#but it wasn’t study related so it doesn’t count

[left-handed-sepulchre]

Resurrecting my old studyblr from undergrad even though I’ve graduated with a Bachelor and Master of Science since the last time I posted.

I’m teaching myself Swedish! Even though I can tell you the difference between kvinna and kvinnan thanks to Duolingo, I still don’t have a single clue about the basic building blocks of the language. Many thanks to Fun Swedish on YouTube for illustrating the nuances of vowel pronunciation via the spiciest of memes.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of implied of domestic violence (PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii we're close to the end! I've been enjoying this journey with all of you; thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I continue to work and study. On another note, pls savour this! Hehe

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly. 

You zone out while watching your variety shows the rest of Saturday. On Sunday, you do errands and clean your apartment. Whether you’re lying on the couch or moving about, you find yourself constantly stopping, wondering how Jungkook is doing. 

You could say that the trip ended on a good note. The drive back home had you sharing both the silence and conversations about growing up with your friends and finding refuge in your favorite places. He was smiling as you narrated your stories and while he told his. He was engaged most of the time, drifting away for only some short moments before coming back to you. 

There was a different emotion in his eyes when you said your goodbye after he dropped you off, though. You could see gratitude in them but also sadness, as if the memories from the night before and from 20 years ago lingered. You know enough about that, too. Good memories can override bad ones sometimes, but in some cases, they only do so for a while, and they can only do so much. 

The image of him of looking afraid from that Friday night is etched in your mind. The way he heaved, how he gripped your wrists as if in desperation for the sounds to stop, and the emptiness in his eyes as the thunder continued to roar keep you up at night.

You felt so constrained at that moment. There wasn’t much you could do that would be appropriate, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t wish you could’ve done something more to comfort him, to tell him that no matter how scared he was, he wasn’t alone. That night and the morning after, you saw the most human side of Jungkook - the one that buries a lot of memories, that deals with pain and loneliness, the part that’s fearful of others seeing him stripped bare, that cowers in his own corner until the storm has passed. You saw him as someone who needs a companion but is too scared, maybe too stubborn to reach out. He looked familiar because he looked like you. 

All you could do was hold him in any way, protect him from the monsters outside and maybe within, and show him that whatever hurt, gentleness could make it hurt less; hopefully it could slowly heal the ache, too. 

That’s what you learned all these years - all the fear and pain you experienced as a child slowly turned into scars because of your mother’s grace and your best friends’ kindness. You don’t know who gives any of that to Jungkook, and you hoped that during that moment, you were able to give even just a fraction of what you received. 

Even if he kept his distance, you stayed close because you knew that that’s when he needed you the most. And you won’t ever forget the way his eyes softened during that ride home; you won’t forget the smile tinged with apology and gratitude that accompanied the silence. You knew it was his way of expressing emotions he couldn’t verbalize and you could only wish that he knew that you accept them, that you understand. 

You stop yourself from sending him messages a few times, not wanting to invade his space if he prefers to be alone. Maybe he’s figured out a way to cope. Maybe he’s moved on from the incident and wants to just forget about it. Regardless, the last thing you want is to push him away by being too close, so you do the hard thing and wait for the start of the week to see him again.

You enter the car that Monday morning with Mr. Ri’s soft eyes greeting you. You ask if he’s feeling better and he says he is, expressing his disappointment at not being there to drive you and Jungkook last week. 

“How was he?” He asks, knowing that the weather was pretty bad.

“He wasn’t good,” you answer dejectedly. “I think he had a nightmare. I had to calm him down. And he… he told me what happened at that cabin when he was young. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was. He was just a kid. He was only excited about the trip because he thought his parents were joining him and his brother,” the elder man says. “And well, that was when they had to be separated for safety reasons. Then that incident happened. I think he’s carried that resentment towards them ever since.”

“Were you there?” 

“I was the one who found him,” Mr. Ri answers, baring his own pain at having witnessed a young Jungkook being so scared. “I noticed he was missing and I searched for over an hour. It was a big area and the ground was wet and I couldn’t hear him because of the rain. When I finally found him, I carried him back and stayed with him until he woke up. He was so frightened and he… he wasn’t the same after. There was this constant fear and this desire to just be left on his own.”

You force the scene of a young Jungkook yelling for someone under the rain out of your mind. Perhaps the detachment in his eyes that you always see is a remnant from that time when he’d felt so helpless and alone. You don’t know how someone can carry that with them for 20 years. You don’t know how someone heals from that either.

“I know he’s not your responsibility, ___. You’ve done so much for him already,” Mr. Ri continues in your silence. “But no one has shown him kindness the way you have and he's learned to accept that now. He needs it the most during those times. If it’s not too much, I hope you can continue doing that.”

“I intend to,” you respond. It had been natural for you to be gentle, to be patient, and reluctant he may have been at the start, you know your persistence helped him as well. “He’s done so much for me and I don’t think I’ll ever get to thank him for that.”

“Is that why, then?” He wonders. “Is all this just to repay him for the times he was there for you? Or is there another reason?”

You meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and the sullen, almost guilty look in yours tells him that there's more. When you look away, he learns it’s something you don’t want to accept, something you don’t want to acknowledge. 

“It’s okay, you know?” He says, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking and maybe he does. “We can’t help what we feel sometimes.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you sigh. 

“I know it isn’t. But I just think that being honest about what you feel helps. It may not be easy but you owe it to yourself to find the happiness you deserve.”

“But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You do,” he insists. “Maybe you’re just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you’d need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you’re gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can’t regret any of it.”

You let his words settle, knowing that they come from a place of pain. But still, you ask a question you’ve been meaning to for a while now.

“Do you regret the decision you made back then?”

Mr. Ri prolongs the silence. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he answers.

“Everyday.”

Your heart breaks for him. You know what he did all those years ago, and knowing that it continues to haunt him pains you. You don’t want that burden. You don’t want one decision to determine how the rest of your life is gonna go with no way to make up for it. You suppose that’s what will happen to you, but you’ve got time to change all that. Maybe you just need the courage to do it.

“The debt I owed kept me from chasing my happiness,” he continues. “You’ve paid yours so don’t let it stop you. You just have to be brave enough for it.”

You nod, meeting his eyes through the mirror this time in understanding and gratitude, letting his words comfort you as you exit the car. 

You walk towards Jungkook’s penthouse in anticipation, as the worry of how he’s been creeps in again. The moment you enter, you get your answer, as you hear the sound of leather hitting leather, the loudest it’s ever been. You could hear him heaving, almost breathless with every movement, but he grunts in between, and you hear the frustration in his every breath. 

From your position in the kitchen, you can see him in the far right corner of his gym, throwing one punch after another, his face wincing in pain, his body gradually giving in as he slows down. He hugs the punching bag with one arm while his free hand continues to jab at it until eventually, that stops, too. He releases it then spreads his body out on the floor as he tries to catch his breath now. You can feel his exhaustion; there’s desperation, too.

He stays there for a while, and you wonder if he’s releasing whatever negative emotions he’s had these past days just now, or if this is what he’s been doing everyday since he got back. 

He sits up, and you look away the moment he glances at your direction. He heads your way, nods at you in acknowledgment, then gulps down the energy drink that he takes from the fridge. His drenched white shirt sticks to his body, but it’s his bruised knuckles that catch your attention. You don’t know if these wounds are from this morning or from the days before but regardless, he acts as if they’re not there. You doubt if he even feels them sting.

Perhaps this is how he copes with anything - tiring himself out, expending all his energy until he’s numb, releasing his emotions in a way that doesn’t require him to be honest or to even say anything. Maybe this is how he accepts; maybe it’s how he moves on and forgets.

He drags himself towards his bedroom then you make your way to his closet to prepare his clothes. You return to the kitchen soon after and decide to make some fried rice. It’s the one dish you make that might make a difference to his mood this morning, so you get to work and cook with what you can, deciding that it’s definitely one of the most delicious ones you’ve ever made.

He finishes his morning routine later than usual. When you walk towards him to fix his tie, you try to hold his gaze, wanting to tell him in your own way that you’re there if he ever wants to talk, but he only glances at you before looking away. You’re unsure of the cause of his somber disposition but the sadness in his eyes causes a crack in your heart. It’s different, you think, and you don’t know how else you can comfort him.

“I made some fried rice,” you tell him as you walk to the dining table. 

He follows, taking his seat then quietly eating his meal as you go through his schedule. He merely hums and doesn’t ask questions, only speaking up when you bring up last week’s site visits, with him saying that there’s no rush for that, and that you’ll talk about it some other time. It’s what tells you that what happened last Friday isn’t something he’s really gotten over. Maybe there are still remnants from that night - of fear, of discomfort; perhaps a bit of shame. And you don’t blame him. They’re what you felt after the incident at the restaurant and after your injury. Being helpless in front of someone is confronting; there’s so much of yourself that gets exposed, and you suppose it’s not something that Jungkook is used to.

You share in the silence, glancing at him to see if what you’ve prepared is affecting him in any way, and you don’t miss the subtle satisfied look he makes once he finishes his meal. It’s what prompts you to push it a little. You stand up, take an ice pack from the fridge, then retrieve the first-aid kit from the drawer. Taking a seat next to him, you lay your palm out on the table, gesturing for him to give you his hands to treat.

“There’s no need,” he says, turning away again.

“I let you push my wheelchair,” you remind him. “And I let you dress my foot.”

“You were injured.”

“And you have gashes on your hands,” you point out. “Which means you’re wounded and you can’t leave those exposed. So please, would you let me do this for you?”

There’s a hint of desperation in your voice, as if all you want is for him to give in and let you help him. You’ve been trying to meet his eyes since you arrived and he’s been the coward who avoids it every time. But the last thing he wants is for you to think that he wants to push you away because he doesn’t; he just doesn’t know how to act around you after what happened last Friday. It may have ended with your unspoken forgiveness and your smile telling him that he’ll be alright, that you’ll be alright, but the past days haven’t been good to him.

In an effort to show you that he’s not angry, he moves his hand towards yours ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at you when you take his left hand and put it over your palm, but he does feel his heart skip a beat at your touch. You place the ice pack over his knuckles, then you move it over to his other hand so you can put antiseptic cream on the one that’s free.

You’re so gentle with him even when tending to his wounds. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially now, as he sees you make an effort in letting him know that everything’s okay and that you’re around in case he needs anything.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he needs right now. After last week’s incident when he blamed you for not checking the weather, he felt ashamed. He’d apologized for how he used to treat you right before that, and then he went ahead and did all that again over a fear of his that he couldn’t get over, one that came to light that night. 

You saw it all - that part of him that he despises, that he keeps hidden, that he’s burdened by.

That was another thing - you were the one who woke him up and kept him steady. Perhaps it was a nightmare he was having,  but it’s also always been the way his body reacted to the rain and the thunder because of what happened when he was a child. But you saw him bare and terrified, a side of him he wasn’t sure you’d want to see or be around for. You saw him weak and helpless, things he never wants to be in front of other people. You experienced him being honest and not in control, and that made him feel unguarded.

You held him steady though, grounding him when he was slowly losing himself to the fear. Your hands on his head kept him in the present, pulling him back when his mind would travel to that fateful rainy evening in the woods. Your calm and soft voice sounded like a lullaby to him, fighting away the loud sounds that have haunted him for years. It soothed parts of him that were hurting, and you’d done it so naturally, so easily. 

It’s what prompted him to share with you the memory he just can’t erase. And you told him that he could call you when it happened again so you can both replace the bad memories with good ones. Maybe you want him to be brave; he thinks that’s not something that he is. 

Maybe that’s why he’s been this way since he got home that day. There’s a lot of emotion he doesn’t know how to express nor even properly name. He’s sure they’re negative though, and somehow that makes him even more ashamed. He doesn’t like not being in control. He doesn’t like being that bare and uninhibited, especially in front of you, the only person he doesn’t want to scare away. 

He spent the entire weekend boxing and running around the Han River parks in hopes that all the tiredness would help keep his mind off things. But somehow, it always ended up thinking of you. It wanted to hear your voice once more; it wanted your touch.

He has them again today and he feels undeserving. Yet you’re here, healing his physical wounds and everything else that’s hurting within in the ways only you know how to. And he just wants to pull you close. He realizes now that even on days when he hates himself, you’re the one he wants to be around. Somehow you make that hate a little less than before. 

“All done,” you say after placing the fabric bandage on his knuckles. “Minimal movements, okay? And ice them when you can in case something’s swollen.”

“I will,” he says softly, retrieving his hand and feeling your touch still linger, knowing he wants more of it.

You proceed to discuss some events he needs to attend all the way to the office with no mentions of how either of your weekends went. He wonders how you spent yours, hoping it was better than his. He wonders, too, if you thought about him the way he thought about you. But you seem focused on work matters for today, perhaps thinking he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. And you wouldn’t be wrong. 

He gets to his room where he sighs in relief once he sits on his desk chair. It’s now that he feels the soreness and fatigue, as all he wants is to go home and lay in bed for the rest of the day. But he can’t afford that, so he pushes on, surviving a morning meeting and slowly going through each of his emails. He’s surprised when you serve him his favorite beef brisket for lunch, and your soft smile as he thanks you is his bright spot for the rest of the afternoon. 

He powers through reviewing documents right after but his eyes start falling, prompting him to just lean back on his chair for a good few seconds before getting back to work. You knock on the door not long after, and then you place a cup of chamomile tea on his desk.

“I need about five espresso shots, Ms. Cho, not this,” he sighs, the tiredness in his voice evident. But you don’t seem taken aback by his words.

“I disagree, sir,” you reply. “This is to help you calm down. There’s also a couch right there. There’s a reason why it’s big and comfortable.”

He picks up on what you’re suggesting, and he shakes his head in response. 

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

“No one will know,” you shrug. “But you know it’s okay, right? I can’t imagine how tired you must be. You’re not Superman, Mr. Jeon. Plus, Mr. Jung would take naps here after long nights or during hectic days. It’s normal. And it might just be what you need.”

“I’ll decide what I need, Ms. Cho,” he says defensively. “I wouldn’t want my staff sleeping on the job so why should I?”

Jungkook regrets the words right as he says them, especially when he sees your face fall the tiniest bit. But you recover, saying that you understand then turning to head out. But you fix the pillow on the couch and place the blanket on the armrest before leaving, and he knows that your stubbornness is often a reflection of how you care. 

So he takes a sip of the tea and eventually finishes it, indulging you in this way, but given the morning he’s had, his body gives in. He decides, like you said, that he needs a nap, and he doesn’t miss the victorious smile on your face that he sees from inside when he calls to instruct you not to disturb him for the next half hour. 

With the dim lights and air purifier, he falls asleep right as his body hits the couch. When he wakes up 30 minutes later, he feels infinitely better; now he can focus and be productive.

You see the lights turn back on from outside and it’s your signal that he’s woken up from his nap. You wait a while before asking to enter his room to say that his father requested a meeting due to start in an hour. Jungkook’s putting his coat back on and you walk towards him to help.

“Was it good?” You ask, fixing the creases and aligning his necktie.

“Yeah,” he hums, not meeting your eyes again. “You were right, I needed that. And the couch really is comfortable.”

“That’s good. You should listen to your assistant more often,” you tease. 

“I really should,” he smiles now, soft and reserved. “But I do feel better. Thank you.”

You exit his room and feel accomplished. You believe, like what others have told you, that showing him a bit of gentleness will prompt him to be a little gentler to himself, too. He works too hard sometimes, and taking a break when he needs it is one thing, but of course, it’s not everything.

The rest of the week goes by fairly similarly. Jungkook always looks tired, and it makes you wonder if he’s able to sleep properly at night or if he just overexerts himself during his morning workouts. He’s quiet when you’re not discussing work matters, making you miss your casual conversations. And though he acknowledges your occasional teasing remark, he doesn’t tease back like he’s been doing recently. 

He has his moments of frustration but he’s mostly serious when you glance at him. He’s less engaging, too, and you suppose that’s what bothers you the most, as you realize that you enjoy talking with him, you enjoy getting to know him through your exchanges, allowing you a peek into his world that you know is reserved for very, very few people. 

You suppose that whatever he’s dealing with is something he wants to go through on his own. Accepting your fears is one thing; accepting that you exposed all those to someone else is another. It’s why you try, in your own ways, to lift his spirits, wanting to let him know that he has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to you. 

You get him lunch from his favorite restaurants everyday, you add sweets to his servings of coffee or chocolate milk, you smile at him more, encourage him frequently, and during the times when he seems distant, you don’t completely move away. You reach out just a little bit, hoping that he’ll know that you’re around even when he doesn’t feel much like himself. You don’t want to match his detachment with your own.

It seems that you got your point across. On Friday, he dismisses you after he insists that he wants to stay back to work on a few things.

“___,” he calls out as you’re about to exit his room. “Thank you for being patient with me this week. I… I needed that.”

You turn around and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from meeting your eyes this time. He’s noticed you try to hold his gaze all week; you always lingered, too. Maybe it’s your way of comforting him or saying that you understand him. He felt both of those but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them. There was a lot on his mind as he dealt with the frustration and shame of what happened, of how exposed and unguarded he was in front of you.

But you didn’t complain; you didn’t push him to engage or share anything. Even his moments of frustration were met with kindness and his silence was received with assurance. You tried to cheer him up in whatever way you could, and he could feel you just giving him time to be on his own. 

He hopes he didn’t push you away. There were so many times when he just wanted you around so he could see more of your smile and hear the calmness of your voice; those always made him feel better. Whatever fears he had about how you would think of him after the incident have dissipated, as you look softly at him in understanding. He doesn’t need to say anything more, as you seem to know exactly what he means because this whole time, you seemed to also know exactly what he needed.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Jungkook,” you smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook returns to his usual self the week after. He says he went to one of their properties in Gwangju over the weekend where the weather was good and the long drive helped him stay focused and rejuvenated. He doesn’t say much of what he’s feeling and you expect that, but you’re glad his little trip gave him some peace somehow. 

You, on the other hand, were left to deal with your growing feelings for him while downplaying them to your best friends. They came over for their regular visit on Saturday and while they were sympathetic with Jungkook over what happened, they still reminded you to be cautious. Once you cross a line, there’s no going back, and once you fully admit to what you feel, you can’t unfeel it; not acting on it becomes too hard and in your case, complicated.

The week is like any other but with much anticipation, given the upcoming annual team building that everyone’s excited about. This is one of the things that the support team was worried wouldn’t happen under Jungkook’s leadership, but you assured them early on that it was mandatory. And with him having loosened up and feeling more comfortable around them, you have high hopes that he’ll enjoy it as much as everyone will. 

It’s why on that Saturday, you find yourself in the mall to buy the things that you’ll be needing for those three days that you’ll be spending in one of the Jeon properties in Gangwon. The venue changes every year and the villas by the lake are perfect for spring this time. Your shopping list includes all the materials for the activities and some other things Jungkook requested, like a certain book that he doesn’t have time to buy.

You enter a bookstore and as you try to find what you’re looking for, something else catches your eye. You may love the library for the space more than the books, but there will always be those that pull you in and make you curious. Even if you only read picture books when you were younger, there were a few short stories and poems that piqued your interest. You never finished them but you did manage to get through several pages.

The one right in front of you - with its pastel colored cover and simple yet intriguing design - feels like one of those. To your delight, it’s a short story collection, and your smile is immediate as you go through the pages, with each story being accompanied by illustrations that feel so personal. This would be a nice read while you’re lounging at the villa’s deck or even on your balcony, you think.

Another book catches your attention. The title is familiar, and you realize it’s one of the classics that you were required to read in high school. It has a new cover, and you see that it’s a new edition to celebrate its 30th year. You go through the pages as well, thinking back to when you had to force yourself to finish this some 15 years ago. It looks more fresh now, and definitely more enticing.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

You look up to find a tall man with deep-set eyes as the owner of the voice who’d interrupted your moment of book appreciation. 

“I’m okay,” you dismiss him. “I don’t need assistance.”

You politely smile then return the books in their respective spots, ready to head out and search for what you came here to buy. 

“Are you not going to get those?” The man presses. “You seemed to be interested in them and—”

“Were you watching me?” You ask, taken aback.

“Uh, no. I mean, not in the way you think,” he answers in panic, seemingly nervous at how it looks. “I wasn’t being creepy or anything I just… I…”

“Do you even work here?” You interrogate him, your alarm bells ringing at this man’s odd behavior and the absence of a nameplate that the other staff have on.

“I actually work for the company that published those books,” he says, his head down as if in embarrassment. “And we just put those out this week and I’m checking around to see people’s reaction and I realize now that it’s incredibly foolish of me to stand around and observe customers because it’s not only creepy, it’s also terribly disrespectful. I’m so sorry.”

There’s guilt in his eyes and it’s something you can recognize. You decide he’s being sincere and engage him a little.

“So… you work at Rkive Publishing?” You ask as you glance at the books. “As what?”

“I’m an editor, actually,” he answers, revealing his shy smile and dimples. “I’ve spent months on these books and thought, what better way to know people’s impression than to see them for myself? It seemed better in my head. I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“No, not really. I was kinda having a moment but then you popped out of nowhere,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. “But uh, the covers are stunning. I liked the personal touch of the short story collection and this classic looks a lot more interesting than I remember.”

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he grins, mostly to himself. “Our production team did really well in putting them together and to see the final products is incredibly satisfying, even more so when customers feel the same.”

“I don’t really read books but these just caught my eye. It’s a good way to pull people in,” you admit. 

“That’s nice to know,” he smiles again. “I feel pretty fulfilled just knowing they got your attention. Even if you won’t buy them.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s guilt-tripping you but he still apologizes for how it sounds. 

“I just… feel really strongly about how these pieces connect with people, even if it’s fleeting,” the man continues. “I just got over excited but thank you for not shunning me away.”

“I don’t think connections are fleeting, though,” you remark, surprising him and even yourself. “Even if it’s a thought or a memory or an impression… they stay with you in one way or another. I mean, every time I enter a bookstore, I’ll probably think about those covers and remember these books and maybe the excitement I felt. That’s still something, isn’t it?”

There’s appreciation in the man’s eyes as he takes in your words. 

You may not be a book nerd nor an artsy person but you’ve been more introspective lately about the things around you. You don’t know if it’s the desperation to relate with anything and everything but if there’s one thing that working on the Arts Center has pushed you to do, it’s that pursuit of connection - with your surroundings, with people, and with yourself. You suppose that’s where all this is coming from, and the stranger in front of you whom you’re somehow connecting with right now understands that. 

“It is something,” he flashes a smile again, the joy in it radiating and softening his very manly features. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

He steps aside and nods, perhaps giving you the space that he thinks he invaded, which in hindsight, you’re glad he did.

You bow in acknowledgment and head towards another aisle to look for that leadership book that Jungkook asked you to get. You immediately find it then make your way home, all the while thinking about your earlier encounter and how the briefest conversations can make you reflect about things and as you learn, lead you down a path you didn’t expect.

To appease your curiosity, you research about Rkive Publishing and learn that it’s a ten-year old company that works with up-and-coming local authors. It has also taken on special projects such as publishing classics for their milestone releases and some translated works. The man you met, who happens to be the editorial director, is a poet as well but apparently finds as much happiness in putting pieces out for people to enjoy as he does in writing them himself. He doesn’t seem that much older than you but he’s seen the world and in the eyes of an artist, you can’t imagine how beautiful and heartbreaking that must be.

You go down a rabbit hole of reading some of his poems and even some interviews he’d done when he set up the company years ago. You learn that he loves to write about the complexity of relationships, the fragility of human emotions, and the search for permanence in an impermanent world. 

His words are captivating. You want to pick apart his brain to know more about what he thinks about humans’ need for connection despite our fear of them. You want to know what makes love the way it is, why it creates and sustains and ruins those who feel and have them. You want to know if he thinks that each person is capable of love, if that’s what makes us human, or if our humanness derives from the inadequacy of love - of what we give and what we receive. 

You read a bit more about the books they’ve published and the authors they’ve worked with over the years. It’s midnight by the time you finish, and other than deciding that you’ll go back tomorrow to buy that short story book collection, one other thing fills your mind - the thought that there’s a reason for that encounter earlier, and it’s probably to lead you to finding this company and the production officer position that happens to be currently vacant. 

The soft eyes that greet you from across the table where the books are placed is a welcome sight this time. The man from yesterday flashes you a shy smile and you greet him with your own.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad that you’re here,” he says as he approaches you.

You raise the book you intend to buy. “Connections aren’t fleeting,” you remind him. “I couldn’t really stop thinking about this since yesterday. And uh, curiosity got to me and I looked up Rkive Publishing. You’re doing great work. I read that you’re working on translations of several books, too.”

His eyes light up as he talks about wanting to attract a wider audience, given the increasing interest in Korean culture. The story of your people appeals to many because it’s shared, and he says that’s one beauty of art in whatever form - the meanings are endless, and they weave together to form something enduring and constant. That’s what he and his mother hoped for the company when they founded it a decade ago, he narrates, and he has the tough task of creating that avenue for such art to affect more people without diluting its meaning.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,” he shakes his head. “I just get so… yeah. I’ve just never met a buyer who actually searched us up after seeing our books on the shelf. I’m trying to engage more people. Our sales team said that’s one way to establish our presence.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “I may not be as passionate about anything as you but I understand feeling strongly about something. And if I’m being honest… there’s another thing that caught my eye about your company.”

“What is it?”

“You have an opening for the production officer position. I… I was impressed and looked up career options.”

“Ah, so you’re interested then?” He asks excitedly. 

“I am. Although I don’t have any experience in publishing or anything related to books or literature for that matter.”

“Relevant experience is the qualification,” he hums. “I’d ask more but I can do so during the interview. What do you say?”

“That’s if I’ll make the shortlist,” you laugh. “Although I suppose my executive assistant experience is relevant enough.”

“Oh, it definitely is. That is no easy task.”

“Well, I hope meeting you like this won’t make any future application inappropriate,” you say. 

“Not at all. That position has been vacant for a while. And we’re looking for two. It’s not always the role that those in the industry go for. I suppose it’s made for those looking for a career change,” he playfully winks. “But seriously though, think of this encounter as part of the process. You’ve done your research about us anyway, which kind of means you’re already a step ahead. It’s only a matter of actually applying, which I hope you do.”

