkook started, diverting his peek at your reaction in hopes you didn’t notice. You had. “Pan-fried tteokbokki,” he mumbled.
One of your favorites. At least he used his ears sometimes. “You really balled out, huh. How much I owe you?”
He took offense. “You think I don’t make enough money to treat you?”
“What do you need to treat me for?”
“Aren’t we friends?” Jungkook shot back.
You were mid-sip when the damage was already done. You saw him freeze up and then quickly look away. People walking past were giving you both weird looks, splitting around the two of you as a river does to a pesky rock stuck in the middle. You lowered the water bottle. He shoved his free hand into his front pant pocket. His knuckles indented the fabric. You looked from them, to back up to his face. His brows were knitted together and he appeared to be biting back an insult.
Or something else.
You reached for the bag.
Hooked your fingers around the handles. He didn’t let go. Nor acknowledge you. You tugged lightly. He remained an immovable statue. You took a step forward and pulled up, turning your face away from his chest in the process.
Jungkook whipped his head back and glared down at you.
His grip tightened. You pressed your lips together as the side of your fingers touched the side of his. He smelled fresh. He had definitely showered. The stale scent of his cigarette from earlier still lingered on your denim jacket. You shifted your eyes and made eye contact. Close. Not touching, though. Just enough for a misunderstanding that wasn’t going to happen because both of you were crystal clear on your stances.
He let go of the bag.
The weight fell onto your fingers.
He was searching for the words but you interrupted his thoughts.
“You gonna make sure I get home safe?” you asked.
He looked away. “Don’t be stupid.” Tightened his jaw. “What kind of man would I be if I just let you wander around at night by yourself?”
You watched his profile. He didn’t turn back. You stepped back. His eyes followed, as unnoticeable as he believed, and you let him have that, choosing instead to start walking.
“Might as well eat while it’s warm. I could sit down for a bit.”
You didn’t look back to see if he was after you. You heard him bite back his reply and swiftly pivot, and then it was both you against the night of blaring headlights and a dissipating crowd, feeling two kinds of alone despite all the people around. You ended up at the underground food court. Probably where he purchased the tteokbokki to begin with. Found a table and unwrapped the container. A paper-sleeved wooden skewer was tucked against the lid.
Jungkook threw himself into the seat across from you and pulled out his phone, beginning his doomscrolling.
It was still warm. Lightly spicy. Probably a bit too heavy for late night but that was why it tasted better than usual. You caught his darting glimpse as you ate. Raised an eyebrow. He pretended not to notice. Or was it that he pretended not to care? You raised the skewer and tilted it towards him. He continued to ignore you even though his body was halfway turning.
“Want one?”
“I’m fine,” he instantly answered. Almost smugly.
You knew what he was doing. Still, you acted as if you didn’t. “I can’t eat it all anyway. Don’t waste.”
Those dark brown orbs shifted back. His eyebrows furrowed. He did his best to sound annoyed. “You don’t eat enough.”
“Even if I didn’t, I should eat something healthier,” you pointed out, keeping your face neutral.
He reached for the skewer and you pierced one of the rice cakes instead. Soaking it in the sauce and holding it out. Jungkook locked eyes with you. You slid the container closer so he could lean over it.
He took the skewer from your fingers and fed himself.
All while staring at you.
The eye contact was broken by his eyes closing. Enjoying the food. Crispy, warm, spicy. Chewy on the inside, in that satisfying way that one could enjoy the seeping heat all over the tongue. He stabbed another and ate that too, without asking. You hadn’t expected him to. You hadn’t expected him to do any of this, actually. You drank another sip of water.
“I’ll take the train home.”
“I don’t think so,” Jungkook grumbled with full cheeks, sliding the container back to you and shoving the wooden skewer in your hand. His brief touch lingered. You searched for his expression but he covered the lower half of his face with his other hand, keeping his eyes shut and chewing as he spoke. “I came on my bike. I’ll drop you off at your place.”
Now that was sounding a little too familiar. “I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve done it before.”
He cracked open an eye and you could tell he was frowning even though his hair had fallen over his temples. “Just because you’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’s smart or safe.”
He underestimated your resting psycho bitch face. You speared two pieces of tteokbokki and crammed them in your mouth. Chewed with irritation. You swallowed. “No one is out to get me.”
Those three-quarter moons remained unconvinced. “That you know of.”
You raised your eyebrows and moved to continue eating. “You watch too much true crime.”
“You don’t watch enough. You are the one that should be cautious,” Jungkook retorted.
“I am cautious.” You glanced at him above pan-fried rice cake. “But you can’t live always being afraid of possible horrors. If I did that, well, I would sleep even worse than I already do.”
You ate.
Jungkook lowered his eyes and went pensively silent.
There wasn’t anything to say. You cleaned up. Threw away the remains appropriately. Began to walk with him subtly leading the way. The night felt darker. Quieter. The concert crowd was gone and now the streets were full of night owls on their own lonely missions. You pretended passersby parted to let you and him through. The more likely answer was avoidance though. There wasn’t anything that friendly about Jungkook’s rigid presence and your inherently cold one.
In a parking lot now.
His black and chrome motorcycle was parked. A beast in its own right. Lately, you had been thinking of his addictions. Tattoos. Motorcycles. Cigarettes. Chasing after the un-chasable. Was he simply a thrill seeker or was he attempting to break an internal perfection that he had been living by for far too long? Or just doing anything that came to mind to try and feel something? You stopped walking when he did. He did his thing. And then Jungkook held out a lump of black fabric to you.
You raised your eyebrows.
He half-shrugged. “You can’t get on the bike in that skirt.”
He was right. You didn’t want him to be right. You took the lump that turned out to be a pair of his sweatpants. The Nike ones he usually wore to work out. You made a face. He rolled his eyes as he produced the helmet.
“They’re clean,” he huffed. “I ain’t nasty.”
You had quite a few comebacks for that but you kept your mouth shut. You wondered if he noticed how he slipped out of his practiced Seoul dialect for half a sentence. You noticed. You averted your eyes. It was late. The adrenaline was wearing off to soreness. You could only give about a rat’s ass of a fuck right now. Fuck it. You started bending down.
“Woah!”
All of a sudden you felt a strong grip on your forearm, pulling you back up and dragging you forward, sandwiching you in between the large motorcycle and Jungkook’s scowl, quickly letting go once you glared. You narrowed your eyes. He gave you a disapproving frown.
“I’m wearing shorts under this,” you hissed under his chin.
“Booty shorts, maybe,” he snapped back. “Also, shorts or not, they don’t hide your shape. Idiot.”
He was wrong. You were wearing black boyshort-style panties. Semantics. Instead of bending down, you raised one leg to lower the inner zipper of your boots. Immediately, Jungkook caught your shoulder, steadying you. You didn’t thank him. You glowered. He glowered back as you undid the other one. You stomped down and bunched up the legs of the sweatpants, first sticking in one foot and then the other, doing a little dance in and out of your boots, before forcefully yanking them up your legs. He didn’t let you fall, but he also didn’t look either, swiftly turning his head to stare out into the street. There was a brief moment where you had to decide to tuck in your skirt or let it flare out over the top of the pants. You opted for the latter, straightening and smoothing out the pleats over the crotch of his borrowed sweatpants.
He glanced back and frowned.
You noticed. “What?”
His eyes drifted up. Brow knitted together. He let go of your shoulder. “Not fair that you look cute,” he muttered.
“I look dumb as hell.” You bent over and rezipped your boots, adding under your breath, “But it’s better than nothing. I guess.” You stood up again.
There was a shifty, expectant silence.
You wanted to go home and sleep. At the same time, you wanted to be awake. Jungkook hesitated for a moment and then handed you the helmet in his hands before circling around you to grab the other one he had stored, leaving you to figure that shit out on your own. He avoided your gaze as surely as you did his. The whole scene looked less weird that it felt. You heard the engine purr to life. He said something and you ignored him, buttoning up your jacket so your valuables wouldn’t fall out. Not your best look, however, you had not planned any of this in any capacity.
Jungkook was already seated, his long legs extended to the asphalt to steady himself.
“So, you–”
You placed your hand on his bicep and stepped onto the footpeg, nimbly swinging your leg over to balance behind him. Underneath your hand, you felt him stiffen as you settled, sliding your other arm around his back and temporarily landing on his hip before you removed the hand on his upper arm to grip his waist.
“O
 Oh.”
He cleared his throat.
“I’m good,” you confirmed even though he hadn’t asked.
He felt warm and solid and you did your best to ignore it.
“R-Right.” A pause before he said, “Hold on, alright?”
You squeezed his waist.
“Mhm.”
Jungkook took you home.
-
“I’ll get the pants back later,” he said as you handed him the helmet back. “Go on up.”
You observed him. Jungkook did his best to be calm and not jittery. He gave you a strange look, realizing that you were analyzing him. He had killed the engine so he didn’t have to shout. He cradled the helmet you had borrowed with one hand, the other on the handle of his motorcycle for a moment before using it to raise the visor to uncover his dark eyes.
You paused.
Then, you unbuttoned your denim jacket, reaching into the inner pocket for your lighter.
You held it out to Jungkook.
He glanced at it, and then at you.
You ticked your head. “You’ll need a light again. Inevitably. Take it.”
His gaze sharpened. He looked away quickly, and you could tell by the contortion of his features that he was shoving his tongue into his cheek, letting out an annoyed huff. Then, he shook his head, as if your audacity was something to behold. Jungkook then transferred the helmet to the crook of his arm and shoved his dominant, tattooed hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, ripping out a slightly crumpled cigarette box with one corner torn open.
He slapped it over your dragon lighter.
“Shit.”
You stared at your palm. And then at him. Jungkook glared back, exhaling hard.
“Take ‘em,” he mumbled. His Busan dialect was even more obvious now. His voice was gruff and his manner blunted. “Just fuckin’ take them.”
“I don’t want these,” you retorted.
“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed to daggers. “Neither should I.” His eyes shifted down and then back up. “Inevitably. You’re so fucking full of it.”
You almost flung both objects at his face. Almost. Yet something made you reconsider. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor shifted. He tried to keep his tone sharp but it was dulled by his body language. He cocked his chin in the most falsely cocky way.
“You think I’m gonna want ‘em?”
Your gazes locked.
“Then I’ll have to come to you to get ‘em.”
You pursed your lips. “I’m going to throw them away.”
He dared you. “Do it.”
“You’ll waste your money and time.”
“And I’ll be reminded you’ll never let me live it down,” Jungkook growled. “I’ll think twice before putting myself through that fire.”
Silence.
Eye to eye.
You held his stare.
Then, you lowered your hand, clutching his cigarettes and your lighter, backing away, and quickly spinning on your heel, striding into your apartment building. You punched in the code. Behind you, you heard the swift kick of an engine roar and then a fading zip away as you yanked open the glass door. You didn’t look back. You pocketed Jeon Jungkook’s cigarettes.
-
Nights later, you sat on the floor next to your bed, flicking your lighter on and off to kill the flame and revive it. Over. And over. You stared at the tiny orange burst. Then extinguished it. Then ignited it again. Such a small light. So fragile and yet so capable of burning this entire apartment down. You breathed out. Fixated on the dancing flame. Time passed.
You sat in silence.
You snapped the lid closed, snuffing it out.
The room was semi-dark. Your bedside table lamp was the only light on. The curtains were open, giving you a view of the city skyline etched into the black sky. The area was actually pretty quiet. You got lucky with a neighborhood full of older folks who mostly minded their own damn business. The apartments were older in a homely sort of way. The most telling trait of the apartment complex was the general unease in the air. Probably because some of the older folks had died in their apartments before. People could be superstitious like that. Maybe you were too. You just didn’t see it as a negative.
Which said a lot about you.
You looked up to your nightstand. Next to the dingy chrome base of your lamp was an open pack of cigarettes. The box was missing maybe three or four of them, you guessed. You hadn’t torn it open to confirm.
Behind your head, your phone began to vibrate.
You lifted your hand and placed your lighter on the nightstand. The lines of the dragon engraving caught the low light, casting shadows over it. Your hand pivoted and you felt around the bed. Found the smoothness of the screen and pulled your phone to you, lowering it to your lap before looking at the caller ID. You frowned slightly once you noticed the time. That late, huh? And this person almost never called or texted. Well. At least not to you.
You accepted the call and brought it to your ear out of habit.
“Ya. You,” mumbled the slurred, distorted voice of Jeon Jungkook.
You responded just as politely. “What?”
He let out a huff. There was a fair bit of rustling and maybe the sound of glass on table. “I want you to know something.” You didn’t reply to that. It wasn’t a question. He paused anyway. Maybe expecting you to reprimand him. You stayed silent. “Ah, fuck.” He exhaled hard into the microphone. You held your phone slightly away from your ear even though you couldn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Look. I’m not drinking because I need a smoke.” You doubted it. “I just felt like drinking. It’s Friday.” He wasn’t wrong. “I
 I get it, okay? I get why you don’t like it. Makes sense and all. I
” He trailed off again, struggling to find the words. “But I’m not like you. I’m not. I don’t have my shit together.”
“I don’t have my shit together,” you interjected. Should be obvious from you answering his call perfectly awake at three in the morning. He didn’t seem to be thinking rationally at the moment though. If he ever did.
“Fuck off.” He lost control of his Seoul dialect. Kept going back and forth between upstanding citizen and gruff Busan satoori. You wondered if he was aware. Probably not. “You have it way more together than me. I’m fuckin’ trying. Ugh.” His tone tightened. “It’s not
 It’s not how you think it is. It’s not.”
You weren’t sure you thought it was anything but you let him talk. Nothing else to do, after all.
“I have great parents, you know.” He sighed. Despondently annoyed. “They’re awesome. I wanted to be a good son. That’s
 I mean, doesn’t everybody? I listened to them. I listened to be teachers. I listened to my classmates. I wanted to be a good person, so I did everything asked of me from others.” His voice deepened to a soft growl.
“But
 People take. I didn’t even realize it.”
You realized that Jungkook sounded sad.
“They take when they know you give. And I gave, because my parents taught me to be a good person and I didn’t want to disappoint them by people calling me heartless or cruel. But
” Mumbled something you didn’t catch. Cleared his throat. “It was becoming too much. I got fed up. I had to start saying no. But not before I had already said yes to a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have said yes to. I had already developed bad habits by then.”
A few seconds of silence.
You broke it. “You’re too easily influenced,” you accused.
“Yeah, fuck me,” Jungkook grumbled. “Fuck me for not knowing that there are people are out there don’t have my best interests at heart and want to see me fucked up because they feel some type of way. My bad.”
You figured that was common sense. But maybe not. Maybe not, considering the way he talked about his parents. You pushed back your own personal biases despite their intrusive nature.
“Is your family disappointed in you?” you quietly asked.
“Me?” He let out a humorless laugh. “No. No, they’re supportive. Even if they don’t like my tattoos or the piercings or whatever, no one has ever made me feel shit about it. Everyone is positive. Even began to like those things about me when most elders would lose their shit.” He sighed. “But
 I still didn’t quit the cigarettes. Just didn’t smoke around them, because I didn’t want to see my mom sad. But still. I didn’t even want to try to quit.”
