#conversation just in time to witness this happen. i remember that the entire apartment went completely silent and i literally vividly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wincore · 4 years ago

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atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

saturnsummer · 4 years ago

Text

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

160 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

Text

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

1K notes · View notes

disgruntledspacedad · 4 years ago

Text

The Rules of Engagement (5/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 5.7k

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, smut.

a/n: many many notes at the end. unbeta’d as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Javi clicks off the radio as soon as the car starts, and you spend the first half of the ride in silence. For a while, he seems to be focused intently on driving, but you know him well enough to see the wheels turning in his head. Sunglasses hide his eyes, but still, there’s something about that little frown that suggests that his thoughts are far from lunchtime traffic.

It doesn’t bother you - your mind really isn’t on the road, either.

“I can’t figure it out.” You’re startled to find that it’s your voice breaking the silence.

“Can’t figure out what?” Javi takes a deep drag from his cigarette. He’s still not looking at you.

“Who did this, and why.” You swallow past the emotion that wells in your throat, firmly redirecting your thoughts to facts and evidence. “It wasn’t an accident, Peña, I’m ruling that out now. Somebody planted a bomb in Emilio’s store.”

Javi purses his lips tightly.

“And call me crazy, but I can’t help but think that it has something to do with Escobar.” Your voice is rising now as you warm to the argument. “Like, this is his MO, right? Bombing civilian small business, terrorism, chaos…” you trail off, furrowing your brow as you rest your forehead against the cool window. “Just… why here? Why Bogotá?”

Why Emilio?

Javi’s face freezes. He’s quiet for a long time. You watch him warily from the corner of your eye. To the casual observer, he’s all calm stoicism, snuffing his cigarette and reaching both hands to finger the steering wheel. But you know better - you read the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the carefully shuttered expression, the white knuckle grip that suggests that he’s far more stressed than he’s letting on.

Something wild throbs in your chest and you have a sudden, irrational suspicion that he might know more than he’s saying. The moment stretches, and just as you’re ready to panic, Javi huffs a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know,” he admits in a low voice, and the bubble of uncertainty shatters. “But I’m going to find out.”

There’s something cold in his tone, a controlled, a calculated malice that threatens vengeance, and you rest your forehead against the window, wondering at the profound sense of reassurance you draw from his words.

Out of nowhere, a truck swerves in front of you, and Javi leans hard on the horn, cursing and flipping off the driver out the window as you weave past him.

You can’t help a small smile at that - Javier Peña, taking out his worries on the unassuming drivers of Bogotá.

Again, silence stretches between you.

“I think it’s time you told me about your morning.” Javi’s voice is soft, but still, you know it’s not a request.

“There’s not much to tell,” you confess. Again, not entirely true, but you haven’t even begun to process it all, and the details are overwhelming to contemplate. “I volunteered to stay over at headquarters. They wouldn’t put me in the air two nights in a row, but still, I wanted to know what was happening.”

His lips twitch at this.

“It was quiet. I left around seven, I think. I’m not entirely sure. Figured somebody would call me with news. And then…” You pause, swallowing hard. “I was almost home. At the corner of 70.”

You remember waving to Emilio, the way his eyes had lit up when he’d spotted you, his toothy grin. He’d been so proud, introducing you to that guaro.You blink, bracing yourself against the yawning pit of grief that threatens to open in your chest. Not now. Please.

“Then the store exploded.”

You and Javi draw a deep breath at the same time. The ensuing silence is stifling.

“Then what?” he prompts you gently.

You glance up, noticing that he’s parked the car. Neither of you move.

“I stumbled back,” you continue haltingly. You just want this conversation to be over. “It’s all kind of a blur, from there. It was really weird, like… like being in a time warp, or something.”

He nods grimly, like he understands.

“I decided to go to your place…” you’re nervous, confessing this part to him. As tense as he is, as awkward as things have been, any reference of your previous liaisons feels like stirring hot shit with a stick. “I just, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t wait for the police to arrive?”

Desperation and indignation rise in you. “Javi, I’d just witnessed my fucking apartment go up in flames, okay? Excuse me if I didn’t perform to your exacting standards!”

He presses his lips together in a firm line, and oh, fuck. You realize that you’ve just called him by his name again - something you’ve made a point not to do since that horrible morning in the shower.

Ugh.

You drop bonelessly against the passenger seat, all of the fight leaking from you. This fucking day… god, just, fuck this day.

“I’m sorry.” Javi’s voice is so whisper-quiet that it almost doesn’t register.

You take three deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

“It’s fine,” you say, once you’re grounded again. “But I’m - I’m just done talking, okay?”

“Yeah.” Javi opens his door with a deep sigh. “Okay.”

♠

Javi lets you in, and you go straight for the sofa, settling awkwardly with your hands in your lap.

God, now what? You’re right back where you started - no home, no job to do, and no answers. Exhaustion and helpless resignation swallow you whole, and you sit like that for a long moment, staring into the middle distance and fighting the urge to rest your head in your hands.

After a while - you’re not sure how long - you notice the absolute silence permeating the apartment. Javi hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You’d totally forgotten he was there.

You glance up.

He’s draped against the front door with his arms folded defensively across his chest, frowning fiercely at nothing.

“Hey.” You aren’t aware that you’ve moved until you’re standing in front of him.

His eyes flutter shut and he exhales, long and slow, tilting his head back against the door so that he’s facing the ceiling, and okay, now you’re seriously freaked out.

“Javi?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers.

“Can’t do what?”

He grimaces like the sound of your voice is painful. “Please don’t make me.”

You take a half step closer, alarm bells screaming in your head. You have never, ever heard this man beg, not once in all the time you’ve spent together. “Don’t make you… Javi, what?”

His gaze flicks to yours, and you suck a sharp breath.

Javi looks absolutely wrecked. His eyes are wide and dark, brow furrowed deep, and he’s staring at you with so much longing in his expression that little sparks of electricity go zipping across your skin.

“God, Ears, baby, I was there,” he rasps. He takes one quick little step forward, as if to reach for you. “I went to your place as soon as I heard, as soon as the plane landed…”

You brain skitters to a stop.

Oh, Christ. He hadn’t told you that. You don’t even have time to wonder about it, though, because Javi is still speaking, words pouring out of him as if revisiting the memory has cracked him wide open.

“And it, it was a fucking crater, okay? And nobody had seen you, nobody had heard anything, and they had the fucking - the fucking body bags -” His voice cracks, and he presses his fists to his eyes, as if to hide his face while he gathers himself.

Horror floods you. You’re starting to put it all together now. You’d been so distracted by your own terrible day that you’d not once thought to ask about Javi’s. You imagine him at the bomb site, picking his way through ash and rubble, flashing his badge at firemen and emergency responders, firing off questions, watching them load up body bags…

Oh, fuck.

Javi shakes his head sharply, as if dispersing the memories, and when he looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed and wet. “Querida,” he breathes, pinning you with an expression of open desperation. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Oh.

It takes a lot to scare Javier Peña. You know this. He’s a fearless man. He has to be.

But this morning, Javi had been terrified. You recall his voice over the phone, tense and clipped, the blustered sigh of profound relief, the clattering footsteps as he’d raced up the steps, his eyes, not quick and efficient, but frantic as he’d taken you in, alive and healthy and wearing his clothes.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, unable to articulate just how profoundly you mean that. You’re still reeling from the implications of it all.

“I know,” Javi chokes. He blinks hard, almost like he’s baffled by it. “You’ve been right here the whole time.” He hitches a breath. “And goddammit, baby, I can’t sit here and listen to you say my name without wondering what the hell else I’m losing.”

Reality shifts and realigns in an instant. Fear and disbelief give way to fierce longing, and your voice comes out as a choked whisper. “Come here.”

Javi does, haltingly at first, as if wondering if you really mean it. You fall into his arms, and he pulls you close, reverently, as if you are the most precious thing in the world. He presses his forehead carefully to yours, catching your jawline with his palms and threading his fingers through your hair.

“God, baby,” he rasps. “When I saw you… When I heard your voice…”

“I’m okay,” you remind him, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m okay.”

He sighs deeply, and a bubble of tension you weren’t even aware of bursts at the sound. You melt into him, and he holds you tightly for a long, long time, swaying your bodies gently back and forth, your head tucked against his chest.

You tilt your face to him, pressing your lips to his skin, and he huffs brokenly, his body still wrapped around yours like he’s reluctant to create any space between you. He’s shaking as he takes your face in his hands, pausing just long enough to fix you with a wild-eyed, pleading glance.

“Okay?” he breathes.

“God, yes,” you gasp. “Yes.”

And just like that, Javi’s kissing you like a man without air, awkward and starving, catching the back of your neck with one hand, the other roaming beneath your shirt to stroke at your ribcage.

There’s nothing gentle about it. A month’s worth of desperation has been building in both of you, and now, Javi’s frantically mapping your body with his lips and tongue, peppering little licks and kisses and soft nips down your jaw and neck while you scramble awkwardly for the buttons of his shirt. You struggle to keep your fingers under control as one gigantic hand finds your ass and squeezes. You gasp, inadvertently popping his last button.

Damn, you liked that shirt.

Undeterred, you push it aside, finally free to explore his chest and back and belly for the first time in far too long. Javi’s skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his body smooth muscle and soft heat as he leans into you. His hands are snaking beneath your shirt now, one brushing the bare skin of your torso as it wanders up to grasp at your bra, the other gripping at the hollow of your hips. You arch into his touch, groaning low into his mouth, and he bucks in response, cock straining at his jeans, denim deliciously rough against your palm.

“What do you want, baby?” he gasps into the hollow of your throat. Those gorgeous hands have migrated back to your ass now, clutching with a greediness that leaves you panting.

“Just…” God, you can’t even think, your brain flickering in and out, overloaded with pleasure and pent up emotion and Javier Peña. “Just you, Javi. Now. Please.”

He whimpers, his erection digging rock-hard into your belly, and the sound nearly brings you to your knees - cool, collected, suave Javier Peña, keening for you.

Javi hikes you up so quickly that you yelp, hips pinning you as he drives you into the wall. You brace yourself for impact, but he’s already anticipated that - one hand cups the back of your head, cradling you protectively, the other reaching past your thighs to clench at your pussy.

You moan, rocking into him, bracing your elbows against the wall to grant him access. You shimmy your hips, and he hitches your skirt up with a fist, dragging your soaking panties to the side as he buries his fingers inside you.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Javi’s fingers pulse deep into your core, once, and then again, that come-hither curl of them driving you wild as he pumps through your juices. You scramble back, opening yourself as best you can with your limited mobility as he presses his knee beneath your leg to hold you in place.

God fucking damn, there’s something about being pinned to the wall by this man that leaves you trembling and leaking.

Groaning, Javi sinks his mouth onto yours, and you arch up to meet him, sucking sloppily on his lips, his stubbled jaw, whatever you can get to. You tug his hair hard, mostly for leverage, and he gasps, throwing his head back in a way that allows you access to his neck. You love Javi’s neck - it’s delicious, all fascinating gentle dips between tight tendons, and you relish the opportunity to explore each of its arcs and hollows with your tongue.

He shudders as you nip and suck and bite at him, grinding your body against his as you clench your legs around his waist.

You’re both panting at this point, skin slick with sweat. It’s hard to know where you end and Javi begins, but it’s so, so good, feral and desperate and heated, and somehow, he’s still managing to pulse his thumb at your clit. The motion sets a fucking fire in you, slow, deep waves of hot pressure building in your core.

“More, Javi,” you beg against his clavicle, shimmying your hips against his hand. Any other day, you’d be content to stay here, caught between him and the wall as he wrings your orgasm from you with the pads of his fingers. But there’s something else building in you, a desperation that has both nothing and everything to do with physical release, and you just need him closer. “I- I need -”

Javi growls, gently dropping you to the floor as he shucks out of his jeans. You help him along with trembling fingers, giggling incoherently as your heads brush clumsily in your haste. You take the opportunity to shrug out of your shirt and bra, and then Javi’s pinning you with a gaze that’s almost predatory, dark enough to send shivers of anticipation curling down your spine.

You back against the wall and raise a brow, daring him to come get you.

He does, hoisting you up easily - he really is stronger than he looks. One knee hikes beneath your thigh, his opposite hand clenched behind your ass, thumb digging deep into the hollow of your hip. You absently notice that he’s once again braced his opposite hand between your head and the wall, threading his fingers through your loosened braid, but you don’t have time to consider it, because he’s thrusting into you, quick, shallow pumps that leave you gasping for air.

It’s mind-blowingly amazing, and a wild, wanton part of you wonders why the hell you haven’t done this before - just kick off your clothes and go at it like animals in the hallway. You sink deeper onto him, angling your hips just-so, and oh fucking christ, he’s rubbing right against your clit, hard and fast and sloppy in the very best way.

You throw your head back, spasming around him, scrabbling at his shoulders for purchase. He’s still wearing his fucking shirt, and you cling to its open edges with enough force to rip. Javi hisses, rhythm faltering as he slips from you. For a moment, you pause like that, him holding you with shaking thighs, your lungs and skin burning, heaving breaths mingling hot on each other’s faces, but then he’s realigning himself, shifting his angle a little. You shimmy up the wall, desperate to accommodate.

The second round is even more brutal than the first, choppy and shallow. Your abs are burning; it’s a difficult position to maintain, but that familiar fullness is building achingly delicious in your core, so you hold out, gasping. Javi’s breathing raggedly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he presses it against yours, eyes wide and unfocused as he thrusts into you.

He’s trembling with exertion.

“Fuck!” He’s slipped again. You sink to the floor, reaching for his wrist. He looks at you, face twisted in a resentful snarl.

“Javi,” you gasp, kissing him before he can react. What you’re doing is hot as fuck, but it’s not working right now. You’re both too tired, too desperate and shaky, and you need release. “Take me to bed.”

“Hmm,” he moans into your mouth. It must be agreement, because pulls back - you shudder at the loss of contact - and then hoists you over his shoulder in a move that makes your head spin. You giggle a little, breathless and giddy and almost incoherent with need.

Javi carries you through the apartment like that, you clinging to him like a koala bear with your legs locked around his waist and your head draped over his shoulder. He drops you lopsided on his unmade bed. Automatically, you flop over onto your stomach and gather your knees to your chest, remembering how he loves to take you from behind.

“No,” his voice is strained. A hand, surprisingly gentle, tugs at your shoulder, and you go with it, twisting so that you’re on your back again, sideways in the bed. “I need…” Javi’s panting, dark eyes burning a hole in you. “I need to see you, baby.” His voice breaks, his expression vulnerable, almost apologetic.

A rush of affection overtakes you, and you reach for him, pulling him close for another deep kiss. Javi straddles you, palming himself in preparation, and you have the foresight to shove a pillow under your ass - if you’re going to be doing this face to face, then you want him as deep as possible.

When you glance up, he’s watching you open-mouthed, absently tugging at his leaking cock like he just can’t help it.

God, he’s beautiful.

He sucks a startled breath, looking at you in wide-eyed wonder, and oh fuck. You’d said that out loud.

“Javi,” you whine, yanking him closer. You don’t have time to feel awkward, goddammit. You just need him. For real. Inside you. Right now.

You both shudder as he sinks deep into you. He stays still for a moment, and you clench against him desperately, urging him to move, dammit, but he’s holding off.

“Baby,” he rasps, glancing down at you, red-faced. “I’m not - I’m not going to last.”

That confession alone makes something swell tightly in you, and you buck your hips in response. “It’s okay,” you rasp, trying hard be good, to hold still, to not overwhelm him. “I won’t, either.”

He rocks against you, a tiny pulse, just enough to fucking tease, but it must be an unconscious thing, because he’s still looking you in the eye like he’s afraid you’ll reject him, or condemn him.

“Javi, please,” you keen, patience thoroughly spent. You reach up, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades and tugging hard. “I don’t care. I just need you. All of you.”

That gets him moving.

Javi rocks against you, setting up an achingly slow, almost careful rhythm, his left hand still cradled around the back of your neck to brace your head as he draws himself to the hilt, then nearly all the way out again. It’s gentle and sweet, but dammit, you want more. You pull your knees to his elbows to encourage him deeper, digging your heels into his back. Javi gets the message, because he twitches and groans, curling around your body and bracing himself against your shoulders, abruptly driving into you with a force that punches the air from your lungs - hard, fast, and deliciously brutal.

It’s exactly what you need.

You curl up against his chest, abs burning as you glance past your breasts to the place where your bodies are connected. The edges of his open shirt skim the sensitive skin of your ribcage, framing the view and drowning you in more sensation. Heat is pooling in you, tension building and sparking and curling your toes. There’s something surreal and wonderful about watching yourselves work in tandem, his hips and yours, pulsing and perfect.

Javi shudders, and you drag your eyes back to his face, not daring to miss a moment. Fuck, he’s gorgeous, and that expression alone, that little purse-lipped grimace of pleasure, is enough to drive you to the edge. Controlled, careful, restrained Javier Peña coming undone for you, rattled for you, staring at you like it hurts to draw a fucking breath in your presence… goddamn, you twisted little shit, you’re really liking that.

His rhythm is faltering now, thighs clenching erratically, breath coming in ragged little pants. You know that he’s close.

You reach up to stroke his cheek. “Javi,” you whisper. His eyes find yours, glossy and wild. His mouth is open, his brow furrowed. “It’s okay, baby,” you tell him. He trembles in response, a full body shudder, his eyes flickering shut.

“It’s okay. Let go.”

His breath hitches, and he bucks wildly, collapsing against your chest with a low, broken groan. The hot heaviness of him pulsing into you releases a shockwave of pleasure down you spine. You gasp as your core clenches, spreading his heat, but it’s not quite enough, you’re not quite ready, and you grit your teeth at the loss of friction as he softens inside you.

You watch his face twitch, relief and ecstasy and something else, something fierce and sharp that you can’t possibly name.

You groan, reaching your fingers down to your core, battering against him. You tug at your clit, index finger tap-dancing in that perfect circular motion that sends you straight over the edge as Javi flops bonelessly beside you.

Desperate for contact, you sink into him, still working to salvage that orgasm, concentrating hard on the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage with each chugging breath, the heat of his body wrapped around you like a second skin. His eyes flutter open, and there’s a look of quiet desperation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he babbles, reaching for you with wide eyes. “Babe, I -”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” you reassure him, batting his hand aside with your elbow before he can interfere. The waves are crescendoing now, almost painful in their intensity. You’re so fucking close, words and reason are beyond you. “S’okay, Jav, I’m close… I just need… need you to…. “

“What do you need, baby? Anything.”

“Just - just be here.”

Javi inhales sharply, then gathers you closer to him. “Yeah,” he murmurs, resting his face in the crook of your neck, peppering you with the softest of kisses. One hand rests firmly on your head, its thumb working little circles on your uninjured temple, the other trailing down your body to splay at the sensitive underside of your belly. “I’m here, baby,” he whispers raggedly into your ear. “I’m here.”

Oh god, oh god. The pressure fucking hurts, burning in your toes, clenching in your core, and just when you think that you’re useless today, that sex is absolute bullshit and you can’t possibly take anymore, that -

“You’re so… my god, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

It’s not Javi’s tone, broken as is is. It’s the frankness of the confession, the rawness. Javier Peña is not a sweet talker, especially not in bed. He’s not pandering to you. It’s more like the words have been dragged from him at gunpoint, pulled from the very deepest recesses of his subconscious, and it’s that honesty, that awed, reverent authenticity, that drives you over the edge.

It all happens in an instant. The bubble of tension in your core bursts abruptly, and you come with a choked gasp, mind blinking in and out as you ride out wave after wave of sweet relief. Javi is with you the whole time, cradling you in his arms as you shatter.

It’s not the longest orgasm you’ve had, or even the most intense, but there’s something about him holding you, about sharing the same skin and air and listening to him murmur sweetly in your ear, that transcends any release you've ever experienced. You ride the waves of your orgasm, swearing to the heavens that you’re breaking apart, and somehow, you’re taking Javi with you like you never have before, splintering and reconverging in a way that’s intimate and vulnerable and precious beyond words.

You come back to reality, breathless and trembling, and the first thing you notice is Javi staring at you with something like reverence in his expression.

“Hey,” he breathes, running a gentle finger down your cheek.

“Mmm,” you curl into his chest, just breathing him in, all warm, sticky skin and stale cigarette and perfect man.

You stay that way for a long time.

“I missed you,” Javi whispers hoarsely, pressing soft lips against your ear.

“I know,” you choke, because you do. That rush of clarity that had effused you in the front hallway is only more potent now. You and Javi had been dancing around each other for months, each of you too stubborn and too afraid to admit to the other that your feelings ran so much deeper than you let on. It’s so obvious now, how stupid you’d both been, and how much you’d missed by being stupid.

You’re horrified to feel tears tracking down your cheeks. God, reality has caught up with you all at once, exhaustion and fear and horror and relief all snarled up with post-coital vulnerability, and you curl deeper into Javi, tucking your face down in an effort to hide.