“It’s an option,” you hum. “This wasn’t something I initially considered but it’s amazing how certain moments shape our decisions, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not really fleeting.”

“Of course,” he nods, thinking back to your comment from yesterday. “It’s all about being open, so please think about it. I may not know anything about your credentials but talking with you has already given me insight into what you think about our work and the power of stories. And that’s very important to me.”

“I still have a lot going on but I’ll definitely keep you in mind. I hope the position is still open when the time comes.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will be,” he assures you. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking the business card that he hands out. “And I’m ___. I’ll see you around.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you head out the store with your purchased book in hand. And as you lay in bed that night, the possibilities of taking on a new journey play in your mind. 

There’s the connection to the good memories of your childhood and the unloading of the burdens you carry. There’s being around people you’re not tied or indebted to and there’s forging your own way towards a path that you deliberately chose.

But there’s also Jungkook, whom you can’t stop thinking about and who happens to be a hindrance when it comes to pursuing your own goals in life. Those goals include happiness and freedom even if ironically, those are the things he also gives you. There’s the new emotions he makes you feel, the connection you can’t deny you have with him, and the desire that constantly eats you up inside. 

You’ve always had your feet inside your walls with your hand on the door, just waiting for the courage to finally step out. The only thing stopping you is Jungkook and all the other possibilities with him. They may remain unrealized but they’re there. You just hope that one day you’ll convince yourself that walking away from him was exactly the thing you had to do.

You watch in awe as Yohan loads the last crate of food in the rented van you’ll be using for this weekend’s team building in some lakeside property in Gangwon. The trunk is filled with all sorts of meat and vegetables, chips, and alcohol that seem to be good for a tribe of more than 10, way more than your team of seven.

“You do know we’re only there for three days, right?” You remind the younger man. “I don’t think we eat this much.”

“Don’t you know Do-hyun?” Yohan says. “She’s half my size but she eats twice as much as I do. And I eat a lot. Plus, the guy she was seeing ghosted her so she’s probably gonna eat even more. Heartbreak shit, you know?”

“I don’t,” you chuckle, although you can’t help but feel bad again for Do-hyun whom you had to comfort not long ago because of her boy problems. “But are you sure these are all within budget?”

“Yes. Chin-sun is a master at bargaining. And, because we’re such a good team, Mr. Min and Mr. Jung gave us some of their favorite liquor,” Yohan hums satisfyingly. “Those smell expensive. So yeah, we didn’t have to spend much on alcohol since Mr. Jeon brought some, too, which is why we got to buy all this food.”

“Fine, but we can’t have drunken shenanigans, okay? I don’t have the energy to babysit you guys. And Mr. Jeon is no weakling; he’ll be awake to see you misbehave if you do.”

“We’ll go as far as incredibly out-of-tune karaoke singing, we promise,” Yohan laughs, learning his lesson after last year’s midnight swim in the freezing cold river where he almost got swept away. 

Hoseok was thankfully passed out and did not witness the almost-emergency. You had to remind your team that though you’ll be going on a team-building - which is really just an excuse for the staff to eat and drink in some scenic venue - there are still rules in place, and it would be best not to give Jungkook any problem, given the progress that you’ve all made.

You enter the car then leave the office - your meet up place - to take the long drive to your destination. You just got the message from Mr. Ri that they’re almost there; they left much earlier so that Jungkook could make it to a virtual meeting with Hoseok and his father. 

The ride starts off peaceful, as everyone is still slowly waking up. Halfway through, it becomes chaotic, with Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about who’ll be on cleaning duties on which days as the youngest ones on the team. You laugh along, knowing you’ll end up helping them anyway, but you look out the window and wonder how Jungkook is doing.

He’s been incredibly busy leading to today, with several site visits to the Arts Center and meetings with the project teams multiple times the past two weeks. He’s been staying late in the office, too, and working on the weekends. You know, because you get the odd-hour emails and find portfolios on your desk in the morning. Despite the work that he still has to squeeze in during this weekend, you hope he gets a bit of rest. More than that, you hope he finds time to be with the team and bond with them. Only you know this may be your last, and you want to keep the memories of these three days and make sure they’re good ones.

You arrive at the place and look around, amazed at every corner and every space you set your eyes on. You know that the Jeon family has dozens of properties in scenic locations that they escape to or put out for rent. This lakeside estate is one of a few you haven’t been to yet, and there’s a reason why Jungkook wanted this to be your venue this year. It’s spacious with lots of things to do and the view is absolutely stunning. Lush mountains frame the sparkling body of water, and with the breeze of spring, it’s every bit relaxing as you hoped. 

It’s quiet as the rest of the team walks around in awe. The main house boasts of a large kitchen and living space and it’s surrounded by four two-bedroom villas with their own decks. You, Chin-sun, and Do-hyun head to one while Yohan and Manager Lee head to another. You give yourselves half an hour to fix up before reconvening and when you do, you immediately smile upon seeing Jungkook already waiting. 

He greets the team, formally welcomes you all, then talks about the property and all its amenities. He discusses what’s in store for these next three days, then he proceeds with the first activity, which is really the only work-related thing you’re all required to do. 

Jungkook facilitates the session, and he starts by asking everyone to reflect on all the gains and challenges this past year. He instructs each of you to share your team highs and lows, what enabled you to achieve the successes and overcome the difficulties, what caused you the most stress, and what you’re most thankful for. Every answer is met with confirming nods and statements, and it seems that everyone is on the same page about how the year went. 

The session highlights your team dynamics - you’re all very encouraging of each other, but it doesn’t stop the young ones from bickering and teasing the rest of you. It’s fun though, as you end the hour with laughter and more memories to take with you. You glance at Jungkook who seems satisfied with every response; you hope he’s proud of how he managed everything, too, and you make sure you mention it during your turn. The smile he makes when everyone agrees warms your heart in a way you don’t expect, even more so when he holds your gaze when he thanks the team in return.

You’re rewarded with a hearty lunch an hour later, and not long after, you find yourselves near the deck of the lake, discussing how to spend your two hours of free time before the next activity.

Chin-sun and Manager Lee decide on just laying on the lounge chairs to soak up the sun. Yohan gets on a jet-ski while Do-hyun flounders about in the lake. Sipping your beer, you lean on one of the tables and savor the fresh air. 

There’s not much of this in the city, and the silence - save for the young ones’ laughter in the background - is definitely worth the long ride and the backlog you’ll be having once the weekend is over. You’re not really one to stay outdoors. You’d much rather stay inside, under the covers where you could watch movies or variety shows. That was always how you preserved your peace. Being outside always intimidated you, and you think now it’s probably because you just haven’t seen that many beautiful views like this in your life. If this is what’s outside your window everyday, you’d probably be out all the time. 

“___, are you just gonna stay there? The water’s amazing,” Do-hyun whines as she approaches you. “Or sunbathe if you don’t want to get wet. Just get out there.”

“I’m content just watching you enjoy yourselves,” you say. “I can see the view just fine from here.”

“It’s much better up close,” she counters, standing next to you now. “Come on, this is your time to let loose since you have the permission to do so. Mr. Jeon isn’t gonna be a killjoy and watch your every move, you know? If he will, then I will…”

“You will what?” You laugh.

“I will tell him he’s being a killjoy. How often can we be in a place as beautiful as this?”

“Do-hyun’s right,” Jungkook says as he appears to your left, catching both of you off guard and prompting Do-hyun to sweetly smile at him. He’s in shorts and a loose long-sleeve shirt, perhaps ready to enjoy the outdoors as well. “The place is too beautiful for you to just sit back and watch.”

“And what will you do?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sit back and watch,” he shrugs, earning him a laugh from you and Do-hyun. “And enjoy my beer. That’s how I relax.”

“Please don’t be boring,” Do-hyun pouts at him, embracing that little sister energy that you’ve all come to love. “You should know, Mr. Jeon, Yohan is being all cocky, saying that he’s the best jet ski rider among all of us here. I have a feeling that he’s wrong, so please show him who’s boss. I mean, you are, obviously. But, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Jungkook chuckles, putting down his drink and looking out into the lake. “But sure. I haven’t ridden one in a while but let’s see how I go.”

Jungkook walks towards the water then unknots the other jet ski. He removes his shirt and wears the life vest before riding towards where Yohan is. The view of him half-naked triggers memories of all the times you’ve seen him like that, times when you’d look away and keep yourself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. It’s no different this time, but somehow, it’s much harder to keep your heart from racing this fast.

“Holy fuck,” Do-hyun gasps next to you. “Please don’t report me but shit, ___. Whoever’s doing Mr. Jeon is one lucky woman. I mean, look at that. And who knew he had a full sleeve of tattoo? That is so freaking hot.”

From your periphery, you could see her shocked face but you merely hum in response. You don’t want to get carried away by your own expletives because there really aren’t enough curses in the dictionary when it comes to describing Jungkook’s body. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” she looks at you curiously. “And you’re not affected. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I’m with him everyday,” you say nonchalantly. 

“In clothes, I would assume.”

“He works out every morning and he’s in sleeveless tops sometimes,” you clarify. “Obviously I’ve seen his arm.”

She furrows her brows as if she doesn’t believe you, even if you’re telling the truth. There are just other parts of that story that you don’t want to share.

“Hmm, fair enough,” she gives in. “But I’d probably be constantly flustered or even crushing on him if I were you. So how have you managed being around him and not being attracted all this time knowing he looks like that?”

You’re forced to look at Do-hyun, as you try to find the words to say, when she answers her own question.

“Right, he can be quite detached and too serious and he’s a playboy and—”

“You also forget that I am his assistant and he is my boss,” you remind her. “Thoughts like that—”

“Are perfectly normal,” she interjects. “And totally understandable. He’s a hot bachelor, ____. I wouldn’t be able to function professionally if I were in your shoes. Which is why it’s great that I’m here and you’re the one in that position.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might lose this job if I lose my shit every time because my boss is so hot,” she reasons. “And it’s not just me. I’ve seen the female staff lose their cool around him just because he spoke to them or looked their way. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I guess the broody, asshole-y vibes add to that. And then there’s you who’s in his apartment every morning and heavens know what you’ve seen or heard since we all know that the rumors about his dating life are true and you seem fine and totally unbothered.”

You want to laugh at how completely off Do-hyun is with her observations. Sure, you tried to be cool about it at the beginning and you mostly succeeded in being calm whenever you came close or saw any part of his body exposed. 

But somewhere along the way, things changed. When you saw the layers underneath, he wasn’t just attractive physically; he was suddenly so much more. That somehow made it harder but it also made all the restraint worth it. But that’s not something you want to divulge to Do-hyun. No matter how difficult, you know you need to keep yourself together and stop the feelings from going any deeper. 

“Well, just like you, I can’t lose my job and I will if I let it affect me,” you say. “But if I may say so… there’s definitely more to the broody, serious man we met almost a year ago.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. He’s definitely more thoughtful than I expected. Maybe a little funny, too. But that’s really all I know. He just seems too reserved, you know? Seeing him do something like ride a jet ski or laugh with us feels like such a luxury for a man like him,” Do-hyun adds. “It must be hard to get to know him beyond all this. I know it sure is hard to love someone like that.”

You know that Do-hyun’s merely projecting. The recent guy she was seeing was a lot more shy and private than the ones she’s dated before. But she got him to open up and she thought that was it, that she’d broken through his walls and they’d be permanently down for her, only to realize it wasn’t the case. He was distant for a few days and she tried to get through again only for him to completely shut her out; she hasn’t heard from him in weeks. 

It’s probably why you agree. People who keep their distance and disengage whenever they want are hard to love. You’d know because you’re like that. It hits you hard knowing that Jungkook is probably the same. 

Snapping out of your thoughts, you and Do-hyun watch Jungkook and Yohan outride one another, splashing each other with water and screaming in excitement when they speed up. Seeing this other side of Jungkook does something to you again, and the sight of his smile as he dries his hair while teasing Yohan triggers the butterflies in your belly. 

He approaches you - thankfully with his shirt on this time - and you suddenly feel too hot. He tells you that the water’s nice and you should get in, but you’re too self-conscious now, so you compromise and say you’ll just dip your feet in the water while you sit on the steps that lead down to the lake. 

That’s how you spend the rest of the hour, as Chin-sun, Manager Lee, and Do-hyun join Yohan in swimming while Jungkook stays back, watching you all from afar. You glance at him a few times and he catches your eyes. He lifts his can in cheers and you do the same. He heads to where you are some time after with five cans of beer then walks back to his room, and you suddenly miss his presence. You wish he was next to you, perhaps laughing or talking about something random or just sitting with you in silence. You’ve learned that last bit brings you a lot of comfort and peace; the view somehow isn’t as beautiful when you aren’t sharing it with him. 

It’s an hour later, after having dried and fixed up, when you’re all on the basketball court to start the next activity that Mr. Ri prepared. Divided into teams of two, each pair is assigned a path that leads to either the mountain, the woods, or the stream to find bags of coins needed to “purchase” materials to create a science experiment-type water rocket. It’s meant to practice your communication and problem-solving skills with those you work most closely with, which is why Chin-sun and Do-hyun, and Manager Lee and Yohan are paired up respectively while you, of course, end up with Jungkook. 

“The caretakers and I spent all morning preparing this game, so please take it seriously,” Mr Ri says. “And bond with each other while you’re at it.”

You see the competitiveness in the young ones’ eyes, especially when it’s announced that there’s a prize for the winners, and you like the energy. Being Jungkook’s partner, you know it’s just about completing the task and somehow, it’s the bonding bit that makes you nervous. You already know you’re going to like it, which is precisely why it terrifies you. 

“There are ATVs for each team which you will ride to the start of the path. You’ll have to go by foot when you get there or else you’ll miss the bags of coins,” Mr. Ri instructs. “You have walkie-talkies to reach me in case you get lost but please don’t. And try to be back here in an hour. All clear?”

You all express your acknowledgement and he signals the start. The other teams rush to their rides and quickly drive off while you and Jungkook stroll to yours. 

He takes the helmet and puts it on you, and he laughs again like he did at the Arts Center months ago before riding the vehicle. 

“I should’ve expected that,” you pout. 

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

“It looks cute on you,” he says casually before riding the vehicle.

Your eyes widen at his words and you’re glad he has his back turned on you. That way he can’t see the way you’re trying to hold your smile and suppress the giddy feeling at his remark. It makes it that much harder for you to climb up behind him though, but you manage, and you ensure there’s some distance between you and him, knowing how you tend to be when you get close. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, internally smacks himself after he says the words. He didn’t mean for the thoughts in his head to actually come out. He’s glad he didn’t see your probably awkward expression, and that right now, he needs to focus on the road. That way, he can preoccupy himself with your safety and not his embarrassment. 

He means it though. There’s something about you in a helmet that gets him, or even in anything oversized, like his jacket that he made you wear once. There’s also something about you wading in the water and laughing so freely that make his insides melt. Anything you do actually triggers something in him - a protective side, a care-free side; a side that wants to take a pause and bask in the scenery that includes you. 

Now he has to act like he’s not affected with you sitting behind him as he drives the ATV down the rugged path. He feels you far from him, sitting close to the edge and holding onto the handles behind you. But as the road gets rockier, he starts to get worried. 

“You should hold onto me,” he says, turning his head to the side so you could hear him before slowing down. “It’s safer that way.”

It takes a few seconds but he feels you move closer to him, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso. It’s a bit loose but it’s enough for his breathing to quicken.

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s a bit rocky out here so be careful. You can, uh, you can hold on tighter if you feel unstable.”

You hum in response but you maintain your position. He supposes you don’t know how bumpy it could be. It makes him worry and he wishes you’d grab onto him more only because he’s afraid you’d fall, and that’s exactly what happens after the first big bump. 

You yelp, tightening your grip around him immediately. He feels his heart stop, unprepared to have your arms around his waist and your chest flushed against his back even if that’s what he’d suggested you do. He’s felt you close in several instances already, but each time feels different. It affects him the same way though - all he wants is to have you even closer.

But that’s not something he can think of right now, especially when you’re both alone, in a place that’s conducive to letting his inhibitions go. 

It’s calm and peaceful out here. There’s a lot of open space but he enjoys it more when he’s looking at it from the comforts of the balcony or the deck. He always prefers to stay indoors because the outdoors somehow make him feel more constricted; he supposes that being trapped in the woods as a child would do that to anyone. He’s always just been a spectator, watching everything from behind the safety of his walls, knowing that he could feel a bit unsteady out there.

But ever since you got here and he’d seen you enjoy the surroundings, all he’s felt was the stability of having you near him. That, ironically, scares him, too. The more he’s comfortable with you, the more worried he becomes. So he settles on what he knows how to do - keeping you at a fair distance but creating moments here and there, only so you don’t think he’s pushing you away or detaching himself. 

You decide to just hold onto Jungkook for safety purposes. You didn’t realize that the path towards the stream is this rocky, but you suppose it should be since you’re in the undeveloped part of the property. It's probably why he asked you to hold onto him; he’s your safety precaution and you know enough that he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He’s steady and skilled in navigating the ATV, avoiding the big bumps and alerting you when there’s going to be one. It’s actually quite attractive. He feels so nice like this, with his soft hoodie and natural scent, and you have to pull away every once in a while so as not to get too comfortable. You can’t let yourself imagine this to be a possibility beyond today, you remind yourself. He can’t be someone you constantly seek, that you could fall into, even if that’s pretty much where you’re at at this point. 

You reach the end of the road and Jungkook lets you get down first, instructing you to hold his arm for support, before following right after. You walk towards the mark that signifies the start of the path where you’re supposed to find the bags of coins, and you look around to see that there are more shrubs than trees. It feels a little less constricting compared to if you were in the mountains or the woods, which is why you think Mr. Ri assigned this to both of you.

You and Jungkook start searching, and with the topography of the place, it’s easy to spot the bags that are hanging from the tree branches. You point one out and Jungkook steps on the hollowed out trunk to retrieve it. You stand by watching, reminding him to be careful. And though you tell yourself to focus on the bag, you can’t help but glance at the sight of him - in his light gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, looking casual and comfortable and even more attractive. 

It doesn’t help when he reaches out towards the branch while you stay on a spot below him, and the view of him from this angle leaves you quite breathless. Not only does his hoodie rise up to reveal his waist and that lower half of his torso that you’d held onto earlier, but you also get a peek of the band of his underwear, too. Your mind short-circuits for the briefest moment, even more when he stretches even more to pull the bag towards him, and you’re able to snap out of it in time, as you watch him slowly make his way down.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” You call out.

He easily descends, and with his smug face, he lifts the bag for you to see. 

“Do you not have faith in my tree-climbing capabilities?” he asks you.   

“It’s just not something I’ve seen you do before,” you shrug, acting nonchalantly as you return to walking down the path.

“So, were you worried?”

“Uhm, yes? I can’t have an injured Vice President on my watch,” you exclaim, earning you a laugh. “How am I gonna transport you out of this dirt road and back to the house? I can barely keep still as a passenger on the ATV.”

“Well, I could get hurt but I definitely won’t be immobile,” he points out. “I won’t be a hard person to help.”

“Right… I’m the one who gets injured and then can’t walk.”

He frowns at you at the reminder, and you counter that it’s okay for you to make fun of your injury but that he’s right, he probably won’t be as injured as you. You wave him off, hoping that you don’t have to deal with an incapacitated version of him during this game. You also won’t be able to handle worrying about him without giving too much away. 

You return your focus on finding the other bags. There are those hidden behind rocks and in shallow holes; you know because of the shovel next to them. There’s another one tied around the trunk of the tree, and you have to hold your breath again when Jungkook climbs up to get it.

As expected, you have good teamwork. You section off areas to search at and quickly find what you’re looking for. You go for the ones you can get and then ask him to reach for the ones you can’t. There’s some bickering in between, with him pretending that he’s stuck or caught on something while you panic and then pout at him for scaring you. But there are some moments of silence, too, where you walk side by side and bask in the scent of your surroundings. Either way, it’s time that you enjoy just being around him, taking in the environment that you often stayed away from. With him, it’s a lot less scary and definitely more freeing.

When you’re down to your last one, you and Jungkook think that Mr. Ri would hide it somewhere near the end of the path, so you both decide to just take in your surroundings as you stroll towards the stream.  

“So, nature smells like this, huh?” you hum. “It’s quite comforting.”

“It is,” he says. “I forget sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

“Don’t you spend a lot of time outdoors?” You wonder. “You’ve mentioned driving out to some of your properties with views like this. I’d assume you stay out and enjoy the scenery.”

“I do enjoy the scenery… just from inside,” he chuckles, knowing the irony of his words. “It’s just more comfortable that way, I guess. So I appreciate being forced to go outside this weekend.”

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the same,” you say. “I don’t go out much. I mean, I’m often on my own so I just stay indoors but I do enjoy the scenery when I’m with others. It feels too lonely when you’re by yourself. To be something so small in a world so big… It's kind of scary.”

“Well, I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You don’t think Jungkook will ever know the weight of his words and just how wrong he is. To be in a place so beautiful with him next to you… it’s everything you’re scared of. You’ve come to appreciate a lot of things because of him. You’ve come to want more when you shouldn’t because of him. You always find yourself in a state of push-and-pull with your emotions when it comes to him, knowing that he’s someone you can’t have. He’ll always be out of reach no matter how close he is. He’ll always hinder you from the kind of life you want to have even if that includes him. 

The logical part of you wants to keep your distance, to not create any more memories that will haunt you and that you’ll miss. But the stubborn part of you wants you to hold onto this to remind you that beautiful things are tangible and he’s the one thing you can see and hear; maybe he’s something you can touch, too. 

The latter one wins, so you slow your pace, take in the sight before you, and decide that this is a memory you’ll want to keep. You take the disposable camera from your pouch, something you bought the other week specifically for this trip, knowing it might be your last. You take a photo of the sky, then of the path ahead of you, then of the stream, making sure there’s a bit of him in there - a mop of hair, a portion of his arm, his shadow. 

It’s then that you see the last bright red bag on one of the big rocks near the water’s edge. 

“Oh, there it is,” you say, immediately walking towards it. 

You look around and strategize how you’ll get to the rock safely but Jungkook insists that he’ll be the one to get it.

“You’ve gotten all the tricky ones,” you argue, given that he’d climbed the tree and crawled under the shrub because your leggings were too thin and wouldn’t be able to protect you from the thorny branches. “I can get this.”

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

“Uh, I clearly remember that you don’t.”

“Hey,” you pout at him, knowing he’s referring to that time you tripped on yourself during one of your Arts Center visits. “It was the heels. That’s clearly not a problem this time.”

You step on the wet stones and balance your way as they lead towards the big rock, with Jungkook repeatedly telling you to be careful. His voice just gets louder and louder, but you turn around and see that he’s actually just following you. It’s your mistake, as your loss of focus causes you to  slip on one of the rocks and almost lose your balance. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you fall on your ass. Your foot merely slides to the side, barely missing the water, which is really fine, but Jungkook doesn’t think so.

“Don’t move until you’re stable,” he instructs, holding out his hand for you to take, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “That’s the foot you injured. You can’t risk spraining it again. Just take my hand or hold my wrist so you can safely get the bag.”

You do as he says, grabbing his forearm so you can stabilize yourself. You let him go once you do, then you turn and take a few small steps to get what you need. He stays close to you though, and once you retrieve the bag, you turn towards him with a proud smile and announce that half of your task has been completed. 

“You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?” He says instead, his firm voice a contrast to his playful frown.

“And you are quite the nagger,” you hit back. “I wouldn’t have slipped if I hadn’t turned and I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Sure, it’s my fault. Sorry for caring about your safety,” he shakes his head. 

“Well, you were underestimating me,” you frown now. “I could’ve done all this without your help.”

“Really?” He challenges.

“Yes,” you stand your ground. “Although I would still need your help to get back to land.”

It’s what makes him laugh, and the way his eyes light up and crinkle makes your heart race. He has such a sweet sound, and you wish you could hear more of it. 

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” you stop him and check your watch. “We still have time. Can we stay for a bit? The water’s quite nice and the view of the mountains is prettier from here.”

Jungkook looks around. The mountain range from far away looks majestic from this angle, and with the sun about to set soon, the way the light shines on the water is just as beautiful. 

“Okay then,” he says, wanting to savor this as well. 

You just said you don’t go out much, and maybe like what he feels, being with him makes you want to take it all in; maybe it makes you feel less scared.

You both find dry rocks to sit at and it’s the perfect spot for you to take more photos, so you take out your camera and see which angles look best.

“Did you buy that for this trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I knew the sights would be beautiful. I just wanted to keep something from here,” you explain.

“Give it to me then,” he says, reaching out his hand and gesturing towards your camera. “Let me take one of you so you’ll always remember.”

You hand it over to him then suddenly feel awkward at how you’re supposed to pose. You stay seated with your legs just slightly bent but are unsure of where you’re supposed to look. It feels a little too tense if you look at his direction, even if that’s what you should be doing.

“It’s free to smile, you know? That’s what people usually do for photos,” he says, causing you to giggle. He takes the photo right then, and you have an idea he caught your smile at the right time.

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

“Sort of. I knew you were gonna think of how bold it was of me to say that, considering that I barely even smile.”

“Wow, I can’t even tease you anymore because you already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know sometimes you can’t help but just tease me like that. I know you too well,” he smugly says. “But I think I got a good photo. You’re welcome.”

You laugh at his playfulness, knowing it’s rare for him to show that side of him. So you ask for your camera back and decide you want him to be part of this particular memory. You hold it out and turn towards him.

“May I?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he hums. “I just don’t know how to smile.”

You giggle again and you’re quick enough to catch the brief moment when he lets out a short laugh. 

You look at him softly, as if there’s more you want to say - that you’ll keep this close to you so you’ll remember what his smile looks like, that he’s something beautiful you can hear and see, that you  feel so safe out here with him, and that you hope he’ll remember this, too.

But you look away before any of the words make it out. 

You think to just quietly savor this, as you bask in the sounds of the cicadas and the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves. You’re so small in this big world, but being with Jungkook makes things a little less scary. With him, you don’t feel so alone.

A bit more time passes before you both decide to head back. He reaches out his hand which you mindlessly take, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his palm. You’re too focused on your steps that you only realize you’re still holding him once you both safely make it to dry land. But it’s also at that moment when he lets go. Though a part of you wishes he’d drag the illusion a bit more, you’re also glad he didn’t; you would’ve probably held on longer if he didn’t pull away. 