A moment of reluctance.
“Until
 Until I met you,” sighed Jungkook, his deep voice heavy.
Was that supposed to be flattering? You didn’t have time to ponder it.
“Hmph
 I’m so envious of you.” A light thud. More rustling. He sounded a little muffled and a lot out of it. “You’re never ruffled. No matter what anyone says or does, you’re always yourself. You don’t relent even when I act like a prick. It’s so
 Hah. I can’t do that.” He sounded defeated. “I try to not care too. I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. The second I think I’ve got it, yes, this is me, I remember it’s not. It’s not. I just copied someone else I saw that I thought
 Copying you
 You’re right. Lots of people told me to quit. Or keep going, it’s not that bad. They can all fuck right off, until
”
A weak shuffle and then you could barely hear the whisper in between the phone lines. His face was seemingly buried into something. He sounded both far away and so very close at once.
“What am I doing
? It doesn’t
 Doesn’t make sense.”
You almost said something. It wasn’t the right time. You shifted your position on the floor, leaning back against the bed. He must have heard that you were still on the other side of the line. He dragged more strength into his voice. As much as he could muster, anyway.
“How
” He shuddered. Whispered your name under his breath in the same way sailors called to stars to navigate the sea on a cold night. “You told me I should quit and
 Yeah. I know you’re right. I know. I
 The other night
”
The night you attempted to give him your lighter to keep.
Jungkook sniffed. “You can’t
 Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter how you do it,” he mumbled. “You do. You just do. And so do I. I gotta just do.”
You finally spoke.
“Yes,” you sighed. “That’s the truth.”
Cradled the phone, leaning it against your temple.
“The world doesn’t care.” He sounded resigned but no longer on the edge. “Everyone just does what they wanna do.”
A long pause. For some reason, you had the impression that both of you were curled up somewhere at home suddenly feeling not at home. Maybe it was the time of the night. Or the alcohol on his end. Or the insomnia on your end. The long seconds marched on. Then, Jungkook asked you a question with a statement.
“I wish I knew what
 What I wanna do.”
Silence.
You half-smiled knowing he couldn’t see it. Preferred, actually, that he didn’t. “Gonna be honest,” you chuckled. “I don’t know what I want to do. I follow my instincts and accept wherever I end up.”
He snorted. Haughtily. It was meant to dent to your demeanor and it was about as effective as a puff of popcorn. “Of course. Hah.” Exhaled hard, taking the fight out of himself. “You really
 You really don’t know
?”
You debated what you did and didn’t know. “About what?”
An irritated huff. Something about your tone seemingly made him hesitate, though. He caught the gist of what was unsaid. Maybe it was because he was drunk. Sober Jungkook could never.
“If.” Just that. If. “Ah
”
He breathed out your name. It was very late. The darkness was at its peak. But Jeon Jungkook breathed your name with the capacity of a dreamer, half-conscious and losing fast.
“I won’t let it end like this.”
There were a few minutes of quiet.
You hung up before he could start snoring in your ear. A small part of you kind of wanted to hear it. But, instead, you hung up. Placed your phone on your lap. Stared straight ahead, to the windowsill and the peek of the city skyline against a black sky. You thought about his voice on the other end. Calling for you. You sat in silence. Night bled away. You wanted to reach for the lighter again. Your instincts told you not to.
So, you hoisted yourself up and crawled under your covers, giving in to exhaustion’s embrace.
-
The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook was an evening at a convenience store. It was a coincidence. Or perhaps one of fate’s great jokes. You spied him the second you walked into the small establishment. He was talking to a tall man with a sun-kissed tan and longish black hair in soft curls. They obviously knew each other. Jungkook’s laugh was his typical bright guffaw that he tried to stifle to not be a public disturbance.
For a second, you almost forgot that call from a few nights ago.
You looked away, heading to the other side of the store.
Before you did, though, he had glanced in your direction and done a double-take. You moved into an aisle, out of sight, heading to the back, changing your original intent for being here. This particular convenience store was family-owned. It had a small section where the owner’s wife prepared fresh gimbap daily. You wondered how many people knew about this, because it was always stocked. Maybe they preferred to buy from bigger stores, not trusting a small business. You grabbed a tray of heftily-filled tuna gimbap before heading to the fridge section for drinks.
Jungkook was standing there.
You pulled back into the aisle.
His back had been to you, so he didn’t have the chance to notice. Half-in the fridge, picking something out among the electrolyte replenishers and flavored waters. He carried a black backpack that seemed heavy with things. Workout stuff, you assumed. His companion earlier had a towel around his shoulders and had worn a red tank top with exaggerated armholes, revealing a built chest and defined arms. Jungkook’s black hair looked slightly damp, possibly sweaty, pushed back and away from his forehead. He was wearing an open navy hoodie, white tank top, gray sweatpants, and white sneakers. It was safe to assume the backpack had workout shit in it. You wondered where the other guy was. He had been very tall. Easy to spot over the tops of the aisles, but he seemed to no longer be in the store. He must have left, then. No one to distract Jungkook any longer. Hm. You still wanted a drink, but.
Not that badly.
You zipped your black hoodie over your exposed stomach once you noticed the cashier was the elderly woman. You probably would have zipped it no matter who it was. The older generation just tended to be less subtle about their judgements. You approached the register and she smiled, greeting you. You slid the tuna gimbap over to her.
He was behind you.
You glanced at the glass behind the cashier. The cabinet held various brands of cigarettes. It was very well-polished, and you could see Jungkook behind you, sternly staring at the back of your head. You turned around.
He shot you a questioning look, furrowing his eyebrows.
“The total is–”
In his hands was a big bottle. Some kind of sports drink. You took it from him, and put it next to your tuna gimbap. The old woman didn’t quite register the speed of your action, blinking several times.
“Sorry,” you said. “Could you please add this too? Thank you.”
Clearly, she could only focus at one thing at a time. She did not realize you had snatched the drink from the man behind you, which would immediately raise eyebrows. Instead, the older woman was preoccupied with searching for the barcode, turning the bottle this way and that, poking the scanner against it.
Adding it to your receipt.
You felt a hand on your shoulder.
You pulled out your card as the cashier stated your new total. Tapped it as Jungkook hissed your name under his breath, but you ignored him, accepting the purchase as the cashier carefully packed up your meal and someone else’s drink in the same small clear plastic bag. She smiled her customer service smile and then noticed the disheveled punk behind you with a slight widening of her eyes.
You thanked her again and wished her a nice day before gripping his hoodie sleeve and dragging him with you.
Immediately let go when you exited the establishment, finally paying heed to the muttering of curses behind you. You reached into the thin plastic bag and pulled out his drink, pivoting slightly to give it to him. Jungkook snatched it from your hand, scowling.
“I don’t need your fuckin’ charity,” he snapped.
You wondered if he even remembered his drunken laments. “It’s not charity.” You affixed an impassive expression. “Not for you, anyway. Just making it easier for the cashier.” You began to take a few steps in the direction you needed to go.
He scoffed, “What are you doing, anyway?” and cocked his chin at you. “Stalking me now?”
You wondered if he was wishing for that. “I’m retrieving dinner like everybody else at this hour. ‘Cept you, I guess,” you added, unzipping your hoodie again even though the sun was dropping fast.
“What the–”
And Jungkook quickly jogged up beside you, shielding your body with his.
“The hell you doing?”
You glared but didn’t stop walking. “What?” Impolitely.
He pointed to your sports bra with a flick of his wrist. “Uh, you can’t leave the house like that.”
“I already have,” you pointed out. His eyes were glued to your sports bra and the low-waisted black Nike sweatpants clinging to your hips.
“And you think nothing is going to happen to you?” Jungkook indignantly shot back, blocking your way and darting his gaze around as if offenders were already on the horizon.
“Whether it does or not has no bearing on what I’m wearing,” you dryly replied. He was repeating a tale as old as time. Not that that made it any less real. It was all heard before, though. “You act like I haven’t lived for decades knowing the horrors of the world.”
His expression changed. Still frustrated. Slightly put off by your wording. And, sadly, comprehension. “That’s not what I mean.”
“That’s what you’re coming off as.”
“Not my intention,” he grumbled.
“Intentions don’t mean much in the face of what actually happens,” you said, glancing at him.
He shut up.
You almost regretted spilling your honesty.
“Sorry,” he said softly.
He seemed beaten down by your response. Eventually he shook his head and ran his free hand through his windswept black hair, trying to sneak a glimpse at your face. You were already staring at him. That threw him off. He looked away, flustered.
“Can I at least accompany you back?” he offered. Awkwardly.
You ticked your head. You knew that his gym was near that convenience store. “Don’t you live around here?” He had mentioned it, once. “I need to take the bus.” Earlier, you were aware that there was definitely a chance for you would run into him once you chose your destination. But it was the closest spot to buy liquor, and you hadn’t felt like traveling further. Then the original plan changed once you encountered Jungkook. Remembering all that made you pause. You diverted your gaze, adding, “Forget it. Go home.”
Monotone.
Your dismissal clearly annoyed him. He let out an exaggerated exhale and blocked you again when you tried to walk around him. You narrowed your eyes but didn’t raise your head. His tank top was tight, revealing the contours of his muscle. The shoulder of his hoodie had slid down, exposing part of his tattoo sleeve. Dark rings of petals in a hypnotizing mandala. The artist was talented enough to make you pause to admire. Then you swiftly looked away, anywhere else, shifting to his jaw. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and steeled himself.
“Fine.” He came to a conclusion, apparently. “I need a smoke.”
A ripple of aggravation shot through your temple. You turned your stare to fixate on Jungkook. He glared back, twice as stubborn.
“You serious?” you snarled. “Go back to the store then and buy some yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. “The fuck is the point of giving them to you, then?”
You jerked back, disgusted. “I didn’t fucking want them, asshole.”
“Yeah, well,” he pressed, becoming more resolute by the second. “That was the deal.”
You planted a palm on his chest and shoved him out of your way. Unbelievable. “There was no fucking deal,” you retorted, walking fast. He kept up because he was an annoying prick. You glowered, bristling at his presence. “What? You think you can do whatever you want, Jeon Jungkook?” The audacity of this bitch. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ give them to you anyway. So, promptly, fuck off.”
His fingertips touched your shoulder.
You yanked your body back as if scalded.
“Don’t touch me.”
He pulled his hand out of the air but didn’t back down. Those dark brown eyes narrowed. His lips thinned. Anger clouded his features. And. You felt your icy composure become brittle when you observed the distressed sadness poorly hidden underneath said anger.
A tense stillness.
“They’ll kill you,” you steely stated.
His gaze shifted. Contorted. The expression of all too well.
“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “That’s the truth.”
Then his eyes drifted back to you.
All the fight in the air drained out. Neither of you dared to speak. There were volumes written within this shared quiet. Strangers walked past, sending you both strange looks. You and him were too busy being struck in three-in-the-morning thoughts shared during an impromptu phone call. You looked away. So did he. There was a loud screech of metal and heavy tires on asphalt. You didn’t say anything. You only had time for an instinctive decision.
You tapped Jungkook’s forearm and waved, quickly running to catch up with the bus.
Less than a minute later, him and you stiffly sat next to each other on worn seats, trying your best not to glance at one another or make eye contact with anyone else. It was mostly successful, other than a strong-smelling middle-aged man that was eyeing everybody a little too closely. He settled on you for an unknown but undoubtably nefarious reason. Jungkook shoved you against the side of the bus and firmly put his backpack in his lap, blocking the view of your torso from the stranger’s perspective. Either the random man noticed the silent hostility or lacked object permeance when drunk. He changed course.
Both of you relaxed slightly.
You zipped up your hoodie anyway. Couldn’t hurt. You lifted your head. By mistake, your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stayed mute for now. It was a quiet bus ride, leaving both of you in roads of thought neither of you wanted to be in.
-
“You can go home now.”
Jungkook reminded you. “I need a smoke, remember?”
You held your apartment keys and frowned at him. He gave you a casual shrug you didn’t trust. He held onto his backpack and the drink you had bought him, now half-empty. You turned away, licking the side of your teeth. Glanced from all the closed doors around you. You couldn’t shake the tension at your shoulders. Passed by his face. There was something in his expression. You let out an exhale through your nose and shoved your key into the lock, harshly twisting it.
“Fine. Go look for them,” you invited not-so-invitingly.
The door was old and jammed in the frame. You shoved it, hard, and it swung open with almost too much force. You grabbed the knob before it could hit the wall in a practiced motion, crossing the threshold to remove your shoes and scoot them by the wall. He followed, somewhat startled by your daily habits. You ignored him. Instead, you headed for the tiny kitchen with your tuna gimbap, intending to devour it as Jungkook did his search. Chopsticks from the drawer. Taking out the tray of food and placing it on the counter while you balled up the plastic bag to put it in the correct recycling bin. Yanked off the lid and picked up the end piece to eat.
You chewed.
It was fresh. Pretty good.
Without turning around, you removed your hoodie and threw it to the side. It shot to the back of the sofa and clumped. You kept eating. You had already heard Jungkook lock the door, remove his shoes, and dump his backpack on the hardwood floor with a thump. The cigarettes were exactly where you left them. Next to your bedside table lamp with your lighter leaning against them. You ate another piece, staring at the bottom of your gray-stained cabinets, and only now realizing how hungry you were. Huh.
It was eerily quiet.
Weird.
You chewed on your third piece and twisted your body to find Jungkook still standing by the door, staring at your living room with wide eyes. The apartment was quite small. Maybe a little bit crammed. The living room had a black fabric sofa, a dark-stained coffee table that had seen too many late-night dinners, and the TV on a low storage unit.
And mirrors.
Mirrors all over the walls. Most of them were small. Some were vintage with aged metal frames or darkened bamboo frames. Some of them weren’t in the best shape, the reflective glass becoming patchy and spotted. Some were a little more than smoked glass. They were all from thrift stores or resell markets. There was no real rhyme or reason to their placement all over the living room other than chaotically aesthetic. The ones on the bookshelf unit by the window were all lined up. Unique pocket mirrors with various shapes. There were a few anime and cartoon character motifs sprinkled in.
“What the fuck
?”
He finally gave you a look slight frightened concern but mostly confusion.
You shrugged. Casually. “I like to collect mirrors.” You munched.
“No shit?” Jungkook still looked mildly appalled. He furrowed his brows to regain some sort of control over his face. “And you called me a creep.” Still, he shuffled further in, peering over them. “There’s so many of them
 The fuck you need all this for?”
“Nothing.”
He shot you a look over his shoulder and quickly diverted his eyes once he noticed your exposed shoulders. “Nothing?” he echoed indignantly.
“There’s no real purpose,” you reaffirmed, grabbing another piece of gimbap with a click of your chopsticks. “Why does anyone have a collection?”