He notices, though. He always notices. “Baby?” Javi tilts your face up, tracking over you with concerned, dark eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Exposure turns your tears to choked sobs, and it’s all you can do to speak. “I’m fine,” you gasp, and it’s both the truth and a lie. You’ve never felt safer than you feel now, or more connected to another human than you are to Javier Peña in this moment.

And that’s the thing. There’s still so much left to say. So many emotions, so many worries, so much grief. It all wars for dominance in you, everything at once, and you’re not even sure what the fuck you’re crying about until all of the sudden, you’re choking on words.

“Emilio,” you gasp. “He - he -”

Javi draws a sharp breath of understanding, wrapping strong arms around you as you cry.

“He was… he was gone… and there was nothing I could do!”

“Oh, baby,” Javi murmurs into your ear, rubbing tiny circles into the bare skin of your back. “I know. I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

“And, and…” You’re sobbing so hard that your chest burns, and it’s all you can do to breathe, but the dam has burst, and it’s all coming out now, whether you want it to or not. “Oh, god, Javi, I missed you, too.”

He chuckles a little at that, peppering your forehead with gentle kisses and thumbing the tears from your cheeks.

“Steve was right,” he confesses, tucking your head under his chin. “We’re both idiots.”

This startles a wet giggle from you. You imagine Murphy confronting Javi like he’d confronted you, red-faced and indignant and insisting that you both deserve one another. “Yeah,” you sniffle through your tears. “He was.”

“He’ll be insufferable about it, too.” Javi’s holding your hand now, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth over your knuckles. You sigh breathily into his chest, crying until your sobs turn to shudders, and then finally, until you’re wrung raw and thoroughly exhausted.

Javi holds you the whole time.

You exhale raggedly, noticing for the first time just how slimy you are. “Ugh, gross,” you mutter, covering your face with your hand as you draw away from Javi, horrified.

Jesus Christ, if you’d just slung snot all over Javier Peña’s bare chest… god, you think you won’t survive the humiliation.

But Javi doesn’t seem bothered. He sits up, glancing around his bedroom for a tissue. Finding nothing, he shrugs out of his shirt, offering it to you silently.

You stare at it, then him.

“What?” he asks, incredulous. He’s still holding out the shirt, eyebrow cocked as if to question why you won’t just take it.

“Nothing,” you say. And that’s a lie. There’s something so uniquely Javi about the gesture, wanting you to wipe your nose with the shirt off his back. But that’s just him - genuine, resourceful, efficient. It’s cute and perfect and ridiculous, and it makes your chest swell and ache.

But you can’t quite put all of that into words right now, and you know he wouldn’t understand even if you tried, so you take the shirt from him with a grateful smile and blow your nose in it like a goddamn heathen.

Javi wads it in a tight ball when you’re finished, chunking it unceremoniously on the floor.

You roll your eyes, and he smirks at you, squeezing your hand as he climbs out of bed. After his cigarettes, you think. “Pretty sure you dropped them on the kitchen floor,” you call after him.

“Yup,” he verifies from the hallway.

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom and clean up, and by the time you’re done, Javi’s waiting for you, propped up against the headboard with his eyes shut, smoke curling from his mouth. He pats the bed beside him, not looking up, and you snuggle under his arm, sighing contentedly.

This is new, the cuddling, sharing his bed, burrowing against his side as he smokes, and you savor every detail. His skin is still slick with cooling sweat, and you can hear his heartbeat beneath his ribs where your head rests, slow and steady. Neither of you need to speak, each just drawing comfort from the presence of the other.

Afterglow, you decide, is a very good word for it.

“Javi?” you ask after a long, long time.

“Yeah?” he whispers. You wonder if he thought you were asleep.

“What is this?” You wave your hand, indicating the tiny space between his chest and yours. You know what it looks like, and you know what it is for you, but you can’t stand the thought of leaving anything uncertain between you, not after all of this.

Javi takes a deep drag of his cigarette. He holds that breath for a long time, but the silence doesn’t scare you, not anymore. That’s just Javi’s thinking face, the one you know so well.

After a while, Javi turns to face you fully. “This is me,” he starts slowly, reaching for your hands and lifting them to his chest, “deciding that I’m not going to miss any more opportunities.”

Your breath catches. That sounds - well, coming from Javier Peña, it sounds an awful lot like a vow.

“I’m all in, Ears.” Javi kisses each of your hands in turn. “If that’s okay with you.” He glances up almost hesitantly, the question burning in his eyes.

There’s something about the gravitas of the delivery that hints that his words are more than they seem. Javi’s gaze is pinned to yours, dark and serious, and a shiver runs down your spine. You might be lacking some context, but Javi’s resolve is impossible to miss.

You consider it for only half a second. You’ve known for a long time now that there’s a lot more at stake in Colombia than just your career. Hell, you’d known that from the moment you let Javi walk away from your apartment for the first time. And he’s made his position pretty clear, too. You bite back a loopy grin as you remember him blowing past Martinez at headquarters.

Yeah, there’s no salvaging this secret.

"All in," you say, gripping his hands tightly and wishing you could be half as eloquent and intense and awesome as he is. “I like the way that sounds.”

It’s the honest truth.

Javi breaks out into a soft smile that shows off that single dimple, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Looks like we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah,” you try to answer, just as you are interrupted by a huge yawn.

Javi snorts. “Go to sleep, Ears,” he says fondly, pointedly throwing back the bed covers. You shoot him a petulant frown, and he rolls his eyes, undeterred. “Seriously, baby. This is just getting stupid now.”

“Whole day is stupid,” you mutter darkly as you climb under the blankets - not because he told you to, but because you want to.

“Oh really?” Javi teases. “The whole day?”

“Well,” you pretend to contemplate. “Guess the sex was alright.” You grin wolfishly at him from beneath the covers.

His response does not disappoint. “Alright?” He presses a hand to his chest, wounded. “Christ, baby, kick a man while he’s down.” He side-eyes you, frowning. “Guess I really do need to up my game, huh?”

“Your words, Jav,” you mumble. The full force of your exhaustion has hit you with a vengeance, and talking is hard.

“I will make it up to you baby,” he growls in your ear, suddenly serious. “You know I will.”

“Mmhmm,” you sigh. Any other time, that voice would have gone straight to your core, but now, not so much. “I do.”

“Good.” He drops a kiss on your nose, then slips out of the bed. The loss of his body heat is enough to draw you out of your stupor, just for a moment.

“Stay?” you call pathetically, just as the lamp flicks off.

Oh.

Javi settles back in beside you, wrapping his arms around your chest and nuzzling into the back of your neck with his nose. “Yeah, babe,” he whispers into your ear as you finally, finally drift off. “Not going anywhere.”

♠

Author notes/ confessions:

Whew, and that’s a wrap. Big, big notes here guys. I am incapable of being brief, apparently.

First, I know a lot of you are chomping at the bits to know who the fuck bombed Ears’ apartment. I tried to place a few little clues here and there, but ROE takes place sometime between 2.06 and 2.07. To summarize, Los Pepes, the vigilante group targeting Escobar, is funded by the Cali cartel. In retaliation, Escobar starts bombing Cali cartel owned business - their drug stores in particular. This really heated up in Bogotá around December 1992, which is when ROE ends.

Now, here’s the fun thing - Javi is absolutely already working with Los Pepes at this point - a relationship he initiated during the month that he and Ears were on the outs. Ears’ intuition in the car is correct - Javi does know, or suspect, more than he’s saying. This is a major plot point for a story that I have in the pipeline, but working that in here - god, guys, that’s too much, and ROE needed to end like 10k words ago, honestly.

That being said, if anybody has interest in being a beta, or just letting me scream ideas at them, hit me up. This little “one shot” has turned into a full blown universe in my brain, and these ideas are dying to get out.

The sex. Yeah, I know the sex isn’t great, but I wanted it that way. It was a strange choice on my part, both for Javi’s character and as a first foray into writing smut, but it just seemed appropriate. Sex is rarely ever as mind-blowing as depicted in fic, and besides, these two have had lots and lots of perfect sex. They’re a pretty equal match in that department, but this time is different. I wanted to put the emotions on display, rather than the physicality. It just makes sense that this time would be rushed, desperate, and messy. They are both emotionally and physically exhausted. Also, I really, really wanted to come full circle from the shower scene, where Ears never gets her completion, and also the scene on the sofa when Ears comforts Javi after a terrible day by saying, “I’m here.” There’s some sort of cathartic and earned about Ears bringing herself to completion while Javi just holds her. That being said, I know I owe Javi, and you guys, some smutty one-shots. I plan to deliver, I promise.

You’ll notice that I mention ears choking, coughing, sputtering, breathing, wheezing, feeling a tightness in the chest, aching… she’s got a small pulmonary contusion from being in such close proximity the blast zone. It’s a common injury in bombing survivors, and hers isn’t massive or life threatening, just inconvenient. Pulmonary contusion symptoms tend to develop hours or days after the injury, so she’ll steadily get worse, and when she does, the whole story of her experience with the explosion WILL come out. She’s still got a lot of trauma to process, both physically and emotionally, but Javi is gonna be there every step of the way (after he flips shit first, that is). I’ll let you guys imagine this one, though, because I have already dragged ROE out far longer than I really should have, and it’s mostly medical bs, anyway.

Last of all, if you’re still here, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I haven’t written in years, and this story pushed me far outside of my comfort zone. Your support, comments, likes, reblogs, reaction gifs - they all mean the world to me.

@tiffdawg, you are directly responsible for this dumpster fire. I hope you’re proud. :)

Much, much love, and a happy new year to each of you.

~ Jay

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kurohoely · 4 years ago

Text

mask (sakusa x y/n)

What happens when Sakusa realizes masks are better off than on?

genre: hurt/comfort, sakusa is in time skip!

wc: 2.2k

It was known that Sakusa is reserved, he only shows his most relaxed self to those who he trusts, which includes you. He can show those random, whacky emotions, teasing you and giving some gen z emojis but being open and vulnerable? That’s just not him.

You have been dating him for almost a few months now and a lot of people were surprised that you both actually worked out. The dynamic you both have was something people often quote as ‘not compatible’. You knew him before since you both have few classes together in college but who would’ve thought from those unintentional crossings lead you here. Sakusa’s character is pretty obvious and you kind of get it by now how he works and acts but was there any difference between before and now? Why does it feel like the walls are kept up, and builds higher than before?

You tried to initiate a lot of things. He does too but he was indeed more awkward, baby steps as you call it. Despite all that, you appreciate him, all the things he did were definitely out of his comfort zone. You kept saying to yourself that he's trying, remembering that he was the one that confessed first. You hold onto that memory in hope that it will be dynamic throughout the relationship.

But how about right now? With the new season up and running, you kept seeing less and less of him. Countless lonely dinners and cold bedsheets. Rescheduled dates and missing out on one another. You almost excused Sakusa for forgetting your anniversary, thinking it was a given. You signed up to be with someone that has no constant rhythm in their life, always the next big thing to keep their lives afloat. Again, you put on another layer, masking away, reasoning to yourself that things will work out. You don't want to bother him, let alone be the reason why he is stressing out. Patience has always been a good nature of you but sometimes, you question if you should stop being selfless and start being selfish. He is your boyfriend after all.

Sakusa noticed the subtle changes that happened. He felt that you were perfect. Too perfect, as a matter of fact. He wanted to sit down and try to understand why and where this was coming from because he definitely didn't confess to you for perfection. He wanted you. Not any other version. Pure and transparent. No mask. But as much as he wanted to, it is still out of his nature, and with the season starting, it will be quite some time before he can bring this again.

Mid through the season, work is piling up, matches are getting tougher each time they win. That’s a given. You came to almost all of his games and have them recorded on tv. Whatever the outcome, you will always be proud of him. He was basking in his prime condition; you were there for him and his plays were getting synchronized with the team at a rate that even the coach was surprised. He left the thought at the back of his mind, focusing on what he has to do first. After each match, you both have this little ritual, spending some alone time together starting with dinner as both of your schedules sometimes don't overlap quite nicely. Sakusa told you about his plays as if you weren’t there to witness it all and you can’t blame him. You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about how good it felt when spiking. The conversation flows naturally and you both talked about how your days went. You were both walking diaries of each other. Not until Sakusa flipped a page that has been long overdue.

He cussed himself to have the audacity to forget about this issue. He doesn’t like this. It was as if he’s taking advantage of your facade, your mask. Even though Sakusa tells you many times that you need to wear one physically, this was something that he wished to be stripped off completely. He hates it. He hates that he can't be a safe space for you. Someone you can let yourself breathe from the suffocating expectations from the outside world. But what he hates the most is that you changed yourself to accommodate his own ignorance.

Sakusa flipped his match schedule. It looks like there won't be another match in 5 days. He called Meian and Iwaizumi if it’s okay if he takes a few days off from practice. Both of them were surprised that Sakusa would even ask for a day off but they agreed anyway. He’s not the type to ask for one so this must be something really important.

Saturday shifts are hard. You only have one day of rest before hustling again on Monday but oh you were SO GLAD that your manager said that you can have a paid leave on Monday after helping out on a side project for some other team.

You pushed your shared apartment door, dragging your feet inside. You saw Sakusa peek his head from the kitchen. He took off his apron and walked to you, grabbing your bags from the floor and giving a peck on your cheek. You went to the bedroom and saw the bath bomb that you bought impulsively on your previous date. A bath sounds nice, you thought to yourself.

Filling up the bath to a slightly hotter temperature, a much-needed one to shake that fatigue out from your body and start your long weekend with a fresher body. Gently dipping your toes, you hold the sides and lower yourself in, letting the heat seep into your skin. As you were shuffling your position, a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Doors unlocked so yeah baby come in”

Sakusa twisted the knob, letting himself in. He sat on the floor next to the tub, a rare sight for Sakusa and you. He folded his arms on the dry part of the tub and stared into your eyes. Losing himself in your mind, finding where he actually belongs. He knows this isn’t the right time, not even a good one, to bring up this matter but it has been pushed back for too long, he couldn’t care less about what setting it was in right now. You were always firm on your stands, confronting those to have the middle ground in everything but now, it was as if he’s with someone else.

“Hey sunshine, how's the bath”

You flushed at the pet name he called you. When was the last time you heard that softness, that warmth? The sense of home and belonging to another person, solely wanting to give your whole life away in exchange for his.

“It's pretty nice. Do you wanna join in?”

“Hmm sounds nice.”

He removes his mask and strips quickly, submerging himself into the tub in front of you. He pressed his muscular, toned back to your chest, taking its warmth into his body. Taking in whatever he could take from you between his skin and yours. Your scent, your heat, your touch, the friction, sensation - everything. He knows he wants everything but how about you? He sometimes thinks that he forced you into the relationship, going above and beyond to go with how he handles things. His fussy attitude when it comes to cleaning, being in crowds, and towards people in general. Whatever the train of thought was, he needs to know, He can’t bear seeing his future bland and monotonous because you were not there. You were his yellow, heck, you were his entire spectrum.

“Hey y/n, I know it's not a good time to ask this but, did I do something that makes you uncomfortable? I know I’m not good with words or being affectionate, doing all those sweet things that you see in movies but the last thing I want you to be is forcing yourself to be something that you are not.

“If there’s anything wrong that I did please tell me I…”.

“No! You did nothing wrong. You were perfect but maybe too perfect. I have this feeling that you weren't being yourself for quite some time. It's like you have this mask that you put on whenever you are with me. I know you are sensitive in nature - both to other people and towards yourself, which is why I fell in love with but aren't relationships supposed to be a two-way thing? I need to know what’s bothering you so please talk to me. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to be your most comfortable as if both of us are the only ones that are living on this earth. I wish I could come and talk to you sooner about this but I got too caught up in the games. It's my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be braver on confronting things like these. I’ll try to be more attentive to the small things”

Hearing this from Sakusa made your heart burst into so many emotions that were buried for so long. Happy, sad, hopeless, desperation, anger, guilt but most importantly, longing. You could only cry when he finished his last words. You were gasping for air, clawing yourself into Sakusa’s shoulders to grip on whatever you can. Wet streams trickled down Sakusa’s nape, dampening them. Sakusa was flustered as if it was the first time he ever saw you broke down. The first time? Oh God, how much has he been missing in this relationship...

“I’m sorry Omi. I was trying to be understanding. I tried to make this home at least a space where you can have at least some peace. I wanted to be with you more so badly but I know by asking it, you have to take time off or you might just think I'm annoying. And I hate it. Words cut more for me since it is the least effort to bring out but weighs the most. I don't think I can bear with it. So I avoided it. I avoid creating any chances that would lead us to fight. But then, it hit me when you started to slip away, distancing yourself subtly. Our dinner time became shorter, we didn't even cuddle anymore because your muscles were sore and I want them to heal fast so you can play your best. It seems like it backfired huh?”

Sakusa was taken aback due to a lot of things. How he finally was able to hear you say his pet name, the range of small things that you do, putting him as your topmost priority when you yourself are buried down, succumbing to earth more and more. How could he be so blind? It hurts him. It hurts him that you didn't even consider being comfortable with him. It destroys him that all of your actions were threaded with the thoughts of him when he did nothing, even worse, he forgot. Sakusa felt a sting poking through his heart, thin-like rods thrusting through it slowly. He felt a burning sensation that he was sure he didn’t like. If he felt this after hearing all of these, what about you? You’ve been carrying these for weeks, stretching out to months, yet you’re still here. How did he end up with someone as thoughtful and wonderful as you? He turned his body around, facing you. Your legs tangling together, bringing you inside his embrace, pushing your foreheads together. He lets out a breath after his thoughts finally reach a verdict.

“Hey bub, it’s okay. We’re here now. I’m sorry it took my dumbass this long to have this conversation. You don’t know how much you meant to me even though I barely show it. Please know that at least. I love you. I love you so much, too much that I cannot imagine waking up the next day without you. You were the reason I can handle Atsumu’s ass, thinking about if I can go through that part of the day, I can see you again. A little reward from me to myself. I asked for a few days off, shall we do a bit of catching up session?”

A tint of coral pink brushes lightly on top of your cheeks. Seeing Sakusa being all vulnerable and open, is a view that you wish no one will ever see besides you. You smiled and chuckled lightly.

Sakusa's heart swells. There it is. The smile that got him smitten all over. The small chuckle that you made was a symphony to his ears. It was as if at this moment he fell in love again. He found the you that he fell for but even deeper. He swore that day he would never make you feel like this.

You both get out, drying yourself together. Omi blow-dried your hair and you did his. He's pretty good at managing your hair because of his curls. You both did a random 14-step Korean skincare routine and cuddling around watching your favorite movie - Pride and Prejudice. Sakusa never understood why you liked this movie so much but today he finally does. When two lovers placed down their masks and finally faced each other, all became visible. The adoration in one's eyes, longing for the warmth of the other, to finally be together.

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rosaetae · 4 years ago

Text

no sweetness

☇ “It’s funny because you remind me exactly of this drink I made last night. Yeah, yeah, it was the black tea with boba. Bitter, with tiny balls.”

➣ pairing: reader x jungkook

➣ genre: fluff, comedy, bobarista!reader, lacrosseplayer!jungkook, e2l!au

➣ word count: 23k (of pure disgusting e2l fluff)

➣ warning!: slight implicit smut

➣ a/n: header title credit to the loveliest @yehdayums !!! a sweetheart for making this cute header hehe <3 also support small businesses!

➣ summary: jungkook has a thing for pretty girls who work with tiny balls, especially the new fiery bobarista at his favorite boba shop, whom he finds absolutely adorable, but finds out later that she’s just as sweet as she made his milk tea order— not sweet.

Jeon Jungkook is absolutely whipped as cream.

Why, you may ask?

His favorite boba shop at the very edge of the outskirt of town hired a new bobarista, and her name—supposedly— being ___. Jungkook made it a mental note to ask for it when he goes into Pleasantea with his friends, but word goes around and it out of the many words there are in the world, it's her name that catches his ear.

It is no doubt that Jeon Jungkook comes off as a flirt to every living species he encounters, but seeing that the new bobarista wasn't as happily taking it in as most people would, he was shocked that someone didn't have much interest into him. Sure, call him egotistical, but he was captain of the lacrosse team and he was pretty damn good at almost— well, everything.

The first time he goes into Pleasantea after hearing the news of a new duckling in training was after another win that Friday night. He's there with his group of friends, raiding the popular boba place with cheers while greeting the familiar workers behind the bar.

On Friday nights, it's Luna, Dahlia, and Jihyo working the closing shift, making the drinks and providing impeccable service, especially to the rowdy group of college students that come in almost every Friday to hangout or just to celebrate. Luna's pretty good with taming them down, especially when other customers are there. Dahlia likes to yell at them— she likes to yell at people in general. And Jihyo nurtures them like babies.

They've gotten close to Jungkook as Luna happened to be in his communications class first semester. He recognized her first, but Luna, being oblivious in all ranges of settings, faked a recognization of his name and face, and gave him a discount anyways. Because of this tiny occurrence, Jungkook came back, then with friends, and eventually with his whole lacrosse team to support the business.