The silence continues as you both walk back to the start of the path, but he stays near you, occasionally asking if you’re tired or cold. You make it to the ATV and you hold onto his waist again with no instructions needed this time. He drives a bit faster than earlier but you feel safe and steady, and there’s something natural about the way you’re clinging to him for support. Part of the illusion as well, you think, but that ends, too.

You’re the last one back to the villas but you and Jungkook quickly make up some ground in assembling the water rocket. It was mostly him, though, as he says that he tinkers around and easily figures these things out. Do-hyun and Chin-sun feel the pressure as you catch up, and they shriek as they slowly feel the win slipping away from them. But then Jungkook holds onto the last piece and lets them win instead. The way they celebrate after their rocket successfully launches makes it feel worth it; you don’t feel bad about it at all. If anything, you expected he’d let either of the other two teams finish first. 

After the winners are handed out hotel accommodation gift cards, Jungkook excuses himself to get a bit of work done while the rest of the team prepares for dinner. The team works on your assigned tasks of preparing the grill and slicing the vegetables, while you cook your famed fried rice after Do-hyun convinced you that it would heal her broken heart. Seated outside with the cool evening air, you all wait for Jungkook before starting.

“Mr. Jeon said he’ll just message me once he’s ready to eat,” Mr. Ri says as he takes his seat. “We can start without him.”

“But it’s not a team dinner without him,” Do-hyun whines. “He should take a break from working and spend time with us.”

“I’m sure he wants that, too,” you say. “Let’s just give him some time, maybe there’s something urgent he needs to do. Let’s just enjoy our meal and leave some food for him.”

Everyone dives in once the meat is cooked, and there’s a consensus that your fried rice is definitely worth all the hype. The laughter and teasing immediately start, and you wish Jungkook was here to enjoy it with you. You constantly glance at his villa, noting the dim lights, and you wonder what has him holed up inside this time, knowing he didn’t plan on working too much while he’s here. 

It’s one hour later when you decide that he’s gone too long without having dinner, so you take portions of everything and set them on a tray. 

“Wait, let me make him a drink. Hopefully that’ll convince him to come out,” Yohan says. 

Managing to carry everything, you head towards Jungkook’s villa, and when he opens the door after your constant bell-ringing, he looks at you in surprise. 

“The team’s been wondering when you were coming out,” you say. “You might be in there because of work, but I’m not fully convinced. Whatever it is, the food’s too delicious for you to not have a taste, so I brought you some.” 

You raise the tray that you placed on the small table outside and flash him a smile. He nods in acknowledgement and takes it from you but you don’t leave just yet. 

“I hope you’re not working anymore,” you say. 

“I only did for a while,” he replies. “I… got a bit tired.”

“I’ve seen you workout in the morning and work all day after only having three hours of sleep, Jungkook. You wouldn’t get tired from just a jet ski ride and some scavenger hunt,” you raise an eyebrow. 

He lets out a dry laugh before heading to the dining room. He leaves the door open so you follow him inside.

“I mean I’m socially tired. Isn’t that a thing?” 

“Gee, I didn’t think that spending time with me outdoors drained your energy so much,” you frown. 

Your playful pout tells him you’re teasing. He sure hopes it’s not what you really feel. It’s the opposite, in fact. He felt relieved of a lot of things during that hour that he walked around and breathed in the fresh air with you. And you both had moments - comforting glances, the shared silence… the fleeting touches that made him want more. You’re everything new and familiar and he wants to know how it’s like to have you close to him. 

He knows it’s a desire he can’t act on, not just because he’s your superior but also because he can’t imagine you feeling a fraction of what he feels. It’s tempting to mistake your kindness for something more, and he’d fall into it if only hoping didn’t lead to disappointment. But like what Yoongi had said before, it’s how you naturally are, even as someone who prefers to be alone. Whatever type of friendship you offer is all that it is - friendship. 

Jungkook clearly doesn’t deserve you. It’s not just because of the way he treated you at the beginning but because even until now, whenever he pulls away, you’re always the first one who reaches out. He’s scared that anything he does might push you away, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’ll keep you at a distance for as much as he can and for as long as you’re around. He can handle that, but losing you in any way has become his biggest fear. 

That’s why he needed to be on his own after your time together in such a casual and comfortable environment. It’s easy to want that with you and to think that he can have it. Pulling away has always been his default when dealing with things he can’t control, and earlier, he just couldn’t control his mind and his heart. 

But you’re here now, having knocked on his door like you always do, wondering if he’ll come out.

“I brought you dinner but I purposely gave you small servings so you’ll want more and leave your villa,” you explain. 

“Half a cup of your fried rice?” He scowls. “That’s a crime.”

“I know. And you’ll run out if you don’t go outside,” you warn. “Are you planning on just staying here? Do-hyun’s right. It’s not a team dinner without you there.”

“I… I was planning to go out a bit later. It’s a different setting and I’m a little anxious,” he admits.

He looks away and you feel for him. You were the same in the beginning, too. It’s one thing to share meals with people in a work environment but it’s another when it’s more casual, where people are less filtered and guarded. But you had to try, and after spending time getting to know your colleagues, things got easier.

The team has adjusted to Jungkook but you suppose Jungkook hasn’t fully adjusted to them. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking in much later in the evening or using work as an excuse. But this is part of his function, and like you promised him early on, you want to help him with this aspect of his role.

“I’ll help you loosen up a bit,” you suggest. “I can have dinner with you here first and then we can go out once you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, even if he’d decided earlier that he’d keep his distance. “You can get your food outside. I’m not sharing mine.”

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

“I know,” you say. “And by the way, Yohan made you that drink.”

“How’d he know I like highball?”

“A little birdie told him,” you shrug, feigning innocence. 

You smile before walking out, with Jungkook reminding you to set aside some fried rice for him.

You take your plate and reason to the team that you and Jungkook will just discuss some work stuff and they buy it, saying they won't get drunk until you’re both back outside.

You return to the villa with your dish and a bottle of beer, immediately realizing that it’s new territory for you and Jungkook, too. Sure, you’ve spent some time together out of work, but not in a place and situation like this. 

But you want to be there for him. You like that he looks to you for energy and support. On days when he’s distant, you want moments like right now to remind you of the times he needed you, that he wanted you around, even if it’s for a different reason.

It takes half an hour for Jungkook to ease his nerves. In that time, you talk about random things, like his favorite hawker centers in Singapore and the variety shows you watch on which days. You both tease each other, then compete on who gets less affected. You tell him it’s good preparation for when the team, in their drunken states, does the same. You assure him, though, that they won’t go below the belt but he also assures you that he’s a big boy and can handle it. 

When he says he wants more fried rice, it becomes your cue to head outside. You’re thankful that other than Mr. Ri subtly smirking at you, no one else reacts uncomfortably. You and Jungkook just came from his villa alone, after all, but you suppose everyone’s too tired or too careful to say anything. 

“I hope no one’s eaten my share of the fried rice,” Jungkook says as he sits across from you. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Here, all yours, Mr. Jeon,” Yohan says as he hands him a bowl. “If it isn’t enough, just know that Do-hyun took one last scoop before we set this aside.”

“Traitor,” Do-hyun scowls at the younger man. “I couldn’t help it. It’s so good, right?” She turns to Jungkook now. “___ gatekeeps this! She says she’s too busy to make it and I only got her to do it now because I’m heartbroken.”

Jungkook smiles internally. You’ve made this for him a few times and it’s heartwarming to think that you had your reasons for doing so, knowing now that it’s not something you easily share. 

“It’s way better than the one I make,” Jungkook says, glancing at you. “I can have this everyday.”

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells. 

“Uh, yeah. I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?” Jungkook asks.

“Paying people to do things for you,” Do-hyun shrugs. 

It’s a line he’s heard you say before and neither of you are wrong. It’s normal to make that assumption and it’s also true. He had people to do pretty much everything for him when he was in Singapore. He has that option here in Seoul, too, but he’s found himself wanting less people in his space for long periods of time. You’re really the only one he doesn’t mind being around him.

The conversation shifts to what happened in the afternoon, and you all end up talking about each team’s scavenger hunt experience and the anticipation for the next day’s obstacle course and relay games. A few more shots and bottles of beer later, the vibe turns more serious, as Manager Lee’s question to Do-hyun about how she’s feeling turns into an emotional session where she asks what she’s supposed to do about the man she was seeing, wondering if it’s worth reaching out or just moving on from him.

Chin-sun shares a piece of her mind and so does Yohan. Manager Lee says that sometimes, people don’t know what they want and isolate themselves in response. The pieces of advice are a mix of being patient and forgetting about the man, and you choose to observe rather than give an opinion. It’s always easy to say something but things could be totally different once you’re the one experiencing it. You think Jungkook feels the same, as he stays quiet but listens earnestly.

“What do you think, Mr. Ri?” Do-hyun asks. “You’re the oldest one here and would probably have a lot to say.”

“I wish I did but I wouldn’t say I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to my love life,” Mr. Ri laughs. “I mean, I’ve only ever loved one woman but I let her go. And that was over 20 years ago; I haven’t loved anyone that way since. I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

You watch everyone’s faces turn from shocked to somber. Mr. Ri, having been CEO Jeon’s right-hand man for a long time, has a stable and commanding presence. Everyone knows him to be loyal and firm, yet there’s a warmth about him with how protective and dependable he is. They all know about his commitment to his job, but his faithfulness to one person is perhaps surprising; he was never one to show much emotion, after all. But then again, people make sacrifices in the name of love - sometimes they give everything up for it, sometimes it’s what they let go of.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Do-hyun sighs. “And you never stopped. Where does all that love go?”

“I have people I care about,” Mr. Ri answers. “It goes to them. Obviously it’s different but I learned that if I keep all that love to myself, it hurts even more. That’s how I learned to live with the decision I made. It’s how I learned to let her go.”

“That’s so sad,” Do-hyun sniffles. “Here I am, heartbroken about a guy I was dating for only a few months while you’ve been harboring these feelings for decades.”

“It’s not about the length of time you were together or apart,” Mr. Ri shakes his head. “When you give a part of yourself to someone, losing them always hurts. That part of you is gone because they took it with them and you can’t take it back. So your pain is valid. We all love and grieve and move forward differently,” he says. “It’s all terrifying but that’s the irony of life, I’ve learned. The thing we all want and can’t live without is the same thing that hurts us the most, whether we have it or not.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the elder man’s words. They cut deep, as you know they come from a place of deep pain. You don’t want to ever go through something that hurts that much. 

“I’m too emotional,” Do-hyun sighs, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening crying and having everyone feel bad for her, so she shifts her attention to something else. “I want something juicy.” She briefly looks at Jungkook, who looks blankly at her, so she turns to you instead. “I don’t know much about your love life, ___.”

“Yes, because I don’t have one,” you chuckle, masking the nervousness you feel because talking about its inexistence in front of the man plaguing your mind was not something you planned for this trip. 

“But I know you did,” she insists. “I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

“I think what Do-hyun means is that you’re a highly capable, kind, and attractive woman,” Chin-sun chimes in. “Surely there have been prospects for a relationship, yes?”

“Like Mr. Min!” Yohan says now. “I always thought you two were cute together. Do-hyun and I would bet on it since she says you’re not the type to date co-workers.”

“And she’s right,” you say, glancing at Jungkook whose face you can’t read. “Yoongi and I are good friends. That’s all we ever were.”

“Well, I think he’s very nice and he’d treat you well,” Yohan sighs. “But I guess it might be weird to date someone you work with. I have friends I can match you with!”

“That’s not necessary,” you laugh. “I don’t think relationships are for everyone.”

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

You contemplate on whether or not you’re ready for this conversation, especially since it’s the type you usually just have with your best friends. You suppose it’s why your colleagues claim they don’t know much about you other than the way you work because you don’t really share much about your life, your dreams, or the things you wonder about. You’ve always preferred to keep things to yourself, always worried about how they will be received.

But everyone’s allowed themselves to be vulnerable tonight, and given the distance you’ve created between you and them all these years, you think the least you could do is be honest. It’s a team building thing anyway, and people bond over shared experiences during these times.

“I’ve… dated people but it was never serious,” you start. “I never really saw myself committing to them. Sure, I’d give my time and energy but nothing more. There’s so much courage in loving another person. I just don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough for that. I mean, it’s just hard to control. Once you start, you can’t stop; once you do it too much, you can’t pull back.”

“Sounds to me like you’re afraid that you won’t receive as much as you give,” Manager Lee states. “It’s how love is, though. It’s not always equal. But that’s the risk you take, that’s the trust you build. That even when what’s given isn’t the same, there’s still love there.”

“But isn’t that the scary part of it all?” You counter. “Like what Mr. Ri said, you give a part of yourself to someone when you love them but what if they don’t want that specific part of you? Or they did then one day they decide they don’t anymore? So they just retreat and leave you out in the open. They’re safe but you’re not, because you broke down your walls for them but they didn’t do the same.”

“That’s the thing about finding the right person, ___,” Manager Lee says, with all the wisdom of a man who’s loved and lost and loved again. “You either trust that they won’t do that, or you accept that they could and you’d still think that loving them is worth all the pain that losing them would cost. In the end, you get to decide. If you keep yourself from feeling it, how are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t?”

You’ve heard versions of these words before, too. Soomin and Jimin, whose respective relationship ups and downs you’ve witnessed, have said themselves that committing yourself to someone takes a whole lot of faith in the person and in yourself. It’s because you’re giving them an opportunity to hurt you but you have to trust that they won’t. A lot of times, they do, so you then have to trust in your own ability to get over them. 

The thoughts swim in your head and with your silence, Chin-sun gives you an encouraging smile. She’s a few years older than you and has experienced a lot when it comes to relationships, and you can sense that she understands your hesitation and your fear.

“It’s scary but when you find someone who makes you feel brave, that can make all the difference,” she says. 

Admitting all this makes you feel exposed, especially when your eyes flit to Jungkook and you find him gazing at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. You’re worried that any other move you make or things you say will lead him to uncovering your feelings that you acknowledge is beyond just physical attraction at this point. 

You find yourself worrying about him constantly, wondering what he’s doing or if he’s getting proper rest. You’re always thinking about his smile and the sound of his laugh, and you imagine how much sweeter and softer they could get. You want him to be happy, to find his peace, to have something to look forward to. And you want to know what his touch feels and how it’s like to have him close. 

You know all this is wrong because of who you are and who he is in this world, especially as you realize that you’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The fear makes itself even more known as it is embodied in the man across from you - so palpable and overwhelming that you can’t help but want more, and the more his eyes bore into you, the closer you are to giving in. 

How are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t if you don’t let yourself feel all of it? And if Jungkook makes you feel brave, then what if he’s the person you’re willing to break down your walls for?

You shake your head, knowing you can’t fall into the trap of your own mind. You need to be logical about this, but you also think that you’ve been that way all your life and it hasn’t brought you much happiness. At this point, you question what that looks like. 

Maybe it looks like him. Maybe it’s also life without him. 

How do people make decisions like this? You wonder. How do they know how much pain they can bear? And when does it become worth it?

“Wise words,” you manage to say after a tense silence. “You make it sound simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Chin-sun says. “Human beings are complicated, ___, so are our emotions. Love makes people stupid. But it also makes us brave and happy and complete. And when it’s shared with the right person, god it feels so good.”

You’re able to get her to share about her own experience and remove the spotlight away from you. Manager Lee narrates his serendipitous love story as well, and the serious tone of the conversation turns into a giddy, enjoyable one. You find yourself constantly glancing at Jungkook, liking his soft smiles and giggles as the stories are told. He briefly meets your eyes during some moments though, and that’s when you look away. 

The night ends when he announces that everyone should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s activities, so you all clean up and wish each other a good night. Your eyes linger on Jungkook as he walks back to his villa, and you turn away before he does the same, the yearning for him getting stronger as each day passes.

The sun shines beautifully over the lake as you lean on the railing overlooking the water. The clouds over the mountains look like the fog that cleared earlier, and the majestic way that the scenery is framed by the blue skies is absolutely stunning.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jungkook hums from several meters next to you. “I never really bothered to appreciate this view before.”

“It is,” you say, turning to him as he continues to gaze at the scene before you while you gaze at him. If he notices from his periphery, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s breathtaking. I could take a picture but that wouldn’t give this justice.”

“I can try,” he says, reaching out to ask for your phone. “I’m good at this.”

You indulge him and watch as he finds the right angle to beautifully capture the surroundings. He asks if you want him to take another photo with you in it this time, and though you’re a little shy, you let him. 

You warm at how natural your smile looks, realizing that you were focusing on his smile while he was taking the picture. The view looks surreal but you’re in there, and it’s a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. Jungkook remarks that it’s a nice shot before turning back to the water, and while you wish you were braver and had asked to take one with him so you could hold onto this memory, you know you’ll look at this photo of you and also remember what you’re feeling. There’s so much calm and clarity, and you know it’s not just because of the mountains. 

The tension and fear that filled you up last night have slowly turned into a sense of relief. The distance that once bothered you about Jungkook now gives you comfort. No matter how far or unattainable he may be, you still feel his presence - his warmth is in the peacefulness of a park at night, or in the calmness of the lake, or in the safety of your neighborhood library. You never imagined that one Jeon Jungkook would ever make you feel this way, and if he’s someone who makes you be brave to feel something new, maybe you owe it to him and to yourself to be brave to pursue that, too.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Yohan yells that breakfast is ready. You all gather in the common dining room for some dumpling soup before a short planning session to give you time to digest. At 9:30, the first activity begins, with all six of you divided into two teams to finish an obstacle course.

It gets competitive when you’re teamed up with the younger ones, as Do-hyun and Yohan attempt to trash talk the others. They give it their all, especially when they see Jungkook dominating the kayaking part of the course, but the three of you manage in the end. A part of you feels that the other team just wanted to make the younger ones win only to use it against them later on, but the fun and excitement are what matter.

You enjoy some meat and stew for lunch and have another planning session before doing the afternoon games, which has Jungkook on the losing team again. He comes up with a last minute individual game that gives Manager Lee the chance to win this time, and the afternoon ends with all of you, excluding him, winning prizes you can enjoy after this.

The free time before dinner has you reading your book by the lake and then talking with Chin-sun in the hammock while the rest of the team enjoy the sunset and some beer. You’re thankful that this time, Mr. Ri was tasked to handle all the activities instead of you, and so you’re able to focus on spending time with your colleagues. 

You grill meat again for dinner, roast marshmallows over the campfire, and passionately sing off-key in the karaoke. But unlike last night, people decide to go to bed early, definitely tired from today’s physical activities. 

You’re exhausted as well but somehow, the pull of the cold evening air is too strong, so you decide to walk to the main house and grab a bottle of beer. When you walk out to the deck, you’re surprised to find Jungkook seated on a lounge chair outside of his villa, glass in hand as he looks up at the sky. 

Jungkook savors the crisp breeze, knowing that once he gets back to Seoul, all he’ll have is the musty air and the buzzing sounds of the city. He wants to remember this weekend and the peace he felt. Maybe he should’ve taken a photo of the view this morning like he did for you; he at least has the one of you in it that he took ingrained in his mind. You looked so calm and happy; he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face then. 

He’s trying to keep as much of today in his memory as he can, knowing how hectic it’s going to be when you all get back. Other than the amount of fun he didn’t expect to have with the team, he enjoyed seeing a different side of you. 

You were competitive but encouraging, probably not the most athletic but definitely capable. He could pick out your squeals and laughter and he thought they were sweet and hypnotic, and he appreciated how thoughtful you were during dinner, making sure everyone had enough to eat, especially him. You would catch his attention to ask if his meat is okay or if he’s feeling comfortable; he hated that it all ended so soon. Though he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with you. It’s different being out here than it is in the office or even in his home. Here, he’s unguarded and a lot more free, and he’s able to make more sense of how you affect him; in a way, he’s able to truly feel all that you make him feel.

There’s so much of you in his mind but you’re not around, so he stands up to head to bed already, hoping he’d at least see you in his dreams. But when he turns towards the door, he sees a silhouette in the main house’s deck. And as if the universe is giving him some sign, he finds you there, standing by the post with a beer in hand. You lift the bottle in cheers and he lifts his drink in return, sipping every last drop he could.

He sees you grab another bottle from the outdoor fridge then place it on the coffee table, an invitation to join you that he’s glad you make. He would’ve been too hesitant to make the move, unsure of your willingness to be in his presence. 

“Can’t sleep?” You ask as he nears the couch. 

He sits next to you, the short distance a little too tempting to close. 

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

“Not really. I don’t get much of the outdoors back in my tiny apartment,” you chuckle.

“Fair enough. The weather’s been nice, fortunately. Not like the last time we were out of town, yeah?”

“Yeah, fortunately,” you shyly look at him, not saying more, perhaps unsure if it’s something he’s ready to talk about.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I’ve accepted you having witnessed my extreme moment of weakness. You were patient and understanding even when I was angry and I… I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

“You have, and I understand it all. But Jungkook, what happened at that guest house is not weakness,” you insist. “That’s… dealing with a painful memory.”

“That wasn’t dealing, ___. I was suffering. That's… that’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to move on from something.”

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder. 

“Well, the nightmares tend to happen when the thunder is really loud,” he says. “Otherwise I just get really anxious, like when it rains, my brain just expects things to get bad.”

“What do you do when it does?”

“I don’t know how I manage, actually,” he answers. “I usually forget and just remember that I wake up dry in my bed. I mean, I’d be sweating but not soaked. I guess that night, I was just too nervous because the rain was so strong, we were on the road. And I was somewhere completely unfamiliar with you. I… I think that made it worse.”

Your silence prompts him to clarify. “I mean, I didn’t want you to see me that way, that’s why it was worse,” he states. “It’s not a side of me I’m proud of. Which is silly thinking about it now because you’ve seen a lot of sides of me that I’m not proud of. All of them, actually.”

“So you’re not proud of the side of you that protected me? That made sure I was safe? That rushed to find me when I was stuck in the rain?” You ask. 

“It’s what any decent human being would do,” he dismisses. “Those just probably stand out because I wasn’t exactly one in the beginning.”

“Well, you had Mr. Ri drive me. You’d make me go home early sometimes, too.”

“___, again, that’s what a decent boss should be doing. It’s the bare minimum. You deserve more kindness than you’re receiving. I… I should have been that to you from the start.”

“We’ve moved past that, remember? It’s all okay. I managed, I stayed. And I’m glad I did. I got to learn so much from you,” you assure him. “And you deserve more kindness than you’re receiving, too.”

Jungkook hums. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to freely talk to you about all this - about how he was before and how he’s been recently. And like always, you’re gentle with him. He could only hope you’re as gentle as you are with yourself, something he doesn’t know how to do. 

“I… I hope you’ve found ways to cope with all that you went through,” he says, turning away from you in shame. “I… I’m still learning.”

“It’s a process, and it’s not an easy one. No one really tells you how to do it. You kind of just… find your way,” you share. “But just think that the thunder doesn’t last long. It’s going to pass. So maybe when it starts raining, you can do what I did. Just cover your ears to block out the sounds. All we can do sometimes is shield ourselves from it, you know? It would scare us a little less.”

“I don’t even remember how you did it,” he admits. “I felt so out of it that night.”

“But did it help?” You ask. 

He nods in response. “I wasn’t alone. I think that was the first time in a long time.”

“When you are, just do what I do,” you say, turning towards him and closing the distance to cover his ears with your hands. “Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly. The hollowness will drown out the sounds until they stop.” 

Jungkook’s eyes swim in yours. He can’t tell you that he doubts it’d work without you, since your comforting look and your calm voice are what made him pull through. But still, he knows that imagining you’re there would definitely help.

“Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly,” he repeats, almost like a whisper. “Got it.”

You smile and it’s like a spell for him, as he mindlessly puts his hands over yours and slowly brings them down. He��s so lost in you that he only realizes he’s still holding your hands when you look down, so he immediately pulls away.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks, masking his embarrassment.

“My mom,” you answer, shifting back on your seat and looking out at the horizon. “My dad copped out before he knew I existed and she was too heartbroken to ask for him back. It took a while but she eventually found another man. I was pretty young then. He was okay, but then he lost his job and things went downhill from there.”

Jungkook sees the way your face falls and he already knows his heart is going to break for you.

“He would drink a lot and they’d fight all the time. He’d yell and yell, and then yell some more,” you narrate. “Mom would make me hide in the closet or under the bed just so I’d hear less of it. Thunder used to scare me, too; it sounded like his banging on the wall when he’d scream at her but eventually, I realized the roar drowns him out so I welcomed it. But I would just cover my ears and think of happy thoughts like she said. Sometimes she’d come to me and do it like I did with you. I always liked that better.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to take your hand back and comfort you in any way. “You shouldn’t have experienced that.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” you sigh, having accepted the hand you were dealt. “My mom and I got out and she found someone who loves and respects her. And we just found ways to deal with the pain, you know? We could only bury it for so long. And so covering my ears just became a habit as I grew up. It was a way to battle all that.”

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

“It’s like a general coping mechanism of some sort,” you explain. “Sometimes the loud sounds come from inside, too. Thoughts of not being good enough, of being selfish, of not deserving of happiness… I mean, they come from others but they stay in my head. I have to cover my ears to stop them from overwhelming me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking away in shame when you turn to him questioningly. “You did that several times during my first weeks. I know I… I said things that hurt you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was hard for everyone and like I said, I forgive you. But I've been told worse things,” you shake your head. “You’ve heard some of them.”

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

“I know. That’s why I walked away. It’s easy to do that when you don’t give much of yourself to them. And I do it all the time,” you say. “I never really stay.”

“Would you stay if you found the right person?”

You remember a conversation with him months ago, about people being temporary and how they’d only stay if they had a reason to. It’s safe to say that finding the right person would be your reason, but that also makes it harder. 

“I probably would,” you respond. “And I think that scares me, too.”

“Why?” He asks.

“What if I would stay for them? But they won’t stay for me?”