Jungkook snorted. “Collecting music albums or even plushies is less weird then
” He paused. Then angled his body slightly, as if to listen to what you had to say without directly viewing you. “Is there a reason you collect mirrors?”
You, too, stilled. Seeing the back of his head and his broad shoulders suddenly reminded you that this was the first time you had ever invited Jeon Jungkook into your space and rather impulsively at that. You faced the counter again. The gimbap was about three-fourths gone. It was probably a good idea to finish it all now. You chewed on your lower lip, debating on whether or not to tell him the reason.
“When I was young,” you said, directed to the unfinished gimbap. “I didn’t like looking at myself in mirrors. Guess I had some kind of complex about them.” You didn’t elaborate. You positioned your chopsticks over another piece of the roll but didn’t yet pick it up. “When I moved in here, I didn’t really care about decorating it either. Figured it didn’t matter. At some point, I got tired of the blank walls, so I went to a secondhand shop to find something to put on the wall, and I remembered I don’t like mirrors.”
Hated them, really.
“So, I brought one because I thought the design was cool. And kept buying them.”
You half-laughed, mirthlessly.
“I decided it’s stupid to hate something like that, anyway,” you muttered, and chomped down another piece. You should have gotten out the soy sauce. Hah. With self-exasperation, you opened a cabinet to take out the small glass dispenser. Poured a little on the edge of the tray to dip the last few pieces in.
“That’s cool.”
His voice seemed louder, somehow. “You called me a creep,” you hummed.
“I didn’t call you a creep,” Jungkook said behind you.
You turned around, bristling. He was distracted, looking around your relatively neat kitchen. Probably taking note that there were no mirrors here. You restricted your collection to the living room walls to prevent overbuying. His eyes stopped at the gimbap on the counter at waist height. His dark eyes raised. Tentative. Your pulse accelerated a bit. You kept your expression neutral, chewing slowly.
“Thought you needed a smoke?” you asked after swallowing. You waved your chopstick towards the bedroom. “Be my guest.”
The tips of his ears flushed pink. He was sort of looking at you but also not. You tried not to notice that his navy hoodie had fallen off his shoulder, revealing his defined, tattooed right arm all the way to his elbow. His hands were shoved into the side pockets of his sweatpants. He was in the middle of scrutinizing yours.
“Are those mine?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring your question.
You flicked the side seam by your thigh. “I’ll wash them and give them back. Seemed pointless to wear them for only a short while and wash immediately.” You leaned against the counter. “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
His eyes shot up to your face at your comment. You shared a glare. Both of you held it more out of stubbornness than intimidation. For what reason, you weren’t sure. There were only parts of him you disliked. Not all of him. Well. Maybe if you and him dialed back the hostility, then.
Both of you broke eye contact at the same time.
“They
 They look good on you.” It wasn’t said in a sarcastic way. The sincerity was somehow more alarming. “Keep them.”
“No thanks,” you retorted with more familiarity than you intended. “I don’t need your charity.” You shouldn’t have said that.
It didn’t end up mattering, though.
“Do you remember when I called you a couple nights ago?” Jungkook suddenly blurted, thrusting you both into whiplash of conversation topic change.
You froze.
There was no cue to tell you what was the right thing to say. It was best to glance at his expression to find out, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. There was something about the distance of a phone call that made deep conversations easier. But you realized from his abruptness that he, too, must have been struggling to bring up the elephant in the room. Could have let it sleep, but this guy wouldn’t let it be.
Still, you understood him.
You pursed your lips and rubbed your collarbone with your free hand. “Only one of us was drunk and it wasn’t me,” you finally sighed. Raised your head.
His ears were very red now. You saw Jungkook battle between being a smartass and his natural self. You saw him wish he was a natural smartass. He cleared his throat, his chest tensing. “Uh
 Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry about
 Calling so late.” He cleared his throat again despite his discomfort being purely emotional. His eyes shifted. “I didn’t think you’d answer
 But you did.” He chanced a glimpse at your reaction.
You shrugged.
Casually.
He nodded quickly even though you hadn’t said anything. “I don’t remember everything I said,” he rambled in a tone that clearly indicated he did. “So, don’t, uh, don’t take it too seriously.” He was taller than you but it didn’t feel like that right now.
You considered his words and quietly replied with, “Okay.”
His eyes drifted to the kitchen counter. Lingered on your waist, but not for long. He ticked his chin towards the leftovers. “Can I have a piece?”
Wordlessly, you held out the chopsticks so he had access to the other, unused end. He hesitated. Then pulled a hand from his pocket. You moved out of the way as he retrieved the chopsticks from your grip and took a step to be closer to the counter.
It was weird.
Standing in your small kitchen next to Jeon Jungkook eating your dinner leftovers.
Mostly it was weird because it didn’t make you highly uncomfortable or positively annoyed. It felt normal, which is what made it otherworldly odd. As if you were getting used to his presence beside you. You winced and tried not to make it obvious. You heard him try to say your name between bites.
“Chew your food,” you muttered, angling your face away but not your body. Couldn’t bring yourself to watch him eat. You heard the rattle of the plastic tray against the counter as he dipped in the soy sauce. Then you felt a nudge by your arm.
Before you could stop your natural reaction, you were face-to-face with Jungkook who was holding out the last piece to you with full cheeks and an expectant expression. You blinked at him. The blunt end of the chopsticks was used, but he was holding out the gimbap with the slender side. The end you had been eating with. The seaweed glistened with soy sauce. His free hand was under the chopsticks, cradling air in the dire last resort that it fell. He roughly swallowed, looking more annoyed with each passing second.
“Open up.”
“No,” you automatically replied.
He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
You made a face. “This is weird.”
He made a face back. Disturbing. “Shut up and open your mouth.”
“I wo–”
That was precisely the moment Jungkook shoved the chopsticks into your mouth. Instinctively, you lowered your jaw to catch it all, glaring at him. He scowled back, about to remove the chopsticks before you caught them in your teeth with your mouth full of tuna, vegetables, and rice. There was a brief, pointless tug of war before you pulled your head back rather than let him perform the action. Jungkook squinted at you, irritated, and you were just as perturbed, chewing decidedly before swallowing.
Sudden silence.
He lowered the chopsticks to balance them on the empty tray. You ran your tongue over your teeth to catch any rice stragglers. It became hard to maintain eye contact. Now he was facing the cabinets and you were facing the living room of mirrors. Minutes ticked by.
The quiet became violent.
You whipped your head to Jungkook. “So, what–”
He spoke at the same time. “You know I’m not joking, right?” he asked softly.
His profile was statuesque. Instantly recognizable. Imprinted in memory. And then his dark eyes shifted, his black hair framing his temples, and now Jungkook was searching for your eyes that remained on him. You shut your mouth. He realized he had interrupted you.
“What did you want to say?”
You faltered and then shook your head. “Not important.”
His brows furrowed. “Don’t–”
“Joking about what?” you interjected. “Don’t try to distract me.”
He was, rightfully, irate. “You–”
You wrapped an arm around your midsection, suddenly feeling cold. “Is this about you quitting smoking?”
Immediately he noticed. Your demeanor demanding him to answer was a little too intense to be ignored, though. “That’s
” He tutted, his voice deepening slightly. “I’ve already quit.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” He was trying to unconvincingly convince you. It had barely been a couple weeks, anyway. ‘Ugh, okay, fine. Maybe I bummed a cig a couple of times. But only for a couple puffs. Don’t fucking look at me like that,” Jungkook snapped. “Like you don’t have any bad habits.”
“I have bad habits,” you answered coldly. “But I also deal with how I feel. Something you should get started on.”
He threw up his hands and began to back away from the counter, until.
“Is this how you want to spend your life?” you asked.
His back was to you now. Reluctance took over, rendering his movements as statuesque as he looked moments before. You stared at his back, wondering if you had gone too far. Wondering if these shared moments were all for naught. Not really in the very real chance that he could leave and never look back, but in the very real chance that he did and nothing changed for him. Or for you. In the chance that your interactions would ultimately mean nothing in this life when it was very clear that both of you wanted to mean something. Anything.
“I don’t.”
You looked up and Jungkook was looking back at you over his shoulder. He lowered his gaze when your eyes connected before half-turning to face you, halfway between running to and running from. You asked yourself, if it was anyone else, would you stay this silent? Before it registered, you reached out and tugged his hoodie sleeve.
After all, you did always have a light for him.
He raised his eyes.
“You’re trying. Aren’t you?” You gave him a dry smile before letting go.
His lashes lowered to waning half-moons. Then he ticked his head, asking, “Do you really hate it that much?” His eyes found yours. He already knew the answer and was asking it anyway.
You told him the truth. “Yeah.”
The corner of his lips flicked upwards wryly. “Damn. So honest.”
You almost laughed. “Well
 You wouldn’t like me at all if you knew I was a liar.” Then your words caught up to you. “Not that you do,” you added after a beat.
“I do,” corrected Jungkook before looking away.
Maybe he was embarrassed by his admission. You, however, were preoccupied with other thoughts. The mirrors. Your insomnia. His tattoos. His cigarettes. Your coldness. His fire. The way you tended to lock down your deep emotions and the way his tended to spill out when they overflowed. You held the lighter. He longed to burn. You liked him. That thought lingered. You hated the smoking, true, not only because of all the obvious discomforts, but also because you had a feeling that he knew he could quit and only did it to further punish himself for things he didn’t do.
You just had a feeling since you, too, punished yourself for things you didn’t do.
You felt something soft brush against your shoulders.
His hoodie smelled like him, herbal and fresh with depth, with a vague hint of washed-out acid smoke. You glanced over. He looked apologetic, gesturing to your arm over your midsection. His built chest and sculpted shoulders were mildly distracting. His white tank top clung to his body, not leaving much to the imagination. You frowned. Jungkook saw your face and braced himself for a reprimanding.
You asked him a question you had been wondering for a while now.
“Did you plan this?”
That wasn’t what he expected. His features twisted into confusion. “Uh?” He seemed to forget his anxiousness for a moment. “Plan what?” The perfect deer-in-headlights look.
You angled your body to better face him and held the edge of the hoodie, narrowing your eyes. “You know what I mean,” you warned.
He sensed danger and held up his hands in defeat. “I don’t?”
Those big brown eyes begged you to believe him. Either he was stupid or a really good actor. You relaxed slightly. You weren’t banking on the latter and really hoped you were right. You grimaced, backing away. It wasn’t fair to let learned behavior judge him yet constant vigilance was also needed for survival. You sighed, stepping around him.
“Never mind. It’s late. Just sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“The fuck?” Jungkook followed, infuriated, much like the rest of the night. “I can’t do that.”
“The buses aren’t running this late,” you stated matter-of-factly. You waved him away, plopping onto your sofa with a tired exhale. “Or you can call a taxi, I guess. You want money for that?”
He smacked his hand down on the back of the sofa and scowled, bending down to intimidate you.
“I am not some kid!”
You looked up at him.
Jungkook froze, realizing the closeness.
He was naturally a very handsome man. You had always thought so. Never told him. He had probably heard it enough. He faltered, losing the fight but not yet letting go of the sofa. You observed the line of his jaw and thought about how hard he had to work to fulfill the image others had of him. How hard he worked to break that image, only to shoulder a different set of expectations, for only a certain level of coolness could combat the goodness he lost. If not one thing, then another. He must not have felt that he fit those ideals either. He couldn’t win.
You worried that he simply liked you in a vain attempt to feel some level of control.
Crestfallen, his eyes wandered, then realized he couldn’t because then he would be staring down your chest or at your thighs. He pretended that he wasn’t looking and raised his head, saying the first thing that came to mind.
“I feel like I don’t know you at all.”
It wasn’t so much accusatory as it was a revelation.
You lowered your gaze and realized you were staring at his chest or his crotch. That was out of the question. You almost wished he would sit down next to you, but he was right. There was a moment where you considered brushing him off as you did with everyone else. Your eyes connected. As you stared into those dark brown orbs, your instincts taunted you, asking you want you were afraid of.
“There’s nothing good to know,” you admitted. “Better to keep things to myself.”
His expression told you he fucking hated that.
He looked up to the mirrors around the room. You could see he was still a bit creeped out by them and tried very hard not to say it. Your elderly landlord did often joke about how you were inviting spirits into your home with these old mirrors. You usually countered with they also symbolized fate, to which he guffawed and asked how many fates you needed.
Sometimes, it felt like you needed every chance you could get.
“I can’t sleep in your bed,” he finally concluded, steeling himself.
“Your smokes are on my nightstand. So is my lighter.”
The door to the bedroom was partway open but Jungkook even didn’t look in that direction. His ears were slowly turning scarlet. He distracted himself with your statements. “What? Why?” He frowned. “I thought you threw ‘em away.”
You shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of money.”
He muttered under his breath. “Yeah. That’s what they are.” He looked a little ashamed. Shook his head, trying to convince himself. “Even more reason not to go in there and be tempted.” He began to step around your legs, shooing you away with a gruff, “Move.”
You didn’t move.
“You hate my bed that much even though you want to get in it?” you quipped.
Jungkook started. “That’s–”
You stood up abruptly.
It was so fast that he had no time to react. One moment you were sitting and the next you were standing right up to him with only a whisper of breath between your bodies, peering at his face. His hoodie fell off your shoulders and onto the cushions. His eyes widened, lips parting, and you witnessed him holding his breath as if that would somehow stop time.
Seconds that felt like hours ticked by.
You wondered how it would feel to be held by him.
“Fine,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”
And you walked around, letting him breathe again.
-
Being awake was torturous due to constantly fighting invasive thoughts. Being asleep was worse due to remaining imprisoned in those intrusive thoughts blended with uncontrolled imagination, which was your presumed explanation for your insomniac nights. Yeah. And people wondered why you kept to yourself. Such was being human, so once again you gave into the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result because it could not be avoided.
Everyone had to sleep, after all.
And you woke up a few hours later, as predicted, wrenching yourself out of a dream you didn’t want to be in, trying your best to remember none of it. You were used to it. Routine of the night, so to speak. That made it more annoying than anxiety-inducing. You laid on your back in relative silence, staring into the darkness of the ceiling and running your fingers over your sheets. A folded portion of the duvet was trapped under your left side and you impatiently yanked it out from under you, forgetting the images of betrayal in the wake of another’s selfishness.
For tonight, anyway.
There was a loud snore on the other side of your bedroom door, offending your ears at this late hour. You sat up. You had been a little surprised at Jungkook accepting your offer. Then again, everything was happening because of split decisions and obvious desires. And some logic. Just not much. You hadn’t talked much after you handed him the extra pillow from your bed and a soft fuzzy blanket. There wasn’t much to talk about, not to mention both of you were trying to pretend as if this wasn’t happening. In movies and television shows, this would have gone in a whole different direction. In reality, it was a lot more awkward and untimely.
You glanced over to the nightstand that held his cigarettes and your lighter, barely making out the outlines of the items. Maybe his initial intention really was to come just to get them. Or maybe it was to put you in a compromising position or something like that. Neither of those things happened because neither of those things were who he was, only ideas of what he thought he could be, but he hadn’t thought any of it through, so now he was snoring up a storm on your sofa without a care in the world.