"I'm guessing another win, Team Captain?" Jihyo rhetorically yelled over the cheering voices towards Jungkook who followed behind the group with a smirk. Her doe eyes peeks over the bar where her height was significant from the taller men on the other side, eyebrows raised and awaiting for the cocky response Jungkook can muster.

"What can I say?" Jungkook laughed sonorously, followed by a few encouraging and prideful pats on the shoulder from his teammates. "Wouldn't show up tonight with the boys if I didn't make that winning shot."

Rolling her eyes at the sound of the booming, testosterone-filled voices of his teammates and his vibrant ego, Jihyo scoffed away to work on other orders that Luna and Dahlia were speedily making before Jungkook's teammates and good friends come up to him, ready to order their drinks.

"What should I get?" Yoongi asked Jungkook, eyes scanning the menu of different drinks.

"Dunno. Get the usual," Jungkook advised, crossing his arms over his chest as he pondered what he should get too. "Your matcha milk tea with boba."

"Aight," Yoongi nods before he paused. The pause wasn't obvious enough for Jungkook to look his way, until Yoongi went ahead and nudged Jungkook, taking his complete attention away from the menu. "New worker."

"Hi, welcome!" That odd cheery voice didn't seem to come from the usual cashier he knew as Luna, nor Dahlia, throwing him off a bit. He does a double take behind the counter, finding a girl hurriedly filling a cup up with boba before she's running to the cashier, doe-like eyes widening in surprise at how many people she has to take orders of.

Her eyes catch Jungkook's, and it immediately clicked in his head that the word circling about the new Pleasantea worker were true. Pretty much all of them were aware, but it didn't seem to catch their attention as much as it caught his. Maybe it's the unfamiliarity of having someone foreign in a place he likes to call a second home. Maybe it's the odd satisfaction of meeting the so-called bobarista who's name somehow runs laps around his brain. Really, he was merely curious.

"What can I get you guys?" She asked with a warm smile. Jungkook's worked at a retail shop before, and he can tell good customer service apart from just a single sentence.

Jungkook peered over at the boys, watching Yoongi motioning at the others to go order, but seeing that they were also too busy eye-goggling the new girl behind the counter out of curiosity, Yoongi let out a sigh and ordered first. A smile bursted on the new girl's face when she's nodding to Yoongi's order. Her eyebrows furrowed as she works the register all before Yoongi whipped out his trusty credit card and does the procedural routine of inserting the card, tipping, signing, and saying "no thanks" to the receipt, dropping in a spare dollar or two into their "college funds" tip jar.

The boys filed in line after they've decided on what they wanted that night all while Jungkook started to overthink what he wanted to get.

Jungkook likes to change up his drink from time to time. After practices, he'd like something more refreshing to quickly chug down. After later practices, he'd get something more caffeinated to keep him awake for a night full of assignments. After games, it depends on the outcome of the prior— losing, he wouldn't order anything. Winning, however, he likes Pleasantea bobaristas to choose for him.

It's a good thing they won tonight.

When the line of his teammates dispersed and they all maneuvered into the back where their usual spot was, Jungkook realized it was his turn already. He didn't notice that he let all the boys go in front of him on purpose and he was the last of the group to order. However, he does take mental note of how New Girl keeps up a good face after each customer, something that Dahlia lacks because each customer removes a layer of her niceness as they come and go.

Jungkook slides closer to the register, his eyes never leaving hers as her own form into crescents— a silent, but welcoming greeting.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

His lips forms a smile to hear her voice clear as day. "Do you think you can surprise me?"

The favor evidently takes her by surprise before she lets out a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I can. Is there anything you're craving specifically?"

"Nope," he shakes his head. "You new?"

She smiles in return. "Yeah. Yesterday was my first day. Still getting a hang of it."

"You got a favorite drink..." Jungkook dragged out his sentence to look at her name badge, realizing that her name really was what he has been told. "___?"

The bobarista hums in thought before she lazily shrugs. "I haven't had many drinks, yet, but I really like the plain milk tea."

"I'll just get that then. Large, boba, light ice."

She nods as she puts it into the register as Jungkook patted his black jeans, searching his pockets for his wallet. In his head, he's pondering about the amount of tips to tip her.

"Sweetness level?"

Jungkook, without even processing he's said it, goes, "you." It takes him by surprise just as much as it took her, but he decides to roll with it. He even mentally pats himself, because damn, that was pretty smooth of him. He noticed that her fingers paused in tapping on the pad, just before meeting his expression consisting of a (douchebag) smirk and kind eyes. She raised her eyebrows before letting out a light chuckle, shaking her head.

"Cute," is all she said before placing the order and directing him to insert his card. As Jungkook mentally fist bumps himself, he decided to tip her the ten dollar bill laying in his wallet into the tip jar, before she glanced up at him with crescent eyes once more. "Your order will be ready at the other end of the counter."

As Jungkook thanked her, he lingered for a bit as she disappeared behind the bar where she met the three other girls shuffling around to finish the end of the night shift with dozens of customers waiting inside and outside. He shoved his wallet into the back of his pocket as he met up with the boys who took up the entire back of the shop where a long table basically welcomed them with open arms.

"What you get this time, Captain?" Jaehyun made a single nod towards Jungkook.

"Just their milk tea," Jungkook responded.

Jungkook has had the plain milk tea before. It's what Pleasantea was known for. It's their signature drink. A roasted flavor with just the right amount of sweetness with just 75% sugar. However, responding with reference to her as a sweetness, it might be a bit sweeter with just 100%. But it doesn't matter. He managed to get a "cute" from the new bobarista at Pleasantea and he intends to share it with his lacrosse team.

"New worker called me cute."

Jaehyun let out a snort, while Yoongi excitedly leaned in to add onto the list of other cringe-worthy pickup lines Jungkook says to girls. "Did you make another boba pick-up line? Remember when you tried to flirt with Dahlia but ended up only getting roasted by her?"

"Yeah, well, ___ called me cute. She just asked how sweet I wanted my drink to be," he explained. "I answered back with, 'you'."

It's the shove and nudge coming from both directions and the bursted balloon that held crazy laughter coming from not only Jaehyun, but Yoongi and Jaemin who listened to the terrible conversation they were most grateful to not have witnessed first hand. Jungkook grinned widely, pushing off his teammates who were disgusted by such a revolting experience.

"God, you are terrible," Yoongi covered his face with his hands, hiding from sheer embarrassment as Jungkook chuckled broadly. "I hope she spits in your drink because that was god awful."

"She thought it was cute, actually," Jungkook tooted his own horn— something he loved doing. Cocky isn't a pleasant trait on him, but he somehow makes it work.

Jaemin shook his head in mild distaste. "Man, get the fuck out of here."

"Boys!"

The familiar sound of Jihyo calling out a broad name as an endearment to the only boys that she has a love and hate relationship with catches the lacrosse teams' ears, having them get up in excitement. Half of the table decides to go while the other half stays and saves the spot, wanting to spend about half an hour there to settle.

It takes them a minute or two to have all of them come back with max two drinks in hand and while half of the boys passed out the variety of drinks to the others who saved their spot, Jungkook scrolls through his phone as Jaemin places his drink in front of him, a straw on top. Like second nature, Jungkook grabs the straw and stabs the plastic wrap, his jaw preparing to chew the sweet goodness of tapioca pearls.

However, it's not that that he was anticipating prior that made him furrow his eyebrows at the taste. It was the odd flavor that came before the pearls that made him retract the drink from his mouth to look at the label of what type of drink he got.

At first, he furrowed his eyebrows because he thought he had received the wrong drink. But it's in the middle of wanting to ask Jaemin if the drink he got actually belong to him, that he realized where he fucked up. Jaemin was curious as well, arching an eyebrow and turning the cup to its side to see if Jaemin actually grabbed the wrong drink.

It's the hysterical laughter coming from Jaemin's mouth ringing in the air that made Jungkook's lips part, but in all honestly, Jungkook wasn't as surprised. He watches his teammate share the cup around, laughter suddenly becoming louder at what has been witnessed— a rise and downfall of their own team captain.

The mocking sniggering that dispersed into air echoed throughout the boba shop's walls and inevitably, the new bobarista girl must be hearing it crystal clear, probably a playful smile on her lips as she heard the laughter grow at her own doing.

Eventually, Jungkook snatched the drink back and chugs it down anyways, shaking his head. Each time he took a sip, he looks at the side of his cup and wrinkles his nose in disdain.

MLK TEA. LESS ICE. 0% SWEET.

two days later.

The unfamiliarity of the road just near the outskirt of the town heading towards your new part-time job grows familiar each shift you are scheduled to work. The swerve and crooks of the road, the uneven pavements, the tiny dip as you enter the plaza— your mind becomes used to it, no longer using your GPS to know your way around the roads.

You arrive to your shift about a minute late, hurrying out of your car into the shop where Dahlia only greets you with a welcoming smile behind the bar. You take the marble colored hair clip you had in hand and clip your damp hair no thanks to your last minute morning shower you had to take after skipping your nightly routine. In theory, you had to blame the overwhelming paperwork you just had to wait last minute on for your lack of sleep and lack of hygiene.

"Hi, sorry, I'm late," you apologize, clocking in. Dahlia waves you off, passing by you into the back room where the sink was running. As you met her gaze, her lips portray a warm smile.

"You're all good. Sunny went to Orange Valley, so it's just you and me for awhile."

"Orange Valley?" You raise an eyebrow. "Why did she go to Orange Valley?"

"To restock. That's where our supplier of lavender and fresh fruits are. She usually has me or Jihyo pick it up, but thank god she had me just watch over you," Dahlia explains, turning the faucet off and pouring what you assumed was freshly rinsed boba in a large strainer into a bin of sugary water. "How was your morning? Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Nope, not at all," you respond, washing your hands in the sink just behind the bar.

"I can tell," Dahlia laughs, her voice more apparent as she appears from the back, two hands carefully holding the boba bin of where tiny black spheres float in sweet water that is only about to get sweeter once Dahlia pours the honey in. "Load up on some of the coffee and you'll be fully recharged."

"What type of coffee do you suggest?"

Dahlia pauses, looks up excitingly, and says from the top of her head, "Cold brew. Two pumps of the white chocolate, shake it, and add oat milk. That's my go-to for my 8 am's."

Wrinkling your nose, you go ahead and grab one of the metal shakers and take it apart in front of you, grabbing the ounce cap and the bottle for the white chocolate syrup. "You take 8 am's?"

"I like to get out early. Like 11 am early so that I can sleep for lunch," she says as she stirs the boba in continuous loops. "Plus, I can fit more shifts into my schedule."

"You're so brave," you sarcastically state, filling the cap with the syrup twice and pouring it into the shaker.

You'd like to say you're getting the hang of it. It's only been your third shift, but the register has been pretty good to you in terms of taking people's orders. The drinks were slowly getting there, but at least you can make the flavored teas without freezing and having to look at the ratios placed on the fridge. That only occurs with the more complicated drinks. Even then, you'd rather ask Dahlia or Luna or Jihyo for help.

Dahlia asks you if you had any questions or any difficulty with memorizing. And while you honestly tell her that some drinks are hard to remember, she agrees wholeheartedly and encourages that you'll eventually get it. She also throws in with her encouragement while in preparation of the shop opening that she has some sort of quizlet for the drinks and that she'll send it to you to help you memorize.

As you thank her, you decide to make that cold brew drink she recommended, repeating her instructions in your head like a mantra. Dahlia curves around the bar to flip the sign to open as well as bringing out a stand that promotes a a buy three get one free drink deal just a few feet away from the door.

She comes back in and checks up on your drink that you were currently just shaking together, only then that the particular movement of the glass door swinging open captures your attention from the coffee machine, your mind immediately registering that a new customer has entered the shop, causing you to pause on your current doings. Sauntering over to the register of where the point of sale system sits, you immediately make eye contact with the customer.

And once that you realize that that customer just happens to be Jeon Jungkook, the dumbass that thought you were worth a coy, yet terribly executed coquetry dripping from his mouth, you internally groan.

He makes the same eye contact with you, eyebrows shooting up as if he didn't expect to see you, especially after the 'first' encounter with each other that one night, working. You hope that he saw the way your face falls into sheer distaste while he makes it plan to order because as he opens his mouth, you immediately halt him in his tracks, putting a finger up and shaking your head.

"Give me one second."

Without a second glance thrown into his direction again, you take the time to run behind the counter, unseen, tapping Dahlia's arm, tutting your tongue and nodding towards the register in which Dahlia could only laugh to herself at how easy it was for you to do that. She drops the shaker she was making of the mango black tea for the customer waiting by the bar and silently motions you to take over, in which you pleasantly do so, so long as you don't ever get to interact with Jungkook.

Trust, it isn't the confrontation of that night where you made his drink revoltingly plain, but it is more of the initiation of cutting any type of contact attached to him, as that night of the winning lacrosse team isn't the 'first' encounter with him.

Jeon Jungkook is the acquiring taste of dark chocolate. Like the bitter yet sweet taste, you know of the infamous Jeon Jungkook from your own past experiences, having to have encountered him multiple times along the road of lengthy university years up until now. He's introduced himself to you multiple times, but guessing he was completely shit-faced drunk each occurrence, your name and face has probably went over his head as he wakes up with another name and face beside him in bed.

The first time was during your first year, a visit to a Kappa Sugma Ligma frat party where the face of second year Jeon Jungkook was pretty prominent. (And by that, he was shit faced drunk and kept insisting to dance with you. But as a prude first year, you stuck with babying your friends instead). The second time was at a more mellow kickback the summer prior to second year, introducing himself again right after getting kegged. He stole your friend away from your group to dance, but you didn't really notice that you've already met him until the tiny revelation hits one afternoon when that so- called friend announces that her and Jungkook are supposedly fuck buddies. The third time he's introduced himself to you again was when he was smashingly drunk. The other times were just as sublime, but this one was what kicked you off your rocker because not only did he end things with your friend who grew an emotional attachment, he managed to introduce himself to you by puking all over your new pants.

Jungkook is the exquisite taste of dark chocolate; while he may be known for his good looks and "long-stick shots" and his supposed 'kind' demeanor, a lot of people do happen to like him. However, you aren't those lot of people who enjoy the taste of dark chocolate, hence why he leaves a strong dreadful taste on your tongue.

There's a mild surprise sparking from Jungkook when he realizes that Dahlia takes over, but nevertheless he orders his drink of a passion fruit green tea with light sugar and light ice. And with his whole chest, he loudly enough goes, just for you to hear behind the bar, "Can you tell her to actually add sugar this time?"

And a light scoff at his indirect, you roll your eyes as you pour the previous drink into the large cup with boba for the other customer, a response coming out of your mouth channeling the same energy as his.

"Don't worry, I will."

It's not long until you've rejuvenated through the suggested cold brew drink and began washing dishes that Dahlia comes in with a devious laugh escaping her throat. She leans against one of the fridges of where the basic teas of ranged from black to green sat in, her head shaking as she marvels at you with glimmering eyes. You raise an eyebrow at her in curiosity, confused as to why she was giggling.

"How many ounces of syrup do you put in the flavored teas?"

Her laughter kind of dies down, but she bites her lip to suppress another giggle making its way up. Drying your hands with the green dry rag hanging to the side of the sink, you turn your body to face her and answer swiftly, "3 for larges, 2 for regulars."

And then her smile grows to the point where it reaches her eyes. "And how many ounces of passion fruit did you put in Jungkook's tea?"

The question takes you back in time just about 10 minutes ago when you finished making Jungkook's desired passion fruit green tea with light sugar and light ice, only after he decided to throw in with such ambition to "actually add sugar this time". You debate on telling Dahlia the truth, only because you haven't worked with her for awhile to trust her just yet, but seeing how she was very amused as she asked the question, you shrug.

"Why?"

Dahlia giggles once more. "Jungkook complained about it and asked me to make him a new one." You roll your lips inward, stifling a laugh. "It's okay, you can tell me. I won't snitch. Seeing him ticked off was pretty funny."

And that was enough for you to trust your sweet co-worker. "Six. And a half."

It's then that she bursts all of her laughter out, both of you basking in light laughter about your own doing. "Brilliant."

"Why, he didn't like it? I added sugar."

The light laughs coming from her mouth ultimately leads into tears as she wipes under her eyes. Shaking her head, she points a finger at you. "You are terrible. Absolutely terrible. First the milk tea— which was a pretty genius comeback— and now the passion fruit? Gold."

To that, you shrug. "Thanks. Sorry you had to remake his drink, though."

"Girl, you're fine. To see him all annoyed about it was worth it," she smirks. "Are you guys like... I don't know... archenemies? Frenemies?"

"I'm not exactly fond of him," you answer truthfully. "I'm guessing he's never met me before— or at least, he doesn't remember we've met before, but I've met him plenty of times. One of which is when he puked all over my new lilac pants."

Dahlia's mouth flies open, a hand slapped over her mouth in complete shock at what she was hearing. Maybe you are tampering with the impression of a well adored guy that everyone at Pleasantea (hell, the whole town) seems to love, but hell, Jungkook was not handmade by the gods to be loved by everyone.

"Jungkook puked on you?"

You nod your head in response. "Third time in meeting him and each impression does not progressively get better."

"Now I see why you put no sugar in his milk tea the other night," Dahlia laughs. "Jihyo was a little mad at the move, but she admits his flirting tactic was dreadful."

"I'm sure he's tried flirting with you guys? I'm not the only one who experiences it?"

"Oh yeah," Dahlia nods, letting out an amused puff of air. "Flirted with Luna first because they were in the same class. She's never interacted with him in school, so once he found out she worked here, he suddenly became all flirty, but you know Luna, she's blunt and she told him that she has a girlfriend."

You nod, staying quiet as Dahlia goes on to continue. "Then it was Jihyo, once he started bringing all of the lacrosse team here. But Jihyo's like... basically engaged. Promise ring and everything. Then it was Ryujin, but Jungkook realized he made her uncomfortable." To that, I snort. "Then me, but personally, I've been eyeing Yoongi and he backed off when he found that out. So yeah, he's a very flirty man with a taste in boba girls. It's your turn now!"

"Does he have some sort of boba fetish? Does he need help?"

"Probably," Dahlia shrugs, smiling amusedly. "But you're not exactly helping him with that."

You let out a chuckle. "Well, it's a no from me."

"Figured as much," she nods in agreement. "He's nice when he's not trying to get your number."

"You mean when his ego isn't eating him up and he suddenly thinks that every girl is going to fall for him at first sight?"

Dahlia rolls her lips inwards before nodding once more. "Precisely. But hey, hella tips."

Jungkook comes in again while you're working a week later, but this time with his friends, Yoongi and Jaehyun following after him, strutting inside the minimalistic shop with what you assumed to be their practice attire just by the sweat and glow on their facial structures caused by the aftermath of exercise.

You're guessing that Jungkook's been avoiding you, and he has been pretty good with it if you can recall that the last time you've seen him in the shop was a week prior. When Jungkook peers up from his phone after you greet the group a, "hello, welcome" loudly and scurry behind the register to take their order, he couldn't help but to groan obnoxiously.

"Great," he mutters in hopes that only his friends would hear, but due to the lack of distance and your exceptional hearing, your eyebrows shot up.

"Woah," you put your hands up in mock defense. "No need to get all irked. I won't tamper with your drink again."

"Right. Annoying brat," Jungkook mutters to himself half-heartedly as you smirk. As his eyes look up to the menu to give it a few sweeps despite how often he comes here, you think about how much he dreads having you work here and to be taking his order, and while it's not exactly the best customer service, it was very amusing.

"Just don't mess up while ordering, and we'll see what happens," you tell him bluntly. His eyes glued onto the menu above you flickers down to meet yours, a false vendetta of your eyes disappearing into crescents as his your lips turn upwards to greet him, his head shaking in response. Audibly, his friends snicker behind him.

"Go, Jungkook. Tell her that you want your milk tea as sweet as her again."

"Or that you'd want your drink to actually have sugar in it."

The taunts eliciting out of his own friends' mouth set Jungkook into straight annoyance, his eyes snapping behind them to throw presumable death glares at them over his shoulder while you patiently wait for him to hit you with a brand new drink that you can practice on making under 30 seconds thanks to your competitive mindset.

The teases make you chuckle as you shake your head. You notice Jaehyun take a step forward to rest his hands on the tense Jungkook, attempting to give him a friendly pat before Jungkook nudges him off.

"Fuck off," Jungkook scoffs, Jaehyun cackling beside him in response before he turns his direction towards you and gives a single acknowledging head nod.

"How's a going, Shortstack?" Jaehyun asks, pulling out his wallet beside Jungkook whose eyes are roaming the menu up and down, top to bottom.

"Doin' alright, Jaehyun," you smile, politely. "How's anatomy for ya?"

Jaehyun lets out a sarcastic, nervous laugh— one that takes the attention of Jungkook and you're unsure if it's because of his own friends' laughter or because he is surprised to know that you and Jaehyun know each other from your guys' microbiology lab class last semester. "Kicking my ass, but I've been using your notes as guidance. Hey, thanks for those by the way."

"No worries. Hopefully that'll do some work and help you pass," you encouragingly say, a smile on your face as he gives a single thumbs up. You know Jaehyung as the sarcastic ass when he fucked around in microbiology and always picked fights with your lab professor. But even then, he was nice to you, other than the fact that he made fun of your height. "Decided on what you want?"