Jungkook leaves your question unanswered, knowing there’s nothing he can say that would sufficiently validate your fear nor comfort you about it. His own past relationship doesn’t give him any right - Chaerin left him but he gave her all the reasons to; she walked away and he did the same. Sometimes he wonders if she’d lost him before he lost her. He also doesn’t know if he loved her so much that he let her go, or if he didn’t love her enough to make her stay. Maybe it was neither. Or maybe he was just too scared - that she’d reject him, or that he wouldn’t be able to love her better if he she came back, he doesn’t know. He was never brave enough to find out.

He lets the silence linger, prompting you to remark that the conversation is too sad for a night as pretty as tonight.

“We should probably head to bed, though,” he suggests. “We still have stuff in the morning then a long ride home. I don’t have to remind you how hectic this next week is gonna be.”

“You just did,” you frown, earning you a laugh. “But I agree. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Your shy smile makes his breath hitch. He wants this to go on for longer but he knows he might just let his guard down even more, maybe share about his other pains and frustrations and worries about life. Maybe he’ll end up moving closer to you, close enough that he’d smell your classic rose scent that makes his mind feel hazy. Maybe he’ll want more, and he reminds himself of all the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, and that crossing them may push you away. 

So he says goodnight and you both walk towards your respective villas, looking back one more time before heading inside. 

You’re all he thinks about for the rest of the night. His gaze follows you all through the next morning, too. He misses your presence when he leaves for Seoul in his own car, and he’s back to being a giddy mess when you message him, saying you hope he got home safely. 

It almost feels like the weekend was a dream and when Monday comes, he has to remind himself that he’s back to reality and that includes how he should be when it comes to you. Those days remain in his memory, but when you enter his apartment that morning with the softest smile, and when you meet his eyes as you fix his necktie, he knows it wasn’t a dream. And that somehow, just like him, you wish it didn’t have to end.

It’s been over a week since the team building and you haven’t really moved on from all that happened during those three days. There was the joy of being with your colleagues and the companionship you felt thankful to have. There was also the tranquility of the lake and the refreshing environment that rejuvenated you, making you wish you were back there, especially as you sort through the printed photos from your disposable camera and see the pretty views that you already miss. 

There’s that photo you took of Jungkook by the stream that you’ve been staring at, another reason why you want to go back to that time. His eyes are warm and his smile is soft and subtle, unforced and just as captivating. It’s quite calming, and it’s the image that you hold onto later that Thursday evening when you’re piled under loads of paperwork. It’s past 6PM but you can’t afford to leave yet, and the only good thing about it is that he’s still around, and you get to sneak in some glances through the window.

You’ve become that person, smitten by her attractive boss and definitely stupid enough to be overwhelmed by her emotions. You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Everyday that you enter his space, the desire to know him more gets stronger; with every common place you step into, you keep wishing he’d ask you to stay close, that he’d invite you to somewhere reserved for those he lets in. Every time your fingers brush, you’re reminded of the way his hands felt on top of yours and how you wanted him to keep them there, and every look you share makes you hope that you’re not the only one in this mess of emotions. And that if you’ll give in, so would he.

You’re not quite sure what he feels, but if his shy smiles and the way he intensely looks at you before looking away mean anything, then you could at least say that there’s definitely something there. You just don’t know if he would acknowledge it or if like you, it’s gotten too strong that you’re unable to think clearly or act rationally.

Finally done with the last item on your task list for today, you start to pack up. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits from his room to return a portfolio he took earlier and place it on your desk. You’re about to pick it up but he says you should just leave it there and fix it tomorrow.

But you disregard him. You retrieve the stool and attempt to return the portfolio on the top shelf. It’s a little heavy but you manage; you even start fixing the others that moved because Jungkook’s been getting them these past days. You’re about to step down when you hear his heavy sigh.

“I told you to do that tomorrow,” he groans, walking towards you. 

With your back turned, you reply, “I like starting my days with a tidy desk, okay?”

“It’s just one portfolio,” he points out.

“It still takes up so much space. It makes my table look messy.”

“You still could’ve waited. Or you could’ve asked me to help,” he insists, continuing to reprimand you as you try to step down the stool. 

He’s a little close, blocking your view of the floor, and that’s why you miss a step and trip again, your squeal echoing throughout the empty floor. You think your heart racing is about to join in on the sounds, too, as it quickens when you realize that Jungkook has caught you by your waist, his tight grip on you sending shivers down your spine. 

He’s gotten even closer, as you look up and find his scrunched eyebrows and worried eyes staring back at you. The tension starts to rise but you manage to tell him that you’re fine after he asks if you’re hurt. 

“I’m sure,” you tell him. “You caught my fall. Again.”

You giggle and that’s what makes him let out a laugh as well. Your left hand holds onto the shelf but his hands remain on you. He’s still a breath away but you suddenly don’t mind, as your right hand mindlessly makes its way to rest on his arm. At this moment, this feels right. You’re all alone in your little bubble with him where you’re all he sees and he’s all you can breathe in. 

His bergamot scent wafts through your nose. You can count his eyelashes and see the scar on his cheek that you never noticed. He’s even more breathtaking up close, and as if all reason evaporates from your body, you don’t pull away. You want him just like this.

On second thought, you want him even closer.

“You’re a clumsy woman, aren’t you?” He says, his voice low and deep. “This isn’t the first time that I’m breaking your fall.”

“Well, if you would just be quiet while I’m attempting to go down, then that wouldn’t be a problem,” you breathily giggle, inching the tiniest bit forward. 

“Well, if you just listened to me the first time, then you wouldn't have to climb up there,” he responds, earning him a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, too.”

“So I’ve heard,” you match his teasing. “Can't help it sometimes.”

“So you acknowledge it?” He raises an eyebrow in intrigue. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say much more nervously now, meeting his eyes. It’s like you’re hypnotized again, caught in some spell where being in his presence makes you honest and uninhibited. “I mean, I feel things I shouldn’t feel and want people I shouldn’t want,” you add. “Doesn’t that make me stubborn?”

“What’s stopping you from feeling them? From having them?” He asks, his voice remaining low and his eyes, even more piercing and desperate now as they stare back at you.

His thumbs lightly caress your waist and his touch electrifies you through the thin material of your blouse. There’s so much to say and it’s way more complicated, just as your feelings for him are. You can’t help but eye his lips, soft and pink, and the desire to know what they taste like intensifies, prompting you to nibble your own.  

“What’s stopping me?” You pant now, your gaze flitting from his eyes back to his lips, with him doing the same. “The ways of the world. And some… boundary that pulls me back, a line that I don’t know he’s ready to cross for me.”

The words actualize your fears the moment you say them. You know all the reasons why wanting him is wrong. But there’s a small part of you that wants to give in, and it’s terrified that he wouldn’t, that he’d dismiss what you feel and pull away. The way he’s been with you and the way he’s holding you right now spark that sliver of hope you have that he feels the same way, but it’s also the same moment that he lets you go, perhaps realizing that he’s not willing to take the risk the way you are. 

He releases you from his hold and steps back, creating distance, and you suddenly feel bare - exposed and unguarded without his touch. He looks at you in panic, in apology, in fear, as if he’d had some sense knocked into him, as if he awakened from some spell that pushed him close to you, only to realize that that’s a place he can’t go. 

“I—”

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

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[sunkissedscribbles]

Mattheo Riddle's Guide To Win Y/N's Heart

pairing: mattheo x fem!reader (house not clarified)

genre: fluff

tw: my bad writing

word count: 1532

summary: mattheo's desperately trying to lure you in by using psychological tricks on you.

a/n: okay, this one might not be the best, but it's sweet. also, i wrote this in the middle of the night lol

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It all started a week ago when Mattheo strutted into the Great Hall in the morning with that stupid, confident grin plastered across his lips.

“It’s 7:30. In the morning,” Theo raised an eyebrow at him as to why he was in a good mood so early for his liking.

“I have the master plan to get Y/N to date me,” Mattheo stated proudly, to which Enzo and Theo shared a look, and the latter snorted a laugh.

“And how are you gonna do that, Casanova?” Pansy chimed in too.

“Psychology,” Mattheo shrugged simply, deeply believing that his master plan would work perfectly.

He read in Enzo’s book that if you want to be appealing to a woman, you should sit across her at a table and if about to win a man’s heart, you should sit right beside him. So, the first trick he tried was sitting across you at the table in all cases, even if it meant two people — including you — sitting on the one side and five people squeezed together on the one across because Mattheo wanted to sit across you with millimeter accuracy. First, you didn’t understand it one bit. You only sensed Mattheo growing weirder by the day and your friends having more fun directly proportionally and putting two and two together, you realized these two are actually related.

The next thing was wearing red. Now this one was a hilarious one; on Tuesday afternoon when you, Enzo, and Mattheo were due to study together for Arithmancy (which, may I mention, Mattheo only took up because you did so too), Mattheo slumped down on the chair across you at the table in the library, wearing a Gryffindor hoodie.

“What on earth-“ Enzo shook his head in disbelief but you had to fight back a loud outburst of laughter.

“Hi, Y/N,” Mattheo grinned confidently but you shook your head with a grin still lingering on your lips.

“Whose is this?” you nodded in the direction of the hoodie hugging his upper body.

See, the problem with wearing red was that he didn’t own a single clothing piece of the colour, so he had to think outside the box and be creative for this one.

He looked down nonchalantly and shrugged with that familiar smirk. “Longbottom’s. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

Enzo buried his face into his hands next to you, trying to hold a groan back from escaping as your mouth hung open and your eyes widened. “He doesn’t know?”

“His door was open…”

You, knowing Mattheo, lifted your eyebrows in disbelief as he clearly didn’t tell the exact truth.

“Well- it wasn’t open, but soon it opened magically and I took it as an invitation…”

“You Alohomora’d his door to get a burgundy hoodie for Merlin-knows-what?”

“Well, y- wait. Burgundy? This is red,” Mattheo shook his head as he stiffened. He was convinced it was pure red — boys and their eyes for colours, huh?

Enzo snorted a laugh finally, knowing exactly Mattheo was trying to use the ‘red makes you appear more attractive’ law of psychology on you and he technically failed.

“No, darling, this is burgundy,” you chuckle which by the way, Mattheo found adorable, even in the middle of his embarrassment, plus, you called him darling — so he took it that you actually fell for his trick and, well, for him too.

But of course, there were things in Enzo’s psychology book Mattheo didn’t even think of doing. This was, for one, playing hard to get. Because he knew his eyes would have failed him every time he’d tried to close you out, and he knew exactly how well you were able to see right through him. You being concerned about him was also a problem with this because as Pansy once absent-mindedly drew his attention to how you noticed people’s energies shift pretty quickly, he had to close this option out completely.

Another one was putting on a cocky, intimidating, or prideful look because of the same reason; you noticing the energy shifts, and because no matter how hard he’d tried, that stupid grin had grown on him and your sight only fueled it.

He tried mirroring your body language, too. You were leaning forward at breakfast, tiredly resting against the wooden dining table? He was sitting opposite you, sitting as if he was actually in your mirror. You ran a hand through your hair? Guess what, he had to scratch his head. Even when your leg was bouncing nervously under the desk in History of Magic, he sure mirrored it.

You weren’t oblivious to this either, and you knew something was up — but you simply thought he was playing a prank on you. And your friends being awfully quiet whenever you brought up how weird Mattheo was being around you only added to your suspicion.

“I see” was a common way for him to start whatever he had on his mind. Because, research by MIT showed that women were more attracted to men who used the phrases “I see,” “Okay,” and “Yep.” And for him, he used them until he’s grown sick of them.

But of all the things he’d tried, his favourite — and yours too — was touching. Touching you had always lightened his day, even if it was just a tap on your shoulder to enquire about the time. And his touch provided reassurance for you, whenever he touched you for even a split second you knew you had someone to count on, someone to be comforted by. When you were tired in class he had a shoulder to offer for you to rest your head on (not Theo though because he could go fuck himself rather than sleep on his best friend’s shoulder, respectfully, in the best friend in question’s opinion.) When you were anxious, he chose to put his quill down and not take notes, rather have his hand comforting you by rubbing little circles on your thigh just above your knee (and sometimes a little too high), having his arm around you or playing with your hair, saying he’d borrow your notes later to catch up, which he never did.

However, things haven’t changed for two more weeks. And, as time went on, Mattheo grew more and more desperate, seeking the moment he could finally hold you in his arms and kiss the life out of you. He was waiting for the moment when he could confess his love to you — or, which would have been more convenient, and a whole ego boost for him, to have you come crawling by yourself, singing odes about him. But he realized it was a rather unlikely scenario that lived rent-free in his head.

“That book sucks,” Mattheo complained to Enzo one evening in the common room frustratedly as he sank into the green velvet material of the couch.

“Why so?” Enzo didn’t even look up from his Transfiguration essay he was desperately trying to put a dot on the end of for an hour.

“‘Cause I tried everything! And Y/N still doesn’t have a clue how I love her,” he let out a grunt as he let his head fall back against the backrest of the sofa and rubbed his closed eyes tiredly. “She’s still not into me.”

“I am into you,” your voice came down on him like a rain of cold ice. After nagging for two whole weeks, Pansy agreed to fill you in about what Mattheo called his master plan, and you finally understood what it was all about.

Mattheo’s eyes shot open to see he hasn’t hallucinated your reassuring words in that sweet tone you always talk to him with, and to make sure you are very physically standing there. He quickly got up from where he was and sat on the couch next to Enzo, who seemed to be in a completely other world with how concentrated he was on his Transfiguration homework.

Mattheo quickly made his way over to you, standing just a few feet apart with that stupid grin already growing on his lips as he took you, your gorgeous figure, bright smile, and shiny eyes in. “Are you now, princess?” He asked in a tone sweet like honey while tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking a step closer to the point that your chests were grinding against each other, to Mattheo’s biggest pleasure. And before he knew it, your lips came crashing against his in a long-awaited kiss and his arms slithered around your waist so naturally like they were made to be resting there. However, you pulled away after a few seconds before it could’ve got a little too carried away. “Did you really steal Longbottom’s hoodie so that I’d find you more attractive?” You chuckled with a touched but still a little mocking smile.

“Borrowed it. I returned it after you told me it wasn’t the right colour,” he rolled his eyes at you too, but he was the happiest guy on earth right then and there because he had all right to wrap his arms around you like a shield, protecting you from the world and its horrible people.

[littleslaywrites]

don’t stand so close to me | professor!spencer reid x student!reader 

nsfw, mdni

summary: you meet spencer at his office hours, despite the rumors that your classmates are spreading about your possible relationship

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, smut, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex, semi-public, office sex

You weren’t sure how anyone could pay attention to Professor Reid’s class. Not when he was standing there, looking gorgeous behind the lectern. Every time you almost could focus, he’d make eye contact with you, stopping your train of thought in its tracks. 

It was even worse when you went to office hours. He was the awkward type of charming, making you blush as he helped you with your work. You had to stop going a few weeks ago as you’d end up soaked and frustrated by the time you left.

Not only was your absence to keep you from wanting him too badly, but you were more than aware of the way your classmates spoke of you. Rumors passed were tossed around, speculating on your relationship to Professor Reid. You explained this away, reminding those who were bold enough to approach you that you were one of the few students who wasn’t auditing the class, so it was only logical that you’d spend more time in his office than those who weren’t being graded.

What you couldn’t explain away, though, was the way he looked at you. “I swear to god, he bit his lip when he looked at her,” one girl sitting behind you whispered to her friend. You tried not to blush, both embarrassed by the attention and hopeful that what they said was true. 

As a result of your distraction and avoidance of office hours, you did less than ideally on your last exam, so you set out to go to his office on a Friday afternoon. You felt nervous on the way there, heart rate increased at the prospect of seeing your professor so closely.

His office was deep inside one of the halls, on a basement floor and down a long hallway. Approaching the wooden door, you slowly open it, even more nervous than before, now that you’ve realized you’re the only one around. 

“Good afternoon,” you say awkwardly when you step inside the office. Professor Reid is behind a large wood desk, taking notes inside a book. The lamp in front of him is the only thing providing illumination, and you can’t help but think of how good he looks in the low light. 

“Good afternoon,” he echoed, closing the book. “Sit down.”

You obey, taking a seat in the chair in front of him.

“I assume this is related to your last exam,” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a folder. You nod, too nervous to speak. The warm dimness is similar to the lighting that’d be found in an intimate restaurant. You try to banish the inappropriate thoughts, knowing how wrong it is to think about your professor in this way. 

He produces your test, laying it in front of him. “You’ve stopped coming to office hours,” he says, looking over your answers. 

The silence prompts you to respond, letting out a small “yes”. 

He then begins to go over the test, answer by answer. You’re trying to focus, but his long fingers are running along the words on the page, pulling your attention away. 

He reaches a question that’s particularly marked up with red writing, and turns the paper around. Leaning in, he begins to show you the mistakes on the short answer. He’s monologuing, saying something about behavioral positivism. Your gaze is downcast, too nervous to make eye contact, and instead opting to focus on the paper. 

“Look at me,” he says suddenly. Your eyes shoot up, and you fight not to blush as his brown eyes study yours. “It seems like you’re distracted.”

You have no reply. He leans forward in your silence. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m not–”

“Yes, you are.” He motions for you to come closer, and you lean in. Your faces are close, close enough to feel each other’s breath. You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from him. “Is it me?”

You’re still speechless. Your mind is racing as you try to find a response. It doesn’t help when he reaches a hand up and pushes your hair behind your ear. He’s scandalously close now, lips just inches from yours. 

“Am I what you’re thinking about?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shy from the admission. 

Your confession is all he needs, and he closes the distance between you. His lips cover yours as his hands grab the sides of your face. 

If there was anything left in your brain, it’s gone now. His kiss is soft and his touch is firm. You close your eyes and give in to the sensation of his tongue invading your mouth. It’s a gentle intrusion, like a soft breeze slipping through an open window on a hot day.

When you pull away to catch your breath, his teeth hold onto your bottom lip before releasing you. 

“Lock the door,” he says in a low voice. You follow his directions and turn back to see him dumping everything atop the desk into a drawer. Your legs are like jelly, and you think that you must be dreaming. “Come here,” he commands, and you meet him behind the desk.

You stand face to face, and he’s staring down at you. Even in the dimness, you can see something in his eyes– lust.

“Do you want this,” he almost whispers, “do you want me?”

His question reminds you of his introverted nature. You feel a bit more at ease as you realize he’s almost as nervous as you are.

“Yes,” you whisper back.

He reaches out to touch you, hand snaking around your waist as he pulls you into another kiss. He’s nipping at your mouth and suckling at the places on your lips where he’s bitten you. You only break apart when he pulls off your shirt. His large hands go to your bare skin, running along your torso, stopping briefly to squeeze at your breasts.

His tongue pokes out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip, and you need to kiss him again. You lean in, hands finding the back of his and gripping at his hair. He groans into your mouth, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You let go of his hair and begin to work on his tie. Pulling it away from his collar, you throw it somewhere in the room, and begin to unbutton his shirt. You’re desperate to feel his bare skin on yours. When you’ve gotten all the buttons undone, he shrugs off his shirt and backs up to pull his undershirt off. 

You stare at each other for a moment, fighting shyness as you feel exposed in your black bra. 

He makes the first move, grabbing your hips to guide you to the desk. He pushes you against it, mouth going to your neck to leave sloppy kisses.

While he’s focused on marking you up, you unbutton your jeans and kick them away, leaving you only in your underwear. To make it even, you reach for his pants, pulling the belt out of its loops. You make it as far as getting his zipper down before he pushes your hands away.

You’re trapped between the desk and his leaning form. His breath is hot against your face, nose pressing against each other as you catch your breath. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into your ear, lips brushing against you. “Why’d you stop coming to my office hours?”

“I–” your words catch in your throat as his long fingers brush you from outside your underwear.

“Was it because of what they say about us?” He pulls the crotch of your panties to the side and feels the dampness that’s been pooling since the moment you entered the room. “Why don’t we prove them right?”

All of his questions go unanswered, as your mind is consumed with the way he’s touching you. “Please,” you whine as he thumbs at your clit as lightly as he can. 

“Good girl, so polite,” he says to himself as he slips a finger in you. You moan, his digit brushing against your velvety walls. In response, he adds another finger, thrusting slowly.

"Professor Reid…” you whimper as his fingers reach deep inside you.

“Spencer,” he says, looking down at you with dilated pupils. “Call me Spencer.”

You have no words to call him anything when he curls his fingers, and you cry out. You’re glad he’s pressed against you, as you’re sure your legs would be unable to support you without his help. 

Before you can reach your climax, he pulls his hand away, briefly sucking his fingers to taste you. 

“Spencer,” you whine, feeling empty. 

He grabs your ass once before pulling your panties down. “Sit,” he says, guiding you to the side of the desk, and you lift yourself up to the desk. Your legs dangle awkwardly, and you worry that your wetness is pooling on the wood below you.

He reaches around to take off your bra, discarding it at your feet. He lightly kisses your chest, licking your nipple once before stepping back to take his own pants off. 

You’re nothing short of desperate as you watch him undress. Even without his touch, you’re breathless, mindlessly grinding against the desk below you.

“Needy girl,” he says as he sees the way you’re watching him. 

“Please, Spencer,” you say, hand moving to circle your clit when you see the bulge in his underwear. “I need you inside me.”

“Anything you want, baby.”

He pushes you down so you’re on your back. His hands explore your naked form, touch electric against your skin. Every brush of his fingers has you rubbing your legs together to relieve any pressure you can. 

You whine as he teases you, and he can’t resist when you begin to mindlessly spread your legs from him. He grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the desk, and your legs wrap around his hips.

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your stomach before he rids himself of his underwear. His cock is now free, and you see the precum dripping out of his slit.

You’re barely resisting the urge to beg when he runs his tip along your pussy. He groans, head thrown back as he ruts against you. His hands press down on your hips to keep you from moving against him. 

“Stop teasing.” Your words are nearly sobs, barely escaping as you pant. 

“Sorry, baby,” he groans. “You just feel too good.”

He pulls a drawer open, rummaging through before retrieving a condom. He rolls it onto his length, stroking himself once before moving to touch you again. 

Squeezing at the flesh on your hips, he pushes inside, making it about a third of the way before he has to stop. 

He puts a hand down on the desk and leans above you. He breathes rhythmically to keep himself from finishing inside you before he can even get all the way in. Your plush walls overwhelm him, wrapping him up in a warm embrace.

When he’s sure he can last, he pushes all the way inside. He lets out a whimper, and you think it's the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Your hips are grinding against him as much as they can while he’s holding you down.

Slowly, he pulls away and pushes back inside, feeling the way you squeeze him. He’s let go of any remaining dignity, whining and whimpering as he thrusts. 

You can feel every twitch of his cock, back arching as his length strokes your insides. You feel complete, like his cock was made just to fill you up. 

His hands run along your legs, pulling them higher to reach you at a deeper angle. He’s hitting you in just the right spot, now. His breath quivers as his thrusts become more manic. 

Your pussy flutters around him as his skin slaps against yours. He swears he can feel your heartbeat around his cock. 

You’d feel self-conscious of your sounds if you didn’t know how empty the building is. Spencer’s eyes are closed as he groans along with you, noises combing until you don’t know whose moans are who’s. The sound of his skin against your ass fills the room, a sinful symphony that’d make your activities obvious to anyone that happened to walk by.

“Spencer, I’m…” your words turn into a sigh as his tip hits your sweet spot.

“I know,” he says, “me, too.”

His thrusts become disorganized as he tries to hold on until you cum. He’s determined to make you finish first.

Your legs wrap tightly against his waist as you feel your orgasm begin to overtake you. A rush of warmth comes over your whole body as your pleasure peaks. You let out an obnoxious moan, back arching as your skin flushes.

Spencer lets go when he feels the telling tightening around his cock. He shudders as he fills the condom, head thrown back as he shamelessly whimpers.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, trying to force your breathing to return to normal. He regretfully pulls out of you, burying the condom in the trash under some discarded papers. 

Moving back to where you're laying, he lightly runs hands along your legs, bringing you back to reality. Suddenly, you realize that you’re sitting in a pool of your own fluids, and you feel a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I made a mess of your desk,” you say, fighting shyness again.

“You can ruin my desk any day.” He grabs your hand and pulls you up so you’re sitting with him standing between your legs.

He runs his fingers through your hair, and you lean your head against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, concern lacing his words.

“Good. Really good.”

He hums, a hand stroking your back. 

“So you’ve heard the rumors,” you say, remembering his earlier remarks.

“Maybe.”

“I guess we gave them something to talk about.”

He chuckles. “Will you start coming to office hours again?”

“You’ve convinced me." You meet his eyes, and a plants a soft kiss on your forehead "You’re very persuasive.”

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 1

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Orgasm Denial - Han Jisung

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After watching other men flirt with you at a party, Jisung’s patience has officially run out.

————————————————————

You were torturing Han Jisung without even realizing it.

Jisung had absolutely no reason to be mad right now. He has no right being as livid as he is. But the jealousy that he feels in the deepest pit of his stomach is bubbling like boiling lava and spreading throughout his chest and into each of his limbs. 

Currently, you were leaning against the countertop of the kitchen talking to Hyunjin, a red solo cup held up to your lips, throat bobbing as you sipped your drink.

Whatever story he decided to tell you must be intensely captivating for you to give him this much of your time. 

The loud music booming through the speakers made the walls vibrate. None of the main lights in the kitchen were on, instead, LED strips lined the walls of Chan’s apartment. Currently, they were set to a deep blue.

You can talk to whoever you want, wherever you want. Jisung cannot do anything about that.

That’s the problem, you’re not his. And he doesn’t spend a single day wishing that wasn’t true.

Jisung has had his eye on you for the better part of a year now. Both of you were in a majority of the same classes; he actually met you on the first day when the only open seat in the lecture hall was next to him.

When he moved his bag away from the chair for you to sit down, you flashed the brightest smile with a ‘thank you’ and instantly he was hooked.

It all started out so innocently. His heart would race when you would walk into the room in those adorably coordinated outfits; his hands would get clammy and he would get tongue tied whenever you tried to speak to him.

After you would leave he would be able to smell your perfume like a phantom haunting his life. 

Class after class, you would talk more and more. Eventually you asked for his phone number.

“Just in case I need help with the homework.” Your eyes sparkled at him. Jisung couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket fast enough.