Unlike you, it seemed like his sleep was solace rather than a battleground.
You tapped a finger against the bed and then sighed, pulling yourself out from under the duvet to grab a large t-shirt to pull over your head. Headed to the bedroom door and opened it quietly, slipping out to the kitchen accompanied by Jungkook’s noisy and uncoordinated nose symphony. He was facing the inside of the sofa but, unfortunately for you and fortunately for him, had powerful lungs. There wasn’t much worry about rousing him. You opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, hoping the cool liquid could refresh you somehow.
You faced the sink and took a few sips.
Was friendship even the correct word for what you and Jeon Jungkook had? It was more closeness from coincidence rather than a direct seeking out of the other. Closeness that became closer before either of you realized it, slowly losing all the people in between until only you and him were left. Maybe that was why he had a sort of fixation on you since everyone had distanced themselves for various reasons, relationships, careers, adventures. Then again, fixation seemed to be his defining feature.
You almost snorted, and would have if he wasn’t sleeping on your couch.
But maybe not, as he had paradoxical, flighty tendencies too. Always influenced by someone or some media he consumed. You weren’t without your own flaws, you knew. Deep thought and constant existential crisis didn’t exactly make for good company. Sometimes it was better not to think so much, which was why you tried to fight your instinctive nature at times. You looked over to the mirrors on the living room walls, taking another drink. They were small, not very useful as a looking glass or for nitpicking an outfit before leaving. You had not been lying when you told Jungkook that you bought them to get over your hatred of them. There was a time when you hated seeing your reflection because the person in the mirror wasn’t matching up with the person in your head.
Irrational, yes.
Reality was irrational.
You rested your ass against the bottom cabinets of your kitchen and sipped from the water bottle. You knew you weren’t a good person since you had long given up aspiring for something great. Anyone worth anything aspired for something great. Not even failure was frowned upon the in the presence of a dream nowadays. You didn’t understand why Jungkook was snoring in your apartment right now, why he cared if you got home in one piece, why he was trying so hard to quit smoking for someone like you who lived in irreverence. South Korea valued productivity, beauty, and giving away one’s humanity for the cause. Not giving a fuck made you no better than the bottom of the barrel.
You couldn’t answer what he so heavily hinted at because it just didn’t make any sense.
Maybe he was just dumb.
Jungkook snored particularly loud and choked, throwing himself into a coughing fit.
You frowned and made your way over to him as he shrimped up and groaned, highly displeased and groggy from this turn of events. There was no obvious reaction to you approaching him. Either he didn’t hear you or didn’t register where he was.
You placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Nrgh
”
“You alright?” You kept your voice low, a level above a whisper. “Want some water?”
He said your name as if underwater. Muffled and out of it. You pulled your hand away as he turned over and sat up, squinting hard. “Uh?” He was still wearing his tank top which was now wrinkled around his waist. The top of his chest glistened with sweat. He probably usually slept shirtless and didn’t do so to be polite.
You held out the plastic bottle in your hand. “Water.”
He wasn’t thinking straight because he grabbed the bottle from you without objection, as if he wholeheartedly accepted you were the cold-water fairy of his dreams. He drank without so much of a thank you and with his lips right against the opening, crushing the latter half of what was left in only a few seconds.
“Uwah
!”
He dropped his hand, breathing out hard. You glanced at your empty hand. Comtemplated on giving him a reality check of what he just did but instead decided to let it go.
“Uh
 Why are you awake?” he asked you blearily, becoming more awake by the second.
Some truths were better left unsaid for now. “Getting used to your snoring,” you mused, dropping your hand.
Jungkook seemed embarrassed. Looked from the water bottle to the coffee table behind your legs. The distance was too great for it to be casual. He clung onto it for emotional safety. “S-Sorry about that,” he mumbled, straightening his tank top and rubbing his neck.
“It’s probably a side effect of your smoking,” you commented.
He shot you an angry pout but there was no retort when you were right. “It’s probably my rhinitis,” he huffed. An uncomfortable, short silence.
Once again, both of you were reminded of a late-night call in the dead of night.
You held out your hand for the water bottle. After a moment, Jungkook handed it back. Apparently, it still hadn’t occurred to him why it was half-empty.  He seemed more curious about you being awake. You wondered that too. You gestured to the pillow.
“It’s not comfortable, is it?”
He followed your gesture and half-heartedly shrugged. “I’ll be okay.” He shot you a look. “Worried about me?” His deep, sleepy voice sounded a lot cockier than he looked. He looked like a puppy that had just woken up after napping in a weird position. His black hair was sticking up every which way.
“I’m always worried about you,” you replied with a deadpan face.
His eyes widened.
You followed up with, “You’re an idiot.”
That pissed Jungkook off. He reached up to smack you and you caught his hand in the air. That woke him up. But honestly you were losing sleep and energy fast. It made you catch his fingers at an odd angle, almost a caress, and you were too tired to care, sighing before backing away, slowly letting go of his hand. His fingertips slid over the inside of your wrist. You turned your back to him.
You headed to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the proper recycling bin.
He called your name.
“What?” you grumpily replied, straightening.
“You’re not wearing pants
” Jungkook reminded you.
You had to bend over to access the sorted trash. “Lucky you.”
His tone became gruff. “Don’t be so reckless in front of a guy.”
You half-turned and raised an eyebrow. He was still firmly seated on your sofa. “You act like I’m not standing in my kitchen next to my knives,” you pointed out, ticking your head in the direction of your knife block. “Also, are you implying that you’re a trashy guy?”
“I’m not a trashy guy,” he snapped angrily.
“Then what do I have to be worried about?” You took the steps towards your bedroom door.
“I just don’t like how you obviously have no interest in me,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, throwing himself down onto the sofa and turning his back to you.
You stopped in the doorway.
He was not provoking you. He sounded more like a kid that didn’t get his way rather than an adult trying to reverse psychology you. His words were not meant to change your mind. Yet, all of a sudden, you began to wonder what the fuck you were dancing in this limbo for. All because you didn’t want to be someone’s reason for anything? Well, congratulations, you failed. You failed your dream of a pointless existence. Woohoo. You rolled your eyes to the sky and turned around.
He was still pill-bug-positioned when you grabbed his shoulder and yanked him from the cease in the sofa, lowering your head to hiss, “Stop being a fucking brat.”
You expected him to tense up. His head jerked around and Jungkook stared at you. Wide-eyed, as if you had just pulled him out of a top hat by his ears. You glared, physically tired and tired of this shit, sliding your hand down his collarbone and cupping his chin, pulling him to better face you, tilting your head to narrow your eyes at him.
He sputtered. “W
 What?”
“You heard me,” you answered in a clipped tone. “Get up.”
“Huh?”
You let go of his chin and slapped his upper arm. “Get up.”
In a tangle of long limbs and bewilderment, you yanked him up by his forearm, snatching the pillow from under him. Dragged him and his twisted blanket skirt into your bedroom. You hadn’t given him enough time to unravel himself. You let go of his forearm and slammed the pillow onto the empty right side of the bed, pointing rudely to the rumpled poof.
“Lay down,” you ordered.
Jungkook waved his hands, panic rising in his gravelly voice. “I can’t–”
“I don’t give a fuck,” you interrupted and marched behind him, shoving the small of his back. He got the hint after a short flailing about, shuffling towards the side of the bed before flopping onto the duvet like a caught tuna. He tried not to make eye contact, but you weren’t looking anyway, too busy crossing over to the other side and slinking under the duvet.
He squeaked out an, “Um
”
“Shut up,” was your automatic grumble. “Go to sleep.”
He answered in a small voice. “But
 What if I snore
?”
“I know you’ll snore,” you grunted, reaching to him and pinning his shoulder down. He was above the duvet, half-wrapped in the blanket you had given him earlier. You had noticed he was still wearing his gray sweatpants so he wasn’t indecent. Not that it mattered. “I’ll get used to it.”
“I
”
You made a growling noise in warning, squinting at his face.
He gulped. “I just
 Wanted to say thanks
”
You let go of him and turned your back, firmly closing your eyes. Jungkook was right there. You had a queen-sized bed. Big enough, but not so big that he could pull himself far away from you. You could feel his presence. It wasn’t a bad thing, though.
“You’re welcome,” you mumbled curtly and didn’t say any more.
-
When he opened the door, he looked disheveled and distractable, noisily chewing gum, jerking his head around your periphery as if he expected you to bring an entourage to shake him down. You stood at his doorstep, perturbed. His dark eyes flickered to you and nearly bulged out of his head.
“The hell are you wearing?” Jeon Jungkook blurted without any formal or informal greeting.
You thought you would be used to it by now. It was becoming kind of funny, in a way. “These are my work clothes,” you calmly explained. It was true that he hadn’t seen you in a nice silk blouse and fitted pencil skirt before. Dark teal and jet black, respectively. “I have a job I go to.”
This was the logical answer but it was not exactly the answer Jungkook wanted. You could tell by the knitting of his brows, his still open mouth, and the way he was just staring at your hips instead of continuing the conversation. His black hair was sticking up in the back. As usual, he was wearing casual clothes. A big, light gray t-shirt and charcoal sweats.
You raised your hand and shut his jaw so you didn’t have to view his half-chewed pink gum. “You’re going to the gym, aren’t you?”
It broke him out of his trance. He looked irritated, chewing again. More than that. He looked jittery. “Yeah.” He seemed to be having a mental debate. You wanted no part of that. “I was about to drink a protein shake while waiting for you.”
“Cool,” you said in an impassive tone that indicated you had no interest in protein shakes. You reached into your mid-size black leather bag and pulled out his black sweatpants, now clean and smelling of dryer sheet. “Here, then.” You lifted your head to hold them out.
Jungkook had abandoned his front door.
A muscle in your cheek twitched. His apartment was more modern, although about the same size as yours. Space was a luxury. The door was slowly closing without the aid of someone holding it. You smacked your palm against the light wood and pushed it open, your black heels clicking on the dark gray hardwood. Or was it vinyl? Hard to tell and you didn’t care to inspect. The walls were bright cool white. His big black backpack was on the floor of the short entrance hall. It was slightly open. Black boxing gloves with yellow accents and white towels were shoved in there. You expected him to be messy but all of his sneakers were lined up against the wall. Could use a shoe rack, though.
Jungkook reappeared, gum-less this time, carrying a shake tumbler with a vanilla-colored substance in it, clanging it about with one hand and trying to be chill. As chill as a nonchalant freak-out would be.
He coughed and asked, casually, “You go dressed like that to work?”
You weren’t sure why he gave a shit about what you were wearing. “Perks of an administrative desk job. Dress code.” You waved the rolled-up sweatpants in his direction. “Take these.”
He gave you a suspicious look as if you were the one to decide societal expectations for female office wear. “Who are you trying to impress?”
“The HR department,” you replied, deadpan. “I’d get fired if I showed up to work dressed like you.”
He nodded, agreeing but not convinced. “What if someone hits on you?”
“I set them on fire.”
Jungkook gawked at you.
You dropped your outstretched arm and clicked your tongue. “I don’t do anything. No one is allowed to date a co-worker and I’m not interested in any of them,” you explained. If only he knew that you sat alone in a cramped office and reviewed budgeting for university laboratories so no one was heedlessly using government funding. It was thrilling stuff. “Why do you care if someone hits on me?”
His eyes narrowed. “Of course, I care. I don’t want some asshole harassing you.” Before you could tell him to look in the mirror, he muttered, “Do you really think you won’t get hurt looking that hot?”
The real answer was that you didn’t care.
You tossed his sweatpants onto his backpack while saying, “Workplace harassment is very serious. I doubt my superiors want a scandal. You’re right. I’m considered attractive, so they want to keep me as a model employee and for gender equality points.”
“What about the train?” Jungkook pressed, stepping closer.
You almost rolled your eyes. “The subway is always shitty. Everybody knows that,” you said. “I’ve been taking the subway since high school. I’m pretty good at spotting psycho now.” You looked up at him with contained venom. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know that,” he snapped, placing his protein shake on the floor before confronting you again. “I just don’t like it.” He glared back.
You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like that I can take care of myself?”
“No,” Jungkook stubbornly repeated. Frustration crept into his features. “It makes me mad.”
One look at his face and it was obvious what he was implying. There was no reason to give in, though. “That sucks.” You patted the top of his chest condescendingly. “Maybe you need to see a therapist for that.”
He jerked his head towards the mound on his backpack. “Take the pants back and put them on.”
You wondered if he was being this way because he had paranoia or because he had nothing better to do. “No,” you refused. You crossed your arms. “Don’t be this way only for yourself. Plus, I just washed them.”
Like an ox, he didn’t relent. “Then I’ll get you a different pair.”
You noticed you didn’t smell the scent of smoke on him. Not strong or faint. It was obvious he didn’t smoke in his apartment, but he probably did at the roof of the complex or somewhere similar. You didn’t know him to be a heavy smoker, but it inevitably got onto his belongings. You tilted your head. There hadn’t been any smell that night a couple weeks ago when he slept over at your apartment where you had eventually forced him to snore on the bed.
You had woken up to Jungkook sprawled out, snoring into the pillow and one arm on your tits.
Explained your dream where you felt annoying pressure on your chest. That morning had been rather uneventful other than waking him up and kicking him out of your apartment. You had the decency to be more polite than that, but neither of you were in a state to talk about it. Neither of you seemed to be morning people. You simply told him you had work. He had mumbled he did too, and he had to race out to get ready in time. Only now had you found time to stop by his apartment to return his borrowed sweatpants. Maybe you had been avoiding it a little bit. Texts between you both were sparse. Asking for his address and asking if he’d be home. You peered into his dark eyes. Jungkook paused. He seemed to sense that you weren’t walling him anymore.
“When was the last time you smoked?” You made sure not to sound accusatory.
He started. “Uh
” He looked sheepish. “I’ve been trying to last a month at least
” He gestured behind him to what you assumed was the kitchen. You could see part of his living room from here but not much. His couch was cognac brown leather. “Been chewing gum and going to the gym a bunch to fight the cravings.” Frowned and sighed. “It’s hard,” Jungkook bitterly muttered. He glared. “Bet you’re loving this.”
Unluckily for him, you weren’t intimidated by puppy growls. You nodded, noncommittal, and looked down. His charcoal sweatpants looked soft. Worn in with wear. Your eyes flickered back up. His followed with slight confusion etching into his expression. You held his gaze until you felt his discomfort.
And then you made an impulsive, instinctive decision.
“I’ll agree to borrowing another pair of your pants,” you finally said. He looked relieved. “As long as I get to pick which pair.”
He seemed puzzled but shrugged. “Sure?”
You pressed for confirmation. “Agree or not?”
“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook responded sharply. “What, you that desperate to raid my closet or something? Go ahead, then.” He waved a careless hand into the apartment.