"Yeah, can I get that lavender milk tea? Extra boba, please."

"Got it. Regular ice and sugar?"

"Yes and yes," he nods, pulling out his wallet. Once he finishes the transaction and Ryujin, your other coworker whom you barely work with, comes out from the back to start on the drinks, Yoongi steps up as you take a glance at the wandering-eyed Jungkook.

Facing your attention back to Yoongi, he carefully orders an iced green tea with light sugar and regular ice, emphasizing that he wants no toppings with that order as he wants something to chug down. From his energy, you take that he's very easy-going, not someone hard to talk to by how aware he was when he sounded annoying emphasizing that he didn't want any boba in his drink that he apologized. He drops in a two dollar tip into the box and as you thank him, he gives an easy smile.

As it was Jungkook's turn, he lets out a long "um" before dragging his eyes down to you from the menu. His friends wander to their usual spot in the back, leaving Jungkook behind to finish up with his order that he seemed to be taking centuries making up his mind with. He quirks his lip a bit as you stare expectingly. "Swear you won't mess with the drink?"

"Not the one making it," you point towards Ryujin behind you before smirking. "None of that flirty business and you'll get your drink in perfect condition."

This time, Jungkook laughs, and it's warm. It's like a light scoff, but there was something velvet about the way it rolled out of his throat, followed by a shake of his head. "Was it that bad?"

"Pretty bad," you agree, honestly. "If you wanted my number, you could have asked."

"Really?"

"Not that I'd actually give you my number," you warn, teasingly. He lets out another laugh and this time it was more audible and clear. Something that makes you want to hear again. "But, tacky pick-up lines don't really tickle my peach."

"Then what does?"

Jungkook holds your gaze for a moment, expecting an answer that could help him in the near future. Maybe if the register wasn't the only thing separating you two, it would be mistaken for an intimate moment, but because you know your place as the bobarista talking to a customer and this is strictly a professional environment, you decide to go with, "Ordering your drink. Have you figured out what you'd like?"

It takes a second for him to realize his standing point as well, shaking his head as he realizes your answer, one that he is impressed by because not only did you not cower away with an awkward response, you weren't that easy to give him what he wanted. The response you gave him was nothing short of clever, and he realizes that each encounter with you reinforces his idea of you that is solely based off of the sly, clever, and beautiful boba worker of Pleasantea.

"I'll have the regular guava green tea. Light ice, light sugar," he says, his hand digging into his back pocket, fishing for his wallet.

As he slides his card and finishes up everything with his transaction swiftly, you go and hurry over to Ryujin who has finished all the other drinks of Yoongi and Jaehyun's, expectantly looking at you to finish Jungkook's drink.

Ryujin quirks her lips as she leans back against the ice dispenser, nodding in confirmation as I point at the receipt of Jungkook's order staring flatly at you. "It's your boyfriend's drink. You should make it."

"Not my boyfriend," you tell her as her lips twitch up more. Taking the shakers and preparing to make his drink, you focus on pouring the syrup into the shaker before speaking up towards her. "Didn't he flirt with you too? He's yours, isn't he?"

Ryujin crinkles her nose, shaking her head vigorously in disgust that her hair bun shook on top of her head with her. You start chuckling to yourself at her reaction, the look on her face was filled with distaste, as if she associated Jungkook with a bad memory. "Nope, never. He's all yours, babycakes."

"Nuh-uh. I don't go for guys who have a fetish for boba workers."

"He just has great taste," Ryujin half-heartedly defends him with a wink, throwing an imaginary hair strand over her shoulder before taking a cap for the cups and popping it on to finish it. "Can't blame him. I mean, we're all pretty hot."

To that, you let out a snort, shaking your head. Ryujin takes the cup and calls out for Jungkook's name, the sound of the echoing shuffling of his footsteps fading in closer as he comes to the counter. Instinctively, you beat Ryujin to the dirty shakers used for the drink and go into the back to wash them, avoiding any more interaction with Jungkook for that day.

"Oh, so sorry to do this."

Jungkook wasn't really sorry, but he feigns innocence in his attitude a couple days later while you work an opening shift with your boss. It doesn't help that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, annoyed that you didn't wake up as early as you hoped to, and ended up being a couple of minutes late to your shift, with Sunny raising an eyebrow at your delayed presence.

She wasn't all that disturbed by it, but it made you annoyed for the first hour of opening as few customer came trickling in. To make matters worst as you were just dying down from your self-annoyance, Jungkook comes in.

It wasn't his order or the way he ordered that ticked your rocker off, but it was a good 30 seconds right after you'd finish making his drink order that he gives off an innocent customer façade as if you weren't the barista that he flirted with before.

"But I asked for light sugar?"

Blinking at him, you felt your eyebrow medially twitch. For a moment, you don't know what to do, and of course, Sunny's behind you, watching your every move carefully. An apology slips through your mouth as you take the drink and nod, feigning a smile at him as he replicates one of his own. "Oh, was it too sweet for you? I'll fix that for you."

Sunny is silent from the other side of the bar as she observes you remake the drink, being careful with the sweetness and your mind mentally shooting daggers at Jungkook's doe-like eyes while you perfect the drink. As you hand over the refurbished tea to Jungkook, he had the audacity to try it again in front of you, as if he was some critic for the Boba Review. Pausing to see if the taste was enough to be satisfied, he shakes his head and lays it in front of you, nudging it with the knuckle of his finger. "It's still a little too sweet."

Biting your tongue, you feel your eye twitch as Jungkook smirks at you, taunting you with the customer service you're forced to veil. And it's within the third drink you made for him, only for him to taste it and shake his head again as if you were in servitude to him. But knowing Sunny and how she is strict on Pleasantea's saying of, 'making the customer satisfied', you smile through the annoyance and the mental stabbing, Jungkook probably amused at how your right eye was twitching after he taunts you with purpose.

And on the fifth drink, you purse your lips as he finally take a sip of it— one that was dramatic and off the top— before he gives a satisfied nod, showing off his pearly whites to you as he takes the drink half-heartedly. "Thank you, it's just right."

Should've spit in that one, you thought.

"Sorry about that. Thank you for being patient," you grit through your teeth as he smirks winningly before trotting off outside into his damn red Jeep that makes you consider keying.

Unexpectedly, once the door shuts, Sunny starts to laugh at the other end of the bar, shaking her head as you turn towards her with two dirty shakers in hand. Concerned, you scrunch your eyebrows, "what's wrong?"

"You both are..." The way that Sunny scrunches her nose as she thinks makes you pause in your stance, wondering what she could say about you and Jungkook to be in the same category. "Something else," she observes, walking away with her head down to her iPad.

With Jungkook, it became banter here and there.

Most of the times, it's just silent banter, one of which he gives you a side eye, you simply taking it in every time he orders, but at least his friends don't feel the same way. You only familiarize yourself with Jaehyun the most out of Jungkooks' friend group, but even then, the entire group weren't strangers. Dahlia tells you about how they come here all the time and she can breezily list off their usual orders from the top of her head and eventually, it didn't become hard for you to befriend them.

Jungkook takes note on how your voice drops about the 5th time he's came in when you were working. It was more prominent after having dealt with a customer before his group of friends and him. He notices that you've taken a comfortability with them to be given the privilege to talk to them in your casual voice rather than the higher pitched voice that exudes customer service.

After the incident that you falsely laughed to him the next time you saw him at the shop of which he used Pleasantea's promise of making the customer satisfied against you and had you remake his drink five times, there were a lot of promising moments between the two of you. Dahlia witnessing one too many times that she keeps a stick note near the register and tally marks under "Jungkook and ___ Pleasantea tension". It made Sunny amused enough that she even tally-marked for the time he made you remake his drink.

There was this one favorable moment that Dahlia deemed deserves two tally marks because Jungkook just happened to come in and order a drink right before your shift ended. And while you assume he was going to pick a fight with you again, you notice as you're about to clock out, he was flirting with a girl. You don't think too much of it, until you notice the girl looking uncomfortable.

The dark-haired girl presses her lips into a fine line, almost forced as she tries to politely back away and silently hope that Jungkook would leave her alone. It isn't until she's laughing nervously and Jungkook following in her fleeing steps that you take the situation into your own hands and quietly wave goodbye to Dahlia who was in the midst of taking another customer's order.

Sweeping past around the bar, you approach the girl, politely laying your hand on her arm with a smile on your face.

"Hi! Thank you for waiting for me! You didn't have to meet me at work, I could have just picked you up!"

Jungkook, in the corner of your eye, furrows his eyebrows at the seeming connection between you two. The girl's face morphs from being startled to understanding your motives before she nods and follows in suit. "Oh, no worries. I wanted to get a drink anyways."

"Here, I'll walk you to your car and we can figure out where to eat," you kindly urge as she responds with an agreeing nod. When you peer over at Jungkook, he could only arch an eyebrow at the situation he was standing in front of.

"Jungkook," you acknowledge, a single nod heading his direction.

"___," he says your name with the same intent, watching as you and the girl he was unknowingly making uncomfortable slide past him, leaving him to grab his drink that was waiting at the other end of the counter, dumbfounded.

After that day, you made a new friend, her name being Jisoo. She gives her thanks as you walk her back to her car for saving her from that uncomfortable situation and you, in turn, having to explain that Jungkook is a little airheaded at times. You gave her a comforting hug and announce that you hope to see her soon in different circumstances in which she wholeheartedly agrees and while not only did you make a new friend that day, you also gained two new brooding tally marks on the pale yellow sticky note that stared back at you at your next shift.

Along with tension, Jungkook remains reluctant when he orders.

A roll of your eyes and a reassurance that tampering his drink was a one time deal— until he opened his mouth again, and it wasn't so much a one time deal— would be in check. But even after that second time you messed with him, you didn't bother with the third time, although he makes it very tempting to. "It's not like I'm going to continuously ruin your drink every time you come in here. I heard you're the reason why this place picked up business."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. Star of the lacrosse team, well-known in the town, bringing your teammates— that's what Dahlia tells me."

"Give Dahlia my thanks for her appraisal," he smirks and you snort at how quickly his ego has sky-rocketed by your simple statement.

"How can Sunny tell me that you're the most humble person on earth, yet you proceed to continue with cocky, yet cunning statements?"

"All apart of the charm, baby," he winks and clicks his tongue.

The "charm" makes you internally want to vomit. "Watch it, baby. I heard you're allergic to almonds. I'm not afraid to put almond milk in your milk tea."

He sucks in a deep breath at your threat, raising an eyebrow in challenge. The way you were so quick to use one of his weakness against him has him merely impressed, but nonetheless intimidated. "You wouldn't."

"Tempting," you hum to scare him off, but you shake your head. "But you're right, I wouldn't. However, you call me "baby" one more time, your next drink will have a little surprise with a side of an ambulance, just in case."

A handsome smile conquers his face, before shaking his head. "I'll just keep my mouth shut and hope you accept my tip."

"Tip accepted. Will that be all for you?"

"If I ask for my receipt, can I have your number on top?"

"Jungkook—"

And just then Jungkook cuts you off by hitting "print" on his screen, causing the long receipt to print from your end, an amused smirk on his face while you take his receipt and glare at him. Letting out a defeated sigh, you take the pen right next to the cashier and begin to write numbers on the top. "Just because you asked."

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at your notion and immediately acts calm when you look up to hand him his receipt. Internally, he was shocked that you actually put your number on it, followed by a heart and a comforting smile from your end as he didn't think it'd work. Jaehyun and Yoongi were just as surprised as well, but they shrug it off, thinking that you'd actually fall for his flirty tactics one way.

That was, until he calls the number that night when he gets home. He waits specifically until 9:23 PM and calls your number, hoping that you weren't asleep so that he could whip up a random and cheesy statement in the heat of the moment when you'd answer. However, when he hears the line pick up, he is first met with surprise, then confusion, then absolute hysterics as even he couldn't help but laugh to hear that you had given him a fake number, one so intricate that it led him to hear a man's voice saying, "so sorry, man. But they're not interested. But plenty of fish in the sea, right?" and then the voice mail message immediately ending.

Jungkook laughs in his kitchen, staring at his phone with an amused smile like an idiot. Even his roommate who walks into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge asks Jungkook why he's staring at his phone like a psychopath. Jungkook could only shake his head in realization that something as simple as to asking for your number wouldn't be that easy.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," Jungkook approaches you with ease, giving a head nod towards his lacrosse mates that he'd catch up with them later as he pauses to stop in front of you. Just then, he points at the drink you were holding. "You brought boba?"

"Came from work," you shrug. You didn't think you'd show up to this party last minute after getting a text from Chaeyoung that she'll pick you up at your house after you get home from your shift, but in an odd spin of events, you're at the party and sponsoring your job's signature milk tea. "It's my chaser."

He lets out a sonorous laugh, one in which he gives you a look as if you were pure genius. It slowly disappears when he gives a subtle nod of his chin to prep his next topic change. "Hey, just wanted to let you know that if you were jealous of me talking to your friend the other day—"

Widening your eyes, you retract your mouth from your boba straw and attempt to swallow down the sweet taste before you choke on it. "Slow your roll, cockface. I interrupted because she was evidently uncomfortable with your presence."

He hums in denial, making you roll your eyes at his obliviousness.

"Trust me, Jungkook, your flirting isn't all that great," you scoff, putting him in his place. "Just because you're Mister "Long Stick Shot", doesn't mean you're Mister "Long Dick"."

Jungkook lets out a laugh, evidently amused by your rhetoric. "As if you've seen one for good measure."

"Do you really want me to respond to that?"

And just as he snorts in response, you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face at the sound of his amusement. Unsure why, but you just want to continue hearing it and be satisfied that you're the reason for the laugh that elicits out of his mouth.

The small appreciation is well buried the minute you freeze for a single moment when you see a figure you've done so well to avoid.

A 61-day streak of not running into him, but who's counting.

A groan pasts your lips, followed by a scrunch of your nose that makes you want to chug down a bottle of Fireball rather than make the slightest interaction with your ex-boyfriend of two years, Kim Taehyung.

Admittedly, you were doing so well as to not running into him after that one incident at the grocery store. While you were with your roommates, they advised you to hide behind the apples and then covered you when you went into the tampon aisle.

Though it's been four months since Taehyung and you have called it a quits— more so on his end because he claims he had 'lost feelings overtime', it still bothers you to be in the same place breathing the same air as him. He wasn't the most revolting character in your mind, but if he were the last person on earth and there was only a bucket of water left, you would not share the basic human necessity with him.

Jungkook shoots an eyebrow at your irked presence, pondering if his existence standing only a foot away from you was that disgusting to you that you had to groan the minute he lets out a single breath. However, he notices the way your eyes flicker from the bottle of Jameson to your right to a certain person in the crowd a couple times, taking it into his mind of his own to look past his shoulder, trying to dictate which person is making you want to chug down a bottle of Jameson so badly.

"Who are you—?" As he turns his head back to your taciturn behavior, he was expecting you to have disappeared, but he did not think that he would see you, a cup of boba in one hand and the other, a bottle of Jameson being directed down your throat as your neck evidently takes in multiple chugs. Widening his eyes, he immediately brings his hands to the bottom of the bottle and retrieves it back from you while you take in every last drop before the bottle of the wretched liquid is retracted from your every grasp. "Are you insane? Slow down, babe."

You bring your boba straw into your mouth, driving off the pungent taste of what will come up again later on the night with your well thought out chaser, a few boba balls to chew in between your teeth before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jungkook stares at you as if you grew two heads, placing the bottle down before someone else takes it with a glare shot at you for drinking nearly half the bottle in one go.

"Don't call me that," you let out a burp, one that makes Jungkook chuckle, shaking his head at how sporadic you can be. "I need to forget someone's presence tonight."

Jungkook wasn't dumb, he knew it had to be someone that's making you want to regret a fun night altogether. "Ex-boyfriend?"

You nod your head in the direction of where you previously stared at before doing something reckless in confirmation. Letting out a giggle, you wait until he scrunches his eyebrows his confusion for your clarification. "Of two wasteful years, the award for best douchebag is Kim Taehyung!"

He hums in response. "Ah. You know chugging down Jameson is only going to make you forget your name, not his."

Shrugging, your lips form into a smile. "That's alright, I'm not a lightweight. Don't worry. It'll take awhile for it to do its job."

"Not the job you want—"

"Shush," you stop him for a moment before taking one last sip of your boba and place it down onto the countertop, giving it a silent goodbye as you know better not to pick it up again after it has been set down. "You up for dancing, Long Stick?"

"What?" He chuckles, before he realizes that you've taken his wrist into your own fingers, tugging it as the loud speaker plays another Mac Dre song that has the crowd repeating, 'get stupid!' over and over again with the beat.

Jungkook wasn't dumb. He knew that you pulled him to dance with you in subtle hopes that Kim Taehyung would notice that you're cozying up to someone that wasn't him. He knew you could care less if it were either him or another guy in the party, but to Jungkook, in his mind, better him than any other blood thirsty, testosterone-filled guy that would take advantage of you and your badly drunken state from the wrath of Jameson.

He knows he may not be the best option to have you rub up against him as you slur the lyrics of Mac Dre's Thizzle Dance with his hands holding onto your hips, but as annoying as he can be with his coquetry, he knows that morally he cannot and will not take advantage of you after witnessing you chug down dark liquor that even he has bad memories tied along with it.

It doesn't take long before you're closing your eyes from the dizziness you were feeling from each sway and bump of your hips. It doesn't take long before everything becomes a blur and you're having to blink multiple times to keep your gaze in focus. You think you stumble over your feet a couple of times, but you can't tell if you're standing upright anymore. It doesn't take long before you feel yourself against someone, eyes closed as you find odd solitude in a stranger who holds you carefully in their arms. It doesn't take long that you indeed forget your own name, trying to steady your breathing. It doesn't take long before it's become black, and there is nothing for you to remember all through the night.

"Oh fucking hell."

There's something frightening about the first time you wake up and you register that you are somewhere that is nowhere near recognizable. It's not your own bed, maybe your own sofa, or even your friend's sofa— it's somewhere completely foreign. The realization after blinking the drowsiness away is what gets to you, and your heart races when the blood has gone cold as ice throughout your body.

That is exactly how you felt when the ceiling had a dark wood fan hung from it, when you felt that the bed was springy than your usual tempurpedic mattress, when you saw that the walls were not your room's decorative green, but a boring beige, when you realized that your bed was not only empty, but Jeon Jungkook sleeps soundly with his body turned towards you.

The worst part is realizing where you don't know where your things are. You distinctively remember you brought nothing but your phone and keys to the party right before you recall chugging down the devil's water.

As you sit up on the bed quietly to roam down your pockets of your jeans, you realize something that also makes you want to freak out as your breath has halted. You were also missing your jeans.

Peeking under the sheets, you must have gone pale to see nothing but your bare legs and your cherry printed underwear just below your waist. Thankfully your shirt and bra was on, but the night was too hazy to even tell what could have happened and that was enough to make you feel a vitriolic taste climb up your throat.

You turn your head in hopes to find something of your belongings, realizing with each sweep of the foreign room, you find your black jeans on the floor just at the foot of the bed. Gulping, you carefully and silently flip the sheets off of you, noticing that Jungkook didn't have one inch of the sheets around him and you wonder if you hogged it all last night. As you swing your legs off the bed, you make a queasy face each second as you stand up, the sound of the springs not helping you sneak off without waking up Jungkook.

Tiptoeing to your jeans, you snatch them and hope to find your phone in the back pocket, only to feel a bit of relief to find your keys, but not your phone. Closing your eyes at the fact that you might have to roam around the house to find your phone, you take your jeans and carefully, one by one, slide your feet into them.

And just then, as you take a peek at Jungkook, he shifts and stirs in his bed, a slight moan coming out of his mouth before you realize that he is just waking up. You watch in silence as his arm slings over to where you lied, as if searching for you, and after a few unsatisfying pats, he drowsily opens his eyes to where they trace up to you.

Both of your gazes meet and with your heart completely stopping, you let out a meek, "Hi."

In that moment as your pants are midway being pulled up along your legs, you suddenly forget how to move. Every inch of your muscles head to toe has completely frozen over and without even being punched in the gut, the wind was taken right out of you.

Jungkook notices how you freeze so much so resembling a dog, he stifles a laugh, a tired chuckle emanating out of his lips as he sits up with one elbow propping him up. He rubs his eye with a curved index finger before sliding the pad of his thumb under the tip of his nose. You can't help but notice how good he looks just arising from his slumber, while you were in the midst of taking a walk of shame. You cringe when you realize your makeup is probably smudged under your eyes. "Hi. You alright there?"

"Uhm..." You blink, mouth becoming dry. "In all honesty, I really don't know how this usually works because I don't usually do one night stands—"

Jungkook lightly scoffs at that, shaking his head. "___."

"Can we forget this happened? Like can we just totally forget that I woke up next to you and that we—"

"___," he cuts you off, a laugh following after. He's amused by your panic, your immediate assumption making you run off in sentences that were flying off the walls this early in the morning. "We didn't do anything."