“Yeah! Of course, totally.” He fumbled with his words. All you did was giggle at him and the sound went straight to his heart which thudded against his rib cage.

Homework related texts slowly turned into more friendly conversation.

Jisung can still remember the first time you touched him, he could still feel your hand on his arm days afterwards. You were only trying to get his attention to look at one of your other classmates who fell asleep in a ridiculous position, but he couldn’t even focus on that.

All he knew at that moment was that your hand was on his arm, all five of your fingers were curled around his forearm.

Jisung thanked every single god in existence that he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel not even ten minutes prior to your grab. Because of this, he was able to feel just how soft your hands were, how warm your skin was.

Study sessions evolved into hangouts which then evolved to him introducing you to his friends.

You were now part of his close circle of friends. It’s so bittersweet to Jisung.

Now, he sees you almost every single day, but at the same time, so does everyone else.

Innocent thoughts about how beautiful your skin tone looks with the color yellow dissolved into much more impure fantasies.

If your hands felt that soft on his forearm, then he can’t imagine how they would feel everywhere else on his body. How the pads of your fingertips would feel sliding down his chest, over his abs and tracing down his v-line. 

The day you came to his apartment after getting your nails done the only thought on Jisung’s mind was how delicious it would feel to have those pretty little nails scratching down his back. Your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes rolling into the back of your head, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Fuck, when you say his name it’s like nothing else exists.

And now you’re talking to Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Whatever Hyunjin just said to you must’ve been especially funny to you since your head jerks forward and a choked laugh almost makes you spit out your drink.

Hyunjin laughs with you and his hand comes up to grab your upper arm.

Jisung clenches his jaw so tight the muscles in his face hurt.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He’s been standing on the other side of the semi-crowded kitchen for about ten minutes now, silently seething as you talk to another man who is so obviously flirting with you.

You are not his. You are not his. 

But, fuck, he wants you so fucking bad. He wants to know if your perfume will linger on his sheets after you’ve left his bed. Would his pillow hold onto the smell of your shampoo?

Jisung looks down at the empty cup in his hand, his imagination running wild. 

He was the one that walked with you to this party, like always. Which means he’ll also be the one to walk you home. That thought sates a tiny bit of jealousy.

But it’s really only like throwing a bucket of water into a raging wildfire.

There’s a loud yelp and Jisung’s head snaps up and looks over at you.

Someone had bumped into the back of Hyunjin, causing his cup to jolt and contents to spill all down the front of your shirt.

“Shit,” you curse, looking down at the damage. His drink was dark and your shirt was white.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Hyunjin apologizes profusely, putting his now empty cup on the counter and grabbing an absurd amount of paper towels.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “Accidents happen.”

Hyunjin starts dabbing at your shirt with the paper towels.

Jisung’s hand clenches his cup so hard the plastic crunches and the cup crushes.

“... Dude.” Minho says in a deadpan tone next to him. Has he been next to him the entire time?

Jisung can’t take his eyes off of the two of you. Does Hyunjin even realize what he’s doing? His hands are all over your stomach and chest, wiping off the drink that drips down the open collar of your shirt, dipping into the valley of your breasts.

He wouldn’t even need the paper towels. Give Jisung three minutes and he could have you clean with nothing but his tongue. Fuck, maybe even just two minutes.

One. He only needs one. Just give him one minute with you.

“Ugh, this shirt is ruined,” you frown, holding the fabric away from your skin. “I’m gunna go borrow one from Chan, be right back.”

Once more, you smile at Hyunjin who only apologizes more.

You weave your way through the crowd of people and out of the kitchen.

Jisung doesn’t even think, he slams his crushed cup down on the counter next to a startled Minho and immediately follows you. His body is acting on its own at this point, blinded by the green hue of jealousy.

He’s only about three steps behind you when you walk into Chan’s bedroom. You step further into the room and towards the closet, Jisung enters the room and closes the door behind him.

A startled yelp leaves your lips and you turn around with your hand clutching your chest.

“Jisung!” You exclaim. God, your voice does sinful things to his mind. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You giggle and look down at your ruined shirt. “Someone bumped into Hyunjin and he spilled his entire drink on my shirt. You don’t think Chan will mind if I borrow one of his shirts, right?”

Jisung doesn’t answer, he only locks the door with a solid click.

Your expression drops. “Jisung?” you ask gently. “Are you alright?” You step closer to him with a concerned pull of your eyebrows.

His pupils are blown wide and his shoulders rise and fall with each breath. He’s zeroed in your face, his chin dipping down slightly, lips parted.

Something just… snaps within him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, who knows?

Jisung takes large steps towards you at an alarming rate.

Startled, you back up quickly until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Jisung?” you ask again.

“Didn’t you want to get this off?” is all he says, grabbing two fist fulls of the bottom of your soaked shirt. The fabric is cold to the touch.

“Wh-” is all you have time to say before your shirt is yanked over your head. You gasp and your hands fly up to cover your chest.

Jisung throws the shirt onto the floor and reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists tightly. He tugs you towards his body and you stumble forward into him.

“All night you’ve been talking to him, Y/N.” he growls. Your eyes are wide in surprise. “All night. And you just stand there while he undresses you with his eyes.”

Jisung pulls your arms apart and holds them out at your sides. He takes another step forward until your chests are flush against one another.

His breathing is so deep that with each inhale you press even further into him.

Your cheeks heat up and you sputter out incoherent words, not knowing where any of this is coming from. 

“Jisung, I-”

“I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” his voice dips down an octave, it’s raspy and thick. “I can’t stand by and watch other people try to take you from me.”

He leans down quickly and stops his lips mere millimeters from yours. He can practically taste your chapstick from this distance. That damn cherry chapstick that you would put on during the colder months.

“Say you’re mine, Y/N. Please, please be mine.”

You swallow audibly, your eyes are staring down at his lips. The party outside the room sounds so far away.

“I’ve always been yours, Jisung.”

It feels like he’s shocked by a live wire the way a wave of electricity travels down his entire body at your words. And that feeling is nothing compared to how his body reacts when he finally kisses you.

Every single nerve comes alive in his body at the press of your lips on his. He can’t help but let a small whimper escape the back of his throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is really happening. 

His hands move from grasping your lips to desperately grab at your face. He can’t control his hands, one moment he’s cupping your face, the next he’s grabbing at the sides of your ribcage.

When he feels the heat of your naked skin in his hands he nearly moans out loud.

You’re so much softer than he could’ve ever imagined.

Lips desperately slide over one another. Large gasps of air in between each one. It’s filthy the way he devours your mouth.

His tongue slides out from behind his lips at the same time as yours does and they meet in the middle for a sinful dance.

Your hands wrap around his neck and one threads into his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling.

This time he does moan and it’s guttural and deep. 

His dick has been hard from the moment you said his name in this room, and with each second that passes his jeans only get tighter. 

“Mine,” he whispers in between kisses. “All mine.”

You sigh into the kiss and press your chest against his even further. 

Jisung’s hands move behind your back and begin to fumble with your bra, it comes off within seconds. You pull your arms away from him to let it fall off your body.

He tears his lips away from yours and peers down at your naked chest. He can feel precum leaking out of his cock at the sight of your tits.

“Fuck,” he grunts and his hands come up and cup both of them in greedy handfuls. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Jisung,” you whine at his touch.

“Get on the bed, baby.” he commands and you immediately fall backwards onto it.

From your seated position, you scoot backwards towards the middle and Jisung watches, palming over his painful clothed erection.

The way you’re looking up at him from the bed does nothing to help easy the aching in his pants. You bat your eyelashes at him and his knees almost give out.

Jisung yanks his shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor mindlessly. He crawls over you and captures your lips with his again.

Your moans of pleasure are music to his ears. 

One of his hands slides up your body to grab at your chest again, he palms your one tit for a moment before pulling the nipple between his fingers. 

Your back arches upwards into his touch and you moan into his mouth. The heat from your naked body is radiating onto him. 

“Jisung,” you mewl against his mouth, “Jisung please.”

“Please, what?” he presses into you.

You answer by rolling your hips up against his. The delicious pressure against his aching cock causes him to buck downwards.

Both of you moan together at the feeling. He doesn’t care if it’s pathetic, you’re making his body sing with even the smallest of touches; playing him like an instrument.

“Touch me, Jisung, please.”

He’s died, surely he’s died and gone to Heaven.

Those words rip right through him. You’re begging him to touch you?

“Shit,” he rasps against your lips. His hips roll against yours again. He’ll touch you every single moment of every day for the rest of your lives if you’ll let him.

His hand slides down and undoes the button of your jeans as fast as possible. His fingers wont work fast enough for how fucking bad he wants to fulfill your request. 

As soon as the button is undone, he’s yanking your jeans and panties down your legs and launching them across the room. 

Jisung props himself on his elbow next to your head and looks down at your face. Your cheeks are flushed red and eyes half-lidded. Your hair fans like a halo around your head.

Your lips are completely swollen and red, their soaking wet from the spit swapped between the two of you. Deep pants are coming out in large breaths.

“You want me to touch you, baby?” Jisung purrs down to you. You gulp and nod your head quickly.

“Please,” you utter.

He smirks at your begging. 

Slowly he drags his fingers down your stomach with a featherlight touch. His eyes follow his own hand. Your stomach muscles jump at his caress. 

You’re an absolute angel underneath him.

He can’t stop staring at your body. Months and months he’s pined to know what you look like underneath those clothes. The first time you wore a matching yoga set to class Jisung nearly came in his pants.

The way it hugged every single curve on your body. 

And now seeing you uncovered before his very eyes feels unreal. Like any moment he’ll wake up from a dream.

His mouth dips down and captures your kiss-swollen lips once more, his hand splayed out on your lower stomach.

Lower and lower he trails his wet, open mouth kisses down your skin. The lower he gets, he can taste the drink that Hyunjin spilled on you. 

Rum and coke. 

The rum is so sticky sweet on your skin and it makes his head whirl. His fingers curl and he scratches down your stomach causing you to throw your head back in a moan.

“Jisung…” your hips roll off the bed again but he pushes them back down with his hand.

“No, no,” he growls against your skin, leaning down and licking between the valley of your breasts. “I’ve waited too long for this. You’re going to be patient and take whatever I give you.”

A sharp inhale is the only response he hears before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pebbled bud.

Your hand comes up and you grab a fistful of his hair again.

Quiet cries of pleasure spill from your lips with every lick and nip of his teeth. 

Eventually his hand moves further down and he runs his fingers softly through your folds.

“Fucking shit you’re so wet,” he purrs against your chest.

“Want you so bad, Ji…” you sound so fucked out already and he’s barely touched you. It makes him keen and moan against your skin.

His fingers glide up and down your slit. If it wasn’t for the loud music right outside the room, he’s sure the noises coming from his touch would be sinful.

Jisung easily glides a finger into your opening and your head kicks back and is thrown against the pillow. A long moan comes from deep within your throat.

He slides another finger in and his thumb rubs against your clit slowly. Pleasure rips through your veins and shoots shockwaves down your legs.

The alcohol in your blood only makes everything feel even better. 

Every single sound of pleasure that comes out of your mouth only encourages him further. Jisung feels like he’s drowning in ecstasy just by listening to you.

The hand in his hair tightens and you yank his head up to meet your lips in a searing kiss. It’s sloppy and messy. Tongues sliding over one another, heavy exhales leaving both of your mouths.

When Jisung curls his fingers inside you, you cry out against his lips and your eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

“That’s right, baby. Focus on how good I’m making you feel.”

“Ji… Ji…” you pant his nickname over and over in between exhales, pulling his hair tightly and making him feel insane.

The speed at which his fingers move increases and his thumb presses even harder against your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… I’m close…”

“You are?” he asks under his breath, faster and faster he moves.

The pressure in your abdomen builds and builds.

“Who’s making you feel like this, baby?”

You can’t answer him, you’re too busy squirming around the bed, your hips can’t keep still.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

He can feel your walls clamping on his fingers tighter and tighter as you hurl towards the edge. But still, you don’t answer.

So, he stops.

His finger still within you and an absolutely desperate wail leaves your lips.

“Fuck!” you cry, “Please!”

Jisung shifts his weight on his elbow and uses that hand to grab a hold of your hair in a steel like grip. 

“Girls who don’t listen don’t get to cum.” he growls in your ear. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Slowly, he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your soaking wet cunt. Your hips roll against his fingers, meeting each thrust.

Too slow, he’s moving too slow. You whine and squirm even more underneath him.

His thumb is rubbing figure eights on your clit, pleasure coursing through your veins like a drug. Closer and closer he brings you to the edge again.

With each passing second, he picks up his speed even more, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot within you each time he thrusts in.

Your juices cover his entire hand, soaking the sheets underneath you both.

Every single wet dream he’s ever had is coming to life right before his very eyes.

“Who is making you feel this good?” Jisung’s voice is dark and low, it rumbles within his chest. Your eyes are clamped shut, mouth hanging open.

Tighter and tighter your walls clamp down.

“Y/N!” 

“You! Fuck!”

Jisung stops completely again. He yanks your hair as you cry out in frustration.

“Not good enough, Y/N!” he barks.

“Please please please!”

Your hips roll against his fingers to try and relieve that terrible ache in your cunt.

He leans down and bites down where your neck meets your shoulder– hard. An even louder whine leaves your lips. He can feel you clench around him from the feeling.

“We’re going to try this one last time, Y/N.” he hums against your rum coated skin. “And you’re going to be a good girl for me, okay?”

All you’re able to do is nod, your head is in the clouds.

He doesn’t start slow this time, his pace is immediately brutal. Your eyes fly open and he leans up to look down into your eyes.

Your pupils are completely blown out, eyes hazy in pleasure. A deep scarlet color covers your cheeks.

He hits your g-spot roughly with one particularly hard thrust at the same time his thumb presses your clit and your eyes roll back, chin tipping back.

“No,” he barks and yanks your head back, “Look at me.”

It takes so much strength to keep your gaze on him. Moan after moan tumbles from your swollen lips. 

“Close… close… please, please!” you cry.

“Who. Is. Making. You. Feel. Like. This?” he emphasizes each word with a thrust into your soaking wet walls.

He needs you to remember he’s touching you, him. Not Hyunjin, no one else. .

“You! Jisung! Han Jisung!”

“Louder!”

“Han Jisung! Fuck!”

Finally, he lets you fall over the edge and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight Jisung thinks he might cum in his own pants.

Your moans and cries of his name will be tattooed in his mind forever.

With hips bucking uncontrollably, he lets you ride out your absolutely mind-blowing orgasm. Deep hums emanate from your chest as you come down from that delicious peak.

“Fuck, baby,” he purrs into your ear, running his tongue up the side. “Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again, but this time you’ll be cumming on my cock.”

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

 The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

  I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

  “Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

  “Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

  “Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

  “Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

  “You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

  “That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

  “Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

  “You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

  Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

  “It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out. 

****

  Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

  “Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door. 

  “You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

  My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

  “Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

  I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

  Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

 “I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

  “Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end. 

  “Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

  “Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

  “Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds. 

****

 A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

  “I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.” 

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

  “Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

  “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth. 

  “Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

  “Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

  “Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

  “We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?” Dean asks.

  “He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask.   “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically.   “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

  “They have it,” John announces.

  “‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

  “If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

  “The gun–why?” Sam pushes.   “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons. 

  “They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful.   “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

  “You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

  “You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

  “Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

  I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is. 

  “You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.”   “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers. 

  “Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

  “The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

  “Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

  “Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

  “Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips. 

  My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

  I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement. 

  “What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

  “How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him. 

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

 The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly. 

  “Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you. 

  “Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds.   “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad. 

  “It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed. 

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

  “We are,” John answers vaguely.

  “How do you know?” 

  John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.” 

  Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

  “It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.” 

  “Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.” 

  I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

  “What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

  The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

  “I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

  “It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow.   “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

  “What?”

  Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out. 

  “Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

  “Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

  “It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing. 

  “Oh God,” Dean mumbles. 

  “He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

  Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

  “He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons.   “What reason?” Sam pushes.

  “Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”   “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?” 

  A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

 We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

  “Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

  “Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

  “How?” 

  “I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

  Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

  “What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

  “We need to talk.”

  John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

  “About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

  “Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

  “You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds.   “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!”   “Get back in the car.”   “No.”   “I said get back in the damn car.”   “Yeah. And I said no.”

  “Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.”  “What’d you say?”

  Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

  “Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “You walked away!” John yells in his face.

  “Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps.   “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

  Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!”   They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

  With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

  “Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

  “So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

  “Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked. 

  Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

  “So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks.   “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

  It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

  Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

  “Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

  “Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

  I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

  “You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

  “Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

  “Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

  “Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn. 

  I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions. 

  I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor. 

  Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

  I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

  I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

  By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

  “Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it. 

  The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die. 

  “They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath.   “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

  I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

  “No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

  “Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

  “You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

  “No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.” 

  “You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

  “Dean—”

  “Not on my watch.”   “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away. 

  “Not happening.”

  “Don’t you want that gun?”

  He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

  “I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

  “I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue.   His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

  The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

 “We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

  After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

  Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

  I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly. 

  Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.” 

  And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

  Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth. 

  She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

  “Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

  Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

  I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

  The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

  Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

  “That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face. 

  “‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

  “Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

  “Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

  “Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

  “She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.”   “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers.   “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

  “But…”

  “Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

  “I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

  “That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

  “And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

  “I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

  “‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

  “But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like children,” Sam answers firmly.   “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away.   “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him.   “Excuse me?”

  I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”   “It's not the same thing, Dean.”   “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”   “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.”   “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

  “Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

  I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives.   “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

  Sam nods.

  “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit.  “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

  We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

  We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

  Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

  Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter. 

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

  I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

  “You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers.   “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

  “You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods.   “I am?”

  “It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.”   “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

  “And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @ugvvguggvvgu @yasmin12312 @squishytap

[captainheartcollector]

Doubts

Alastor x Reader

A/N: Hello, everyone! Here is my first (and probably only since I’m not really a writer) attempt at an Alastor x Reader. I don’t know why, but I got inspired to write a scenario involving the day after having relations with Alastor the very first time. It doesn’t go into detail. Being on the ace spectrum myself, maybe this was just my way of coping with things. This was very self-indulgent. Story is all from Reader’s POV, whom I kept gender neutral. I’m sorry if Alastor is super ooc. I don’t have any clue on how to capture his personality. But I hope that you can enjoy the story nonetheless!

CW: suggestive themes, excessive use of pet names

Word Count: 1,144

Last night was the first time Alastor and you made love. Why he decided to be so generous, you couldn’t say. But you weren’t going to complain. When you awoke the following morning, you awoke to an empty bed. His spot beside you was cold. He had undoubtedly been up hours before you were. Realization set in. Did last night really happen? Was it a dream? No. The evidence riddled all over your aching body proved it. You eventually found the strength to sit up. Was he upset with you? Did he regret his decision to go all the way? Is that the reason he didn’t stay? You hadn’t pressured him, but you were the one who really wanted it after all.

Brushing those dangerous trepidations aside, you washed up and got ready for the day as usual. It was your day off, so you took things easy. However, you couldn’t help but notice that Alastor was nowhere to be seen within the hotel. Was he avoiding you? Surely, he was out on business, attending to his duties as an Overlord or brainstorming ideas for his next radio broadcast. Maybe he was just taking one of his daily strolls, chatting with Miss Rosie. Would he tell her?

Sure, Alastor was a schemer, but at this point, it felt far too late to start doubting him now. So, you tried your best to push those feelings away and keep yourself preoccupied, aiding as much as you could with the daily tasks around the hotel.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was hours before he finally returned. You glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight. He sauntered through the front doors like all was right with the world. Once he detected your presence, he ambled across the lobby over to you smoothly. “Good evening, (y/n),” he chirped melodically with a flourish and a gleam in his eye. “I trust that you’ve caught up on your beauty sleep?” He sounded as pleasant as ever. So, you were clearly on speaking terms. Maybe that meant he wasn’t angry, or…

Despite your reservations, you couldn’t contain the eager smile creeping its way onto your face as you admired him. “Sure did,” you answered casually. “How was your outing today?”

“Frightfully illuminating, I must say. Thanks for asking!”

He acted like he was in a good mood. Therefore, you weren't going to sour it by prying further on the matter—especially when you could discern that he didn’t want you to. However, you needed to know the answers to the questions plaguing your mind. “Alastor,” you murmured, “do you think that we could talk…privately?” The last word was a whisper.

“Certainly, sweetheart.” That was easy. “Meet me in the library in ten.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

And that’s where the two of you were now—in a secluded, quiet corner of the library. You made sure no one else was around beforehand. Though why would there be at this hour. He sat next to you on the plush camelback sofa. You stared down at your hands which were fidgeting in your lap nervously as you spoke. “Alastor…you’re not upset with me, are you?”

He studied you silently for a moment before responding. You could never tell what was running through that demented head of his. Suddenly, he chimed, “Not at all, dearest. What reason would there be for that?”

Did he really not get it? Was he just pretending to be oblivious? Or was he truly unbothered by what happened?

“You know…Last night. You’re not mad?”

You felt his slender, clawed fingers cup your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. His smile was genuine and warm.

“Of course not, darling. It was consensual, was it not?”

“Yes, but I would never want you to do those things if they make you uncomfortable…or, if you just plain don’t want to.”

“I did want to. I wanted to because I knew you wanted to.”

What? That was so uncharacteristically thoughtful to hear him say. His thumb caressed your cheek in reassurance while his lidded gaze never faltered. It felt as though he was completely unperturbed.

“Wow…That’s so sweet of you, Alastor.” So sweet, you almost didn’t know how to process it. “But,” you interjected, “I want you to be able to enjoy it, too. Otherwise, I can’t—”

One of his fingers grazed over your lips, effectively shushing you.

He let out a low hum as if in brief contemplation before continuing. “I did enjoy it… More than I thought possible,” he admitted, seemingly in spite of himself.

You couldn’t fight back the hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So…you don’t regret it?”

“Au contraire,” he beamed as he leaned in closer, mischief glinting in those gorgeous crimson eyes of his. “One could easily grow accustomed to seeing all those pretty faces you make while chanting my name more often.”

Immediately, an intense heat began to scald your cheeks as you hid your face in embarrassment, swatting him away playfully. “Don’t tease me!”

He chuckled heartily at your expense. “No sense in acting shy now, darling!”

“Ah, Alastor, stooop!”

His laughter continued briefly before he wiped a gleeful tear from his eye and conceded, “Very well.”

As soon as the silly little incident died down, you mustered the confidence to behold his eyes once more. He appeared absolutely pleased with himself. And yet again, you couldn’t help but return his contagious, everlasting smile. He was so beautiful—beyond just his face or form. You knew he was a menace, but there were beautiful aspects to his personality, too. Well, when he wanted there to be. Being able to make you smile—sincerely smile—was just one of them.

“Y’know,” you said finally, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “I’m glad.”

Alastor’s toothy grin somehow grew even wider as he leaned down close to you like he had before. His hand crept along the back of your neck affectionately as he placed a tender kiss gently upon your forehead. Even after he carefully pulled away, his deft fingers continued to brush lightly through your hair and along your scalp. You could have melted right there and then.

“That’s wonderful news, (y/n.) Let’s try and keep it that way, shall we?”

You nodded in agreement as you happily slid into his arms, wrapping your own around his lithe frame, never taking for granted how freely and frequently he allowed you to touch him during these soft and confidential moments. “I love you,” you sighed contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

However, it was his unexpected reply that left you feeling giddy for the rest of the night.

“I know, my dear. I am…quite fond of you, too.”

And that was enough for you.

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

The Hunt

Shouma Toriashi X Reader ( Chapter 2 )

word count :1553 TW: strong language Summary: life as we know it can change in an instant, and so do feelings and the people you meet.

A/N: thank you to the person who uploaded this gif,

MASTERLIST

chapter 3

On our walk back to Yoshino’s place of living as always we pass by all the convenience stores and small ramen shops. 

“Hey I’m hungry, want to grab something to go?” I shout at the two in front of me. Both of them turn and nod their heads in unison. 

I walk into the shop and we’re greeted with hellos and smiles. I walk up to the register to order and ask for 3 ramen house specials with extra noodles and hot sauce for shouma and mild with an extra egg for Yoshino. 

“I’ll pay” Yoshino offers but shouma is quick to grab her hand that’s reading through her bag for her wallet. 

“ No, I'll pay.” Shouma announces, as he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. But they’re too busy with one another to realize I had already slipped the money in between the menu when I handed it back to the person at checkout. 

“ you’re fighting over nothing, it’s paid.” I sigh while walking to one of the chairs against the entrance wall to wait for the order. 

“ Y/N why would you do that! We could have paid.” Yoshino complains as she walks to the seat next to me. 

“ Where do you even get this money, you don’t even work.” Shouma speaks up. 

“ I have my ways.” I responded bluntly. 

“ what, by being one of those hostesses.” Shouma scoffs. 

“SHOUMA APOLOGIZE.” Yoshino yells at shouma while getting up to hit his head. 

“ why? Are you interested Shouma, I go for a large sum.” 

Yoshino gasps at my response and tells me not to entertain this stupid conversation. I agree with her but annoying Shouma at times is what I enjoy the most. It’s not long after where our order is ready and Shouma walks to grab the take out for us and we’re on our way back. The walk back is not long and before we know it we are at the Somei residence. 

The ramen was to die for hitting the spot. We gather all of the trash and throw it away to begin our study session. And as always Shouma and Yoshino are side by side. I always wondered if they were together and just never told me.. the dynamic in which they act could be viewed as a sibling bond.. but I know siblings and I don’t act that way with mine. Granted they are not related by blood but Yoshino always says he’s family. But there are times where Shoums doesn’t act very family towards her. 

“ alright I’m going to change out of this uniform and shower, Y/N you can join me if you want.” Yoshino stands up grabbing her extra pairs of clothing. 

“ I’m alright Yoshino. I showered at school, but could I borrow a hoodie or shorts? I want to get out of this uniform too.” 

“ oh yeah just grab what you need.” With that Yoshino is out of the room and it’s just Shouma and I. 

“ turn around or leave. I need to change.” I tell Shouma but all he does is lay on the floor with his eyes closed. 

“ No”

“ just turn around”

“ My eyes are closed I’m not interested.”

“ you idiot, I don't care, just TURN AROUND!” 

“ whatever.” 