But you stayed where you were. You stepped forward with a click of your heels. He stepped back in his house slippers, bewildered but still defiant, not yet realizing that you were not herding him further inside. He moved as if to let you lead the way, except you turned your body to block him, watching his every move.
His shoulder blades hit the wall.
Those big brown eyes blinked slowly. “Uh
”
You glanced down and then back up at his face.
Jungkook’s eyes tracked your movement. Didn’t get it. You repeated the dip of your chin and lashes, then back up. Dead silence. It slowly dawned onto him. You cocked your head, removing your crossed arms as his eyes became wider.
“W
 What
?”
You didn’t let him hide his reaction, tracking every quiver of his lip and awkward chuckle. “They’re clean, aren’t they?” you asked as if it was the most sensible question in the world.
“Uh, well, yeah, b-but
” Jungkook stuttered, trying to decipher how serious you were or if he was even understanding the implications of your stare. “T-That’s
”
You backed up a step. “Then it’s a no?” you offered. “And you will stop trying to white knight my outfit choices?” You made yourself clear. “I won’t be changing them simply because you hate my clothes.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t hate your clothes. I like them. That is the problem,” he barked.
You gave him a blank look.
Jungkook sighed out of his nose before looking away and saying in a clipped tone, “Fine. I’ll change. Whatever.”
You moved before he could, blocking his way again.
He growled under his breath, glaring down. “What?”
You held aggressive eye contact. “We’re behind closed doors,” you reminded him. Gave him the pointed up-and-down. “Go on.”
Slight panic laced into his expression. “Uh
 Are you serious?”
You already knew Jungkook wasn’t commenting on your fashion because he thought it was inappropriate. It was for the same innocuous reason that you were asking him for the charcoal sweatpants he was wearing right now. Well. Demanding.
“Deadly,” you answered him with a deadly smile.
He might be bigger and stronger than you, but he lacked the imposing audacity. You waited. He didn’t move. Ten full seconds passed. You had your answer, then. You gave him a curt nod and readjusted your grip on your work bag, about to turn away.
A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you back.
You backtracked to stand in front of him again. His eyes darted about somewhat nervously. “I get it
” he mumbled, still holding onto your wrist. His other hand was drifting down. He seemed uncomfortable but not in a bad way, which struck you as odd. He lifted the hem of his shirt a bit. It caught on the front tie of the sweatpants. The tips of his ears were pink. Jungkook hooked a thumb under the waistband and averted his eyes.
You reached forward and pulled on the end of the looped strings.
He nearly yelped and jerked back, causing the tie to come unraveled. You had leaned over a little to get access. Lifted your gaze to look up at his shocked face. He was speechless. You didn’t straighten up yet. Just stared into his eyes. His lips parted but no words came out.
You smiled.
He uneasily let go of your wrist. You backed out of his personal space. Jungkook gave you a strange look and stripped off his pants with a swift tug downwards, bending a knee to kick them up and into his hand, immediately holding them in front of his body.
“Here.”
He thrust the balled-up sweats into your chest. You looked at it. Then at him. Then tried to crane your head downwards.
“H-Hey!”
He waved wildly. You stumbled. He tried to catch you without dropping anything. Your hand came up to press against his chest, causing him to back against the wall again, clutching his pants in front of his crotch. You paused and searched his expression as you pulled back your hand. He was in between conflicted and stunned. His legs were quite defined. At least he didn’t skip leg day. You decided to do it. Lowered your bag to the floor so you had use of your two hands. You reached behind you for the invisible zipper of your skirt and pulled it down. Jungkook seemed to be in a perpetual state of silence. You had to wiggle slightly to free yourself of the tube of black fabric, stepping out of it primly before standing back up, leaving you in your sheer black stockings and with your blouse barely skimming the tops of your thighs.
Now both of you were holding your bottoms. One of you was simply dumbstruck. The other folded and rolled up the skirt, tucking it into your elbow, and stepped up to him. Immediately, his free hand shot up, planting right above your left breast, dark tattoos stark against his tan skin from the overhead light.
“W-Whoa, wait
!”
You tilted your head and rested your hand on the sweatpants he was now desperately clutching to his lower body. You tugged. He did not let go. You raised an eyebrow and began to lower your head. His fingertips hooked under your chin and yanked you back up to his terrified expression of wild eyes and fish mouth. You remained emotionless, giving him nothing. His cheeks flushed pink.
“I
 I just need a second–”
You closed more of the distance, placing a leg in between his slightly open ones. His grip on your chin tightened. It didn’t scare you in the slightest. In contrast, big bad Jungkook looked like he was about to sink into the floor. You stilled. Maybe this was too far.
You leaned back a little but didn’t remove your leg. “A second for what?”
He swallowed hard, averting his gaze again. “U-Uh, j-j-just a s-second to breathe
 that’s all,” he muttered.
“What’s the issue?” you calmly inquired.
“N-Nothing,” and that sounded like a whole lot of something.
You shifted your leg and your stocking-covered shin rubbed against his calf. Jungkook made a very strange noise and hastily pulled his hand back. You did not stop the contact. You simply watched the emotions play across his features as he shut his eyes, wordlessly mouthing swears before clenching his jaw and sliding up the wall to delicately back up.
“You sure it’s nothing?” Twice as unassuming and immediately tipping him off that you were aware of his predicament.
His brows furrowed. “Shut up.” He took in several deep breaths.
You hummed. “Is it that big of a deal?”
“Yes, it is,” Jungkook hissed. He cracked open one eye. “Have you no sense of danger?”
You did your best not to smile. Failed, but only just. “Not with you.”
Relief and annoyance washed over him. “Shut up,” he said again and you were beginning to realize he did not really mean for you to shut up. “Ugh.” He thrust the charcoal ball of fabric into your chest. “Here. Put it on.”
“No longer embarrassed?” you asked, catching a glimpse of his partial erection.
Jungkook pointedly looked away from you and stared at his own front door. “I’m not embarrassed. Put the pants on, damnnit. I can’t look at you.”
“Sure, you can,” you quipped as you slipped on his sweatpants. “I’m sure you’ve checked me out at some point.”
He sucked in the side of his cheek sharply. “It’s not the same. And, besides
” He trailed off.
You smoothed out the front and tightened the strings. Jungkook reluctantly brought his gaze back to you, checking you out. You tugged your blouse out of the pants a bit to give the two disharmonious pieces more balance. You filled out the top of his pants a bit more because of your ass. The whole ensemble was a little odd, but only if one looked too closely.
He frowned. “Why do you look good?”
“It’s the heels,” you absentmindedly replied. “Besides, what?”
For a moment, you thought Jungkook wasn’t going to respond. But then his eyes raised, locking to yours determinedly. “If I can make it to a month, then
” He faltered before regaining his composure. “No, I will make it to a month. And all the rest. But when you see how serious I am, then
 Then I want you to seriously consider me.”
Now it was your turn to avert your eyes. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Guilt settled as you realized that he was more intuitive than you gave him credit for. But you came back to him, eventually. His dark brown orbs lit up as you spoke.
“Sure.”
-
In a surprising turn of events, Jeon Jungkook actually greeted you with a breathless, “Hey,” for once when you answered his call, only to follow that up with, “The fuckin’ gym is closed, fuck.”
You blinked at your phone, put it on speaker, and tucked it into one of your upper kitchen cabinets to prop it up. It was not a video call. However, your hands were currently occupied. “I’m sorry,” you replied dryly, turning down the vent fan.
“Ugh, I really needed it today,” he grumbled, mostly at himself rather than at you. You heard the sounds of traffic and the white noise of wind. “And it’s cold tonight, hmph.”
You mentally calculated the day as you picked up the plate and tongs again. “Why was it closed? It’s not a holiday as far as I know.”
“I dunno. Note on the door said family emergency, so I guess I’ll find out later from the manager,” he said absentmindedly. It was a bit weird that Jungkook was treating this like small talk when he almost never called. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do or say about his predicament, so you began to place the slices of meat onto the hot pan, which immediately began loudly sizzling with popping oil. It must have picked up on the microphone. You heard a startled noise and then, “Whatchu doing?”
“Making dinner. And meal prepping at the same time, since I’m already cooking,” you replied, nudging the slices to fit all the meat in. Hm. Wouldn’t be the first time. Hm.
“What are you making?” He was sounding a bit too eager.
“Braised vegetables and pan-fried samgyeopsal,” you answered, reminding yourself to check under the lid. The bok choy and enoki mushrooms were just barely done. You quickly removed it from the heat before returning it the sizzling pork belly.
“Ugh.” He sounded jealous. “I’m jealous.” Guess he was. You found yourself smiling and quickly stopped, lightly adding a little flaky salt before starting the process of turning them over. You might die from a heart attack but not without a full belly of pork belly. “You’ve made me hungry. Maybe I’ll go get some ice cream.”
You mused. “Gym closed, so ice cream on a cool night is the solution?” The edges of pork belly were becoming that sweet golden caramel. Your kitchen was becoming decadently fragrant.
“This night is shit, anyway,” Jungkook complained. “I’d come over but you’d kick me out.”
You paused at his words. Then you busied yourself with taking the plate to the sink while raising your voice so he could hear you. “I didn’t kick you out last time.”
There was a short muteness that your both mutually agreed on before he sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll go home without the ice cream.”
You tutted. “I’m not the food police. Go get your ice cream if you want to.” You began to portion out the vegetables into the glass tupperware that you had already lined up.
“Nah,” he muttered. He really enjoyed this seesaw, huh. To be honest, you didn’t mind it. Maybe calling it fun too out of line, but. “I shouldn’t go into the convenience store, anyway. I don’t wanna break my streak.”
Only stubbornness could solidify self-restraint, it seemed. You checked the pork belly. It was done, so you turned off the fire and began to plate up your soon-to-be and future meals. Took less time because you had boiled the samgyeopsal first to keep the meat tender, removed it before it was completely cooked through, sliced it, and then pan-fried to completion. You plated the last of the vegetables, added the final helping of pork belly, and drizzled a bit of soybean paste on top. A small part of you wanted to take a photo and send it to Jungkook. Rub it in, perhaps. You picked up your phone and opened the camera app.
“Hey.”
“Uh?”
You filled the photo space with a close-up shot of your simple meal and sent it to him. “Check your messages.”
There was a scuffle and Jungkook grunted before gasping and then bringing his phone back to his ear. “Hey, fuck you.”
You couldn’t help it. You laughed.
“Man
 You suck.” He didn’t know the half of it. He was mumbling a tantrum on the street. “Ugh, now I’m so hungry... And mad. I’m mad at you.”
In between tee-hees and bites of your dinner, you placed your phone onto the counter. “If you buy me lunch, I’ll let you have one of mine,” you joked. Mmm, the meat was cooked just right. You mentally patted yourself on the back.
“No
 I can’t do that,” he grumbled, taking your joke seriously. He scoffed. “Instead, I’ll bring a steak and make you cook it for me.”
“Steak?” You considered his suggestion. “Sure, I can cook steak.”
“Hah, see, you won’t – wait
” You heard a sputter and what sounded like a tumble. Or maybe the beginnings of one caught in the middle. He did have good reflexes. “O
 Oh.” He sounded winded. “I thought you were
 Thought you were gonna refuse.”
You nibbled on some delicious enoki mushroom. “Why?” You knew full well why. Just wanted to make him squirm. Also, him thinking you couldn’t cook a steak annoyed you. As if you didn’t know the value of medium rare. Hmph.
“A-Ah
 Well.” He coughed and promptly changed the subject as embarrassed people do. “Are you eating right now?”
“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’s very tasty. I did a good job.”
You could him suck in an inhale of childish disappointment. “I’m suffering here.”
“No one is asking you to.”
“Hmmmm, I don’t like this.” And yet he stayed on the line. It sounded like he was jogging the streets. Maybe trying to arrive home faster and keep his body temperature up.
You imagined it. Then you told yourself to stop that. “Do you have something to eat at home?”
“There’s probably something,” Jungkook puffed. “Probably not as good, but I’ve got freezer stuff. I can cook, though,” he insisted.
You hadn’t questioned it. But you did now. “Hm, really?” You half-smiled in between bites of bok choy.
“Yes, really.” Very adamant. “Someday,” he added, in the tone of someday proving it.
You remembered the last time he was in your kitchen. The last time he was in your apartment. You looked down to the cropped black t-shirt and the familiar charcoal sweatpants you were wearing. The scene was set. Still, it didn’t clarify how to feel about it. Answers were usually simple. Believing them was a different story. He called your name. Without thinking, you answered right away.
“Mhm?”
“I’m home,” Jungkook grunted.
Maybe you supposed to pop confetti. You let it go and asked, “Less angry about your lack of gym time?”
“Not really.” But he did sound less stressed somehow. Maybe it was the cardio of the jog. “I guess I gotta find something to eat now. Lemme put you on speaker.”
The number of times he could have hung up increased. And yet he hadn’t done so yet. You were almost finished eating. You could have ended the call right now. Said you were busy and done your chores without further distraction. It just didn’t feel right. That said enough. Well, at the very least, you thought you should accompany him on his food adventure.
He exclaimed loudly. “Ah! I found some corn ice cream at the bottom of my freezer! Nice!”
Your palm made contact with your forehead. “I guess you must be the gods’ lucky one,” you mused, mopping up your last bite. Time to clear the kitchen. Sad.
“You know it,” he cheered.
You heard him ripping open the plastic with gusto. Would have sounded cocky if it wasn’t for his barely audible happy noises. You began to tidy up the kitchen to distract yourself. Putting away spices, collecting the various cooking utensils into the sink, wiping down counters, putting the lids on the now cooled-down meals. You stacked them in the fridge. You didn’t try to hide what you were doing but, then again, Jungkook was seemingly too mesmerized by his ice cream to speak. Amidst your domestic tasks, you saw the parallels of being in the same place in your respective apartments, both together and apart at the same time with only a thread of technology connecting each other, and you glanced at your phone screen, wondering if he had hung up on you. The call was still active.
Such a mundane existence.
And yet.
You stood by your sink, the washing up the last to do, and you abandoned it to stand by your phone. It seemed so
 annoying to have simple enjoyments taken away by complicated thoughts. Maybe there was a better word for it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that you were listening to Jungkook enjoying his small happiness of the day and wondered if he intentionally or unintentionally shared it with you. Wondered if the intention even mattered in the face of what was.
You broke the relative silence. “When do you want me to cook that steak for you?”
The faint sound of licking lips. He must have scooted closer to his phone, because the volume of his words was louder than the sounds from earlier. “Uh
” You waited. “I think my one month of no cigarettes is coming up soon. Maybe then
?” He trailed off awkwardly.
The crumpled pack was still on your nightstand next to your lighter. You hadn’t touched either. They were collectively collecting dust. You opened your mouth, reconsidered, and then said what was on your mind.
“I never hated you just because you smoked.”
Maybe it was better that you couldn’t see each other. “Yeah, but
” He let out a breath. “It was the reason why you didn’t want to be around me.”
You couldn’t deny it.