You blink again, your already dizzy mind running circles all over again. "We didn't?"

"You were pretty piss ass drunk, babe. I asked around for your friend... Chaeyoung, was it? to take you home, but I'm guessing she went home with Jaemin." The look on your face was probably amusing because there's a quirk of his lip evident. "I was also asking you where you live to drop you off, but little miss "I'm not a lightweight" could not form proper sentences by the end of the night, so the safest bet? I asked Yoongi to lend me the guest bedroom for you." He pauses to see your reaction, but seeing that you were more anxious to hear why the hell your pants were off, he lets out a sigh and continues. "You removed your pants because you said it was hot. Not because I removed it, or because I or you were insinuating anything. You basically threatened to use your "one week free trial of Muay Thai" on me if I laid a finger on you."

That made you cringe. "Good to know that drunk me can still defend herself."

"Yeah, if that means verbally threatening someone to break their arm and then blacking out mid-threat is considered defending yourself."

His little add on was responded with a glare from your end. "I'll break your arm right now, Jungkook."

"Funny. You said that last night before you pulled me into bed with you."

And your eyes widen again. "What?"

"Mhm," he says nonchalantly before letting out a dragging yawn. As he scratches his head, he continues, "you apologized for being mean and then asked me to stay with you. Didn't even plan on leaving, babe."

"Okay. That's enough embarrassing me today. I don't want to know the rest."

"You sure? Because you also said—"

"Piss off."

Jungkook, hysterically laughing at your quick annoyance to his own tease, contemplates in his head if he should tell you that you both had just happened to share a kiss that night. But seeing that a coral color was formulating along your cheeks and you were biting down on your lip, he mentally decided against it.

The embarrassment would grow immensely if he told you that though drunk you can defend yourself, drunk you also revealed to him that his lips looked, quote on quote, "soft and kissable". And just when he was in the middle of explaining to you to use the code word "boba" to indicate to him that you needed to throw up, you took him by surprise and kissed him. Would he be a fool to kiss back? Yes. To kiss back gently and memorizing your lips? A thousand times yes— a complete idiot, at its finest form.

Too bad that you just happened to be fool's gold— and Jungkook just happened to like shiny things.

Of course, Jungkook had no intention of taking advantage of you that night, especially when you were piss ass drunk and in any continuing second, you might've had to use the code word "boba" without any warning. So, he pulled back, and while he was worried that you might've realized what you've done, there was a smile on your lips, your eyes slightly opened in a daze. When he says your name in caution, you hiccup and tell him, "your lips are soft and kissable".

Would he be a jerk to just casually throw it in there while you are nearly freaking out and slightly disturbed by the whole scenario of waking up next to him pants-less at that moment? Yes, a big one. To maybe keep it in silence for awhile so that he may use it against you one day? Oh yeah, definitely. Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000.

But if he was going to fall for fool's gold, he might as well be the Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000.

"Why'd you even stay?"

Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts, realizing that his eyes had somehow wandered down to your legs without much notice. You didn't mind, mostly because it didn't seem like he was checking you out, but more so in deep thought. Plus, your legs are pretty killer.

"What?" He asks, causing you to lightly scoff.

"Why'd you stay?"

His nose crinkles as if that question was a terrible question to ask. "To watch over you? I'm not that terrible of a guy to just leave a very vulnerable girl alone in a bedroom in a house she doesn't know."

You purse your lips, a bit surprised at that considering that this is cocky "long stick shot" Jungkook. "Well... now great, that just make this super awkward."

"No sweat," he waves you off easily, hopping off the bed and running a hand through his tousled bed hair. "Here. I can take you home."

You pause, blinking. Your now still movements caught his attention, an eyebrow raising in question to your reaction to his gesture. "Are you sure?"

"You'd like to walk home instead, babe?"

Rolling your eyes at his question to answer your question, Jungkook smirks. "Thought so. Put your pants on and let's go."

When you get out of the room, you follow him downstairs, only for him to stop at the midsection where the stairs turn the other direction. You halt in your footsteps as well before he dives into his pocket and reaches out a phone with your familiar blue phone case on it. "Here. Saw it sticking out of your pocket and I knew you were going to lose it somehow."

As you take it in your hands, you felt a big wave of relief flood over you as you realize you had obtained everything important that you almost had a heart attack about losing. You and Jungkook share a small smile, him acknowledging that that was your way of thanking him, but not being able to say it, but if you allowed yourself to, you'd throw your arms around him for caring just a bit. However, the thought disappears when he continues on going down the stairs, a moment delay in your head to process before you continue following him.

There's shuffling down the hall when you reach the floor, and while you can barely make out what was happening because you managed to remove your contacts and discard them somewhere, all you hear is a very recognizable voice.

"Holy shit, you fucked boba girl?"

Jaehyun.

"Jaehyun—"

You groan and throw an annoyed middle finger at Jaehyun, cutting off Jungkook who seemed just as irked by Jaehyun's blunt question. "Fuck off. No, we didn't. As if I'd ever let him." You roll your eyes at the Jaehyung's assumption, but Jungkook could only quirk his eyebrow at your add-on. "How about you? Were you fucking Yoongi?"

A snort is heard next to you, Jungkook looking the other way to stifle his laughter.

"Woah there, Shortstack," Jaehyun bemusedly smirks, throwing a towel he was holding over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. "And if I did?"

"I might have blacked out, but it's not hard to miss your screams for Yoongi's name down the hall," you announce, sarcastically. No, you were too blacked out to remember anything. Another snort coming from next to you as you let out an irritated sigh, your head just now pounding in indication of your hangover, is heard, but you were too drained to mentally high five yourself.

"Well, good fucking morning to the lot of you, assholes. I leave for one second and I'm suddenly dragged into a conversation about how I was getting fucked in the asshole by Jaehyun?"

"It's okay, Yoongi," Jaehyun turns to Yoongi, taking a step closer to him as he coos, "we don't have to deny it."

Yoongi rolls his eyes in annoyance and swats his friend away. "You guys are making my hangover worst."

"I've always known you were a bottom," Jungkook chimes in, making you, in turn, laugh. You mentally fist bumped him for that one.

"Yeah, and I could say the same for you," Yoongi throws back as it was your turn to snort.

You nod in counterfeit confirmation. "Oh, he's definitely a bottom."

In a breaking moment, Jungkook rolls his eyes and reaches down to grab your wrist hastily. "Would love to continue this wonderful conversation, but I have to take her hungover ass home." It catches you off guard when you realize after being tugged at the arm that it was Jungkook at the origin of the other end, making purposeful contact with you.

You let out a fake gasp, a bemused smirk playing your lips. "Ah, little Jungkookie is a bottom, huh?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" He challenges as you shake your head, laughing.

You pat his shoulder that was lifted while his hand extends to the back of your head seat as he reverses out of the driveway. "You see, it'd be an interesting experience, but two bottoms don't make a top."

He opens his mouth to say something— probably in regards to the open sentence that you just threw out there that confirmed you were— at least, preferably— a bottom. Knowing him, he would've said a snarky reply or a very sexual joke, but instead, there's a small smile on his face that you don't miss. It's out of amusement and while you've seen plenty of smiles like that in response to your own misfit of reactions coming from him, you don't miss the way his lips just curl with ease and how his eyes form crescents even from that minuscule facial muscle movement. Before he gets too suspicious of your staring, you look away, glad that your blind eyesight focused on his facial expressions, a fine resolution of a simple Jungkook smile arising on his face imprinted in your brain.

Jungkook comes in a couple days later. This time, he's accompanied with a backpack. You notice that he was intentionally staying at Pleasantea to study, making use of the bar and bar stools placed by the window.

You work with Dahlia that shift, her tapping the sticky note near the register in translation that she is predicting another iconic tension moment between you two, but it doesn't happen when admittedly, waking up to Jungkook beside you and him showing an ounce of care has made you warm up to him by a smidge. There was no walk of shame and he was good at making sure you had everything before you left his car. Not only that, he stayed in front of your home until you were inside safely.

It's the bare minimum, but truthfully, it's not something you expected from him.

When Jungkook usually comes in, he normally only waves to the other workers who wave back, and today was a bit of a groundbreaking moment when he first waves to Dahlia, flickers his eyes over to you and waves. A wave directed towards you and you only responded with a mere smile.

He orders something new. A peach green tea and when he went to pick it up at the other counter, he raises his eyebrows and silently smiles at you. In hindsight, it'd be a weird moment for Dahlia or for anyone who didn't know what happened a couple nights ago, and even to you, it's kind of different, but it was also refreshing.

Everything goes swell and dandy until you notice the door swing open from the back, the words "hi, welcome" becoming lost in throat when you notice who walks in. Similar to a storm nearing a field of daisies. A dream turned nightmare instantaneously. Instantly, you tap Dahlia's arm without a single word, swiping your hand back and forth near your neck in signal of who it was. Dahlia immediately taking note of it, nods and gestures you to hide in the back.

It's an odd feeling. You know that you're over him and you've been over him, but you can't help but wonder why your body is in fight or flight mode and why your breathing has become ragged. The air has suddenly become heavy and the walls seem to be caving in.

At a mental cross roads, you feel yourself heave breaths, simple tumbles of calm affirmations to stagnate your heartbeat runs circles around your mind. Few reminders of breathing in and breathing out, a mere countdown from 10 to 1, fingers tapping each other. You are trying so very hard not to struggle in the ocean as you had just been caught in the riptide. Out of the blue, completely unheard of, not a single sign, an abrupt happening— there is nothing to do but to not be scared. An evident showcase of fear, the water just knows without a doubt that you're struggling. It'll pull you in if you go against it.

Just then, in your moments of self-assurance, Jungkook's form magically shows up in the back room. Eyes widening at his presence, you're taken aback at how breezily he walks in an employee restricted part of the store.

"Hey."

You suck in a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and lower as you roll your lower lip inwards. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw who walked in," he simply explains, taking a step closer to you. "Dahlia said I can come in here. I wanted to check up on you."

"Oh," you breathe, not really comprehending his motive behind his actions and not really finding the effort to. "I'm fine, just... hiding."

Jungkook glances down to meet your eyes as you immediately avert your attention to your knees, tapping your fingers on them in a rhythmic fashion to settle your nerves. "You alright? I can ask Dahlia for a cup of water."

"That's okay," you shake your head. "Uhm— thanks for checking up on me."

"No need to thank me," he shrugs and in a blink of an eye, he sits in front of you, arms resting at his knees as he runs a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll wait until he leaves. I'm not leaving you alone."

You stare at him for a moment. At first, you find it wholly odd that he connected two dots when he saw Taehyung coming into the store and found it, to his own discretion, to accompany you, the person who is most affected by the presence of someone no more than a stranger to Jungkook. It's peculiar to think that there's just this smidge of care for you within him, but your past experiences and encounters with him thinks quite otherwise. And while he makes himself comfortable, meeting you eye-to-eye in an attempt of support, you let out a defeated sigh.

"So, how's work? You know, before he came in?"

You inhale sharply at his way of starting small talk. "Fine. Can't wait to get off, though."

"You got plans after your shift?"

Shrugging, you pull your knees closer. "I wanted to catch up on sleep."

He arches his eyebrow, taking note of how you built your walls higher and stronger. "You haven't been sleeping?"

In an honest gesture, your shake your head, shrugging. "Midterms."

"Hm, gotcha," he nods understandingly, letting it drag out into silence.

In all honesty, (and you won't admit it) his presence just happened to comfort you. He didn't have to say a word and just him being there— Jungkook taking the thought to care and stay with you was a matter of solace you didn't think you'd appreciate as greatly.

"You know what I'm craving?"

You lift your head up to meet his eyes, the pair that glistened with slight amusement to keep the spirits high. Wordlessly, you arch an eyebrow as he quirked his lip, answering his own rhetorical question.

"A big ol' hearty bowl of tomato soup and grilled cheese," he says with great yearning. He closes his eyes for a second as if to imagine the flavors just fulfilling his cravings. "And a nice slice of peach cobbler for dessert? Vanilla ice cream on top and everything."

Jungkook says it with such a dreamy voice that it makes you snort, a laugh coming from his end as he nods.

"Is that so?" You ask in between your tiny fits of chuckles.

"Yeah," he gushes in an obvious tone. "Does that not sound mouth-watering to you?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but let out one more chuckle before rolling your lips inward. "I'm craving gyozas. I could eat fifty of those in one sitting."

"That's a bet I'm willing to make, sweetheart," he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

Lips curling, a sudden gasp escapes your lips as your mind reawakens a craving you haven't had in awhile. "Ooo, and tiramisu gelato," you mull, shoulders falling as you think about the creamy texture of the heavenly goodness. "When I went to Italy a couple of years ago with my mom, I would always make her stop by every gelato shop we passed by so I could get tiramisu gelato."

Jungkook smiles. "Just tiramisu?"

"I mean, I dabbled in other flavors, but tiramisu—"

"He's gone now."

Your sentence is cut off when Dahlia's sweet presence briefly peeps from outside into the back room, Jungkook turning his head over his shoulder as Dahlia glances between you and him amidst your conversation on the ground. As Jungkook turns back and begins to stand, you don't miss the growing grin on Dahlia's feature as you know very well that she was going to add another tally mark.

Glaring at he, your eyes flicker from her and then to Jungkook who has his hand in front of you. Mindlessly, you grab it as you pull yourself up with a bit of a tug coming from him, a mere "thanks" coming from out of your mouth as he gives you a single nod.

"You alright?" He inquires as you give him one last nod, a smile growing on your face as a silent reassurance just right before he exits out of the back room and proceeds to finish studying.

20 minutes later, he makes his leave and waves goodbye at both Dahlia and you.

"Hola."

"Why are you still outside?"

It is 9:06 PM, Pleasantea closing at 9 PMs on the weekdays and Jungkook just happened to come in at 8:51 PM on Wednesday to teasingly spite you. However, as he left once he saw you turn the 'open' sign to 'closed', you realize while you are sweeping the lobby that his car is parked out in front of the shop. The red jeep with the top on sitting in front staring back at you, as well as his form sitting in the driver's seat, his face illuminated by his phone screen in his lap.

Confused as to why he was still outside, you call him from your phone. You happened to have his number after Dahlia just happened to slide it to him one day while you were off the clock, a random text notification sparking curiosity in you as you realized that the only person who would text— hey babe, didn't see you at work today— to you, would be Jungkook.

You watch the way the white light morphed into a dimmer light counteracting his face before he brings his phone to his ear. Doing so, he looks up and sees you through the window, the broom you were sweeping with standing right against you as you raise an eyebrow in question.

"I'm waiting for you to finish closing," he answers, his pearly whites coming to show even from afar. "By the way, loved the dancing to Blondie."

Your cheeks grow red in your realization that as it hit 9 PM, you blasted Blondie in the store speaker, and danced while cleaning all the tea tubs and sweeping the back to Long Time and The Tide Is High. "Piss off."

"You didn't say, 'please'."

Scrunching your nose, you stare at him as he is amused by your annoyance of him. "Jungkook, you don't have to wait for me."

"I know I don't. But I want to," he tells you, his voice sounding caring and concerned as he doesn't let his gaze off of you while he keeps you on the line. You let out a sigh before his lips curl upwards. "___, do you realize what happens to people at night when they're alone? Bad things happen. And while I'm still upset that you forgot to put boba in my drink—"

"I gave it to you in an extra cup!"

"I called Jihyo and apparently, you're the only person available to close tonight and I'm just purely making sure nothing happens to you while you finish closing."

"Jungkook—"

"Better hurry up, babe. At this rate, you won't be able to leave early."

There's a groan when you glance over at the clock, and Jungkook takes the time to smile at the way you stare back at him through the glass window, a middle finger adorned with a gold ring on your finger sent his direction before you let out another defeated sigh. "Fine, but come inside. Don't just sit in your car and watch me like a stalker."

"Aw, you want me to keep you company?"

"No, I just need a dance partner when Heart of Glass plays."

"You ask me to dance with you once, and suddenly I'm your dance partner."

"Precisely. Should've seen what you were getting into after I asked you to dance at the party," you say, a smile on your lips as you hear his laugh through the other end, his mouth open in amusement. "Now come inside. Maria's almost over."

You could not believe you were here.

In fact, you could not believe that you let a stinkin' pearly toothed and politely asking Jungkook convince you in the first place, and now you're sitting on your bed, realizing that the knot in your stomach is a reminder that you are not only lost, but also very anxious in the upcoming setting you put yourself in.

Last minute plans were never your thing. Sure, some spontaneity can be refreshing, but this was a prime example of reasons why you should not allow yourself to agree with such sporadic decisions without even a basis to work off with. Now you're sitting at the edge of your bed, staring at your closet, jaw slacked and mind running in circles, wondering if you're overthinking an outfit to wear amongst a bunch of people.

Besides, it's not like Jungkook's going to care. Not like you would expect him to— or want him to.

Recalling the last time you went to a game, you wore a plain white shirt and jeans, but you remember being cold that night— but those were autumn nights. Your mind tries to think of wanting to wear something, but the possibilities clashes and you result into groaning at your flavorless closet, knowing very well that there's gotta be at least something, but your mind was not coming up with anything.

Throwing your body back to be cushioned by your mattress, you close your eyes and cringe, retracing your idiotic steps earlier today on how you brought yourself into this mess.

"Hey, ___, wait up!"

Jungkook calls after you as you bid your farewells to your co-workers, pacing up to your form as you stop in your tracks, waiting for him to reach up to you. As his face comes into view, you pull your lips up into a small smile, eyebrows furrowing as to why he called for your name. He smiles back, a small peep of his bright smile before he places his elbow against the counter next to you.

"Come to the game tonight. We're going against UFenesy."

Hearing the invitation roll out of his mouth, you were slightly taken aback, but nevertheless practical when you shake your head. "I'm good, thanks."

He pulls his eyebrows together, though his inviting smile never leaves his features. "Why not?"

You shrug, unsure yourself as you pull your falling bag over your shoulder. Jungkook nearly reaches over to catch it for you, but seeing that you beat him to it, he flickers his eyes back onto yours.

Jungkook narrows his eyes in plain suspicion. "You haven't been to one, have you?"

"No, I've been to a game," you defend, eyes wandering as you finish your sentence honestly. "Just not a lacrosse game."

"Great," he grins, eyes sparkling. "This'll be your first."

Helplessly, you let out a laugh. It sounded more like a scoff, if anything— one that was in disbelief. "No, Jungkook. I have to finish an assignment and I have an exam on—"

"Is it tomorrow?"

"No, but it's on—"

"Come on, babe," he pokes at your side, making you take a step back as you narrow your eyes at him for his sudden poke. "I need my number one boba worker there."

You nod your head over your shoulder. "Then go ask Jihyo, not me."

He laughs in a way where his eyes crinkle, shaking his head. "No, come on. I asked you for a reason. Listen, I'll give you cash and you get yourself a hearty corn dog with extra ketchup and ranch, and you'll stand at a perfect view—"

"Jungkook, why does it sound like you're treating me as your trophy girlfriend?"

Jungkook frowns. "I'm not. I just want you to be there, okay? Even if that means buying you a corn dog and keeping the best spot in the stadium open for you."

Pursing your lips, you cross your arms. "I don't even know how lacrosse works. I'll probably end up cheering for the other team."

"Unless the other team has a teammate named Jeon Jungkook, then don't let out a peep. Just cheer me on specifically and you'll be fine."

"Self-absorbed," you inform him as he pokes at your cheek, making you look at him with an arched eyebrow. He smile reaches his eyes once more, hoping that you'd agree to go to the social outing just for him.

"Is that a yes?"

You pause, weighing your options. To stay home and procrastinate or to drag yourself into a social setting and experience a college game. "Will you give me a ride home?"

In hindsight, the former was probably a better option for your nerves, but admittedly, it was more so the most comfortable option.

And as if the universe has heard your regretful decision, your friend, Jisoo texts you in perfect timing if you wanted to go to the game with her tonight. First, you feel elated because now you have someone to go with, but you feel yourself groan for agreeing to something you regret. As you text her in agreement, you continue to have an internal battle with your thoughts for an outfit.

"There goes Jeon again with the long-stick shot!"

Jisoo picks you up when you tell her that you were already having a ride home— only if Jungkook remembers— and she was gladly to take you to the game. Though just only having to have met her, she explains how her friends don't really go to games and she usually goes alone. While you nod and reassure her that she has you now, you mentally thank the universe for her keeping your nerves at bay.

Right before the game started, a random person comes up to you while you were discussing with Jisoo about the classes you were planning to take next semester. "Are you ___?"

"Yes?" You answer, raising an eyebrow at the girl with hair in braids. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Essie," she smiles. "I'm one of the water girls for the team. Jungkook wanted me to give you this—" Essie pulls something from her back pocket and it's a twenty dollar bill. Before you could even let out a word of protest, she grabs your hand and places the bill in yours, retracting hers swiftly before she lets out a chuckle. "Jungkook said to do that because you would refuse. Also, he wants me to show you your seats."