And with that he turns around, I turn away from him as well and I  begin removing the skirt and putting on Yoshino’s sweatpants. Just as I’m removing my top, Shouma speaks up. 

“ I didn’t realize you had tattoos, cherry blossoms?” 

“ SHOUMA!” I yell turning to look at him completely forgetting that I didn’t have my top on yet. And all that it took for me to realize that was shouma’s silence and his harsh gaze on my chest. 

I quickly turn away and  throw on the hoodie I had grabbed, oh my gosh.. There's no way this is happening.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear Shouma’s voice right behind me.

“ So when did you get those flowers?”

Without a second thought and even realizing what I was doing I was turning around and my hand was going towards his face in full speed. 

*SMACK* 

I had slapped Shouma across his face, where my hand print left his cheek red. But his cheek wasn’t the only thing turning red, but my cheeks were too. I quickly attempt to get up and away from him but he’s quick to grab my wrist and pull me back down. With that I lose my balance and trip over him, where now he’s laying and I’m on top of him. 

“ let go of me!”

“ answer my question.” 

“ I don’t have to answer anything, let go Shouma!”

“ No, answer me, when did you get them and why?” Shouma instists while tightening his grip around my wrist. 

“ The Same reason you have your tattoos now let me go!” 

“Hey what’s going on i—“ Yoshino walks back into the room and a shocked look on her face as she faces both Shouma and i on the floor. 

Without a second thought i just knee Shouma down below and pull my wrist away. Shouma grunts in pain and grabs his lower parts as he huffs in pain. 

“He was being an ass, don't worry about it.” I tell Yoshino as I go back to grab my unfolded clothing from the floor. 

“Oh what did he do?” Yoshino questions.

“ I told him to look away and close his eye while I changed but he turned around and was looking at me change.”

“ SHOUMA WHAT THE HELL!” Yoshino now begins shouting and walks to where Shouma lays. And I watch her kick him on his side, not hard enough to hurt him but hard enough. “ don’t you ever pull something like that again you hear me.”

“ tsk , yes.”  Shouma grumbles from the ground as he tries to re-gather himself. 

“ Don't tsk me!” Yoshino shouts. 

“ What is going on here,what did Shouma do? I’ve been hearing a bunch of noise and Shouma’s name being called.” Hotei comes into the room with a stoic face as always. 

“ nothing it was just He was to-“ Yoshino begins speaking but I’m quick to cut her off. It’s one thing that I do something about it, but it’s another when Hotei will do something about it. 

“ nothing I had told him to mind his business at school about my gym attire but he was being annoying and I lost my temper. And tried to hit him and he stopped me, that was why you heard a bunch of noise.”

“ is that so, are you sure that’s what happened” Hotei asks again, this time looking at me instead with his intense stare. 

“ yeah why would I lie. I just admitted at attempting to  assault him.” 

“ attempted? If you attempted then why is his cheek red and he’s holding his , excuse me for my language but holding his balls.” He Questions further. 

“ Because if I truly attempted to assault him he’d have a bloody nose. But here we are, that’s why I say attempted.”  I stand up walking to my bag , trying to act nonchalantly and move on from this conversation.

With grim expression, he nods lightly and walks back out of the room and closes the door behind him. 

“ Y/N , wh-“ 

I turn quickly to signal to her to shut her mouth, because I can still feel Hotei presence behind the door. 

“ Hey Yoshino, I have you figured out what you’ll do when Shouma and I graduate?”

“ Huh, um no I haven’t… I guess you do both graduate this year.”  

“ better not get in trouble, you won’t have me or Shouma to save you.” I joke with her. 

“ I will never understand why you’re so different at school than you are in private! You act all timid and quiet with everyone at school but will fight Shouma and try to push Hotei’s buttons.” 

“ Because I don’t know those people, why would I let them have an ounce of an idea about who I am?”

 I question her. 

Yoshino has always been easy to read. She literally wears her expressions on her face, and granted since she’s been sheltered so much, she doesn’t question people much. But she should, just because the people of Osaka are nice it doesn't mean the world will treat you kindly. With that We study all together a little more until it’s late into the night.

“ Alright I’ll be heading out, I’ll wash these and give them back Yoshino, Sleep well.” I get up and gather my stuff to head back home. 

“ Are you sure you’ll be okay walking this late? I can ask someone to walk you back.” Yoshino stands up to give me a hug and checks if I’m really okay with going alone. 

“ Yeah don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay.”

“ I’ll walk you, I’ll take a smoke while I walk you.” Shouma stands and grabs his jacket.

“ it’s okay you don’t have to walk me, just have your smoke outside.”  I reassure shouma but he’s already at the bedroom door holding it open. With a sigh I just go along and don’t push it any more. 

As we walk down stairs I notice Yoahino’s grandfather from the office where the door is slightly cracked open. Just as I was about to look away, I lock eyes with Somei Renji..

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind Part 4

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI - kissing, smut, vaginal fingering, body worship, praise

Story Warnings: reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, cursing, substance use mention

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

A/N: If I forgot to tag something, please let me know! I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy. Please consider reblogging if you like it! Thank you for reading!

Series Masterlist

Final Day

The moment Eddie can finally look at you will be less than ideal. Both of you, hooked up to whatever weird machine while technicians monitor your brain waves or whatever- Eddie really wasn’t paying attention at all to what they were telling him. He couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried as they were explaining the next segment. Once they recorded the initial reactions, you all were free to go. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control himself. 

He’s sitting in an exam room, with a window looking into another. It seems as though they’ll bring you into the opposite room and he’s feeling slightly deflated that he won’t be able to talk to you right away. 

He’s sitting with his legs partially spread apart, resting back on his hands on the exam bed.  He’s letting them attach some small patch to the side of his forehead. He's tapping his foot anxiously, and he’s trying his hardest to play it cool and he’s positive he’s failing miserably. 

He overthought everything trying to make it back to the lab on time this morning. He couldn’t decide on clothes or his hair or literally anything, down to the way he was going to sit when you walked in. He settled on his usual, it’s not like he had dress clothes anyways. He’s staring intently at the empty exam room across from him, absolutely dying that you aren’t there. He watches as the door opens. Several lab assistants carry in equipment and one pulls the curtain shut. Eddie doesn’t realize he yelled until he sees the assistants in the room stare at him with wide eyes. He quickly apologizes and runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves. 

You feel chills run down your body as they work on getting you set up to the machinery. You keep anxiously staring at the pulled curtain, and you can hardly think straight knowing Eddie is on the other side. It’s no different, you try to tell yourself to calm your nerves. It’s you in one room, Eddie in the other, just like it’s been all week. Except now, you can look, but can’t talk. You feel your palms sweat and you do your best to just take deep breaths to try to calm down how fast your heart is beating. 

“So, when we’re ready for observation, we’ll pull the curtain. We’ll be monitoring your brain activity for a minute or so, then we’ll send you on your way,” a woman explains to you, and you nod, understandingly. You sit up straighter, and roll your shoulders back. You can’t let yourself allow any insecurity to seep in and ruin this moment. You try to focus your mind solely on how excited you are to see Eddie. And how in less than a few minutes, you’ll actually be standing in his proximity. 

Eddie is practically jumping out of his skin in anticipation. His mouth feels dry and he feels like his entire body is overheating from the stark white lights of the exam room. He taps his fingers on his lap, focusing on a loose thread on the tear of his jeans, when they tell him they’re ready to begin. Nothing can truly put into words how he felt when they began to pull the curtain back. 

His breath hitches when he finally is able to look at you. First, he finds your eyes and he can’t stop smiling. He winks at you playfully from the other room and you feel like your body is on fire. He greedily lets his eyes look you up and down, and you see him mouth “Ho-ly shit.” Emphasizing the syllables so you can understand. 

He can’t stop staring, desperate to take in all of the details of you like he’s making up for lost time. He was feeling overwhelmed. He bites his lip, raking his eyes over every part of you. He looks completely pained, like he’s being restrained. You can’t help but notice he looks tortured, as his eyes look into yours with such extreme desperation. He feels like he might spontaneously combust if he needs to wait one more minute to touch you. 

You’re beyond anything he could’ve imagined. He’s practically drooling, staring at you like a lovesick fool. Fuck anyone, he thinks, who made you think you were anything less the fucking sexiest woman alive. 

You’re rendered speechless as you take him in. His hair, his tattoos, the rings… Fuck, he’s so gorgeous. He feels like he might spontaneously combust if he needs to wait one more minute to touch you. You eyes can’t focus, so motivated to just memorize every detail you can commit to memory- like somehow he’s going to be back behind the wall again.   

Eddie couldn’t control himself. You saw the way his eyes raked over you and it made you feel warm from a giddy nervousness. He let himself admire every single inch of you that he could see. He felt like it was the shortest couple of minutes he’s ever been subject to, and as the techs finished up,  he’s practically jumping out of his seat with the equipment partially detached. 

You feel like your heart might beat out of your chest as you practically feel the pulse throughout your whole body. You’re so intensely staring, taking in the sight of him. He’s absolutely beautiful- and you're wondering to yourself how the hell a guy as good looking as him ended up here. You’re also fidgety as they work to take the equipment away, but are doing better composing yourself than Eddie. You can’t help but find it endearing as he tries to hurriedly untangle himself from the wires, frantically trying to get to you. 

The technicians lead you out separately, both of you exiting from the separate doors you’ve left from during the whole experiment. The back door slams behind you as you make your final exit, and you begin to walk around the parking lot to see where he is. Eddie, leaving from the opposite side of the building, had the same idea to wander- meaning you both are aimlessly searching for one another not realizing you're both moving away from each other. 

There’s this van you stumble across and it perfectly matches the way Eddie described it. The decorations you could see through the windshield solidified in your mind that it was Eddie’s. You feel a little stupid, smiling at the rundown van. It’s just such a surreal feeling being in the vicinity of it- seeing that it’s real. You don’t know how to describe it. You lean up against the side door, patiently waiting for him to return. 

As Eddie turns the corner, he thinks he might pass out at the sight of you waiting for him against the van. His breath hitches at the sight of you, unfiltered, leaning up against his van because you already know him well enough to pick it out from the parking lot. It feels so surreal, and he feels like he’s in one of those cheesy rom coms but he finally gets it. 

“Hey stranger,” he calls out, walking over to you with a big grin. You can’t help but match his big smile when you see him. You feel warmth and butterflies spread throughout your whole body and then hit you all at once as he strides over confidently. 

You begin to open your mouth to reply with some witty response, but before you can register it, his hands are cupping both sides of your jaw and he kisses you. It’s tender and it’s the kind of kiss that you can feel yourself melting into. It felt like everything he’s told you this past week translated into action. It’s passionate, but he’s surprisingly gentle. He pulls away, still holding your face as his eyes observe your every feature.

“I’ve wanted to do that since Monday,” he sighs, and you nod in agreement.

“Me too.” 

“God, look at you,” he observes, taking one step back and moving to hold your hands. “You’re fucking stunning,” he affirms, pulling you back towards him so he can wrap his arms around you for another kiss. 

“Shit, I don’t even know what to do with myself,” he chuckles when you need to pull away for air. He rests his forehead to yours as you both take a breath. “Fuck me, how did I get this lucky?”

“You?” You exclaim with a giggle, “I mean, shit, Eddie, look at you.” 

He blushes, and it’s probably the best thing you’ve seen. This metal head adorned with rings, chains, tattoos is red in the face because of you. You haven’t been just overwhelmed with affection like this, and it’s entirely intoxicating. Your head is spinning as you take in how he looks at you. You can’t help but shiver when you feel his hands rest on your sides and he rubs absentmindedly the skin just above the waist of your pants under the hem of your shirt. 

He’s kissing you again and the sensation of it all is almost too much. He’s so giving. His body presses your back against the side of the van and his tall body slots against yours and for some reason you’ve never felt more safe. You don’t hear anything else but his soft breaths and moans, and you can’t smell more than his cologne and shampoo and all of your senses are working overtime to just take it all in. You’re filling in the missing pieces of him that have so far been kept away. 

Neither one of you wanted to let the moment end, because you both understand how it might be strange navigating life, and what it means for the two of you, after the experiment. Is there a label for what this is? The intimacy you both feel has far surpassed the perimeters of normal dating and it feels like you're past that stage, but at the same time, you haven’t even shared physical space. You don’t know what his world looks like, and how you would fit into it. It was so easy when it was just the two of you, but what is this going to look like now? 

You decide to let those thoughts subside, and focus instead on this absolutely gorgeous guy who’s obsessed with you and touching you. You let yourself focus on the feeling of the pads of his fingertips as they ignite your skin, not caring enough about the “problem areas” you usually fixate on. You allow yourself to completely surrender to his touches. 

“Should we move this somewhere else maybe?” you ask, breathlessly- pulling away reluctantly. He kisses your shoulder, giving you goosebumps. You can feel his smile, warm against your skin. “You’re so soft,” he marvels, seemingly not hearing your suggestion. 

“Should we go somewhere?” you giggle, and he kisses your cheek. He nods in agreement. He grabs your hand and walks you over to the passenger door. He opens it for you, and helps you as you step up into it. You don’t say anything, but you smile to yourself- it was the first time a guy held the door for you in a long time. 

“Okay so I have no idea what the fuck to do,” he exclaims, cracking his knuckles as he sits in the driver’s seat. He laughs at the absurdness of the situation. He feels jumpy, overwhelmed in the best way possible. “I haven’t done this before,” he jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“I mean, we can go to my apartment?” you offer as he starts the engine, and you’re both immediately met with blaring music as the van turns on. It makes you jump a little. His cheeks are flushed, turning down the volume, he apologizes. You wave your hand nonchalantly and tell him not to worry about it.

It takes a little strength to get the van moving, and you admire the way his arms flex. It’s the way he doesn’t even realize how attractive he is that astounds you the most. Once both of you are on the road and the windows are down, you’re just witnessing the beautiful sight of him- long hair getting tousled from the breeze, his profile as he nods along to the song playing, his long fingers tapping on the steering wheel- it’s enough to make you breathless. 

The third floor apartment isn’t much, but Eddie is just basking in being in a space that just feels like he’s surrounded by you. It’s a little window into your mind, and he’s like a little kid as he moves around, touching everything. Your photographs, records, little trinkets, books… he zones out taking it all in and he can’t look through it all fast enough. You’re just so happy you decided to tidy up. 

“If you think the stuff in here is cool, you should see in here,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. Eddie thinks he might pass out when his eyes land on how your curve is accentuated by your stance. You don’t even realize it’s happening. He strides over to you and simultaneously hooks an arm around your waist and kisses you in a way that makes you dizzy. You're falling over each other, lips locked in a deep kiss as you both stumble to your bed. 

Eddie pulls you into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s trailing kisses down your jaw and down your neck, as his hands rest on your hips and he tugs you down fully when he feels you try to hover. Your skirt bunches up your thighs and when you’ve fully settled onto his lap, he can feel your warmth and he moans at the contact. The heat in your body rushes to your core at the roughness of his jeans through your panties. 

“You’re so sexy,” he mumbles against your shoulder in between kisses. He’s savoring the feeling of your thighs pressed against his and the feeling of the wetness as you press against him. He presses his lips to yours again, running his hands under the back of your top to pull it off. As you untangle yourself from the shirt and toss it aside, he does the same with his. After he’s thrown his shirt with yours, his mouth falls open slightly at the sight of you. You observe as his pupils dilate and he takes in a deep breath to calm his heart. 

You take in the sight of the tattoos his shirt covered and you bite your lip as you smile at the sight. He looks like a wreck in the best way. His chest rising and falling rapidly, the flex of his arms, the messy hair- everything about how he looks is just so undeniably attractive. You feel so vulnerable under his intense gaze but in a way that makes you feel desirable. You stand up to wiggle out of your skirt, and you swear his eyes were going to fall out of his pretty head. He’s immediately following your lead- frantically kicking off his jeans. 

“Get back over here,” he groans, looking you up and down. He grabs your hands, pulling you back into him. He falls back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. You’re seated on his bulge that straining against his boxers, and you gasp as he rolls his hips up into yours. You lean down and kiss him, soft moans escaping your lips against his mouth. His hands find their way back to your waist and you gasp as he flips you over onto your back with ease. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he says, “so fucking pretty.” 

He ducks down and kisses you, and your hands tangle in his hair. You tug gently, and he moans at the sensation. His fingers tease the skin just above the waist of your panties before he pulls them to the side. His fingertips gently tease your clit and he bites his lip at your reaction. He can see himself easily becoming addicted to hearing the sweet little sounds you make for him, and just watching how beautiful you look like this. 

“Oh, Eddie…” you moan softly at the sensation.

“I’ve hardly touched you pretty girl,” he says, pressing kisses down your chest and torso as he continues to tease you. You involuntarily move your hips, searching for more of the feeling. He smiles up at you in response before he slowly pulls your panties down. 

Rubbing your leg affectionately, the coolness of his rings makes you shiver. He’s kissing and nipping at the skin of your inner thighs. His mess of curls is a little ticklish but nothing you don’t adore the feeling of. 

He touches you like it’s second nature. It’s like he instinctively knew the perfect places to elicit the filthiest of moans from you. His fingers curl into you knowingly, and you swear no other man has been able to make you feel like this. Previous partners treated this like a chore to rush through, but Eddie’s so content taking his time and observing the way he can make you fall apart at his touch. He’s motivated to make you forget about every asshole who made you think for even a second you deserved less than this. 

 You begin to feel that familiar sensation building up inside of you. You chest rapidly rising and falling, looking down to see Eddie- this fucking beautiful man - between your legs, glistening with sweat as his hair sticks to his forehead, tongue poking out from his lips in concentration. He looks absolutely wrecked and it’s the sexiest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 

“I’m- I’m c-close,” you manage to say between panting breaths. He smirks, and continues his pace of working his fingers in and out of you. He rests your thigh over his shoulder to press kisses of encouragement against your skin, as he mumbles just how badly he needs to see you cum. Every sense becomes too much all at once, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you feel your orgasm crash over you. Your head falls back against the pillows, and your body feels limp. 

“Ready to go again, princess?”

Taglist:

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time @mewchiili @muamazon4 @1975lily @sadbitchfangirl @strangerthings36 @fanficfanatic000 @sosawmeinhalf @animechick555 @hellv1ra

[beenbaanbuun]

stress w/ jongho

words - maybe the word count is the friends we made along the way…

genre - fluff, smut

warnings - p in v, cumming inside, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, kind of dumbification but without the degrading, reader is just stressed and doesn’t want to think anymore, jongho is a cutie patootie as usual

you’re stressed

everything is piling up to the point where if you finish one thing, two more get added, and then something else for good luck

it’s no fun, having to spend all this time practically chained to your desk instead of with your boyfriend, but you tell yourself it’ll get better soon

except soon doesn’t come as soon as you’d like, and your work keeps piling up and how long has it been since you last slept? last ate?? last thought about anything that wasn’t work related???

you’re barrelling your way towards a burnout, and yet there’s nothing you can do about it except push through

but god, you wish you could just take a break…

it’s the end of the week when jongho finally decided enough is enough and shows up at your apartment

he practically breaks the door down with how hard he’s knocking, but he hasn’t heard from you in a couple of days

and yeah, he knows you’re working and he isn’t your number one priority right now, but let him be clingy in peace, dammit…

he’s missed you!

and it shows when you swing open the door and immediately get a pair of arms slung tightly around you, and a face pressed tight into your neck

he kisses at the sensitive skin a few times and you can’t help but giggle as he uses to strength to lift you up into his arms

the door gets kicked shut behind him, and before you know it, the two of you are tangled up on the couch

“jongho,” you smile as he nuzzles your neck, “i’ve missed you.”

he pulls away briefly to look you in the eyes

“maybe you should answer my texts then,” he says, only half joking, “i thought you might’ve died or something.”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics, pressing your lips to his to shut him up

“i’ve been busy,” you say as reality sinks in a little. you sigh, “i’m still busy…”

jongho frowns as he watches your face sink, and it’s only then that he really has chance to study you

the bags under your eyes are concerningly deep, and your frown lines have definitely become more prominent since he last saw you

your lips are chapped and bleeding from where he knows you’ve been chewing on them, and he doesn’t even need to look at your fingers to know your nails have received the same treatment

“you can’t take a break?” he asks with a gentle voice

“not really,” you reply with a pout, “i have double the workload that i started the week with, and that’s with me working around the clock!”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice strains as you explain your predicament

“i’ve barely fucking slept trying to get all this done,” you look fragile in his arms, so he holds you as such, “and my head hurts from how much i’m having to think.”

all he can do is watch as the tears gather along your lash line, dancing in the light until one finally falls

he’s quick to wipe it away

“baby,” he whispers, not knowing what else to say, “is there anything i can do? anything at all?”

you shake your head before desperately rubbing your hands over the fragile skin to wipe away any evidence of your upset

he pulls your hands away and holds them in his own

“i need to get back to work,” you speak through your tears, “i cant get behind.”

“baby,” he sighs

“jongho,” you interrupt

he looks at you exasperated, and you can’t help but to shrink back

“baby, this isn’t healthy,” you know he’s right, but even so you shake your head, “you’re hurting yourself and i won’t let you do that. not to my baby.”

you try and look away, but he’s quick to grab your chin and bring your gaze back to his

“i need you to tell me what i can do to make this better,” his voice is stern, and you know for a fact that there’s no way you’ll be getting any work done for the rest of the day

you’re quicker to accept that fact than you’d like to admit, letting the relief sink in as you try and ignore just how much you’ll have to catch up on tomorrow

perhaps you could ask your boss for an extension, you tell yourself

if you claim a sudden illness then he can hardly deny you one, right?

knowing him, he’d want you to work through your illness

you’d have to work on a different excuse before you-

“you’re thinking about work,” jongho snaps, “stop thinking about work.”

you try and look down again, but this time his grip against your jaw is harsher as he brings you back to him

“or so help me god, i’ll make you stop thinking about work.”

you gulp, and for the first time in weeks your mind goes blank

his face is set in stone, jaw clenching and unclenching as he holds your own firmly in place with an iron grip

his dark eyes stare into yours, almost daring you to argue

but you can’t; you don’t want to

whilst normally the idea of pushing him to ‘make you’ do anything tempted you, all you wanted now was to be good for him

and for the first time in what feels like forever, you want to feel something other than stress

“can you?” you ask, voice meek, “can you make me stop thinking?”

jongho freezes for a second or two before a kind smile takes over his expression and he nods

and where normally he would tease, call you dumb or some other degrading name, now all he can do is coo

“of course, baby,” his voice is sweet, “thank you for asking so nicely.”

his hand drops from your chin, knowing full well that he doesn’t need to force you to look at him anymore; you’ll do it because you’re good

“want to ride me?” he asks, and you respond with a nod, “yeah? does that sounds good, baby?”

you rest your hands on his shoulders for reassurance, and grind down once against the semi he’s sporting

he lets out a low moan, but still shakes his head and grabs your hips to keep them from doing it again

and when you open your mouth to complain, all he has to do it give you a look of disapproval before you’re closing it again

“let me do all the work, alright?”

before you can argue, his hand is shifting, dragging itself away from your hip, across your tummy, and down the the waistband of your shorts

it stays there for a few seconds, just dancing back and forth over the material until finally, he lets his fingers dip inside

they settle on your clit pretty quickly, honing in on it like it’s a beacon

you let out a satisfied sigh when he begins to draw circles on the sensitive bud, fingers toying with it mindlessly as he watches your face scrunch up in the cutest way

“so pretty for me,” he whispers as he begins to swipe his fingers up and down your folds, “getting so wet for me too, baby.”

you nod as he spreads your own juices around your folds, dipping his finger tips into your core every so often, just to tease you

and when he finally slips them in for real, pushing until his knuckles brush against your folds, you can’t help but let out a moan

your head falls against his shoulder as he scissors them inside of you to stretch you out, nice and ready for him to slip inside

jongho works with efficiency

because as much as he loves to tease you and reduce you down to nothing more than a moaning mess, that isn’t what you need right now

that’s why he pulls his fingers out the moment he knows you’re ready to take him, and uses them to pull his cock free from his sweats

the hand that’s on your hip let’s go for just a second to pull your shorts to the side, and before you know it he’s slipping his leaking head inside

“sit for me,” he says as he grips your hips once again, “sit nice and pretty on my dick.”

and you do, pleased to find little resistance as you push his member deeper and deeper into your heat

the two of you let out a synchronised moan as you bottom out, feeling his head kiss your cervix ever so slightly

but you barely have time to rest before his hands are picking you up and sliding you back down again

you keen as he picks up the pace, doing most of the work for you, whilst still letting you feel that tiring burn in your thighs

it’s nice, having jongho there to play with your body the way that only he knows how

to hold you in his hands so carefully as he fucks himself into you at the pace he knows you love

it doesn’t take long for you to topple into a trance of ‘jongho, jongho, jongho’ but you don’t mind it

in fact, it’s exactly what he promised you; you can’t think of anything other than him and that is perfect

his eyes flicker to where you rest on his shoulder, mouth open and panting and eyes half lidded as though you’re about to fall asleep

you turns his head to kiss your nose before using his hands to still your hips

you’re about to let out a whine of complaint until you feel his own hips thrust up to meet yours, and the complaint turns to pleasure in your throat

you realise just how much better it is this way once his dick brushes up against your g-spot a few times, turning you into a whimpering mess

he just chuckles

“see?” he grunts as he thrusts up into you, “this is where you’re supposed to be; all tired and brainless on my cock.”

you nod into his neck

“my pretty baby shouldn’t be working so hard,” his fingers find your clit once more, rubbing feverishly against it, “should be getting loved by me instead.”

he turns his head enough to press his lips to yours, capturing the moans that spill from them as he pushes you over the edge

he lets you ride it out on his fingers before he spills into you with a muffled groan

then the room turns to silence, the sound of skin hitting skin gone and replaced by heavy breathing as you pant into one another’s mouths

he pulls away first and opens his eyes just in time to see you pout and nuzzle your face into the sweater he has on

he hums out of amusement before wrapping you up in his arms

“tired baby?” he asks and you nod, “want me to slip out and get you clean?”

and you have to think about that, because on one hand it would probably be for the best, but on the other you’re just so cosy

so you shrug, and he just laughs as he squeezes you

“how about i do it for you?” he says, “then you won’t have to think, anymore.”