“I get it, though,” Jungkook muttered softly. “I didn’t really want to be around myself either. Maybe I haven’t had any great failures, but
 That means I haven’t had a chance to grow from hardships. Coasting, sort of. I need to push myself to be better, because I’m definitely not where I’m supposed to be.”
Your eyes raised which caused you to realize you had dipped your head. You wondered who put those thoughts in his head, but the answer was all around you. In the subtext of conversation of strangers, friends, family.
“It’s weird,” he continued, maybe forgetting you could hear him slurp in between words or because his ice cream was rapidly melting. “I was talking to a friend about you and he asked me if you ever needed anything from me, ever.” He sucked in a breath. “Tch. I kinda hate that, but also it made me realize
 Isn’t that the most natural I’ve ever been with anyone? No expectations
 Maybe even negative.” He laughed a little, and you could imagine him shaking his head. “Is this how you want to spend your life? No. I want to be someone that you might need someday.”
You didn’t say anything about him talking about you to other people. It was slightly funny of him to think of you as an enigma when you felt that you were so simple, really. Maybe that made you the root of his complicated thoughts. Maybe not. He was right in that you did your best to not depend on others, even going out of you way to not need others. Not expecting anything from them to not be disappointed. You didn’t see that changing anytime soon, but, an exception?
All rules had them.
“I’m looking forward to making you that steak,” you chuckled. “I need to finish up the dishes, so I’ll let you go. For now.”
“A-Ah
” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Okay. S
 See ya.”
You half-smiled. Even though he couldn’t see it, you were sure that he could hear it in your tone. “You will,” and you ended the call.
-
You found a small package addressed to you in your mailbox. No return address, no postage, but it had relatively neat handwriting that seemed familiar somehow. You tucked the soliciting letters under your arm as you re-locked your postage box. The packaging was brown paper. You turned it over in your hand.
For your collection. Jeon Jungkook.
You almost snorted. He could have. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt odd, so you quickly walked back to your apartment, shouldering your mail and your work bag, fitting the small package into your palm. The mail room was on the ground floor. You went up the flights of stairs to the far-left unit. Unlocked your front door and went in, using your shoulder to push it open.
You closed the door behind you before you opened the brown-paper wrapped parcel.
The outside packaging unfurled. Tissue paper and a bit of foam. Something told you he didn’t pack this. This was the work of the elderly who sold it to him. Smooth steel. But you felt something on the side against your palm. You turned the disc around. It was one of those snap-close clay art mirrors. The kind delicately handmade by a practiced artisan’s hands. You ran your finger over it, entranced by the ridges and matte texture. The focal point was the gradient of orange depicting tiger lilies. The background was black, making the small imagery stand out.
Tiger lilies, huh.
You opened the pocket mirror and saw your bewildered expression staring back at you. Your initial compulsion was to look away. Your intrusive thoughts interrupted, asking you if you really hated what you saw. You looked and your reflection looked back. You lifted the mirror slightly, inspecting your makeup. You barely wore any to just barely get away with it at work. It still looked good.
You half-smiled.
“You’re so fucking full of it, Jeon Jungkook,” you chuckled, tucking the mirror into the pocket of your work bag before going about the rest of your night.
-
He was quite excited for steak day until you made him speechless.
“U-uh, hey! Ahem. Hey. I have the steaks. You didn’t say if I should bring vegetables, so I also got cabbage, carrots, shitake mushrooms, I didn’t know, I guessed, sorry, and I can help cook if you need someone to watch the vegetables while, uh, I can chop or clean or anything at all
 um, why are you dressed like t-that
?”
If it was his plan to greet cool, calm, and collected, he failed. You opened your apartment door to gum-chewing, wide-eyed, rambling Jeon Jungkook wearing a baggy but heavyweight white button-up and dark blue jeans with white contrast stitching. Black belt with a bright gold buckle. The hem of the jeans draped well over his black laced boots. His black leather jacket was jammed in the crook of his elbow with the groceries. His jacket had silver zippers, which didn’t match his belt. The button-up was done all the way up to his neck, which didn’t suit him.
You let him go on his rant and tried not to smile.
The situation was not exactly funny. It was obvious that he was out-of-sorts by the frantic way he was gnawing on his gum like his life depended on it. You had to wait for him to take a breath. He was too far gone in his speech for you to interrupt him. You almost dared to call it adorable. Didn’t because that wasn’t part of your image even though clearly Jungkook had completely broke the image he wanted to craft for himself over his entire time of knowing you. For his sake, you pretended nothing was amiss. You simply took the groceries from his hands while saying, “Change of plans.”
His jaw was slack. You could see the pink wad of gum stuck to his molars. Lovely. “E-Eh?”
You noticed his black hair looked a little messy and windswept. It was longer now, too, giving him an unintentional rockstar vibe. Thankfully his brain was too preoccupied with being unable to catch up to the moment to notice you noticing him. You backed up into your apartment to place the bags on your kitchen counter, busying yourself with putting everything into your refrigerator.
“I want to take you somewhere,” you said to the shelves of your fridge, clearing out space. Oh, wow. He really did buy high-grade steak. Two of them. And a giant head of cabbage. “I don’t like carrots,” you commented. “But I’ll make them for you and you can take home the rest.”
He sputtered with the elegance of a caught bluefin tuna. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t – T-Take me somewhere?”
In the middle of placing the last thing, the bundle of carrots, into the fridge, you said it.
“Yes. I want to take you on a date.”
To be honest, you weren’t sure if it would come out as confidently as you heard yourself, but there was no going back now. You had debated before this day had come, turning over the tiger lily pocket mirror in your hand at night. Debated if the unwillingness was worth it and decided it wasn’t. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was thinking the same thing you were, but then he showed up. Over-dressed. Vibrating with nervous energy. Talking too fast. One look at him and you knew. You could think you had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t true. You turned around to see Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression at the entrance of your apartment and you knew.
Despite never believing in anything and thinking everything was going to shit, well, you might as well go down with a feeling of a life well-lived.
“A d
 date
?”
You closed the door of your refrigerator. “A date. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you?”
He looked like he hadn’t. “I
 uh
 Yes?” You had meant the light jab to bring Jungkook back to Earth but both of you were currently stuck on cloud nine. “Is that why you
?” His hand raised and made a vague gesture.
Your own hand raised to smooth back your hair from your bare shoulder. “Ah. Yes.” Since your closet was mostly made up of comfy, work, and concert outfits – in that order – that amount of classy date pieces were slightly nonexistent. You had one black dress made of a slinky soft ribbed texture that was what you ended up wearing. It reached the floor, which suited the night climate of this time of year. The rest of it was quite sexy, though. The fabric made the dress cling to and accentuate your curves. The straight neckline and thin straps were maybe too flattering. Jungkook’s eyes were certainly wandering to the general area of your collarbones. You usually wore this dress in a very specific way, which you intended to do so tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to let him admire.
Yeah.
Admire was definitely the word.
Just like how you were letting him admire you walking up to him, sending him into a mild panic, knowing exactly what you were doing but trying not to think about it, instead focusing on what had been bugging you ever since you had seen it. “This
 I’m sorry, but this doesn’t suit you,” you muttered, unfastening the first few buttons of the shirt and shaking it out to a more relaxed collar. He smelled good. Oh, wow, he smelled very good. Bergamot and cedarwood, it seemed. “It looked too stuffy.” You noticed the thin gold chain underneath. Oh. Perhaps the unintentional mixing of gold and silver was intentional after all. You righted the chain so it was more visible, his warm skin under your cool fingertips, and maybe you were imagining it or was that a shiver between you and him at the contact?
Your hands awkwardly hovered over his chest.
It was hard to look up but you made yourself do it.
Jungkook seemed startled but at the very least thawed from the initial shock. “O-Oh, but
” Surely he was not staring at your cleavage. Surely. You might have put it right in his line of vision, but, surely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s c-cold outside. At least
”
It was certainly an exaggeration to call it slow-motion, and yet somehow that was the only way to describe it because now you were the one frozen in extended seconds as he tumbled his leather jacket into his palm, grabbing it by the collar and lifting it up, up and to his left hand, flaring it out with a loud flap before draping worn-in warmth over your shoulders. The sudden weight caused you to tilt forward lightly. Your open palms pressed against his chest to steady yourself. His hands stayed on your shoulders. Both of you were staring at each other for too long.
At least no one was here to record it.
He spoke first. ‘I, uh, I took a lot of my clothes to professional cleaners,” Jungkook said quietly. “Since
 It gives me a good reason to not
 It cost a lot.” His ears were probably as red as yours.
You inhaled, raising your chest, and noticed how new the leather smelled despite him owning it for a while now. Your faint smile was now inevitable. “I really appreciate it,” and you did. He didn’t have to, and he did.
The light in his eyes must have been your imagination. “R
 Really?” Or maybe not. He was breathless and there was no obvious cause for it.
Never in wildest dreams and insomniac nights and daytime silence full of running thoughts could you have created this present time where you felt that you saw him and he saw you. From all the gray haze moments of the past to those bright uncertain days of small happiness in the future, you knew you could do it alone, but, for once, it seemed unbearable to do so.
You leaned up and kissed him.
Your eyes had closed as you tilted your head to close the distance. Maybe you should have considered seeing his surprise. Maybe you were too nervous to. It was only a simple press of lips-to-lips. Still, you found respite. A strange tingle shot through you as you felt Jungkook kiss you back. Somehow, you felt his relief of you taking charge of a moment that he had wanted to happen for a long time.
After a savored moment, both of you broke apart.
Afraid to overstep. Slightly shocked that that just happened. You snuck a peek. It was impossible to not call him adorable and thankfully you were too high off the moment to say anything. He caught your eye. You let him, gracing him a coy curve of your lips.
His cheeks bloomed pink. “Y-You
 You wanna wear my jacket?”
You lightly shook your head, reaching up to touch the back of his hand. “You’ll be cold. I was going to wear a sweater over my dress,” you explained. His expression fell a little bit despite your logic. “But I wanted to wait to see what colors you were wearing so that I could choose something that pairs well. It would be nice to match somewhat, right?” Immediately Jungkook perked up again.
It was just a damn hot pot date. Why were you both grinning like idiots? The world never did make any sense, hmph.
-
In spite of best efforts, you dozed off on his shoulder.
Dinner had been a little bit awkward. Not so awkward it was unpleasant, but enough where you had to pull yourself together to bring him back to his usual self. You wore a fluffy, thick, cropped white sweater over your black dress, giving you some much needed warmth for the cool night and giving Jungkook back his sanity. Then you took it away by hooking your arm into his, holding onto him as you both rode the train in thoughtless silence. The hot pot restaurant had newly opened and was packed with curious customers. In a stroke of luck, the host managed to find seating due to your small party size. After a brief explanation, you made a beeline for the lineup of ingredients. It had taken a mountain of vegetables, shrimp, and fishcakes on a plate to break Jungkook out of his trance.
“W-Woah! You eat that much?”
You had tilted your head. “We’re sharing. Duh.”
A flash of annoyance. “How do you know what I like to eat?”
“What don’t you like to eat?” you countered.
Jungkook puffed a cheek. “That’s not the point!”
It wasn’t the most deep of conversations. Still, it did bring you both some peace to know that you hadn’t lost what you already had. There was always that fear and it was good to know that the fear was unfounded.
“I only want one egg.”
He spoke over you, “Too bad, you’re getting two,” using one hand to crack another to poach in your boiling bone broth. You made a face at him as you mixed minced onions and garlic into your chili oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce combination. He waved a third egg at you threateningly. You were adversely terrified. He became distracted by your concoction. “Let me try.”
“No. I’ll make you your own.”
“We’re sharing.”
“There are limits,” and you promptly walked off to do just that. For his credit, he didn’t snatch your hard work. Might have been because his food wasn’t finished cooking yet. Semantics. “It’s my treat, by the way.”
Irrtation was going to permanently furrow his brows if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t need your charity. Besides, you’re hurting my pride as a man.”
You cried for him. “Boo hoo.” Sarcastically.
“You’re not paying.”
“You wanna fight?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Kinda if you keep this up.”
You pretended to lift your sweater.
Jungkook almost threw himself over the two boiling pots of broth. “Gah! What do you think you’re doing?!” He tried not to yell, hissing low between his teeth. “You’re crazy!”
“Putting you in your place,” you answered dryly.
His expression was between flabbergasted and aghast. “D-Don’t do that!”
Not the deepest of conversations. You smiled. He noticed, and looked away quickly, his ears turning pink as he busied himself ordering plates of meat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to cook the steaks like you had originally promised. It would have made a great first date, even. And yet. Yet, you didn’t want to, because for some reason following the original plan felt symbolic of something ending instead of a beginning. You were confident in your cooking, and still the possibility of even the slightest failure made it so that you couldn’t relax. Maybe it was selfish to drag out a promise. Nothing about Jungkook’s demeanor indicated he was against it, though.
“What?”
You blinked, realizing you had zoned out in his direction. “Nothing. Just
” He frowned. You almost wanted to ask him if he was disappointed by this turn of events. He was already shoving a plateful of thinly-sliced flat iron steak into his hot pot. “Just realized we’re only here now because of a cigarette and a lighter.”
His eyes cast downward. “I’m sor–” he began.
“Who knew a bad decision could turn into such a good one.”
Jungkook snapped his head back up, surprised. You gave him an impassive expression complete with a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. He tried to hide it. He wasn’t as good at it as you were.
“Yeah. I guess
”
He sounded a little too happy for that lukewarm response. You reached into your bag, pulling out a pocket mirror to needlessly check your makeup. He noticed the tiger lilies nestled in your palm and positively beamed. You did your best to wipe your stupid smile off your face and clipped it closed to resume the meal. The rest of the dinner was similar. Well, largely focused on how many plates of shabu-shabu meat both of you could consume to make the restaurant regret seating you. At the very least, Jungkook had been impressed with your gall.
Points gained there, heh.
So, now, in spite of best efforts, Jungkook leaned his head against yours and dozed off with you on your sofa, curled up under the same blanket he had used to sleep over some nights ago. Sleep came a little too easily with full bellies. He had asked if he could sit down for a bit before heading back to his place. Because, you know, it wasn’t good if he became drowsy while driving his motorcycle. You had shrugged, casually, turning on your television to whatever late-night show was on to provide some form of mild entertainment. Distraction, really, so neither of you felt pressure to talk.
Turned out, falling asleep told you more than any conversation.
It might have been the food. The comfort of the blanket. Someone familiar being there. Whatever the cause, the stars aligned and you knew what it meant. One instance of sleep arriving quickly did not mean that you would never have a restless night again. It did not mean everything was different. But it did mean that what was already there wasn’t a lie. You thought you had done enough to spite him, but best efforts were useless in a wake of loud, hard-headed, brash Jeon Jungkook. It shouldn’t work. You were reclusive, blunt, guarded. An unfathomable match, and yet you could never seem to shake him. Apparently his fondness for you was so strong that continued meetings were inevitable. The prospect of the next time had become a regular instance. Monotone days were suddenly saturated with unexpected melodies. You kept telling yourself there was nothing else better to do than to put up with his antics.