"Wait, wait," you shake your head, eyebrows knitting closely together as you glance at Jisoo who tries to refrain from laughing. "Jungkook asked you...?"

"Yeah, he asked me to give you cash for a hot dog and to show you your spots because he said he promised you the best seat in the stadium. There's an extra seat for your friend, too," Essie glimmers a quick eye smile before giving a single nod, turning around and leading the way past the crowd of people to get to the so-called "best seat in the stadium".

Essie leaves you and Jisoo with a happy farewell after leading you to a seat where two other girls move after Essie waves at them for saving the spot.

"Enjoy the game!" The girls who were sitting at the spot smile at you and Jisoo before taking their spot that they were supposedly saving for you.

As the girls have left and left you and your friend dumbfounded, Jisoo was the first to laugh.

"Was Jungkook your boyfriend this whole time?" Jisoo inquires beside you, more so amused rather than angry as she sees your reaction to her question. Your mouth gapes open as you vigorously shake your head.

"He was never my boyfriend from the start," you scoff and she nods, laughing.

"Oh? And he promised you a seat at his game?" She curls her lips upwards curiously, jumping on the immediate implication that Jungkook and you have something stirring.

"He promised me a good seat if I went tonight.... And a hot dog. You want one?"

Jisoo lets out an amused giggle before shaking her head. "Maybe later. Game is about to start."

She explains which team is which and that UFenesy were called "Phoenixes", chiiming in that she's never seen the opponent play, but she heard they were a pretty good team that made it to championships the prior year. You nod as you try to figure out how to analyze the game just by listening on and off to the commentary from the echoing speakers to Jisoo's added explanations thrown in sporadically here and there.

It takes a couple of minutes, but you finally spot Jungkook, broad letters of "Jeon" imprinted on his jersey above the number "3". Finding comfortability of finding him on the field, you watch the whole first quarter solely on him and his moves. His stature was built and tall along his teammates, his speed and stamina was endless, and the way he would shoot and score each time was impressive— it was no wonder why the girls next to you screamed out his name every time a shot was made.

Home: 5

Visitors: 4

You watch attentively as his teammates all roughly gather up to Jungkook after making his second signature long-stick shot of the night, all of them hastily patting his helmet and shoulder while their testosterone-filled cheers were accompanied by the crowd's.

"Are you guys a thing?"

Nearly snapping your neck at the question, Jisoo doesn't tear her eyes apart from the field in front of her, her dark eyes looking around before she felt your gaze on her was when she meets your eyes. Innocently, she smiles.

"No, we're not," you answer honestly, a nervous chuckle coming out of your throat.

"Oh, so he just likes you," Jisoo turns her head back onto the field, nodding in thought. "That's cute. He had the water girls find you and save you a spot."

Scoffing, you shake your head. "Please, he's probably done that to a lot of girls. I'm not anyone special."

"I'd beg to differ," she hums to herself, amusement glinting her eyes.

As intermission at halftime arrives, Jisoo volunteers to stay at the seats while you go on and buy two hot dogs. One with ketchup and mustard, and another with extra ketchup and extra ranch. Thinking about it, you weren't sure as to how Jungkook knew you liked hotdogs with ketchup and ranch, but you ignore it as you take the hotdogs in both of your hands and walk down the steps to find Jisoo.

And when halftime ends and the third quarter speeds on by, you're in awe at how Jungkook talks to his teammates when they huddle. It's nothing that you can hear from where you and Jisoo stand, but from his stature and hand gestures, a pat on one of his teammate's helmet, you can see how much he cares about his teammates and how easy it was to motivate and inspire them. A true team captain at work. They release a mini cheer amongst each other before heading off to the last quarter of the game.

"Jungkook likes you and you can't convince me otherwise," Jisoo states out of the blue about ten minutes into the last quarter, making you turn your head at her once more. "Oh, come on, don't give me that look. He gave you money for a hot dog and saved you the best seats in the stadium."

"You don't think he'd do this for anyone else? If you gave him your number that day, he'd probably do the same for you, too."

"Maybe," she sings, not denying how flirtatious Jungkook was being to her that day. "But it proves that you may like him, too. Why else did you come?"

"For the—"

"The hotdogs are not that great, honey. Don't say it's because of the hotdog."

It was true, the hotdogs were so and so. Pursing your lips, you shrug. "Well, he just convinced me."

"Because you like him."

Jisoo was being stubborn about it, but so were you. "I don't like him. He doesn't like me."

"Oh, he definitely likes you," she laughs, shaking her head at your denial.

Wondering why she was so convinced about Jungkook liking you or vice versa, your mind drifts off to the time at the party when you asked him to dance. It wasn't meant to insinuate anything other than try to remove your mind off of a dreadful presence at that party, but you wonder why did he stick with you that night? Was it odd to think that that a simple expectation of sticking with someone under the influence— let alone a woman— should be common sense for him?

You'd think of him as a friend now— someone who is not consistently trying to badly flirt with you who causes your eye to twitch every time he comes in.

Admittedly, he's been pleasant to you. And undeniably, you're aware of such "tension" between you two, but you thought of it nothing more than just you being annoyed by his tactics. Did he actually have intentions of liking you? Sure, he's attempted to flirt with you, but overtime you didn't take it seriously? Why are you suddenly getting so affected by this? It's not like—

"North Stars and Phoenixes are tied."

The commentary snaps you back into present time, a quirk of an eyebrow while you flick your eyes to the scoreboard makes you realize that the commentary was correct.

Home: 10

Visitors: 10

"30 seconds on the clock— and there's Jeon with the ball."

Fixated on the man with the number 3 on his back, you watch as he zips through the opposing team like flying colors, flashing through like lighting as he keeps the stick right at his shoulder. He picks up the pace when he feels someone cutting through from his left, dodging and leaving them at the hands of one of his teammates to slow them down.

The clock ticks downwards with every anticipating bones of the crowd shaking, leaning in, clenching. Hushed whispers of, 'come on, come on' are heard from behind as you subconsciously clench your fists tightly until they were white.

It's not until he's close to the opposing side's goal, the opposing defensemen running towards him like moths surrounding a beacon of light— your hands intertwine with each other almost in prayer, heart rate speeding up as you watch his feet kick behind him and in an instant—

"Here comes Jeon—"

The ball hits the net.

"There it is! Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon again with the winning shot for the North Stars!" The sports commentary becomes overpowered by the loud screaming of the crowd, Jisoo included when sue stands next to you jumping up and down with raised fists and clapping hands. For you, you didn't realize how anxious you were feeling when you let out a sharp breath of relief, a laugh eliciting from your throat as you watch Jungkook run through the field haphazardly, his teammates scurrying over to him to engulf him in hugs and pats.

What set your heart off the rocker was that when his helmet is pried off from his head, his eyes go off on a flurry search onto the crowd, immediately stopping when they meet your eyes from the screaming and wild crowd. It's like he instantaneously ignores his teammates shoving and sharing loving pats around him when he meets your gaze, an ethereal moment of how time just completely stops around you both as you share that gaze with him.

A smile so handsome and pearly stretches along his face before the god gifted moment was pulled away too soon, and he is pulled away by being lifted into the air by his teammates, sonorous chants being audible enough to hear from the stadium.

"Cannot convince me otherwise," Jisoo nudges you with her elbow, causing you to roll your eyes despite your coral pigmented cheeks growing dangerously evident.

As people began to trickle out as the game was officially over, the parking lot becoming filled with cars leaving, Jisoo waits with you voluntarily for Jungkook. When you try to convince her to go on and go home, she rolls her eyes and announces all of the "what if's" ranging from being abandoned to someone kidnapping you. Sighing defeatedly, you both wait for Jungkook who takes awhile, but you don't mind— you loved Jisoo's warm presence.

Jungkook spots you first before you spot him, calling your name from a distance before his teammates— you recognizing Jaehyung and Yoongi behind him— run up and jump on him, sharing fits of laughter before you smile and look at Jisoo.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out now. Give Jungkook a winning kiss for me. And make sure he gets you home safely. Text me, alright?" Jisoo gives you a hug before you roll your eyes and squeeze back lovingly, her parting away and heading towards her parked car in the lot.

As you head over to the sweaty Jungkook in his casual attire, his friends shove his arm and laugh.

"See you at the after party, Jungkook?"

"Maybe," he nods towards Yoongi who asked the question. "Gotta take her home tonight."

"Whaaa?" Jaehyun nods his head towards me, placing both hands on his team captain's shoulders. "Not comin', Shortstack?"

"Opening tomorrow," you reason before grinning at him. "If you want hangover boba, just pop right in."

"Sweet," Jaehyun cheers, giving Jungkook one last shoulder pat before heading off a different direction with Yoongi. "Take her home safely then, Kook. You comin' afterwards?"

Jungkook pauses, a slight glance given your way as you obliviously quirk an eyebrow at him. He gives an outward point of a chin before letting his teammate know his answer. "We'll see."

Eyebrows raised, you purse your lips at his answer.

"What?" He asks when he notices your facial expression.

"You're not gonna go? I live only like 10 minutes away from campus with driving. You can still make it."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Nah."

"If you think I'm letting you into my apartment—"

"No, I was not thinking that at all," he lets out a chuckle at your wary assumption. "It's just—" he pauses and he lets out a sigh. "Do you need to be home now? Can you spare an hour or two?"

His question makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"You said were craving tiramisu gelato, right?"

"Yeah, a couple days ago," you furrow your eyebrows, recalling the moment when you disclosed your craving in the odd circumstances that was when you were mildly panicking, eyes nearly watering, and to save your sanity, you began talking to him about what was going through your head all thanks to his calm approach of making small talk.

Tiramisu gelato circled your mind.

"I know a place with the best gelato. Closes at midnight. You up for a little gelato action?" He smirks, you walking beside him towards his car.

You let out a small chuckle, a bit flattered that he remembered that you were craving gelato. "Sure. But I'm paying for yours."

"Why?"

"Because you're driving."

"Psh. That's nothing."

"Jungkook—"

"Keep your money in your purse or else I will take it and never give it back to you."

"But— Jungkook!" In a wrapped up instant, he hastily grabs your bag from your shoulder, dashing as fast as he could resembling his previous run across the field to make the winning shot. Seeing how he was gone in a blink of an eye, you run after him, calling his name. "Jungkook!"

And just like how he started running, he halts, causing you to bump into him when your momentum was too fast to stop a second early. All at once, he collects your force, a hand at the small of your back to keep you from knocking both of you guys over. The physical contact makes you shiver under the night, and the realization that you were close to him as he was close to you makes everything ini your mind stop.

He looks down at you amusedly, his chuckles fading out as he realizes that you were staring up at him, the level of proximity you two were at with no one around you guys but you two suddenly becoming well aware in his mind like headlights. He didn't want to let you go, he stops and it's this moment where you two are close and you kind of stare at him and sigh. "Fine. I won't pay, but can I have my bag back?"

"You may." He gladly gives it back under your touch, taking a step back to amusedly make the previous proximity obvious. Once your bag was back in your grasp, you narrow your eyes at him before you take a step forward and give him a jab at the arm.

"Ouch," he laughs, rubbing his bicep of where you punched him. "I gave you your bag back."

"That was for making me chase after you," you huff, sending him daggers through your eyes. "You know I hate exercise."

He throws his head back in complete bemusement before leading you to his signature red Jeep.

When reaching to the gelato place that took awhile to travel to as it was near the beach, located next to a small theater and a pizza place, you furrow your eyebrows at how unfamiliar the place seemed to you.

As you gather your bag, you realize that Jungkook had disappeared from the driver's seat to reach the other end of your door to open it, his chivalry exuding from the gesture. Surprised by this, you give him one small acknowledging nod and thank him, a laugh eliciting from your throat as you tell him that he didn't have to that. But before you even finished that sentence, he opens the door to the gelato shop for you, a teasing, toothy smile on his face as he awaits for you to go inside.

You take a moment to scan through the flavors, all of them sounding appetizing before your heart is set on the tiramisu flavor just sitting at the very end beneath pistachio. You don't hesitate to ask for a scoop of tiramisu in a cup, an excited childish smile on your face as Jungkook keeps you close.

He goes ahead and orders the double chocolate gelato after looking at the flavors, you taking the cup the worker already scooped for you in your hand and taking a small spoonful to taste. Your mouth instantly waters.

Peering up at Jungkook as he watches you attentively fulfill your craving, you purse your lips. "Don't you usually go to Pleasantea after winning a game?"

"Yeah," he nods, shrugging. "The team and I deserve winning drinks."

"Then why are we here getting gelato?"

"I mean," he clears his throat, plucking a blue spoon from the jar of blue, red, and purple spoons. "I got the winning girl with me, it trumps a winning anything."

His statement makes you snort. "An excuse to break tradition?"

"An excuse to spend time with you," he nods with affirmation, bringing his spoon to his mouth. Rolling your eyes to that, he gives off his winning smile all while biting his gelato spoon. It was such a picture perfect moment, you mentally snapshot him before his attention is torn from you to grab his scoop of gelato. "Besides, I begged you to come to the game anyways. It'd be a dick move to just abandon you afterwards."

"True," you agree, before you stop in surprise at how Jungkook smoothly takes out his wallet and pays the worker with a ten dollar bill, putting the rest into the tip jar as you both leave your grateful thanks to him and leave. Jungkook goes again and opens the door for you, stepping beside it to let you out. You narrow your eyes at him once more and murmur a thank you in which he gives a chivalrous nod.

Instead of walking to the car, he leads the way to somewhere, you following suit beside him. You don't question it, mostly because you were distracted with your tiramisu gelato and the fact that you've grown so accustomed to Jungkook that you let your feet match up this pace.

"Good job out there, Long-Stick. Now I know why all the girls swoon over you," you tell him once you both settle over the rails that overlooked the beach. It was a vast opening, the ocean was almost as ebony as the night sky, but the moon was the glimmer that differentiated what was the sea and what was the sky. It was romantic itself, but you don't let the venue label your current experience with him. While it was beautiful, you don't let it get to your head.

Your appraisal makes him laugh lowly. "That was nothing."

"Against UFenesy? I'm pretty sure that's something," you recall what Jisoo told you. "Plus that last shot had everyone on the edge of their seat. Including me, and I didn't know what was going on for the half of it."

He lets out a fit of chuckles at your honesty. It makes you feel warm and appreciated that you're able to make him laugh. For some odd reason, you feel like his laugh is as rare as diamonds, and it is so beautiful once found. It's contagious and just as pleasing as yawning and you just want to hear it more and more.

However, once his laughter dies down, you chew on the inside of your cheek. "Don't you want to go to the party tonight?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. You made the winning shot, Long Stick," you shrug. "Don't you want to celebrate by getting drunk or high?"

Jungkook, shamelessly, stares at you closely as if you were hiding something. "You sound like you want to go home really badly. Just tell me up front and I'll take you."

"No, it's not that. I just don't want to be holding you back from anything or changing up your plans for the night."

"___," he laughs hearing this, shaking his head. "Relax. You're not holding me back from anything. I'm a big boy, I can change my plans as they go." You give him a nudge, one that follows with a laughter coming out of his mouth. "Besides, I'm with my winning gelato and my winning girl with a Blondie obsession at the beach. I don't need to go to a party to feel this high."

"Is that so?"

"I'm on top of the world, babe. You wanna try my gelato?"

He brings a spoonful of his gelato towards you and usually you'd hesitate from trying a shared portion of anything from someone, but there was a level of comfort that exuded safety, one where you allow yourself bring your mouth to his spoon and taste the rich flavor of milk chocolate gelato along with with biting down onto a dark chocolate bit.

Returning the gesture, you bring a spoonful of your tiramisu to his mouth, one where he happily eats it off the spoon and nods approvingly of the flavor that you were craving a couple days ago.

As you let his gelato flavor melt in your mouth and you bite down on the bit, something floods your thoughts— dark chocolate wasn't too bad.

Jungkook's mind is engulfed by you.

When he dropped you off that night, he felt the luckiest he's ever felt— somehow his lead to multiple victories have all been trumped by simple quality time with you. It wasn't at all romantic, but he somehow can't unwrap his mind around you. You are tattoo ink, your name written all over his mind and his brain as a constant reminder that you are very much alive— a living, breathing form he has grown to be submerged into. An addiction, an obsession.

He likes the way your eyes form crescents every time you are introduced to a new customer. He's convinced it's no longer your customer service persona, but your general nice appearance that is sweet and approachable. And while you may argue that you aren't as sweet as you may be given by the first encounter with the dull milk tea, he knows that you are as sweet as the tiramisu gelato you are so very fond of.

He won't tell you, but he remembers every drunken spill you unraveled to him that night when you thought it was a good idea to drown your mind out of a certain someone.

When Jungkook first brought you inside the guest bedroom and helped you sit on the bed, you let out a slurred threats of using your muay thai free trial if he ever touched you, but only giggled afterwards when you expose yourself of quitting because people made fun of the way you jump-roped— "princess jump-rope", as you liked to call it.

You like fun, printed underwear over the lacy see-through ones, and while he didn't catch a glimpse of the ones you wore that night, you made it an announcement and proof that you were wearing cherry printed ones. You were craving a hot dog that night, almost bursting to tears because you wanted a hot dog with extra ranch and extra ketchup so badly, but sucked it up when you started staring at him. You have a lip tattoo— an impulsive and drunk decision walking by a tattoo parlor with your friends at 2 AM— that says, 'ur mom'. You also admitted that you didn't want him to leave you— not that he was, he was only going to lock the door to prevent people from coming in— and that you like his presence no matter how annoyed you may seem by him.

And while you were drifting off to sleep, you let out spills about Taehyung.

"When Taehyung and I broke up, it was because he lost feelings. I mean, I guess it was also mutual because I felt the same way, but, uhm... I was so convinced that we would last. I think I'm more mad at the fact that I didn't end it first. He stopped making me feel loved about a year in. Honeymoon phase was over, I guess, and I don't know— I guess I just lost that security and love with him. I should be relieved that he ended it, but I'm just mad that I wasted two years of my life being with him when I should've just ended it first."

He didn't say anything in response to that— it's not because he didn't want to, it's because his mind could formulate such words that would console your drunk mindset. And before he could even let out a peep, he hears a light snore.

He doesn't forget everything you said that night though. He couldn't. Not when it's the most you have ever disclosed to him.

As if you weren't occupying his mind enough, you somehow show up at times he merely forgets about you.

One time, you were working a closing shift and you decided it would be nice to surprise Jungkook with a drink, remembering he would be staying up that night to finish an assignment. You went out of your way to ask Jaehyun for his address to drop it off, Jungkook very confused to see a text message with "come outside" and to see you with one of your crafted drinks in hand and your hair flowing down your shoulders as you released it from your work bun.

"A bit stalkerish, isn't it?"

"Hey, you asked Dahlia for my number. This is merely an innocent act of giving you a drink because I know you're staying up," you defend with a smirk. "It's a strawberry and guava green tea. It's not heavily caffeinated, but it'll keep you up for a bit because you should also get some sleep while you can."

Jungkook, to your misfortune, couldn't sleep that night, and it wasn't because of the strawberry and guava green tea or the amount of homework he had to finish, but it was because you had swarmed his mind the whole night. The overall surprise from you in which you went out of your way to ask his friend where he lived, to remember he was staying up to finish an assignment, to handcraft a drink that wasn't on Pleasantea's menu, the text of "come outside"— it is all small gestures that accumulate and create a supernova in his mind. All the vibrant colors and specks of stardust trail to you that it was impossible to sleep. And even when slumber did come to him after dragging hours, you were in his dream.

Another time he likes to recall was when he came in while you were working and that day, you were particularly happy, and he'll never forget it because you went, "Welco— Jungkook! Hi!" in the most sweetest tone he didn't think you could ever muster, but the way that you smiled and how your features were accentuated with a bit of makeup made his heart skip a beat.

He was going to order something that same day, but you shook your head and stopped him. "Here, I made this drink the other day and I think you might like it. It's on me."

And gratefully, he liked it. Even if he didn't like it, he would've pretended to just for you. And when he asks what it was, you wouldn't tell him what you made it with, but what really caught him off guard and made his insides turn to gooey liquid was that you called it the "Jungkookie Tea."

Jungkook doesn't miss the way Dahlia overhears what you named your drink for him, meeting Jungkook's eyes with an entertained smirk as she hides away to the back room, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Hi, I left a surprise for you on front door," you called him one night. Jungkook just came home from his lacrosse practice and as he arrives home, there is a large paper bag that has his name written on it in neat, cursive lettering that makes him question who his secret admirer is before he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He answered it immediately when he saw your name on it, an immediate announcement that you were the one that left him that surprise on his doorstep.

"You're scaring me here, babe."

"I just like keeping you on your toes," you smirk, as you laugh into the phone. Jungkook opens his front door and kicks off his shoes, walking into the kitchen and flickering on the lights excitingly to open your gift to him. "Just open it, you'll like it."

"No way."

"Way," you laugh into the phone. "I baked it this morning after I came home from the farmer's market. I bought some peaches and remembered that you were craving peach cobbler a couple weeks ago. There should be a pint of vanilla ice cream in there, too. Do you have roommates? You can share with them, too."