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Can I get a station 19 fic that's Maya Bishop x reader but reader is Natasha's so because she's seen how reckless Maya can be she doesn't know if she likes her dating Maya. But eventually Maya proves she can be a good girlfriend.

-🤠

Sisterly protectiveness

Summary: Sisters are natural born protectors.

Pairing: Maya Bishop x Ross!reader, Natasha Ross x sister!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1244

a/n: wasn’t sure what relation you wanted to Natasha, so I made them sisters ! Hope that’s good

masterlists | guidelines

“You’re dating lieutenant Bishop?” Natasha stands in her place with her arms crossed over her chest, and a seemingly neutral look on her face. Although, Y/N that look is anything but neutral. “Maya Bishop of Station 19? Out of all the people in Seattle you started dating her?”

Letting out a sigh, Y/N shakes her head at her older sister’s words. “Yes, I am dating Maya. And I’m very happy with her.”

“But she’s so-“ she’s losing her resolve, steadily becoming more annoyed, “she’s reckless, Y/N. You haven’t seen her the same way I have.”

“I could say the same. I see how Maya is out of the job. She is sweet, and caring, and always treats me well.”

Natasha huffs. She knows she has no say when it comes to her sister’s relationship, but she can’t help herself, that’s her little sister after all, she basically raised her before going to army. “I’m still going to keep an eye on her. I don’t trust her with you.”

“Alright,” Y/N mumbles with a small giggle, “just please, don’t give her a hard time.” She gives Natasha a look, who just rolls her eyes and nods eventually. “Thank you.” Smiling, she makes her way out of her sister’s apartment.

Y/N walks into the station with a big box of food with her. What started out as bringing lunch or dinner to her girlfriend, ended up with basically feeding the whole Station 19 team. But she doesn’t mind, she knows they work hard and do long shifts, so cooking can sometimes be too tiring.

She makes her way upstairs, a big smile on her face when she sees most of the team hanging around the kitchen. “Dinner is here!” Y/N makes herself known.

Travis is the first one to walk over to her. “Our savior!” He takes the box and brings it to the kitchen counter so everyone can take their share of the food.

While the others are busy with the food, Maya comes over to hug and kiss Y/N. “Hi, my love.” She mumbles against her lips, a smile on her face.

“Hi.” Y/N giggles. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Maya’s hand rests on Y/N’s waist, her fingers stroking her side softly. “Chief Ross is here.” She mumbles, clearing her throat as she straightens her back, as if just speaking Chief Ross’ name would make her appear out of nowhere.

“Has she done anything?”

“No, just keeps giving me looks.”

Y/N hums, “go eat.” She mumbles, kissing Maya’s cheek while gently pushing her towards the kitchen counter.

They walk over to the others, Maya making herself a plate while Y/N starts talking to the others. She quickly grew close to the whole team after getting together Maya. The team almost became like a second family, besides Robert Sullivan, but that’s just the same sisterly protectiveness that Natasha has towards her.

Maya sits down next to her, one of her hands resting on Y/N’s thigh while she eats with her free hand. “You aren’t eating with us?” She glances at her when there’s a break in the conversations going on.

“I ate before I came, wanted my hardworking girlfriend to have more to eat.” She grins, her eyes very discreetly going over Maya’s muscles.

Maya always sees it, but she likes it.

“Chief Ross!” Victoria exclaims suddenly. “Join us for dinner? Y/N brought it for us.”

“No, thank you.” Natasha’s eyes are on Y/N and Maya, studying at the latter woman’s every single move, as she has does ever since she found out they’re dating.

As Maya notices this sharp look trained on her, she goes to move her hand away from Y/N, but Y/N sets her own on top if it, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Hi, Nat.” Y/N smiles. “I didn’t know you were here today.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here either.”

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/N leans against Maya. “I’m here practically every day.”

Letting out a hum, Natasha nods. “I won’t be here for long, just checking on things.” Her eyes going to the hand on her sister’s shoulder at the word things, making it very clear for the three of them what she is talking about.

There’s a small frown on her face, small enough for no one else to recognize it but Y/N. The touch looks very soft, and safe. It kind of makes her feel worse, she was hoping for something to prove that Maya is irresponsible.

When Chief Ross finally leaves, Andy turns to Maya and Y/N. “Did she know you two are together?”

“I told her some time ago.”

She raises her brows, a playful grin on her face. “How’d she take that?”

“Like any older sister would.”

Y/N paces around the entry of the station, Jack’s words going straight put of her mind as she stresses for Maya’s return.

The rest of the team, and Chief Ross, are putting out a larger than average fire, and according to the news stations, it hasn’t been going too well.

“They’ll be okay.” Jack assures, his eyes following Y/N’s movement. “We know how to handle these kind of things.”

He gets no answer, just more silent pacing.

Of course she knows that the team is very capable, but she can’t help worrying about them. She’s a doomscroller, she has read every article there is about huge fires which have taken multiple firefighters’ lives.

The garage door opens. Y/N lets out a breath, her worries aren’t completely gone, but she is out of her head enough to make her way to the garage.

Everyone looks tense as they get out of the fire trucks, but they all also look alive, that’s enough for Y/N to go straight to Maya and pull her into an embrace.

Natasha sees this. She takes a step forward, ready to intervene in case Maya snaps because of her less than ideal mood.

“Baby.” Y/N whispers, one of her hands burrowing into Maya’s hair while the other rubs her back.

Maya wraps her arms around Y/N’s waist, pushing her face into the crook of her neck. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay.”

She gives small smiles to the others, glad that they all got away with minimal damage, but otherwise she keeps all of her attention on her girlfriend.

After a while, her eyes connect to Natasha, who is still standing on her place. “Go change. I’ll drive you home and to work tomorrow, yeah? So you can leave your car here.” She whispers, kissing Maya before the blonde makes her way upstairs where the rest of the team is.

“Are you okay?” Y/N throws her arms around Natasha’s neck, bringing her to a hug.

“Yeah,” Natasha lets out a breath, “everyone’s a little beat up, but they’ll survive.” She mumbles, pulling away. They stare at each other for a minute. “Listen, I’m sorry. For doubting Maya. She’s..good to you, and you are good to her.”

Y/N smiles. “She’s the greatest.” She whispers. “Will be able to take care of yourself if I go take care of Maya?”

“Of course. Go care for your girlfriend.”

Giving Natasha a one last hug, Y/N goes upstairs to sit beside Maya in the dressing room and waiting for her to get ready to go home.

[supernovafics]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which you join steve during his family video shift and help him study for a test

author's note: nothing much to say about this one. short and sweet<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

“Can I have some help?”

You looked up from your notebook to see a guy standing a few feet in front of you with a small frown on his face. Your head shake in response to his question was immediate. “Oh, no, I don’t work here.”

His frown seemed to only deepen. “But, you’re sitting behind the counter.”

“Yeah, that probably makes things confusing, but I don’t work here,” You responded with a small laugh. You took a brief look at Steve, who was stocking tapes in one of the aisles. “I’m just here to help a friend and make sure he doesn’t fail out of his first ever college classes. Big English test tomorrow. The first one of the semester, actually.”

The guy rolled his eyes at your unnecessarily long explanation and then walked off, and your attention turned back to your notebook and you continued writing notes, or more so rewriting notes, for Steve. 

When he finished stocking shelves, he walked over to you, leaning on the counter and looking down at what you were doing. You ripped out the pages you had been working on for the past hour and slid them over to him. “Okay, I have compiled all of the shit that you’ll need to know for the test tomorrow on these two pages, front and back. Enjoy.” 

Steve gave you a small smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but it was actually pretty easy since you’re taking the class with the same Professor I had last semester; I mainly just redid the notes that I had for that first test. And it only took me like an hour.”

“Thanks, but shouldn’t you be worrying more about your test tomorrow?”

You shrugged. “I just have to give a presentation on the rise of radio for my communications class, and I’ve been preparing for the last couple days. I’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded at that and started looking at the notes you gave to him. You moved from behind the counter and went over to the comedy section and started to look through the shelves.

“Oh, also, can I get a vest and a nametag? Everyone already thinks I work here, anyway.” 

“No,” Steve responded almost immediately, which made you laugh. After a second, he walked over to you, papers still in hand. “Surprisingly, I actually remember most of this stuff.” 

You smiled at that. “Glad to know you’ve been paying attention in class.” You then showed him the movie you had just pulled off of the shelf. “Thoughts on this for tonight?”

Steve looked at the title for a second before answering. “The person that returned it yesterday said it was shit.”

“Okay, so that’s a no,” You said as you put the tape back in its spot. “Anyway, though, it's good that you remember a lot of stuff already, so when I quiz you on everything later, it’ll be fast.”

He shook his head. “You’re being way too nice to me right now.” 

“You told me that you actually wanted to care about your classes and do well in them, so of course I’m gonna help you do that.” 

You could’ve gone further into that conversation that you two had a few days before the beginning of the semester, but you didn’t feel the need to fully repeat it aloud right then. Steve had talked to you about wanting to figure out his life, finding what he wanted to do long-term that wasn’t Family Video related, and maybe going to school part-time and taking a few classes would help with that. It wasn’t about his parents, it wasn’t really even about you. It was about him and you admired that, and you also wanted to help him figure everything out. Maybe it could help you figure out all of your shit too. 

“Also, if you dropped out after this semester it would actually be devastating to know that our first time ever going to the same school only lasted four and a half months.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I’m not gonna drop out.”

“And I’m completely holding you to that.” 

You went back to searching for a movie for later, and after what felt like forever you settled on something that sounded good enough. 

Things became pretty quiet for the rest of the night, so you were able to quiz Steve on the notes a couple times, and then you focused on the reading you had to do for the Film and TV history class that he suggested you two take together. Your collective eleven o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays mainly consisted of you two playing tic-tac-toe with one another in the margins of Steve’s notebook or writing stupid notes back and forth, and still paying some attention to the lectures that were actually pretty interesting. Aside from Steve being in the class, you really enjoyed it for the most part. 

“This article was actually pretty good,” You said. The clock finally hit eleven and Steve went over to the front door to turn the Open sign to Closed. “I think you’ll like it.” 

“What’s it about again?”

“Silent films,” You answered as you started putting all of your stuff in your bag. You then picked up the movie you grabbed earlier and went over to one of the computers, looking up the name of it and changing it from in stock to checked out. “Since I know how to do this, I think I definitely deserve a vest and nametag.” 

“I would say that’s true, but you only do that for yourself, not for any customers,” He responded with a laugh.

“In a way, I am a customer.”

“Paying customers.” 

“I use the “best friend of an employee” discount, which is a hundred percent off,” You said, smiling at him, and then smiling even more when he rolled his eyes at you. 

“What movie did you end up choosing, anyway?”

You held up the tape in your hand, Weird Science. “Now I’m thinking that I should’ve chosen a silent film to honor our history class.” 

“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Steve responded before stepping out from behind the counter. You slung your bag over your shoulder and followed him to the front. 

“Once you read the article, you’ll wish that I picked one of Buster Keaton’s greatest hits,” You said as you flicked off the lights before you two walked out the door. 

Steve locked it and then looked at you. “I truly doubt that.” 

You only overdramatically sighed and shook your head at him in response as you got in his car, tossing your bag into the backseat. You fiddled with the radio for pretty much the entirety of the fifteen minute drive to the apartment, and you held back your laughter at Steve’s playful groans in frustration at your antics. 

When you two stepped into the small space that was your shared home, you changed into your pajamas for the night before settling on the couch, and you quizzed Steve one more time for his test. And then he made you run through your presentation for your class tomorrow because he felt bad about you only helping him study. 

The time was nearing midnight when Steve warmed up some of the leftover pizza from the night before as you started the movie. You two fell asleep barely thirty minutes in, your head on his shoulder and a blanket draped over both of your legs that were stretched out on the coffee table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[cinnamooniee]

❝𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭 [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 3]- 𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞❞

characters: high school dropout and barista JK x high school student female reader

genre: fluff, angst(?)

warnings : none

word count: 2 797

Previous Next

A cup of cinnamon coffee, the warmth of its embrace concealing the sharp bite that lingers. The bitter spice of conflict, the sting of harsh words, rises at the start. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the sweetness of an unexpected companion stirs the cup, softening the edges. But no warmth lasts forever. The comforting heat fades as reality returns, cold and unwavering, leaving only a faint, lingering bitterness at the end, a reminder of the storm that waits at the door.

After the grind of exams, today felt like a rare breath of calm, a rare moment you could actually savor. You were about to head out to the coffee shop—maybe catch up on your own reading or indulge in something non-school-related for once. As you pulled on your jacket, a slight smile crept onto your face at the thought of seeing Jungkook again, though you quickly brushed it away.

Just as you reached for the door, your mom’s voice cut through the peace.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in that way that made you feel ten again.

You sighed, hand hovering over the doorknob. “Just out for a bit. I’m done with exams, so I thought…”

“Done with exams doesn’t mean done with responsibilities,” she interrupted, her tone clipped. “Your sister could use some help, and this house doesn’t clean itself. You’re the oldest—you should know better.”

It took everything in you to keep your voice steady. “Mom, I’ve been working nonstop for weeks. Can I have one night where I don’t have to worry about everything?”

Your dad chimed in from the living room. “You should be setting an example for your sister, not just running off whenever you feel like it.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the hallway. “I can’t be here all the time, doing everything.”

“And what exactly are you doing that’s so important?” your mom asked, her voice heavy with disapproval.

Something in you snapped. After all the late nights, the endless studying just to keep everyone happy, the weight of it all pushed up against you until it all just… released.

Without another word, you grabbed the door, practically slammed it shut behind you, and stormed out into the evening chill. The sound of the door slamming echoed in your mind, as if your own action had stunned you. You walked quickly, head down, still buzzing from the shock of what just happened.

Your hands shook as you walked, each step pounding out the anxiety twisting in your chest. What had you just done? The reality of it hit hard: you’d never slammed the door, never talked back like that. Your parents would be waiting for you when you got back, and you knew they’d be furious. There’d be no calming explanation, no compromise.

In a daze, you reached into your pocket, switched off your phone, and stuffed it deep into your bag. You needed space from them, from the constant demands. You needed somewhere to go—somewhere that didn’t remind you of everything you felt you couldn’t handle. Without thinking, your feet took you toward the coffee shop, a quiet wish in the back of your mind that he’d be there tonight.

When you arrived, you pushed open the door, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You spotted him behind the counter, busy but looking just as warm and inviting as always.

“Hey!” he called out as you approached, his face lighting up with genuine delight. “You made it! I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”

“Is it busy?” you asked, your voice a bit shaky, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Nah, it’s pretty chill tonight. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his focus still on you. "Want anything?"

You hesitated, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spreading in your chest. “I’ll just have a hot chocolate, please.” It felt safer than saying coffee today, considering your fragile state.

“Coming right up!” he said, turning to prepare your drink. You watched him move, the way he worked with such ease, the sound of the espresso machine humming in the background.

As he handed you the steaming mug, your fingers brushed against his. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly. “Thanks.”

Jungkook leaned against the counter, watching you with a curious expression as you took a seat in front of the counter.". “So, how did the exams go?”

“Good, I think? At least I hope so,” you replied, taking a sip of the hot chocolate, letting the warmth spread through you. It was comforting, just like being here.

“You think? That’s what everyone says,” he teased lightly. “I’m sure you aced them.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, your smile faltering as you thought about the earlier fight. But Jungkook didn’t seem to notice; he just kept looking at you, his expression softening.

“So, what are your plans for winter break?” he asked, changing the subject effortlessly.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your hot chocolate. “Probably just catching up on schoolwork. You know how it is,” you said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Schoolwork during winter break? That doesn’t sound like much fun,” he chuckled, the sound soothing your frayed nerves.

“I know, right? But my parents—” You cut yourself off, realizing you didn’t want to go down that road.

“Hey, it’s your break. You should enjoy it,” Jungkook encouraged, his eyes earnest. “Life’s too short to stress about grades all the time.”

“How about you? I mean- when do you get off your shift?”

Feeling bold, you added, “I’d liketo hang out after you’re done.”

He raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You really want to spend more time with me, huh?”

“Is that so surprising?” you shot back, your heart racing a little at your own audacity.

“Not at all! I’d love to hang out.” He glanced at the clock behind the counter and then back at you. “I still have a while left. Maybe another hour?”

“Okay, I’ll wait! I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” you said, your pulse quickening with excitement.

“I’ll make sure to save some time for you,” he promised, and with that, he returned to his duties, but you could still see him stealing glances your way as he worked.

As you settled into a comfortable silence, your heart felt lighter, the earlier heaviness fading away. You pulled out the small book you bought a few weeks before to distract yourself. But the clock seemed to tick slower than usual as you waited, your mind swirling with thoughts of the conversation to come. After what felt like an eternity, Jungkook finally finished his shift. He wiped his hands on his apron, flashing you a bright smile. “Alright, I’m all yours”

“Finally” you laughed, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “What now?”

“Let’s go for a walk. The rain’s stopped, and I know a nice little park nearby,” he suggested, his enthusiasm contagious.

As you stepped outside, the crisp evening air hit your face, invigorating and refreshing. The streets glistened under the streetlights, remnants of the rain from earlier creating a dreamy atmosphere.

Jungkook led the way, and as you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He seemed carefree, animatedly talking about everything and anything—his favorite music, the latest movie he had seen, even his plans for the winter break. You couldn’t help but take a moment to really look at him. The way his dark hair fell over his forehead and the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed all captivated you. You couldn’t help but wonder about him. How old was he, really? He mentioned dropping out of high school, but that was all you knew. It felt strange that you hadn’t asked before; it was as if you had been so caught up in your own world that you hadn’t taken the time to learn about his.

“Hey, Jungkook?” you started, feeling a boldness surge within you again. “How old are you?”

He glanced at you, surprise flickering across his face. “I’m nineteen. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I just realized I never actually asked. You dropped out of high school, right? When did that happen?”

He nodded, his expression shifting slightly. “Yeah, I dropped out last year. It just wasn’t for me, you know? I wanted to focus on music and other things.”

“Music?” you echoed, intrigued. “Are you in a band or something?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I play guitar and write songs, but it’s mostly just a hobby for now. I work here to pay the bills.”

“That’s really cool,” you said, genuinely impressed. “I had no idea you were into music like that.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s just something I do on the side. I’ve always loved it,” he replied, his voice softening. “What about you? Besides school, what are your passions?”

"Not much honestly, I guess i'm still figuring that part out.."

“Want to grab something to eat? There’s a great little diner just down the road,” he suggested, his voice light.

“Sure, I’d love that!” you replied, trying to keep the excitement from spilling over.

.° ༘☕⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

You slid into a booth, and Jungkook took a seat across from you, his expression animated as he scanned the menu. “What do you recommend?” he asked, looking up at you with a grin.

“Honestly? Their burgers are amazing, but I’m a slut for breakfast food at any time of day. You can’t go wrong with pancakes,” you replied, feeling more relaxed.

“Pancakes.. that does sound nice. I’ll get those too,” he said, waving over a waitress to place your orders. As you waited, you took a moment to appreciate the easy flow of conversation. Jungkook spoke animatedly about his love for cooking, sharing anecdotes about the worst dishes he had attempted to make.

But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself glancing at the clock on the wall. It was just past 6 PM, and a knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. You had left home at 4 PM, and you could already imagine your parents fuming at home, waiting for you to return. The earlier argument echoed in your mind, a reminder that you were likely to hear about it for the rest of the night.

“What’s up? You look a bit tense,” Jungkook noticed, tilting his head slightly, concern etched on his face.

“Just… thinking about home,” you replied, trying to brush it off. “You know how it is; parents worry and all that.”

He nodded, but you could tell he sensed there was more to it. “Yeah, I get that. My mom used to worry about me all the time. She still does, honestly,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

You chuckled lightly, appreciating his attempt to connect. “It’s tough sometimes, isn’t it? Balancing what we want to do and what our parents expect from us.”

“Totally,” Jungkook said, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. “But hey- you deserve to enjoy your time off. It sounds like you’ve worked really hard.”

“Thanks,” you said, grateful for his support. But despite his words, the clock seemed to taunt you as you kept checking the time. Each glance made the anxiety grow—a pit in your stomach reminding you of the fight you had before leaving home.

When the food finally arrived, you forced yourself to focus on the moment. The pancakes were fluffy and warm, and Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he took a bite.

You laughed, feeling a small weight lift from your shoulders as you joined in on the meal. You both chatted about favorite foods and your go-to comfort dishes, sharing laughter over silly stories and the ridiculous things you both had tried to cook.

.° ༘☕⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth but also a wave of guilt. You had to get home soon, or else you’d really be in trouble. The clock ticked to 6:35 PM, and the knot in your stomach tightened further. The longer you stayed out, the more upset your parents would be. The thought of their disappointment and anger sent a shiver down your spine

“Um, I should probably head back soon,” you said reluctantly, glancing down at your plate as you took a few more bites. “My parents might start to worry.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jungkook replied, a hint of disappointment in his tone. “But I’m really glad you came out tonight. You should do it more often.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Definitely.”

As you finished your meal, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you loved spending time with Jungkook, but on the other, the reality of your home life loomed over you like a storm cloud.

After settling the bill, you stood up, and Jungkook followed suit. “Let me give you a ride” he offered, his voice firm with a hint of determination.

You hesitated, biting your lip. The thrill of riding with him was tempting, but the thought of your parents seeing you with a boy on a motorcycle sent a wave of anxiety crashing over you. “I can’t… my parents are home. If they see me with you, they’ll freak out.”

Jungkook’s expression shifted to concern, but he quickly smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about I drop you off a block away? That way, they won’t see us together.”

You considered it for a moment, the risk weighing heavily on your mind. The idea of riding on the motorcycle again was exhilarating, and it might just work. “Okay, that could work,” you replied, feeling a pit grow in your stomach.

As you stepped into the cool evening air, the chill hit your face, invigorating yet laced with nerves. He handed you the helmet, and you fumbled to put it on, adjusting it so it sat securely on your head. After climbing onto the motorcycle behind him, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“Ready?” he asked, looking back at you, his playful demeanor still intact.

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the nerves. “Yeah, just… a little nervous, I guess.”

He nodded slowly, his playful grin replaced by a serious look. “I get it. It’ll be fine. I promise I’ll take it slow.”

With a roar, the motorcycle came to life, and you felt the rush of wind against your skin as he revved the engine. The world blurred around you, but your thoughts were far from the thrill of the ride. Each passing block felt like a countdown to impending doom.

Your heart raced—not from excitement, but from the gnawing fear of what awaited you at home. What would your parents say? Would they be furious? You could almost hear their voices echoing in your mind, the lectures waiting for you like a storm ready to unleash.

The streets blurred past you. You felt the weight of your earlier argument pressing down on you with every turn, and the pressure built inside your chest. You glanced over your shoulder at your house, each meter increasing your dread. Would your little sister understand why you were late? Your parents? The prospect of facing their anger felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

As you entered your neighborhood, a wave of panic hit you. “This is it!” you said, your heart pounding in your chest as he slowed down. The familiar street came into view, but instead of relief, all you felt was dread.

“Here we are!” he said, easing the motorcycle to a stop a block away from your house. You could see your home glowing warmly in the distance, but it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary.

“Thanks for the ride, Jungkook,” you managed to say, your voice slightly breathless, but the words felt empty.

“Hey! Wait a second!” he called, his tone playful yet serious.

“What?” you asked, half-expecting another comment about your house.

“Just… take care, okay? I mean it,” he said, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension in the air. “And text me later tonight, alright? Just so I know you survived your parents.”

You smiled weakly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest at his concern, even though your stomach churned with anxiety. “Yeah, I will,” you replied, the promise feeling heavy. You weren’t sure if you could reassure him, let alone yourself.

As you stepped onto the familiar path to your house, the warmth from your evening with Jungkook lingered, but the dread of facing your parents loomed heavily over you.

Once you walked inside, the familiar chaos of your household enveloped you. Your little sister was sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in a show, but your parents were right there in the kitchen, their voices rising in an argument.

“Where have you been?” Your mother’s voice cut through the air like a knife, sharp and accusing.

[cecilysass]

Honest Man (3/3)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 3

When it’s obvious Bill is down for the count, Mulder follows Scully back out into her living room. She doesn’t pause to look or speak to him. She marches straight into the kitchen and begins to wordlessly fill up a glass of water at the sink.

“Scully,” he begins, unsure of what he’s about to say.

“Sounds like you’ve had an exciting evening,” she interjects crisply.

“Yeah. Exciting.” He steps sideways to attempt to gauge her expression, but she’s facing the sink.

“You gave Bill marital advice?”

“Yeah, I–” Mulder shrugs. “I did. He asked. I guess he and Tara had a fight. I, uh, wasn’t sure what to say, but he insisted. I did the best I could.”

She watches the water glass fill with laser focus. “Then I guess I’ll know how to explain it to Mom if they end up divorcing,” she replies without affect.

“Yeah,” Mulder says glumly.

“Thank you for driving him here tonight,” she says formally.

“Uh, of course.”

“Apparently it ruined some plans.”

“Scully,” he says plaintively. “It wasn’t … a date.”

She turns from the sink to regard him frostily, and he feels like he’s lying to her, although he isn’t. “It wasn’t,” he repeats.

She looks like she wants to say something, but thinks better, pinching her lips together. She sets the water glass on the counter.

“Bill thought I was on a date, but I wasn’t,” he adds.

She turns around, showing her back to him again, to close the cabinet. Then she rests her palms on the countertop, appearing to closely study the design of her own kitchen shelving.

Her small, silk-covered shoulders rise and then fall.

“You know, I bet I can guess this story,” she says in a strange, distant voice. “You met up with Diana Fowley after work because she had some important information about the X-files that she said she had to share right away. On a Friday night. Over drinks.”

He sighs. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Of course, you didn’t mention this work-related meeting to me this afternoon at work.”

“No, you’re right. I didn’t.”

She doesn’t move, her back still to him. He suspects she intended to place the glass of water on the bedside table next to Bill, but she doesn’t touch it again. She just leans against the countertop, as though collecting herself.

Mulder knows she’ll be angry at what he says next.