There had been no real reason for you to believe that he would change.
He just did so he could define his own ideal of worthy.
Unconsciously, Jungkook was sinking into the cease of the sofa, into dreamlessness, taking you down with him into the cushions. You dozed practically on top of him, unknowingly nestling into his waning embrace. If you had your wits about yourself, you might have given him more conspicuous space, but he was so warm that you forgot that you didn’t typically like physical touch. Or maybe you didn’t mind as much because you knew deep down that he liked it. It was a small sacrifice for his happiness. Something like that. Ah. Right. Anyway, eventually you awoke to no-context ruckus on the television screen. Annoyed, you pawed for the remote on the coffee table and blindly turned it off. You wouldn’t have even bothered to open your eyes except for the fact that you were clearly on top on Jungkook, oh, and so you blinked slowly, line of vision shifting, realizing he wasn’t asleep.
He was pretending to be.
You placed a hand on his chest. One of his eyes cracked open. You raised an eyebrow. He almost jumped out of his skin. Probably not expecting you to be staring at him.
“Were you watching?” you asked.
“N-Not really
” Discomfort laced into his expression. “Um
 You’re on my left knee a little weird.”
You shifted quickly. “Sorry.”
Relief. “No, uh, I fucked it up a bit while boxing a couple days ago,” Jungkook sighed. You could feel his inhale through your hand on his chest that you still hadn’t removed. “Think I hit it at a weird angle.”
You pointed out the obvious. “You’re not supposed to use your legs in boxing.”
He sent you the gift of a classic eye-roll complete with the bow of a scowl. “I lost my balance and fell.”
You calm expression didn’t change as you added, “Bad knees are the first sign of aging.”
His dark eyes narrowed into slits. “You–”
And proceeded to grab you by the waist. You shot up instinctively, straddling his hips, and your hand on his chest slid up. His eye went wide. He froze. You froze, realizing what you were doing. His hands were loosely around your waist with his fingers flaring out over the top of your ass. You moved your hand, resting it on his shoulder. Not on the offensive but on edge. You did your best to hold his gaze while in the precarious position. He immediately apologized.
“S-Sorry.”
“No, ah
” You shook your head. “I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t have moved to choke him out just because he was horsing around yet it was hard to really know with men these days. Still, thinking of Jungkook in that way after everything he had done for you was unfair. “I’m too used to having to protect myself.”
There was a sea of regret in those dark brown orbs. “I wasn’t going to
” Hurt you, and that part was obvious. He frowned, realizing your reaction and words said what needed to be said without saying it. “I promise. I’m not like that.”
You stared into his eyes. “I know,” and you did.
His expression became determined. “No, really.” He frowned. “I can’t help–”
You cut him off. “Is that why you have a hard-on right now?”
Dead.
Silence.
The cushions of your sofa were old, causing your knees to sink in further due to the prolonged concentrated points of pressure. You looked down. He looked up. Nobody moved. You had thought about it. Maybe. Not in any deep sense so as to not set any unrealistic expectations. He had very clearly thought about it if the rising tent of your dress in between your legs was any indication. You weren’t able to fully sit down on his crotch due to space constraints, but, even with jeans on, the distance down there was dwindling.
In short, Jungkook was obviously packin’.
You raised your eyebrows. He grimaced. He was trying not to stare at your thighs spread over him or how easily your waist fit in his hands. “Listen
 Uh.” Brave of him to break the silence. “I
 I’m not a disgraceful kinda guy, okay? I wasn’t planning anything. And I’m seriously serious.” His voice deepened as his eyes darted about. “Serious about
” His gaze lifted, navigating to yours.
Your lips parted, understanding him perfectly well.
However, your dress was stretching too uncomfortably. Distracted, you broke eye contact, reaching down to yank the hem from under your knee while extending your other leg to the ground to maintain balance. The fabric bunched up to your hips, draping over his lower body. You felt the friction of his jeans against your bare inner thighs. Then, you felt the friction in his jeans pressing up in between your legs.
Well.
That would be the expected result, huh.
Jungkook was beside himself. “W-W-What are you do–”
You raised your head. He stiffened. Everywhere. He was still holding you by the waist. Time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, much like whatever this was. You made eye contact, diving into those wide eyes, searching for something to be afraid of. The scariest thing about all this was how readily he matched up with your intent to cross all the lines.
“Do you wanna kiss me?” you asked him.
His voice quivered. More out of poorly contained excitement rather than anxiousness.
“Are you crazy? Of course I wanna fuckin’ kiss you.”
There was no good reason for care-about-nothing you and caring-too-much Jeon Jungkook should match up well, and yet perhaps that was precisely the reason these puzzle pieces fit together. He lifted his torso from the sofa far too easily, meeting you halfway. With one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his chest, your lips brushed against his. Inhale, and his warm citrusy cologne mixed with his natural scent filled your lungs. He tilted his head, closing the distance. There was no pressure of a good first kiss as it was already over with. He pulled you closer.
A kiss was not particularly special, but everything about him was.
Terrifying.
As the saying went, you felt the fear and did it anyway.
Lips to lips, electric. Your fingertips gliding over his skin, spreading the button placket before descending, unraveling him like a flower, your tongue tracing the edge of his lips. His breath hitched. His hands on your waist tighter, turning, and you adjusted accordingly, letting him sit back against the sofa with you on his lap. His fingers slid under your sweater, fanning over your back like unraveling petals as you unbuttoned his shirt, drinking in his gasps. Sinking deeper. He tugged your sweater upwards and you released him for a moment to lift your arms, arching your spine, shedding the white onto the floor. His hands on the small of your back lifted you in return, and you arrived to the view of his own white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders, revealing tan skin and his hard work at the gym.
Your eyes trailed upwards and Jungkook hesitantly smiled, uncertain of what you were thinking.
You dipped your head and licked up his chest.
“Whoa, wha–aah, f-fuck
”
Perhaps this was a strange thought but you felt this compulsion to taste his skin. You pushed his head back and crossed his neck with kisses. Teeth. Tongue. You felt his fingertips press into your back, his hips rise, a moan bubble up in his chest. He tried to speak between gasps, his hands sliding down to your ass as you licked up to his jaw, intoxicated by the taste of his skin.
“I didn’t r-realize
 o-oh
”
You flicked his earrings with the tip of your tongue, dissipating your breath so it was whisper soft against his jaw. “Deep down, you knew there was more under this surface,” you murmured and as you said it you thought of black water but the reality was reflected all over the walls, in small snapshots of mirrors from older and modern times. Yes, a mirror was the more apt imagery. Your tongue coiled around his ear, whispering his name low and slow. “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t think you were crazy
” Jungkook gasped. He pressed you down onto his lap, hiking your dress up further. An exhale drifted past your ear. “I didn’t say I didn’t l-like it
”
With a single finger, you turned his head to face you. Half-moon eyes hazy with lust. He ticked his head, putting on the bad boy front you always knew was a front, and you rocked your hips against his to create the rhythm. He sucked in a breath, your name on the tip of his tongue, and you placed your lips against his temple to ensure that he could feel every word as much as he could hear it.
“No matter who came before you, I hope you outmatch them all.”
He viewed you from his periphery.
You smiled in a dangerous way.
There was the briefest moment where he mirrored your smirk and then he lowered his head, catching you off guard with his lips against your pulse. By instinct, your fingers laced into his black hair, tilting your head to give him more access. Your eyes wandered among the walls. In smoked glass. In craved frames. From every angle, snapshots of Jungkook kissing down your neck and you pulling the straps of your dress aside, pressing his head downwards. His lips over your collarbones created an intricate network of pinpointed pleasure, blossoming, overlapping, your nerves singing. You hooked a finger down the center of the neckline, dragging it to a risqué level. His warm breath washed over your skin.
Anticipation on a knife’s edge.
You gazed down through the shadows of your lashes. He was watching you through his own. Wondering without words. So many times Jungkook had asked for a light to ignite his addiction. You saw the writing on the wall before he did.
You tugged the top of your dress downward.
“Fuck
”
You fanned your hands over your ribs pushing your bare breasts upward. Little did he know there was a shelf bra in the dress. Probably didn’t care. He clenched his jaw and frowned slightly, his cock throbbing from below. You could feel it because you were sitting on it.
“It’s annoying that you know how hot you are. Stop knowing how to act hot too.”
You wondered if he ever looked in a mirror. “That’s rich coming from a guy that works out to make his chest big.”
He pressed his lips together before grumbling, “So
?”
You lifted you body and put your tits right in front of his face. He tried to throw you off as his lips made contact, but then was immediately distracted with the taste, running his tongue over your nipple with a moan. Strong hands on your waist again. Your own hand slid down the crown of his head, sliding in between the collar of his shirt and his shoulder muscles, caressing them as you felt sparks from his light sucking. He kissed across your chest to access the other and you breathed out, electric and erotic, your nails turning inward.
His groan was gravelly, rough from pleasure.
“Ugh, fuck, scratch me.”
You dug your nails inward and he whined into your chest, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against your nipple. You moaned to the ceiling, arching your back, and now both of your hands were on his shoulders, creating a crisscross pattern of pink under his shirt collar. There was no rhyme or reason, only instinct. Jungkook growled, taking a swift moment to yank his arms out of his shirt before pawing at your hands to explore more, touch more, repaying you with divine lips and tongue. Either he liked pain or he loved pain. Hm. You had your opinions but you kept them to yourself.
You laced your fingers into his hair, arching your back. He extended his tongue and instead of him licking upwards, you curved your body downwards, only losing contact when it was physically impossible. You lowered your head slowly. Your tongue traced your lips. He was breathing in shallow, perfumed breaths tainted with your taste. Pupils dilated. Under the influence.
You stared into his dark eyes. “You can still stop.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. I was in it before you were.”
He wasn’t wrong. Time moved too fast and too slow at the same time. You slid off his lap, gripping the side of your dress and pushing them down your hips. He rose, entranced, and you backed up, out of the way of the coffee table. In the room of mirrors – the living room – clothes began to slide to the floor one by one. Your tousling of his black hair had made it gone rogue, draping over his eyes as he tugged the back of his shirt out of his pants and let it fall. You took another step back while reaching forward, pulling apart his belt buckle. He glanced down as he was tugged forward. With one eye on you, he pulled the strap from the pin. You held the buckle. Pulled. He guided the black leather to smooth exit. For a few moments, you had him by the leash of his belt, dragging him into the bedroom.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
From the look on his face, he remembered.
You held onto the belt after it made its escape, twirling it around in your hand. Jungkook’s dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t.” You didn’t say anything and that was more alarming. “Do not even think about it,” he warned, his tone becoming lower, gruff. You smiled. You flicked your wrist and he halted.
You coiled the black leather around your thigh.
Tightened it by crossing the ends.
Oh, he was looking now.
“Don’t what?” you taunted, turning as you reached the end of the bed. Instead of lifting your knee to the edge of the mattress, you gripped the crossed straps of his belt and hoisted your leg upwards, adding a little bounce of your ass as you looked over your shoulder.
He didn’t expect the showmanship. His mouth squeaked out an, “Are you serious?”
Muscles, tattoos, and he still didn’t know what to do with all that. Your other hand grazed the curve of your ass to the hem of your seamless panties, hooking a finger over the edge and tugging it towards the center dip.
“Okay, fuck, you’re gonna make me bust in my damn jeans,” Jungkook muttered, looking annoyed at the tent in his pants. His hand was already undoing the button. You smiled, releasing your leg, walking over to the nightstand by the bed. The box of unused cigarettes was still there along with your lighter. You only glanced at them, dropping his belt to the side and opening the drawer, pulling out a string of condoms.
Turned around and Jungkook shot you a disbelieving look with his cock sticking out of his pants. Still in his boxer briefs, so obviously hard that he was past the open zipper. You didn’t back down, approaching him with his death sentence dangling from your fingers.
He tried not to seem flustered. “You’re busy, huh?”
You stopped in front of him, tilting in your head. “Busy waiting for you to make a move.”
He sucked the inside of his cheek. “Tch. Am I supposed to believe that?”
“You tell me.”
You sat down on the bed, placing the condoms within easy reach. Crossed your legs. Stared into his eyes, daring him to believe that you were lying. You saw bite his lip. Looking you up and down, so you did the same, watching him shove his jeans down further. You ticked your head.
“Or maybe just don’t fall for my tricks, hm?”
And you fell back onto the bed, lifting your legs, reaching under. Put your weight on your shoulders while you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your panties, pulling up, up, slipping one leg out. Then the other. Flicked your wrist and sent it flying. Then you spread your legs to reveal his stunned face.
You pulled a condom oof the line and held it out to him.
He looked uneasy, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away. “Uh
 You sure?” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking. He was trying to flip it on you.
You smiled. Casually. “I give you permission to find out.”
This did not ease Jungkook’s worries. He was too busy to staring at your pussy to formulate any more sentences, though. He took the condom from your hand, pushing down his black underwear. You looked. He saw you look. Confirmed that he didn’t work out because he was lacking in his pants, that was for sure. Your gaze went back to his face. He didn’t know what to think about your reaction, because you purposefully didn’t have one.
Instead of speaking, you reached down in between your legs and spread your wet lips.
Lowering your lashes. Slow smirk. Jungkook sucked in a breath and ripped open the condom. His underwear was sliding down his legs, but you were too busy being fixated on the way his arms moved, carefully rolling down the condom as he watched your fingertips trace your slit, drawing circles around your clit. The heat turned into wetness. He moved closer. You curled a leg around his hip. He put a hand on your thigh, positioning himself over you. Made eye contact. You looked back curiously, spreading the upper lips of your slick pussy.
He slid the bottom of the slick head against your clit and made you both moan from the contact.
Rubbed, slowly. Your insides throbbed with need. The lubrication made it even better. You pulled your hand back and tipped your hips upwards, and then he slid in. He gasped, his inhale catching in his throat. The hand on your leg tensed. You pressed your calf into his ass, pushing him deeper.
“F-Fuck, what–”
Your expression must have indicated that you were going to shove him in yourself, because Jungkook took one panicked glance at your face and thrust in, loudly swearing. He shut his eyes but you caught a peek of them rolling upwards as you dreamily sighed from the feeling of fullness, squeezing all around to feel more, the pressure becoming pleasure.
“You can move.” Just in case he wasn’t sure.
“Shut up,” Jungkook snapped back, shifting his hand to grab your thigh, yanking you into his crotch. He cut off his own moan by clenching his jaw. You smiled. Sweetly. He glared as viciously as he could, which wasn’t much, and thrust hard enough to make you both gasp. He was resisting from commenting about your tightness. “Stop smirking at me like that.”
You tested fate.
“Make me.”