"Hell no, I am not sharing your god sent dessert with my roommate."

"You haven't even tried it yet, idiot! Be nice."

"Nuh-uh. It smells too good. I'll probably end up finishing all of this up tonight. Thank you so much, babe."

"Anytime, baby," you coo, his mind stopping immediately when he hears you call him 'baby'. "I'd like to keep you on the phone, but I'd rather listen to Blondie on the road."

"Okay, drive safe."

"Share!"

"No promises."

"Jungkook—"

"Bye," he sings before hanging up. And as much love you put into it, he ate it with all the love he had for you.

Small moments with you fills his mind up to the rim and he is as elated as ever. Jungkook prides himself for being able to be at a level where you sort of expose him of your previous past introductions with each other, all of those in which he couldn't remember. You tell him of all the times from the first encounter at the frat party, to the embarrassing moment of when he threw up on your new pants. It made him groan as you cackle beside him in his red Jeep in front of your house.

Obviously, it flew past you, but you tell him that truthfully you weren't very fond of him during the whole distasteful plain milk tea with no sweetness ordeal, and anytime after that, but he lets out a laugh with a simple apology flying out of his mouth for the past encounters that really did not work on his first impression with you.

However, there was this one moment that irked him a lot. So much so that he couldn't really hide it from you.

Sunny asked you to go to Orange Valley to restock and while you would've happily obliged, your car wouldn't make it very far if you were to drive, so she offered asking Jungkook to drive. Jungkook, at first, was ecstatic that you asked him as an alternative to drive you there— a road trip with you probably wanting to change the songs multiple times until you were satisfied or you snoring away in his passenger seat until you both get there.

However, he was silent while on the freeway, unsure of what to really say. And you weren't dumb, so you caught onto his aura when you sat in his car.

You try to make a joke to lighten up the mood about this one customer who wanted a fruit tea without the fruit in hopes you could witness a laugh from him, but only a light scoff was the result of your efforts gone to shit. Knowing that there was no good on having a grumpy Jungkook driving you for the rest of the day, you let out a laugh. A veiled laugh, one that makes him question you silently.

"It's funny because you remind me exactly of this drink I made last night." He glances at you as you nod. "Yeah, yeah, it was the black tea with boba. Bitter, with tiny balls." Your laughter dies along with your analogy you throw in the air. Your arms sternly cross over your torso, an arched eyebrow awaiting him when he gives you a glance. "Mhm, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

His lackadaisical answer was too quick for your taste, anticipating very well that he was going to dodge it the minute you bug him about it. However, you were too stubborn enough to not let it go. "No, I want to know."

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, shifting his previous position of two hands at three and nine of the wheel, to move one arm to prop against his window, leaning his head on it. "___, it's nothing—"

"Then why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

Scoffing, you shake your head at his purposeful obliviousness. "Distant. Cold. Bitter. I don't know, but it's giving me bad vibes."

Jungkook signals to merge onto the carpool lane, you noticing that his speed rising on the speedometer with haste that it makes you shift in your seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jungkook, stop acting like that," you state in a softer tone. It sounded more like a beg if you listened carefully, but you straighten your shoulders against the seat to not come off that way. "Did I do something wrong?"

He immediately takes notice as to how you immediately take blame onto yourself, making his previously tense body soften at the way your voice had gone soft and how you were no longer staring ahead at the road, but at your knees that were pressed together. He wonders if this was the result of your past relationship where you were convinced that you were always the one to blame. He adjusts his position again behind the wheel, one where he returns his free hand back onto the wheel, more relaxed as he releases his foot from the gas slightly to keep a steady speed along the road. Jungkook now felt bad.

He stays quiet before you try one more time, poking at his arm in which he gives you one more sideways glance and lets out a sigh. "You called Jaehyun to pick you up instead of me."

Jungkook notices how your eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"Last night, at the party you went to. You called Jaehyun to pick you up and take you home."

"Oh," you nod slowly. "If you're upset, just know that him and I didn't hook up or anything—"

"No." Jungkook cringes. It's first the thought of you, someone he has began to feel things for, being with one of his best friends and teammate in a sexual way that made him want to gag. It's then the realization that that was your first immediate thought as to why he was upset that made him realize he's explaining it all wrong. "No, it's not that. It's more because you called him, but you didn't call me that upset me."

"Oh," you nod once more. "Oh..."

"It's not a big deal—"

"But you were busy last night—"

"I know," he says, tapping his finger against the wheel. "I can't get mad because I told you I was busy, but..."

He notices that you turned your attention to him, which caused him to sweat a bit. "But?"

"I would've dropped everything if you called me to pick you up. I know, you didn't want to bother me, but I want you to know that you can depend on me, too. If that means dropping a late night lacrosse practice with the defensemen for you to be home safe, then I do not mind."

Hearing this created pangs in your heart, your cheeks ultimately flushing before you couldn't help but smile up at him. "Is that the only reason why you're so Mr. Grumpy today?"

"Not a big deal, ___—"

"I'll call you next time," you cut him off before he takes back everything he says. "I thought you were getting annoyed driving me everywhere."

"No, just the opposite," he smirks. "I just want you to know you can depend on me. Calling Jaehyung wasn't bad, but call me next time."

"Okay, I will," you promise, a smile never breaking from your face. "Thank you. Very sweet, very thoughtful," you muse, bringing a hand to teasingly comb your fingers through his fluffy raven hair. "Now will you stop being a Debby Downer? I'll put you as my personal chauffeur in my contacts so you can stop being so sad for the whole trip."

"Fine, sorry." Jungkook, without thinking about it, grabs your hand and adjusts it so he can intertwine his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand that left butterflies in your stomach. He lets out a laugh before meeting your eyes for a spare second and then back onto the road. "Am I still the black tea you made?"

"Not at all."

To you, Jungkook was anything but bitter from what you have learned about him in the past few times you've shared moments. He makes you laugh and makes you feel appreciated that you can't help but want to do the same for him.

"Woah, hey. What are you doing here?"

Jungkook's bewildered, but it comes off as just subtly surprised to you. After a good day of practice, with his last game tomorrow, he wasn't expecting to get a text from you telling him that you're pulling up in 5 minutes in front of his house. And here you are, climbing out of your car as he takes in your form, a quick sweep up and down of the 12 AM you in nothing but your Gryffindor t-shirt just barely covering your pajama shorts that exposed your legs that he had to consciously remind himself not to glance over at too frequently. Still, he couldn't help himself with a few stolen looks.

You're panting, and not because you're exhausted or you're that out of shape that getting out of your car took out all the energy from you, but somehow standing in front of him in nothing but your thrifted tee and pajama shorts has made you feel more vulnerable than ever and more nervous than you'd let yourself believe.

"I was just..." your voice trails off, but you taking in one big breath as he studies you carefully. "I was just wondering if this thing I did was just completely stupid or—"

"What?" He asks immediately. "What did you do? Was it that stupid that you decided to come over in your pajamas?"

His questions make you laugh. It's breathy. Airy.

It's your nerves wracking together as you try to figure out a way to formulate words, but it's hard when he's wearing sweats and a t-shirt that hugs him nicely when his arms are crossed over his chest.

"I'm fine. It's just that— uhm," your eyes flicker to his where his eyebrows furrow in concern, making your heart stop when you realize that he's actually listening. "I think I let myself catch feelings for you."

There's this grace period that happens. It's surprisingly excruciating and long. It's like you're watching your own heart get ripped out of your chest before you realize that what has just happened. Jungkook could only pause, and you could only handle silence for so long.

He gives off a single nod, one that makes you blink as you realize that could be his only answer. Nodding, you suck in a deep breath. "Alright, nice, cool. Yeah, good to know that it actually was stupid, uh—"

"No, no, no," he stops you mid-rant as you pause yourself from whipping around to walk back to your car in utter embarrassment. But even as you pause, you hope you aren't completely making a fool out of yourself before you can back out. "Come here."

"You know, it's fine. I don't know what I'm saying and I don't think—"

"___, please shut up for one second and come closer." He watches as you poke your tongue into your cheek before taking a step towards him with your gaze trained on the ground. "Can you look at me please?"

Letting out a preparing sigh, you bring your gaze to look at him, his expression all bland and emotionless.

"There's a few things I want to ask."

"Oh. Uh, okay? Shoot."

"Are you sober?"

The question throws you off for a moment. "I mean I drove here—"

"Are you sober?"

"Yes, I don't condone drinking and driving, idiot."

"Okay," he heavily breathes.

"Is this, by chance, a prank?" This question makes you furrow your eyebrows, not only throwing you off, but making you speechless. "Like, is there a camera somewhere and I'm being punk'd?"

"What?" You ask, astounded by his question just before you're shaking your head and beginning to walk away. "No— okay, you know what? Forget it. I knew this was a dumb idea to be here and actually confess that—"

He grabs your arm, his hand grasping your forearm and giving a slight tug in hopes you'd stay grounded. "I'm not done. Are your feelings real? Or are they just a figment of your imagination to compensate for your break-up?"

Hearing his blunt words, you feel your eyes widen at how easy he can let those words roll off his tongue. You scoff in sheer astonishment, yanking your arm back in attempt to get away from his grasp but he holds a firm grip on you. "God, this was stupid."

"___, answer the question."

Sparing a glance at him, you notice at how his face was not at all hard— not one formed out of pure jealousy, but a refined look of compassion. One that was willing to listen, one that was sparked from curiosity, one that was forged from general empathy and care. Seeing at how his eyes don't hold a single ounce of defense nor offense, you let yourself relax under his touch, a movement that caused him to loosen his grip that wasn't at all squeezing you uncomfortably in the first place.

"Honestly?"

There's a twinkle of light that you don't miss in his eyes, a subtle hint from him to you in hopes you'd continue instead of turning the other cheek.

"I don't know," you breathe out, feeling his hand drop from your arm completely to his side. "But what I do know is that I haven't stopped thinking about you these past few days. And all I know is that every time someone comes into the shop at around closing time, I'm expecting to see you. Either with your friends, or your teammates— I don't know, my eyes are just trained to find yours, I guess? And no, I don't think I'm completely healed from the break-up, but that doesn't mean I never will. And if it's worth anything, when I'm with you, talking to you, or even when you're just... there— I don't feel hurt or, or scared. I feel safe." And happy, and excited. And I might just love dark chocolate now.

"You make me feel safe," you securely tell him with a full heart, knowing very well that it's out in the open and there's no going back. "And you make me not want to leave your side. I just want to be with you, for as long as you'll let me."

Jungkook's head is spinning. There is no way, the girl who claims to not be sweet as his milk tea you made him during the night of his winning shot against Renall University, his number one boba worker, his Blondie fanatic, his winning girl was reenacting a dream that he so wanted to give to you. He imagined he would be the one to pull up to your home outside after having to realize his feelings were too much to contain— too much to endure— right before he lets out words that he probably would regret putting it out there into existence.

This isn't confusion, this is elation.

While he processes each word, digests every sentence, consumes the ever-so subtle nervous smiles and chuckles you elicited within your wholehearted confession, he forgets that he's a physical form of a human, standing right in front of you with nothing short of a blank expression. It makes you let out a nervous clear of your throat.

"I answer your question and you're not going to say anything...?"

The observation you announce aloud snaps his mind back into the realm of what is of you and him in nothing but in both of your pajamas, the night sky shedding light on your vulnerable hearts in the open.

He lets out a speechless breath of air, before he rolls in his bottom lip inside, tongue gliding along the inner lower part from his right cheek to his left. You would be lying if his silence wasn't making your heart beat fast and your cheeks stain red.

Jungkook eventually shrugs. "I knew that my charm would reach you eventually."

The straight vanity dripping from his response causes your eyebrows to shoot up, then a scoff to leave your mouth, and your third instinct to turn around towards your car. However, you are stopped midway when he grasps your wrist and tugs you back to him, his honey laughter ringing in your ears.

"Alright, okay. Bad move," he acknowledges while you scowl. He drags his hands down to yours as he smirks once more. "Just don't make my drink with no sugar again." The entertainment he was gaining from this rather than really responding to your excessive pouring of emotions was irking you to the point that you raise your fist to punch his arm, only for him to avoid that by wrapping his arms around your waist.

Unfortunately, his hugs just happened to make you feel safe enough and your liquids turn into absolute goo that you relax under his touch.

"You're not stupid," he tells you into your hair. "Though it is kind of surprising to see you in front of my house all vulnerable like this."

"Shut up, Jeon."

"Don't worry, I thought about doing the same thing to you," he confesses, watching carefully at how your scowl softens just when he says that. "Mhm. Except it'd probably be more embarrassing. More of begging rather than confessing."

To that, you let out a snort, one of which he cuts you off short as he tugs you closer to his chest.

"However, if you really want to give us a chance," he begins before he pulls his signature smirk. "I'm not opposed to it." You peer up at him and purse your lips. "Does that mean I get a boyfriend discount?"

As you scoff, he laughs along with you, tucking a hair behind your ear as he holds onto the smalls of your back. "Endless boba supply?"

"You're getting a drink with spit in it."

"And baby, I'll be happy to drink it."

Just then, your jaw drops, your immediate reaction to slap his arm lightly. And he laughs, pulling you closer (if that was even possible). "Don't worry, you get a perfect seat at my games and a flying kiss from me before each game."

"Very cute," you muse at the idea.

He stares at you for a long moment, and while you think it's him trying to memorize every bit of your face, his eyes kept flickering down to your lips back to your eyes. In an instant, you realize that he just didn't know what to do next, but he sure as hell was thinking about kissing you, it makes you burst out into a tiny fit of laughter. "You're not so much of a kisser, are you?"

Jungkook scoffs lightly. "Do I come off as an expert in kissing, babe?"

"No, but you're lucky I have some experience."

Groaning, Jungkook lolls his head back while his nose cringes at your sly comment. "I don't want to see an image of the girl I really like making out with her son of a bitch ex-boyfriend."

"Oh, so I went from Annoying Brat to a girl you really like?"

"Yeah, yeah, you leveled up. Did you want a kiss as a reward or what?"

"Yes, please," you smirk as you bring all of your weight to your toes, lifting your heels to give yourself enough height to press your lips onto Jungkook's, slowly and easily. He's taken aback by how much time you dragged along with it, nothing of a sort of the fiery and urgent kiss you first had with him.

He pulls away and he laughs remembering that you have no absolute recollection of the first time you placed your lips on his. Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000 underway. "Not bad for our second kiss."

"Second?" You furrow your eyebrows in complete confusion. "When did we—?" Realization hits you in the face as your jaw goes slack, staring up at him in plain shock. "No, we didn't."

"For the record, you did. I pulled away."

Your arms still wrapped around his neck, you pull back to gape at him. "And you didn't want to tell me about this?"

"I was saving you a lifetime's worth of embarrassment."

You cringe, mentally face palming yourself that you let yourself slip so easily under the influence. "It's embarrassing because you pulled away!"

"Hey, hey, you caught me off guard. I wanted to kiss you back, but not in that current state you were in. You said my lips were "soft and kissable"."

Adamantly, you shake your head. "No, I didn't."

"Mhm," he smirks, bring his hand to tuck a hair behind your ear, his fingertips purposefully dragging down the skin of your neck to create evident goosebumps. "So what do you think now? Still soft and kissable?"

"Jungkook, I'm literally going to make sure your drinks are a living hell," you threaten, scowling at him.

He gives another amused laugh, pulling you closer from the smalls of your back before peppering kisses onto your cheeks, causing you to squeal at his immediate affection. "Alright, alright. Points for Gryffindor, no need to get all feisty."

"Dickwad," you call him, making him smirk. "I'm leaving now."

When Jungkook feels a slight slip of you from his fingers, he grasps onto you quickly to press his lips onto yours once more. Undeniably, you couldn't ignore the way your smile pulls at your cheeks with each peck he places onto your lips, laughter being shared into the air by both of you as you try to wiggle out of his strong grip.

"Jungkook, I have to go," you beg in between fits of light-hearted giggles. "Jungkook!"

"Fine, fine," he sighs in defeat before pressing one more kiss onto your forehead. "See you tomorrow night? At the game?"

"Will my spot be saved?"

"I'll have your name engraved on it," he nods making you smile like a fool. "Gelato right after?"

Eyebrows pulling together, you pat his chest with your palms. "You don't want to get boba with the boys?"

"Nah," Jungkook firmly shakes his head. "Besides, I'd rather break tradition to spend time with you."

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a-n-conrad · 4 years ago

Text

Dinner With May (PS4!Peter Parker x Reader)

[Summary: After the events of the PS4 Spider-man game, you find yourself and your boyfriend, Peter, having dinner at his aunt’s house. For some reason, Peter seemed even more anxious than usual. It wasn’t until you overheard a conversation between him and his aunt that you figured out why. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: PS4 Spider-man spoilers, not canon compliant, marriage/proposals, anxiety

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/LbodcqZ7nxfGbNW96)]

It had been a chaotic month for you and Peter. Peter had been working almost nonstop as Spider-man, having to fight all of his biggest villains along with his mentor and the man that his aunt worked for, two men that he looked up to and trusted. He had been hurt fairly badly at certain points, and you had to patch him up when he did.

Not to mention, at one point Dr. Octavius had released a plague onto New York in an attempt to get revenge against Norman Osborn, and for the few days after that, you were helping Miles Morales and Peter’s Aunt May work to help all the people at the F.E.A.S.T. center that were going there for shelter as the city descended into chaos. By the end of it, May had gotten sick, Peter had broken multiple bones, and you and Miles had been almost killed a few different times. Peter was barely able to save May in time, and the clean-up still wasn’t done, but you guys were finally able to take a day to relax.

May had noticed that the two of you had been working nearly constantly, so she had invited the two of you over for dinner. May was a sweetheart. And she was an amazing cook, too so you were relatively excited to get to sit down for a nice meal with Peter and his aunt.

She was making your favorite, which you had told her a thousand times she didn’t need to do. But she was insistent. At this point, she switched between cooking your favorite meal and Peter’s every time the two of you went over for dinner.

You didn’t get the chance to go over to her house as much as you would like. You were busy enough with your job, and most nights Peter was gone before dinner to go stop crimes throughout the city. So more often than not, you were on your own for dinner, grabbing something quick from a shop that does takeout on your way home from work late in the evening.

But you had taken the day off of work to finally get a chance to relax, and you had insisted that Peter do the same, despite his protests that he was “totally fine” and “couldn’t take a day off”. Eventually, you had to get Miles to promise that he could handle one night on his own and that he would call Peter if anything came up that he needed help with. He was still pretty new to everything, but he could manage the petty crimes on his own.

- - - - -

The sun was already setting by the time the two of you got to May’s house. It had taken you almost an hour to get Peter out of the apartment that you shared, between him needed to call Miles to check-in and him nervously trying to make sure that he remembered everything. He apologized profusely for the entire trip over for making you late, and you spent the entire time trying to convince him that he didn’t need to apologize.

He had finally calmed down a bit by the time you got to his aunt’s house. He was always pretty anxious, especially when he wasn’t in his Spider-man suit, but somehow he seemed extra nervous tonight. You wondered if maybe his mental health had been suffering lately, after everything that had happened. You had to admit that you were starting to get a bit worried about him. You knew he could take care of himself, but sometimes he just didn’t. He had this bad habit of sacrificing his health and safety for the people around him and you were worried that he was doing that again.

So you hoped that dragging him to a nice dinner with his aunt would get him to take a bit of time for himself. She had been trying to get him to take better care of himself for as long as you could remember, so maybe she could do something to help convince him to take a few days to himself every once in a while. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were ganging up on him, but you had almost lost him a few times in the recent past and you weren’t ready for that.

“So which one of us do you think is going to insist on doing dishes after dinner first tonight,” You asked, your tone a bit teasing as you tried to lighten the mood a bit and distract Peter from his anxiety.

“Hmmm,” He pretended to think about it, the way he usually did when you teased him and he decided to play along, “Probably you, since you always seem to beat me to it.”

“Now that’s not true,” You place your hand over your heart in mock offense, like one of the ladies in a Victorian Era period drama, “I let you do the dishes on my birthday.”

He shook his head and chuckled a bit at that, before finally knocking on the door to his aunt’s house.

She opened the door with a smile on her face and the smell of amazing food wafting out of the kitchen. She greeted you each with a hug, letting you into the house like it was your house too. She had tried to convince you that you didn’t need to knock, but you insisted. You got a bit anxious when manners were in question. Maybe your anxiety was part of the reason that you and Peter worked so well together.

“It’s so nice to see you two,” May said as the two of you walked into the house. Her eyes almost started welling up with tears as she looked at you and Peter. Peter had officially revealed his identity as Spider-Man to her in the heat of everything happening and, while she had known the entire time, she had been incredibly worried for his safety with everything that was happening.

“It’s nice to see you too, Aunt May,” Peter almost melted as he walked into the living room. The tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he looked at his aunt and took in the fact that she was safe, “How are feeling?”

“Just fine, Peter,” She said, her voice kind and reassuring in the way that you knew would calm Peter’s nerves a little, “I’ve been recovering pretty well, and it helps to get a day off to rest.”