“Diana asked me to do some unofficial fieldwork for the X-files. She thinks if I do, if she can put it together into a convincing report—”

“She can request you back on the X-files,” Scully finishes, her head bobbing up and down in a knowing nod. “As her partner. Right?”

“Right,” Mulder says, a lump in his throat. “Exactly.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Scully turns around now, and with a jolt he sees there are tears streaming down her face, though her expression is neutral.

“We both know what’s going to happen,” she says flatly.

Mulder is dumbfounded. “Do we?”

“Of course,” she says sharply. “You’ll do it. You’ll be her partner. It’s what you want, isn’t it? You told me what your priorities were on our first case. The X-files come before anything and anyone else. I know perfectly well that includes me.”

Mulder is appalled to hear his own words cited back to him like that. It’s not an especially pretty picture she presents, of a man so single-minded, so disloyal that he would so predictably toss aside his partner of six years, his best friend.

“I’m sure she made all kinds of implicit promises to help assuage any discomfort you might have.” Scully’s words grow venomous, full of more overt anger than she normally reveals. “She offered to give you a little more than just the X-files, too, didn’t she? She made it very hard to refuse? Made you feel like you wouldn’t be lonely?” She places her hands over her face in apparent regret. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That’s … unnecessarily petty of me. I’m not thinking straight.”

Mulder shifts weight from one foot to another, watching uncomfortably as she hides her face. He isn’t sure he should tell her that her guess about Diana was so on target.

“Scully, she expressed concern for your career,” he points out gently instead. “She argued that you would be able to get a better placement in the Bureau. Which is true, and something I wish you would think about.”

Scully lets her hands drop from her face and looks at him incredulously. “Is that what she said?”

“Yes,” Mulder says, “and while it’s true that—”

“Mulder,” she interrupts with a bitter laugh, “you’re fortunate that violent criminals are usually men, because you can be truly terrible at profiling women.”

He’s taken aback. “Am I terrible at profiling Diana? Or am I terrible at profiling you?”

She looks up at the ceiling, considering for a moment, then drops her gaze down to meet his eyes again defiantly. “Both.”

He feels something crucial is being lost in this conversation. He’s getting this wrong, for sure. “It’s not like I told Diana yes.”

She smiles humorlessly. “You didn’t tell her no either, did you?”

“Well … I didn’t say those words, no.”

“So, what, you did an interpretive dance?”

Brushing past him out of the kitchen, she speeds into the living room, Bill’s glass of water apparently forgotten. Mulder follows behind her.

“Listen,” she continues in a different, more placating tone, “I’m not angry. Not really. You’ve always been upfront about who you are.” She turns to look at him with a sad smile. “I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

She means this to be conciliatory, but it’s like she spit in his face. That familiar feeling burns in his chest, his old friend from boyhood: shame.

“No,”’ he says urgently, “you should expect something else. You can’t just think that I— I’m not just…. you don’t get it at all.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Look,” he says earnestly, “back when we first started to work together, I didn’t understand that you and I were going to…”

Scully groans, collapsing into a chair in her living room, her head flopping into her hands. “Oh god, I really don’t want a speech like this.”

“What? I just want to explain.”

“I don’t see what there is to explain.” He watches her trembling fingers swiping a fresh round of tears away, and he scrambles to sit on the couch across from her.

“Scully—”

“Look,” she says, smoothing her hair back, visibly calming herself down. “It’ll be okay. Really. I don’t need a partner breakup talk.” Her voice wavers a little. “I’ll probably go back to Quantico. I’m sure after a while you could even consult with me on cases. I might need a little time to adjust first.”

“I haven’t—”

“And I don’t want to talk to her, Mulder. Only you,” adds Scully fiercely as an afterthought. “I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t either.”

“Jesus, I’m not going to do it, Scully,” he manages to get out. “I wouldn’t … I couldn’t do that.”

She looks uncertain for the first time in the conversation. “You’re … really not?” she says.

He shakes his head emphatically.

She regards him quizzically. “So you plan on turning her offer down entirely?”

“Of course.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, soon,” he shrugs. “I mean, what can I say?” He attempts a charming smile. “I’m finding all those background checks more interesting than I thought.”

She doesn’t return the smile. She seems to find a little thread on the arm of the chair that she plucks at, her tongue darting out to swipe over her bottom lip.

“What?” he says, his stomach knotting. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she says, continuing to pinch the thread on the chair. “I … guess I just don't completely believe you.”

Again Mulder is stunned. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. Not entirely.” Her eyes won’t meet his, like she feels guilty for the sin of mistrust.

“Why… not?”

She swallows, then raises her eyes to his. “I suppose I worry … that you’re telling me what I want to hear. So you don’t have to deal with the inconvenience of me being upset.” She straightens her posture. “And if that’s the case, Mulder, I wish you would just show me the respect of telling me the truth. So I won’t be unpleasantly taken by surprise later.”

“The inconvenience of you…” He stops, holding back his anger. “Since when do we not believe each other, Scully?”

Her nostrils flare, but her tone is icy calm. “Since you started going on secret dates with ex-girlfriends trying to recruit you to be their new partner behind my back, I suppose.”

“It was not a date,” Mulder repeats in a hiss.

“What exactly do you think a date is, Mulder?”

He sucks his teeth in irritation, jerking his limbs around restlessly on the couch. “Well, for one, I think a date is primarily about someone trying to initiate a relationship, not about work.”

“And you’re saying this wasn’t about both?”

There’s a moment of silence.

Mulder feels the beginning of a headache throbbing in his temples, and his eyes flash longingly towards the door. Maybe he should just leave. Maybe that’s for the best. He could try explaining this all again in the daytime, when Bill isn’t here, when they’re both in better moods.

Then his eyes fall back on Scully.

She looks small and defeated in the chair, looking at the floor, tears still visible on her cheeks. He wonders if it’s possible she might cry more if he were to leave now. He thinks about her belief that he’d go back to the basement office without her. How sure she seems to be that he would do it.

Something deep inside him aches like an old, unhealed wound. He knows he won’t be leaving. He knows it in the same certain way he knew he was going to take Bill home from the bar tonight. It doesn’t even feel like a real choice.

He squirms around on the couch again, trying futilely to get comfortable, and it makes something in his pocket poke him in the thigh.

“Oh,” he says softly, remembering. He digs his hand into his pocket to fish out an object. “I, uh, brought you something, Scully.”

She looks up at him warily. “What? An autopsy report?”

“No, no,” Mulder says. He extricates it from his pocket. It’s slightly dented, but otherwise unblemished. He leans over to hand her the coaster he’d picked up from the table at the bar.

“What’s this?” She examines it with a frown.

“It’s just a coaster.”

“Did you steal this, Mulder?”

“Yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “I stole it from the Honest Man Pub.”

“That’s almost painfully ironic."

Mulder shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Truth uncompromisingly told will always have its ragged edges,” Scully reads from the coaster. “Herman Melville.”

“It reminded me of you,” says Mulder, feeling a little self-conscious. “Melville. Truth. You know. All your favorites.”

“You stole this for me on your date?”

“Scully,” Mulder says, “it wasn’t a…” He stops himself, closing his eyes. “Yeah. I stole the coaster on my date.”

Scully is holding the coaster in her fingers, turning it over and over, and she looks up at him.

“So you and Bill were at the Honest Man Pub tonight,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says.

“I like that place,” she muses softly. “Good food. I like the chicken club sandwich.”

He nods. “I do, too. I didn’t eat tonight though.”

She stares in mystification at the coaster, her brow creasing. “What … what was Bill and Tara’s fight about?”

“Oh.” Mulder scratches the back of his neck. “Tara wants to go back to work, and I guess Bill doesn’t want her to.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Scully replies.

Mulder just nods numbly.

“What did you tell him?”

“Uhhh … nothing too remarkable. Be completely honest, admit when you were a dick, listen to her.”

“Did Bill listen?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mulder says. “I hope so.”

“Why do you hope so?” Scully asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Bill’s been nothing but awful to you,” Scully says, her eyes fixed on him. “It sounds like he’s been awful to Tara, too. Why would you try to help him at all?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder says truthfully. He considers. “He wanted to be better. And… it seems like despite how he acted, he actually does love her. I just hoped he could get it together.”

Really and truly, Mulder hadn’t intended for this statement to have any double meaning. But in the chair across from him, Scully goes unusually silent and still.

He has thirty seconds of horror replaying the words back, thinking about how she must have heard them. About the implications. About what he might have revealed inadvertently.

There is a short but unbearable stretch of silence.

“So why didn’t you eat?” she asks at last.

“What?” he says, swallowing.

“You said you didn’t eat at the pub,” she points out. “You didn’t eat dinner?”

“Oh,” he says. “No. Because the night ended early. The Bill thing. And Diana sort of decided she needed to, uh, raise the stakes.”

“Raise the stakes,” repeats Scully.

“Yeah …” He rubs his hands together in agitation. “I don’t think I was as enthusiastic about her offer to be partners again as she thought I’d be,” he says. “She tried to raise the stakes. Manipulate the situation. I wasn’t that wild about it.”

“How did she try to manipulate the situation?” Scully asks.

“It was like you said before,” he says reluctantly. “She made some offers. Like she thought she had to do more to … you know. To compete.”

“Compete.” Scully repeats. “Compete with what?”

Mulder doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I’ve known her a long time, and I think her heart is more or less in the right place,” he says. “But I think she felt like she needed to compete with … you know, Scully. The reason I wasn’t going to say yes.”

Scully’s face is blank, and Mulder realizes in shame that he is going to have to spell it out. “I have a partner. I don’t want a new partner. She tried to compete with that.”

Scully’s clutching the coaster tightly in one hand, wide-eyed.

“Anyway, I don’t like feeling manipulated like that,” Mulder says, shrugging self-consciously. The more he thinks about it, the more clearly he sees it. “Diana knows things about me from our past together, and she … tries to use those things as a lever with me. She knows that relationships are a big deal to me, that intimacy in a relationship is a big deal to me.”

“Is that true?”

“Yeah,” he says, feeling his face warm. “Does that surprise you?”

“No,” she says, almost a whisper.

“I mean, you’re right about what you said. In some ways.” He looks closely at his hands. “I went there with a goal, thinking she might give us some avenue to work on the X-files. But there’s no way I’d… there’s no way I would choose to go back to the X-files … like that. Without you, I mean.”

She is only continuing to stare, her face unchanging. He wonders what she is thinking.

“I guess I can’t prove to you that I’m telling you the truth,” he says, suddenly feeling deflated. “The only evidence I have is a lack of evidence. That Diana asked me to come home with her, and I … didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Mulder huffs in frustration. “That’s what I’m saying, Scully. What I’m trying to tell you. I don’t want that.”

Scully’s eyes fall again on the coaster, her brows knitting together. She examines it thoughtfully. “Instead you went home with Bill.”

“Right,” he says. He tries to smile. “Obviously I’d never miss a chance to go home with a Scully.”

To his great relief she offers a tiny, enigmatic smile in response. “You two did seem to hit it off surprisingly well tonight.”

“Yeah, he’s my favorite redhead now,” Mulder says. “You’re second, though, don’t worry.”

Through her smile the beginnings of fresh tears begin to pool in the bottom of her eyes.

“Aw, I’m just kidding,” he pleads. “You’re still my favorite.”

“Really that is evidence you were telling the truth, isn’t it?” she reasons, wiping her eyes. “You brought Bill home safely, even though he’s been an asshole to you for years. You tried to help him.”

“He wasn’t so bad tonight.”

“I didn’t believe you,” she says. “I thought you’d do anything to get the X-files back.” Her voice lowers tremulously. “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“No, come on,” he says, frowning. “I see why you came to that conclusion. It wasn’t unfounded. But I…” He scrunches closed his eyes, then opens them. “It actually isn’t … just the work for me any more. I have some other priorities.”

“Do you?” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

She’s staring hard at him now, her eyes darting back and forth across his face.

He stands from her couch, hoping he projects more confidence than he feels, and walks directly over to her in her chair. She tracks his movements warily.

He extends his hand. “C’mon, Scully,” he says roughly.

Her eyebrows lift higher, but she places her hand in his, and he lifts her to her feet, drawing her as close to him as he dares.

“Let me show you my priorities,” he says.

It would be much smoother if he just kissed her, but he doesn’t. He hesitates. It’s his habit to check in with her, after all. He always wants to know what she thinks, and that’s one reason he knows he loves her.

Her eyes are round. Her face has lost some color. But her body, her center of gravity, is tipping ever-so-slightly towards him.

Solemnly he nods, and his hands slide around her waist. Her body feels tiny, warm and fragile, slippery with silk.

He bends down to let his lips cover hers. One light kiss, slightly hesitant. Then another firmer, more hungry. He feels her shiver a little in his arms, and he wants to feel it again. 

Tilting his head reverently, he begins to kiss her from every angle, his hands moving up and down, up and down her back. His palms graze the soft slope of her rear end once as he caresses her, and then stop to grasp her there intentionally. He's beginning to feel dizzy, lost in the barrage of sensory details. It’s the kind of kissing that hides nothing, he realizes dimly. Not his swift, overwhelming arousal. Not the fierce intensity of his emotions. That should probably worry him a little, but it doesn’t.

Her own arms have wound around his neck, and it almost feels like she’s trying to climb him, her own mouth pushing in farther towards him, her body meshing into his. He can hear the frantic, uneven quality of her breath. And it occurs to him: she’s not hiding very much, either.

“Bedroom,” she whispers into his ear.

“What about Bill?” Mulder whispers back urgently.

“He won’t know,” Scully says. She pulls back to look at him, her cheeks flushed deep pink. “Does it bother you?”

“Noooo,” Mulder says, shaking his head. “Not enough to stop, anyway.”

They start to move towards Scully’s bedroom, still entangled, Mulder walking forward and Scully taking backwards steps.

He’s distracted by kissing her again and again, and neither of them notice Bill’s shoes on the floor, still lying where they had remained after they both had worked so hard together to remove them.

Scully stumbles backwards first, which pulls Mulder off balance, too. They both crash loudly into an end table on their way down to the floor.

“Fuck,” Mulder exclaims as they land in a pile. He sits up, feeling a bruise rising on his knee already.

Scully pushes herself up and puts her hand over her mouth, laughing. “Are you all right, Mulder?”

“Yeah, you?”

She nods, still laughing, pushing an errant strand of hair from her face. “Wait. Shh.” She abruptly quiets and leans over, placing her finger over his lips, tilting her head to listen seriously for a beat. Then she relaxes and smiles again. “If that didn’t wake Bill up, he’s really out.”

Mulder doesn’t feel as amused. He’d wanted this to be more perfect. “Not an auspicious start,” he says, trying to sound light, but feeling some knots of anxiety.

Scully’s expression softens. She scoots towards him on the floor, taking a firm hold of his forearms.

“It’s okay,” she says soothingly, her forehead pressing to his. “Small hiccups.”

“I know,” he says, feeling silly. “But—”

“Truth, uncompromisingly told, will always have its ragged edges.”

She smiles playfully, her thumbs running back and forth lightly over his arms. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in her pajamas, saucily quoting bar coaster wisdom back to him, Scully is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. His hands find her face, cradling her cheeks.

“Right, Mulder?” 

“That’s right,” he whispers back at her, barely vocalizing.

“And that’s what this is, right, Mulder?” she says, her voice cracking slightly on his name. “The truth?”

In response he leans in and kisses her in a way that he hopes tells her everything, that leaves no secret hidden.

Then he whispers softly in her ear. “That’s right.” Another kiss, this one infused with pure hope. “That’s absolutely right.”

***

[rorywritesjunk]

I have seen no other Who compares with you

Buggy decides you need your own 'look'. Rating: PG-13 to maybe a soft R. I can't help but write some suggestive stuff. Some being the keyword, nothing actually happens but a kiss or two. Warning: None. I know absolutely jack shit about makeup or greasepaint. A/N: Written from @sporadicthingcollection  suggestion! Thank you friend. And this is my third makeup related story and I had fun writing it as well because I wanted to keep it different from the other two. I also wrote this with LA!Buggy in mind specifically. Title comes from "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty.

“It’s all about the brand, babe.” Was what Buggy said before he forced you into the chair in front of his vanity. You wanted to protest, to insist that makeup really wasn’t your thing, but he wasn’t paying any attention at that point, too busy opening the drawers, pulling out several different trays of face paint. You eyed them suspiciously, not sure what the flashy clown captain had in mind for you.

“What brand?” You asked as he looked over the first one. “I mean, what are you planning to do to me, Buggy?”

He set the trays down before turning your chair to face the mirror. Hands on your shoulders, he leaned in with a grin. While you appreciated the makeup style he wore, it was not for you. The bones on his forehead and smudged red color around his mouth was something you liked on him but not you. However, you appreciated the glittery triangles around his eyes and how they accented the stormy color of his irises. 

You sighed in defeat and Buggy pressed a kiss to your cheek, dramatically smacking his lips against your skin with a loud MUWAH!

“First, gotta figure out your style.” Buggy said as he pulled away. “Can’t have you copying my look, of course, but maybe a look to complement it.” He spun you around in the chair so you faced him; he braced both hands on the arm rests as he leaned in towards you, your noses barely touching as he squinted, studying the features of your face. “You don’t really have a… gimmick.”

“What, warming the captain’s bed doesn’t count?” You asked, leaning towards him with a pout. This wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing. It wasn’t like he was insulting you, but Buggy was definitely dancing that fine line of you’re great, but- with how he was trying to figure out your makeup style, or the brand as he thought of it. 

His lips curled up into a smirk. He pulled back and reached over for a tray. Once the cover was removed, he grabbed a brush and looked over his color options. Looking at you once more, he took the tip of the makeup brush between his lips, his tongue wetting it as he twisted it slightly to get a pointed tip of the bristles. You couldn’t help but watch him do that with both a mild fascination and some level of arousal. Why is he using his mouth on the makeup brush when he could be using it on you?

He dragged the tip over a dark orange color, a shade you would see among the trees during autumn. Carefully, he raised the brush to your face, lightly moving the colorful tip from the corner of your mouth and to your cheeks, tracing a clockwise swirl on your skin. He repeated the action on your other cheek, though with a counter clockwise design. He bit his lip and tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied his work so far. Both sides looked even, which was important. He couldn’t have you running around with mismatched makeup after all. He had his reputation to think about. How would it look if someone on Buggy’s crew had poorly done makeup? 

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Nodding in approval to himself, he picked out a sparkly green shade next. You tried not to make a face, unsure where he was going to use that color. Your lips? Hopefully not because you had a feeling this little bonding moment you were having was going to end up with you on your knees in front of him and you really didn’t want to see him with a green dick at all. Around your eyes could work, the light would catch the glitter and make your eyes pop. Would he put it on your nose? He was sensitive about his own, and you doubted he would do anything to draw attention to your nose when he never wanted that kind of attention.

Buggy grabbed a different makeup brush, the tip going into his mouth once more before dragging it over the green color on the tray. Without a word he began dabbing it across your forehead, right above your eyebrows. You sat still for this, pleased that he was being gentle and that it wasn’t a stabbing motion you were half expecting from him. His brow furrowed and he shook his head, mumbling something before licking his thumb and wiping it over your forehead, trying to remove the green grease paint from your skin.

“No, no. I don’t like that look.” He said out loud with a sigh. “The orange swirls, yes, so maybe… leave the forehead alone. Accent the eyes and cheeks.” He crossed his arms, a hand lifting to rest on his chin thoughtfully as he studied your face with narrowed eyes. It was a little uncomfortable to be under such scrutiny, but he was the one doing all of this. You were just the canvas for his creativity at that point.

He reached out and tilted your chin up, eyes still narrowed as he concentrated. Instead, he took the first makeup brush and sucked on the tip once more, wincing at the bitter taste of the grease paint. You tried not to roll your eyes before reaching out to place your hand on his hip, tired of not touching him as he stood so close to you. He reached down to touch your hand, letting his fingers dance up your bare arm lightly before pulling away to resume his artistic creations on you. 

“Why don’t you have a glass of water or something for the brushes?” You asked as he ran the brush through the green grease paint once more. 

“Because I didn’t think that far ahead, babe.” Was his response as he handed the tray to you to hold. You took it as he took your head in his hands, tilting it back slowly as he stepped in between your legs. Okay, you saw no reason to complain now. You held the grease paint tray in one hand while the other hand stayed on his hip. He was close enough you could feel his breath on your face, but just out of reach you wouldn’t be able to lean up to kiss him without completely disrupting what he was doing, and while you loved teasing him and egging him on, you also knew when to back off. He was focused on your makeup and if you messed it up you may regret it because Buggy could be petty. He would hold off sex for as long as he was able to (only a day or so most likely) but you didn’t want to risk it.

From the corner of your eye, he tapped the brush lightly, leaving a trail of green dots along your skin and moving up to your temple. He seemed satisfied with the right side, so he repeated the pattern on your left side. Nodding and mumbling, “Yea, that’s exactly it” he dipped the brush into the green paint once more. He tilted your head again, leaning in closer as he started to draw a teardrop shape under your eye. It tickled just a bit and to your credit you didn’t budge, but when he tried to do the next eye you had to pull back just for a moment. 

“Babe.” He sighed as you reached up to carefully rub your skin. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”

“It tickles!” You whined at him. “And not in a good way.”

“I’m almost finished.” 

You pouted at him again and he rolled his eyes. The novelty was wearing off, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep indulging this much longer. He pulled back and sighed loudly, dropping his arms to the side as he looked down at you.

“Let me finish what I’ve started and we’ll do something you want after.” He offered. “I’m almost done, so let me finish.”

“Whatever I want?” No longer pouting, you now grinned up at him, a twinkle in your eye that told him you already had an idea of what you wanted to do, and he knew that once he was done with your makeup, it was going to end up smeared across the bedsheets and pillows. 

“Yes, whatever you want.” He retorted as he tilted your head back once more. “Now stop moving or else.”

“Mhm, that’s what you said last night.” You said cheekily. He glared down at you before touching the brush to your skin again. He took his time, wanting to ensure the teardrop matched its mate. He set the brush down and studied your face, his hand on your chin as he turned your head from side to side, making sure it was perfect.

“Getting there.” He muttered as he reached for the red lipstick now. Oh, no, was he going to use it on you? You tried to pull back but he gave your chin a squeeze. “No, you’re almost done. Another few minutes.”

You let out a whine before sinking back into the chair. He touched the pointed tip of the red pigment to the curve of your upper lip, tracing the shape carefully before ending at the corner of your mouth. He hummed in appreciation as he did the other side, admiring how the red popped with the orange on your cheeks and the green around your eyes. He had wanted your look to complement his, not be a copy, so when he applied the lipstick to your bottom lip, it took every ounce of strength not to smear the lipstick around your face like how he wore his. 

Except you were growing impatient. The second he pulled the lipstick away you reached for him and pulled him down, your lips on his as you kissed him. He managed to pull back, sighing in mild frustration as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“You’re going to ruin all my hard work, babe.” He said with a pout. “I like what I started.”

“Okay, but how about we take a break and start something else?” You suggested as you reached for the front of his pants, grinning up at him. The lipstick was smeared around your mouth, no doubt around his as well, but the orange swirls and green dots were starting to work for you. Maybe lipstick wasn’t the look for you, but he had time to think of alternatives.

“Mhm, I suppose, but we aren’t done yet.” He chuckled softly. “Gives me some time to think of other ideas for you.” He reached down, his hand cupping your face as his thumb went back to your lips. You parted your lips just enough for him to push it into your mouth, earning a sigh from your captain as he closed his eyes. “I’m going to give myself plenty of time to think.”

[likeburningcoal]

Anyone wanna hear about my niche Shadowpeach Count of Monte Cristo AU? No?

Okay so Wukong is Mercedes right, Macaque is Edmond.

This got longer than intended so more below the cut:

Azure is Mondego and he’s got a thing for Wukong, but clearly Wukong is in love with Macaque. So Azure conspires with Peng (Danglars) and Yellow Tusk (Villefort) (who knows this is basically the only way to convince SWK to fist fight Heaven as seriously as they need him to) to get Macaque in trouble with Heaven. DBK kinda plays the role of Monsieur Morrel as the friend who got sidelined once the Camel Ridge Trio gained power.

Anyway Mac gets in trouble with Heaven and ends up imprisoned, SWK cannot find him and nobody in Heaven will tell him anything. Eventually SWK decides Mac is dead and he’s gonna work with Azure to overthrow Heaven as vengeance. After a long war, they eventually reach peace with Heaven and are given Camel Ridge as a place they can rule as they see fit.

LBD and the Mayor sorta play the Abbe Faria role and teach Mac a ton of magic and stuff but instead of them dying Mac just bails and escapes alone first chance he gets because he knew they were bad news.

He then proceeds to show up, glamored to an unrecognizable level (because SWK wasn’t the one to get in trouble with Heaven the furnace didn’t happen, and thus no gold vision), and acts as a very powerful spirit who’s very interested in the success of Camel Ridge and has absolutely no ulterior motives such as revenge. Absolutely not. He calls himself the Count of Shadow because he’s dramatic.

Anyway more characters.

MK is Albert/Maximillian who was adopted by SWK as a Mentee and ends up also studying under Mac

Mei is more of less Valentine except basically not at all as she’s neither in a romantic relationship with MK nor related to Yellow Tusk. She just plays a huge role in proving that “loyalty is real and not everyone is out for themselves”

Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy all play pretty big support roles in that they’re there to support MK and Mei and keep an eye on their creepy new friend, oh wait! New friend doesn’t like the rulers of camel ridge (who are mush less benevolent than they claimed they would be because they have 0 experience) okay maybe he’s not awful.

Very importantly Red Son plays the role of Benadetto/Cavalcanti, with some encouragement from his parents because they don’t like the trio anymore than anyone else. He gets to pretend to not be related to his family and act as a sorta spy by being a very powerful fire demon who wants to train under Yellow Tusk. He ends up being pivotal in finding the proof that Mac was framed and clearing his name with Heaven.

SWK meanwhile is struggling with ruling alongside Azure, Peng, and Yellow Tusk because he’s the only one with any actual experience ruling anything, while trying to train MK, while trying to keep Heaven from getting annoyed enough to wipe them off the face of the earth and dear god the last thing he needed was a handsome monkey demon passive aggressively flirting with him in ways that are far too painfully familiar!