The light was playing tricks. Or maybe his hair was casting shadows over his darkened gaze. Or perhaps this was possession of passion that made him lean down. Locked gazes. He covered your mouth with his free hand. You let him, waiting to see where this would go. He began to move. Slow, deep, building the heat between your joined bodies. Staring into your eyes, and you stared back, clenching your core to increase the unfurling bliss, so damn good, watching his lashes lower, his lips parting, heated breath drifting out like invisible smoke. You raised your hips to meet him, moaning into his palm. He bit the edge of his lower lip, the tiny mole centered underneath suddenly visible.
Your tongue traced his fingers, dripping saliva.
He spread them, entranced by the way you thrust your wet muscle in time with his hips, coiling towards the small finger tattoos you knew he had. Jungkook swore under his breath, gripping your thigh harder, but he wasn’t reaching the force you both craved. With reluctance, he removed his hand from your open mouth, watching the charming curl of your tongue disappearing in between your lips before gripping your other hip with his wet hand, cocking an eyebrow at you.
You reached back and grabbed fistfuls of your duvet, bracing yourself with an open-mouthed smirk.
He thrust hard and you rose to meet him. Both of you cried out at the radiating smack of force between bodies. Nothing for show. Just pure raw lust, chasing the high, giving into the lust. Heat into tension. Your back arched. He pulled you to him. You squeezed him all around. With each loud slap you felt pleasure ripple through your body, making your breasts bounce to his rhythm, and you let out a soft moan, sensing the ripple turning into a cascade, your insides tightening, closing your eyes once the vicious throb overtook your hips, drowning in orgasm.
“Oh, fuck–”
Jungkook didn’t even get to choke out his surprise before his own orgasm hit him. You felt his fingers dig in, snapping your bodies together. His drawn-out groan became the sonata to the punctuated sensation of inescapable euphoria. Wet. Hot. You gasped at a jolt of ecstasy rattling in your ribs. You felt his cock jerk inside you as his hold on you lessened, switching to kneading your thighs. Your brain was so hazy that his touch seemed to amplify the addictive heat, your legs closing in, keeping him in place.
“Could’ve
 fuckin’ warned me
”
He panted hard, squeezing your ass roughly. You didn’t care. It was hard to when his slip to his Busan dialect was so attractive. You reveled in the bliss for a moment longer before lowering your legs, realizing the source of the heat was Jungkook whose body seemed to be ten thousand degrees. He pushed back his hair, revealing his glistening brow and cheekbones. Gasping for breath. He pulled out before stripping off the condom with a hiss.
“What am I supposed to do with–”
You sat up, using your elbows to lift your body. It was harder than you thought because the aftermath of tension had left a residual tremble throughout your nerves, but you ignored it, living on determination alone. Jungkook started, not expecting you to move so quickly. You didn’t give him time to react, reaching down between your bodies.
“A-Ah, don’t
!”
He stuttered, gasped, then moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. Slippery. Hot. Covered in lube and cum and now your fingers wrapping around his length, finding him half-hard. You gave him almost no pressure but all contact, glossing over the shaft until his cock swelled in your hand, ghosting over the head with your palm. He bit back a yelp, not yet opening his eyes, almost whining. His reaction drove you, sliding forward a bit to the very edge of the mattress. He held his breath. Snuck a peek. You angled your body to expose more of your inner thigh and lifted him.
His eyes widened.
You sandwiched his cock in between your palm and your inner thigh, sliding your body back and forth to stimulate him. He inhaled sharply, shooting you a look of indignation, and yet his hips began moving anyway. You gradually increased the pressure. His head tipped back, groaning to the ceiling, becoming harder and harder with each stroke.
You reached over to the condoms and held them out.
Jungkook lowered his head. “Seriously?”
You lifted your hand from his pulsing, wet cock. “Saying you don’t want to?”
“I didn’t say that,” he retorted.
You pulled one off. He handed you the used condom. There was maybe a second and then he gave back the empty foil wrapper in which you tucked the used one into, folding it carefully so there was no spillage. It wouldn’t take long, anyway.
Part of you wanted to say that, but you held your tongue.
Hands on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs. Jungkook pinned your knees to your chest and slid back in, lowly growling, “How the fuck are you so tight,” but you were too enveloped in the sensations, wet and hard and your inner muscles closing in, molding to the shaft. The swollen head hit that depth you could really feel, and you sighed, lifting your hips. His hands slid off your legs and hit the bed, sandwiching you in between the bed and his hard chest.
Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s.
It was intense, rough, carnal. You forgot your surroundings, clutching the duvet and his tattooed forearm, matching each slap of your bodies with a breathless gasp, your calves on his shoulders, his erratic breath melting into shuddering moans. You were moving up the bed little by little from the force. Your name slipped from his lips. Your pussy clenched involuntarily and then the rapid thunderous pulse overtook your senses. He lasted a little longer this time after your orgasm, but not much longer, succumbing to the vicious call, burying his entire length inside you and gritting his teeth to muffle his moan in his chest.
It should have ended there.
You could barely breathe. Suffocating from your own thighs. After an erotic, elated eternity, Jungkook lifted his upper body, gasping apologies. You could barely hear them, orgasm still ringing in your ears, having to relax your muscles one by one. The bed was a mess. Duvet bunched up. Condom wrappers garnishing the ground. Clothes all over the floor. Your legs crossed, sliding down. Jungkook was standing somehow and you could tell that even he thought that was a miracle. He offered a hand. You took it, letting him shakily pull you up to your feet.
His breath washed over your cheek.
You looked up at him. His dark orbs shifted towards you. Waning. You tilted your head. Half-moons. Lips to lips. You drank in his exhale, kissing him deeply. Still electrified. Hands all over, igniting fire over skin. His lower body bumped up against your thigh. Slippery hardness pressing into softness. The scent of sex clung between you and him. You reached down. Touching him. Stroking his cock with your fingertips while kissing him. You felt his hand snake between your legs, sliding two fingers into you. One by one, your fingers closed in. He stroked your clit before thrusting his fingers back in, swallowing your moan into his throat. You began to slide your hand up and down. The combination of lube and cum delivered that delicious friction that he was looking for. At this point, the fervor was so intense that the pace was fierce, fast, a contest of who could get each other off faster while in lip-lock.
You shoved your tongue into his mouth.
Jungkook sucked on it, pushing a third finger into your soaked pussy, all the way up to his knuckles. You welcomed it, working his entire length, jacking him off tight and harsh, and all of a sudden he let go if your tongue, gasping with a pinched moan, his hips jerking forward. Hot spurts of milky white shot down your inner thigh. Not much, but definitely enough to witness and feel. Something inside you snapped and you had to grab his shoulder to avoid falling over, your nails digging in a halo as your pussy spasmed, sucking in his fingers with a wet squelch, your legs snapping closed to extend the feeling. Breathless moan against his ear. You leaned against him with your juices leaking down your legs and sticking to his fingers.
Delicious.
Satisfyingly ragged. Blood pumping. Both of your bodies burning, or at least yours was and his chest was alarmingly sweaty. You slowly untangled your hands from each other but they lingered low, suddenly realizing how much needed to be cleaned up.
“Uh
” Jungkook panted. “I’ll help
”
He better. “Yeah. We should, hah, clean up.” Your tongue traced your lips. “Then sleep.”
“I didn’t bring clothes,” he mumbled distractedly.
You lifted yourself from his shoulder. “I still have your sweatpants,” you reminded him.
His dark eyes slid towards you. He tried to frown. His eyes were too eager and sparkly for that. “Oh. Yeah
”
“You can go home if you want,” you offered while naked and with his cum sticking to your thigh.
He sucked on the inside of his cheek sharply. “You can’t say sleep over and then take it back.”
“Then take it in the first place.”
“I was gonna,” Jungkook snapped, and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for another kiss.
-
“Did you mean it?”
The room was relatively clean now. The trash was appropriately in the trash. The clothes had been lumped into an ambiguous pile on your dresser. Teeth had been brushed. You had set aside a spare toothbrush for his use only. Seemed appropriate. He was not wearing his sweatpants. Turned out that was not his preferred way to sleep. It wasn’t yours either. He was only in his boxer briefs and you were only in your panties. Your bodies were now minus each other’s bodily fluids.
“Mean what?”
You tried to yank the duvet into a more acceptable orientation before climbing in. After a pause, Jungkook lifted the other side and tried his best to settle in.
“That you were waiting for me to make a move.”
Tried his best because he seemed to be distracted by the conversation. You adjusted your pillow and nestled in a section of the duvet that was not that close but not too far away either. It was a king-sized one for a queen bed. Plenty of sharable coverage. You didn’t interfere with his routine and he didn’t with yours. You took the time to think.
“Hm.” It wasn’t wholly true after all. “I didn’t know if you were going to make a move or not.” He snorted under his breath but you ignored it to finish speaking. “After the first time you stayed over
 It was more that I figured being prepared was better than not being prepared.”
“That’s
” He sounded uneasy.
“I can’t live hoping for something that might or might not happen,” you said without facing him.
He seemed annoyed. “Why not?”
You pointed out the obvious. “I don’t think you should change your life only to appeal to me. You should do it for yourself.”
“Well, I did,” Jungkook grumbled. He cocooned himself in a good chunk of your duvet. That was the tell of a blanket stealer. You would have to keep an eye on him. “I quit for you. It was always you. It’s happened already, so accept it.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
He grunted. “Just like how I shouldn’t have started smoking in the first place. Guess that’s the kind of shitty guy I am.”
Silence.
He wasn’t facing you. You were looking up at the ceiling. Closed your eyes because there weren’t any promises up there. The promises were always next to you. He seemed cold, but you knew better. He didn’t know how to be a cold person. He tried his best and it was a constant failure.
“Aren’t you happy you broke that people-pleasing of yours?” you asked softly.
There was a short, reluctant pause before he muttered, “You’re a butt.”
You burst out laughing. Big, muscly, tattooed man curled up in bed with you retorting with a child’s insult was too funny. Jungkook growled, rolling over to shake your shoulder with contained fury. You kept laughing even when he gave up and took the pillow out from under him, repeatedly bopping your torso and legs with it. There was no strength behind it. Plenty of salt, though. You opened your eyes mid-snicker and looked over to him. His arm was extended over to you. His black hair was all over the place. He shook his head like a Doberman and scrunched up his face. Frowning. On the verge of a pout, really. He could have looked madder. He would never make it as an actor. Your laughter died out.
“You were gonna totally back off if I didn’t have condoms?” you teased.
He looked exasperated. “Seriously? I’m not some untrained dog who hasn’t eaten in days! You
 There’s plenty of other choices we have! I’m a good guy!”
You smiled. “I know.”
He immediately stopped protesting. It was as if all the fight drained out of him. There was a whole universe in those big dark brown eyes. And then it occurred to you that, back then, Jungkook could never quite meet your eyes even though he was always looking your way. Every day came with a dark night. He would ask you, got a light, and you would hold up the flame, shining light into those dark eyes when he used to lean in.
It was strange, then, to see the light that was there when now his eyes locked with yours.
No lighter required.
“You really tried to pass off as a bad guy. Almost fooled me, even.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Ugh, fuck you.”
“You did,” you quipped.
Jungkook flung the pillow behind him and scooted alarmingly close. You instinctively tried to move out of the way but there was no more bed to escape to. His strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and dragged you back to him, threatening you with, “Shut up. I’m hugging you.”
You failed to listen. Classic. “I didn’t ask to be hugged.”
There was a foreign tingling feeling that raced all over your skin. Not from the physical closeness, but from the other kind of closeness. You felt your shoulder bump against his firm chest. He even threw his leg over your hip and yanked your legs closer, cocooning you with his frame. You almost thought he was trying to extend the night.
Instead, he simply latched onto you like a barnacle.
“I don’t care. I’m a bad guy. Hmph.”
Quiet.
You placed your hand on his forearm just under your breasts. This was going to become very hot and sweaty in the long run. But you let it be. You didn’t want to let go either, even though you weren’t exactly doing the holding on. You used your other hand to drag the duvet back up under your chin. He didn’t stop you. You felt him squeeze you a little tighter once you were comfortable, as if to confirm. You patted his arm.
“Your hand is too hot,” he complained in a mumble by your ear.
“That sucks,” you said and didn’t move it. He didn’t try to shrug you off either. “I’ll make your steak tomorrow.”
He pretended to gnaw on your shoulder. “We can’t have steak for breakfast.”
“Why not? We’re adults.”
“That isn’t what adults do.”
“Then I give up on being an adult.”
“Me too,” he huffed. He perched his chin by your head. “Alright, I’m down.”
You debated on telling him. Telling him why you purchased the lighter in the first place. Even before him, it constantly stayed in your pocket. It only came out on the darkest nights when the insomnia was the worst. A flame and a human life followed the same trajectory. At night was when the flame danced the brightest. You would watch the flame dance. Contemplated. Extinguished it. You even did your due diligence of refilling it when it was low. When Jeon Jungkook appeared in your life, you ignited the flame for him without much thought. That was, after all, the intended use the lighter. It made sense to use it as such. You found yourself reaching for it less because, well, what if you ran into him? He would always ask and you would always provide. When he had handed you his barely-used pack and said he was done, you too gradually began to leave the lighter behind. The two objects had begun to collect dust night after night. Untouched. Originally your lighter wasn’t for him, and yet.
That small flame had led him to you.
The universe planned well.
“Hey, Jungkook?”
“Uuh?” He sounded very sleepy and not quite conscious.
“My lighter was for you, after all.”
“Mmmm
” He nestled closer and squeezed your arm. “That’s good.”
You smiled as he drifted off to sleep. He still snored, although less intensely. His grip on you relaxed but was no less meaningful. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to you, and you went willingly, following Jeon Jungkook’s path to dreams. You would have to get used to this new routine of the night.
--
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puckinghischier · 4 months ago
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Cart Girls & Curly Q’s
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Luke Hughes x fem!reader
summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl
notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! đŸ«¶đŸŒ
request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?
[3k]
Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.
You, however, never wake up dreading your work.
During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.
During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.
The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.
Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.
You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.
Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.
Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.
You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.
As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.
They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.
You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.
Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.
You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.
Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.
You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.
“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.
“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.
You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.
“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.
He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.
After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.
Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.
“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.
You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.
“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.
His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.
“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.
You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.
“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.
“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.
You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.
Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.
When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.
You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.
The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.
“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.
You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.
“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.
“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.
You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.
“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.
“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.
“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”
He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.
“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.
He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.
You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.
“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.
“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you
come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.
Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.
You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.
Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.
“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.
You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.
His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.
“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.
“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”
Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.
“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.
“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.
“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”
“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”
“Got a
uh
job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.
“‘A uh
job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.
“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I
ahhh
I play hockey up there.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”
He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.
“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.
“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.
“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”
You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.
This earns another laugh from Luke.
“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.
“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”
You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.
Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.
“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.
You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”
Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.
“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.
Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.
You pause all movements, staring at Luke.
“Uhh
anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.
Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.
“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.
“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.
“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.
Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”
“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.
“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.
Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.
You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.
You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.
You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.
“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.
Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.
You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.
You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.
As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.
You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.
“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.
You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.
You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.
Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.
Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.
He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.
Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.
You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.
When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.
He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.
“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.
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