You could tell that the last sentence was a little pointed, not in a scolding way, but instead in the way your mom did when she knew you hadn’t had any water all day. With a bit of teasing but mostly with care and concern for your wellbeing. And you could tell that he could hear it too by the slightly sheepish look that crossed his face.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well,” You responded, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face. It was always kind of cute to see him come back home. You got to see him in a lot of different lights, as Peter Parker the scientist, the photographer, the awkward date, and of course, the city’s hero. But despite all of these different personas, you had to say that Peter Parker, the doting nephew was one of your favorites, “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”

“Of course, dear,” She turned to you with the same soft smile on her face, “You know you’re always welcome over, I’m just thankful that you managed to convince my nephew to take enough time off to come to visit me.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Of course, May. You know he’d come visit more if he wasn’t so busy with trying to stop every crime in New York.”

“Oh, I know. And I appreciate you looking out for him, dear.”

- - - - -

Dinner was nice. One of those moments that you wished you could freeze in time. You were warm and your stomach was full and you were smiling the entire time. It was the first time in a long time that you were pretty sure that nothing bad would happen for at least the next hour. You got to be domestic for just a little while, safe and happy and surrounded by the love of your life and his family.

“Alright, I’ll get started on the dishes,” You said when the meal ended, shooting a wink at Peter as you stand. May shot you the same exasperated look that she always did, but let you take her plate. She had given up on trying to stop you a long time ago, realizing that you would insist no matter what she said. Peter just chuckled a bit, remembering your conversation from earlier.

Doing dishes alone in the kitchen was nice sometimes. It was a moment for you to collect yourself. You loved May and Peter, and you didn’t mind spending the whole night with them, but sometimes a few moments of quiet was nice. The smell of the food still wafted around you, and the sound of the water rushing from the sink made you think of a waterfall sometimes, even though doing the dishes wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable chore.

Sometimes, if you focused, you could still hear the conversation that was going on in the dining room. You didn’t intend to eavesdrop or anything, you were just curious. Usually, they’d just alk about F.E.A.S.T. or maybe reminisce about when Peter was a child. It was just nice to listen in a bit on their small talk, getting to know what Peter was like with just his aunt and no one else around.

Today’s conversation was a bit different, though.

“So have you asked her yet, Peter?” You heard Aunt May ask, piquing your interest.

“No, of course not,” Peter sighed, “With everything that’s going on, all of the clean-up throughout the city, there really hasn’t been a good time.”

“I suppose that’s fair, Pete, but you’re going to have to ask eventually. Unless you don’t want to,” You were sure they were talking about you, but you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was planning on asking you. Well, maybe. But you didn’t want to assume. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I do! I really do,” Peter responded, almost outraged at the idea that he didn’t actually want to ask, “I just want it to be perfect. And you know we’re so busy. This is my first day off since everything went down with Mr. Li, so I hardly have time to plan a romantic dinner.”

“Peter, you don’t have to plan out the perfect romantic dinner, I promise.”

“But what if she says no,” He sighed, sounding defeated, “It’s dangerous to be with me. I could put her in danger. And even if I don’t, what’s going to happen when she gets sick of having to take care of me? It’s not easy to deal with me running off all the time and coming back with cuts and broken bones.”

“No, it’s not easy,” May sighed, “But she’s been here for this long. She knows what she’s getting herself into, and she’s stayed this long. Has she ever asked you to stop what you were doing or to choose between her and Spider-man?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then she’s not going to,” May explained, and you couldn’t help but nod, even though neither of them could see you, “She’s chosen to stay this long. If she was going to leave, she would’ve done it by now.”

There was a silence creeping out of the dining room as the conversation paused. You wondered if he believed it. Because May was right. It was hard, and you worried almost constantly about Peter, but you loved him. You loved him no matter how many dates he skipped out on to go fight crime or how many nights he woke you up at two in the morning to help patch him up after a fight. And you weren’t going anywhere.

The air felt heavy, and you felt your heart tighten a little. You knew Peter was a bit insecure and anxious. You knew that sometimes he didn’t feel good enough, he was overwhelmed and he felt as though the world was on his shoulder. But you had hoped that he knew that you would never think that he wasn’t good enough.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, but you couldn’t let him think like that. Before you could even think of a plan, you were walking into the dining room.

“Oh, uh, hey,” You could tell by the look on Peter’s face that he knew that you had heard their conversation, “How much of that could you hear?”

“All of it.”

All three of you froze for just a moment, before May stood up, “Well, why don’t I go finish the dishes while you two talk.”

“Peter, you know I’m not leaving, right?” You asked, sitting next to him as May walked out of the room.

“I know,” He sighed, “I just… You deserve so much better. I’m kind of a terrible boyfriend, (Y/N). I’m not super reliable, and I know I stress you out.”

“I’m stressed because I care about you, Pete. I love you and you’re constantly putting yourself in danger, but I understand it,” You explained, grabbing his hand on the table, “I love how much you want to help everyone, and I’ll always be here when you need me. I don’t mind if you have to run out on dates, because I know you still care. And you’re not a terrible boyfriend. You’re an incredibly caring person with the world on your shoulders, and you don’t have to do that alone, Pete. I’m right here, and I’m going to stay right here.”

You could see tears welling up in his eyes like he had been waiting for years to hear that. And maybe he had. You squeezed his hand lightly, hoping to reassure him a little. He looked up at you, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. Like if he had to trade the moon and all the stars in the sky to keep you safe, he would. Like you were the only thing that has ever and would ever matter.

“I love you, Pete,” You whispered, hoping it would finally get through to him.

“I love you too,” He replied, you saw his hand slip into his pocket, his fingers nervously fidgeting with something. You could tell he still had something on his mind, and you were pretty sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t want to push him. He’d ask when he was comfortable and you didn’t want to push him before that, “You heard the whole conversation, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m sure you already know what I have to ask,” He sighed, sliding out of the chair and down to one knee, verifying your suspicions, “I wanted this to be more romantic, but, uh, well…”

You nod. You had a feeling he had already rehearsed the speech he was about to give at least twenty times, so you weren’t going to interrupt him, but you wanted to signal that he should keep going.

“(Y/N), I know it’s not easy to be with me. I’m flaky, I stay stupid stuff half the time, and I’d never wish the pressure of dating a superhero on anyone. But through all of this, you’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I could do what I do without you. You make me feel like the weight of everything I do isn’t as much as it is. And you give me something to go home to, somewhere safe and warm. (Y/N), you’re my lifeline through all of this mess, and it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would marry me.”

You’re crying so hard by the end that you don’t even notice the ring he pulls out of his pocket. You’re too busy trying to look him in the eyes through your tears, “Of course I will.”

You dropped down to hug him, and he pulled you as close to him as he could. It was a firm hug, and you could tell he was focusing really hard on not squeezing too tight. So you hugged him tighter. You staying like that for a few moments, soaking his shirt with happy tears, before he pulled back from the hug to grab your hand and slide the ring onto your finger.

“Congratulations,” May interrupted from the doorway, a wide grin on her face and proud tears in her eyes, “Now what do you say we have some cake to celebrate?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

#ps4 spiderman #ps4 peter parker #spiderman #peter parker #spiderman x reader #Peter Parker x reader #PS4 pater parker x reader #ps4 spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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enchantedblackrose · 4 years ago

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Safe Again

Not my image. Google image search

Pairing: Antonio/Fem Reader

Requested @fabyoliveira1999

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped when an undercover assignment goes wrong

¡Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, allusions of sexual assault, potential police brutality? All very in line with the show

A/n 1: this is a work of fiction. The gang and names used are completely made up and not meant to reflect any real persons. Thank you.

2: Part 2 will be a fluff drabble

Safe Again

A darkness overcomes you as you slip out of consciousness. The steady beeping of the machines around you are now frantic, their shrill sound piercing the ears of everyone around.

Antonio yells out your name as hospital staff force him from your room. It isn't until Hank and Kevin pull him by his shoulders does he fully retreat. He sees a familiar face in the hallway and remembers a conversation he's been meaning to have.

"Halstead!" Antonio's voice shakes in anger. He stands face to face with the younger detective. His finger accusingly pointing.

"How the hell did this happen in the first place, man? You were supposed to have her back!"

Jay's voice was quiet. "I know." He drops his head in hands. "I'm so sorry, man. I should've pulled us out of there."

"You were supposed to watch her." Antonio strains to speak, his tone is much softer this time as he fights back the tears threatening to spill. Wordlessly, he claps Jay's shoulder, giving it an affectionate and apologetic squeeze. None of this is Jay's fault. Antonio knows this and instantly regretted taking his emotions out on his colleague.

-72 hours prior-

You're sitting in the bullpen, having just been assigned to go undercover with your partner acting as your boyfriend. The idea being that the two of you would infiltrate the known drug gang the Scorpions as potential buyers and dealers for the more upscale neighborhoods the leader, Sammy, was trying to reach.

Your actual boyfriend is the first to speak. "Oh hell no. You're not doing this," Antonio tells you, earning a hard stare from you in return. "She's not doing this," he shifts his attention to Voight. "These...thugs are ruthless. They're killers."

Hank's eyebrow shoots up, wordlessly questioning Antonio. "Watch yourself there. Last I checked this was my unit. I give the orders."

"Sarge, if I may," you interrupt. "I'm willing to do this. I've successfully gone undercover before and I've gone alone," you remind not only your sergeant, but your boyfriend. "I want to do this." Your eyes fall to Antonio momentarily before looking back to Hank.

"Do whatever you need to prepare," he orders. You nod, reaching for your cell phone. Hank turns around and heads into his office. Antonio is hot on his heels, letting the door slam shut behind him after giving you a displeased look.

You huff an angry sigh. From his desk, Jay offers a sympathetic smile. "He's coming from a good place, y/n," he reminds you. "He's just scared. He knows you're more than capable of handling yourself out there."

Appreciating Jay's words, you nod your gratitude and make the call to set up this meeting.

You are fuming the entire walk up the stairs to your apartment. Antonio follows closely behind. You wait until the door closes completely before angrily spinning back in your heel to glare at him.

"Do you have any idea how demeaning and humiliating it is to not only have my boyfriend, but a superior colleague to react that way in front of my sergeant? Our sergeant? This is important, Antonio! And I'm not some rookie. I've done this before! You have no right-"

"You're right," his voice is calm and not at all what you expected to hear. "And I'm sorry, mi amor. I made sure to tell Voight before we left that I support you doing this and promised to not let my feelings compromise this case."

"Oh." You feel your anger start to dissipate. "In that case…can you order dinner, please? I'm going to take a quick shower." You stand on your tiptoes, pecking his lips softly with yours before heading to the bathroom.

Today was the day you and Jay, or rather your aliases Roxie and Ray (you relentlessly teased Jay about his lack of creativity), were meeting Sammy, having already built a rapport with some of the other members lower in the chain of command. If it went well, today should be the day you make the bust. Both of you step into the garage to meet the team and go over plans one last time. You're in a body flattering dress hitting right above your knees, Jay in a suit sans necktie.Your friends whoop and catcall Part of your personas was playing a bored, wealthy, money-motivated couple and you had to look, not just act, the part. As Antonio approaches, Jay excuses himself saying he'll be in the car waiting whenever you're ready. Antonio's voice is quiet. "There's still time. Don't do this."

"I thought you supported me."

"I did...I do! I just can't let you-"

"Let me?" You yell, earning the unwanted attention of those nearby. You shake your head, hurt and disappointment shine in y/e/c eyes. You walk away without another word, getting into the passenger side of the car

You reach the autobody garage the Scorpions use as a front. Immediately they pat you both down by a few members you've met during the time undercover. You're positive your inspection is more thorough as he squeezes your one ass cheek.

"Hey man," Jay shouts seeing you get groped.

"It's alright, babe," you wink. "Rico's only appreciating a good thing when he sees it." Rico smirks before declaring, "They're both clean."

Sammy, and another man you recognize from case files, Nic enter. "What's this? Who did you bring me?"

"These chumps are gonna be your new sellers."

Sammy's eyes hone in on you. You hold his gaze. "Hell naw," Nic says. "They brought you cops."

"Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "With this face and ass-he knows, he felt it," you point to Rico, "I'm too fine to be a cop." You flash a cheeky smile.

"Bitch, shut up!" The back of his hand connects with your right cheek. The stinging causes your eyes to water. Beside you, Jay flinches; it's hard from him not to react.

'Listen man, I don't know what you think is going on. We just-"

"You can shut up, too."

You hear the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking, turning to see it pointed at Jay. Sammy gives a nod to one of the others.

"Look out," you try to warn Jay, but it's too late. The butt of a gun hits Jay in the temple and he gets kicked at the back of his knee until he falls to the ground. His head hits the cement flooring hard. You don't understand why the team hasn't busted in yet.

Nic's gaze is on you. "You testified at Dierk's hearing." His fist swings and it makes contact with your jaw. It's enough to make you sway but you remain on your feet. "He was my cousin you, stupid bitch. Get her in the car. Leave him."

As you're forced into a black SUV, you manage to choke out a weak,"Jay, " your stained voice sounding unrecognizable to your own ears.

The equipment they sent you in with was faulty. Voight was furious as was Antonio. They whole worked diligently to get video or audio, anything to keep tabs on you and Jay. It's not until the SUV, with you unbeknownst to them inside, peels out, that the whole team moves in and finds Jay bleeding and unconscious on the floor. Kevin reaches him first. "He's alive!" he shouts to the others. Adam radios for an ambo before he and the others continue to clear the building. Kevin gently shakes Jay awake. He groans, hands instantly reaching the side of his head. He makes to stand.

"Easy there, brother," Kevin warns. Jay lets Kevin help him to his feet. "We've got a bus on the way."

Jay nods, "I'm fine. Where's y/n?"

"She's not here. No one is," Hank answers as the rest of the team draw near Jay. Jay's stomach plummets as he realizes they've taken you, his partner.

"Son of a bitch!" Antonio yells, kicking an oil drum.

"We work fast to get y/l/n back," Hank declares. "Check for surveillance, witnesses. We find that SUV and we find y/n. Alive

Any means necessary. Let's move." The team disperses and his hand clasps Jay's shoulder. "You get checked out by medics first." Jay opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. He nods his compliance. Hank and Antonio follow him to the ambulance that's just arrived.

"Hey boss," Jay speaks, with a tentative glance to Antonio. "This went south when Nic recognized y/n as the detective who testified against his cousin. Hank pursed his lips, but even in his anger, the color drains from Antonio.

"Voight," Antonio's voice almost cracks.

"We'll get her back."

Bloodied and bruised, you're alive with very little clue as to where you are. Your survival skills kick in.

You take note of your surroundings. You think you're in an unfinished basement of a residence. Definitely a lower floor as you remember being tossed down a flight of stairs. Your hands are bound behind your back and tied to a support beam. The door to upstairs is locked and even if it wasn't, based on all the noise coming from the floors above you'd never make it out undetected.

The door opens and heavy footsteps make their way towards you. Nic comes into your line of vision.

You try reasoning with him, "As far as I'm concerned, nothing's been done that can't be undone. You just gotta let me go."

"You don't get it, do you? Maybe this will clear things up for you." He draws his gun, pressing it into the middle of your forehead

"But first I'm gonna fuck you real hard." His face inches from yours. Nic pulls the gun away. His stale, hot breath reeking as he stands too near. You couldn't help but scoff before you throw your head into his, headbutting him with all the might you could.

He cries out in agony.

"Stupid bitch." He backhands you. Then grabs you by the chin. His furious eyes never leave you and a rough hand claws at the skirt of your dress. You feel cold metal pressed against your thigh. "First, I'm gonna fuck that tight pussy with my gun inside you then-"

"Why?" You smirk. "Afraid you won't be able to get it up?" So much for those survival instincts. Anger flickers across his face. His free hand makes a fist. You dodge his swing and he instead makes contact with the pole. This enrages him more. Hastily Nic puts the gun back in his pants. Both his hands wrap themselves around your neck.

14 hours have gone by. That's how long it's been since Antonio's last seen you. He's hurt and getting desperate. With less than two hours of sleep (Antonio only went home after Voight said he wouldn't be any help without some rest), he was out trying to find any witnesses, checking traffic cams, and placing calls to all his CIs in hope that any of them might be able to give a lead. When one of them started stringing him along, Antonio jacked the guy up against an outside brick wall near the precinct. That's when Kim found him.

"We got something," she says in a hurry, fearing Antonio may do something he can't come back from.

The team picked up two Scorpion members and one is currently in the cage.

"Five minutes, Hank. Just give me the key and five minutes alone with this guy," Antonio pleads to his sergeant. From the cage, the Scorpion chuckles. Antonio lunges causing the chain links of the cage to rattle. He appears more animalistic than human and the laughter does immediately. "Where is she, you bastard?" Hank looks at the guy, still refusing to talk, then he unlocks the door for Antonio.

"Are you crazy? You can't let him in here with me," he shrieks.

"Your boss has one of our own. And she just so happens to be his girlfriend, so you're crazy if you think I could really stop him if I wanted to," Hank answers before moving away from the door and heading upstairs. The door barely swings open before Antonio steps inside, knocking the guy to his ass with one punch. He picks him up by the shirt collar preparing another blow when Jay and Adam come flying down the stairs.

"Get outta here!" Antonio yells.

"We got an address. Atwater and Kim they picked up another member and he talked," Adam says breathlessly. Antonio hesitates.

"C'mon on man," says Jay, "He's not worth any more of your time. If y/n's there, let's go bring her home."

Hours have passed. How many you're unsure, but as they ticked by your hopes of being found or escaping dwindled. Pain flows through your entire body. You sit on the cold, hard basement floor, unable to stand anymore. Nic had strangled you until you passed out. He never touched you like he promised and when you regained consciousness you were alone.

Shouts came from upstairs. You're unable to hear every word, but you catch enough to know they're talking about you.

"We need to move her now. We've kept her alive too long!" You hear footsteps and then the opening of the door. Nic appears before you, with a sinister grin. Your heart races as he nears. His eyes roam your body as he undoes his belt. He pulls you to your feet by your hair. A whimper escapes you and he laughs. Once again, his hands pull at the skirt of your dress. His hands travel along your thighs and ass squeezing both. His touch makes your skin crawl that you actually shudder. His fingers start to tug your underwear down when there's a commotion from upstairs.

"Freeze! Chicago PD."

"Drop the weapon!"

"On your knees! Face down."

"I said drop it!"

Your heart flutters with hope, but then shots ring out and you have no idea who's firing or what's happening up there.

"Down here!" You yell. The basement door opens.

"Chicago PD!" Antonio and Jay's voices ring out.

"One male. He's got a gun," you warn. As they rush down the stairs, Nic pulls his gun on you.

"Drop your weapon!" Jay orders. His eyes perfectly fixated on the gun in Nic's hands. Antonio eyes you carefully and while seeing you bruised and a gun to your head isn't ideal, he's relieved to see you alive. Your colleagues' guns stay fixed on your offender. "You won't be told again. Drop. Your. Weapon." Your eyes lock with your boyfriend's beautiful brown ones and you nod ever so slightly. You slide down the pole as Nic moves towards you as if he was going to use you as a shield. Both Antonio and Jay fire their guns. Blood splatters onto you. Jay moves to check the body, but all you really notice is Antonio running to you and it's honestly a beautiful sight. "Baby, baby, baby. Hang on. I got you," he soothes, working quickly to free your hands of the zip ties. Your head falls into his chest. Really your whole body just collapses into him. Antonio holds you close, careful not to embrace you too hard, but his touch has never felt better. You sob uncontrollably as he begins to rock you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you repeat.

"Shh. You did nothing wrong, mi amor. Shh, now, baby. I got you. You're safe again."

Immediately you're taken to the hospital. Blood is drawn,xrays taken, exams given. You've sustained several injuries, but nothing critical. Mostly you're bruised and exhausted, so when the machines you're hooked up to start beeping erratically, Antonio is confused and scared again, clearly demonstrated by that outburst directed at Jay.

He opens his mouth to apologize when Will Halstead exits your room.

"You can go back in now," he says simply.

The intelligence team looks at him, confused.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Y/n wasn't breathing properly."

"What?"

Will puts his hands up. "No no. She's fine. She can breathe. She was sleeping and wasn't breathing deep enough for the machine to register it. I promise she's fine."

There's a collective sigh of relief from everyone.

Antonio coming back into your room is a most welcoming sight. There's so much to say, but your eyelids are heavy with sleep. Instead you take his hand in yours. Antonio's free hand lovingly caresses your face.A feeling of safety washes over you and you drift off into a peaceful dream.

#antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #antonio dawson #requested

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panda-noosh · 4 years ago

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draco doesn’t remember how or why he fell in love with you.

it wasn’t supposed to happen. not at all. his entire life, he has been prepared for an arranged marriage, something examined by his father, picked apart and carefully chosen to ensure the malfoy line is carried on only by the best, most pure wizards the world has ever seen. from a young age, draco was prepared to put up with whoever his parents decided was good enough for him.

but he grew up.

he grew up, and he went to school, and life became his own. without his parents swarming his every move, he was free to do whatever he wanted, like whoever he wanted, and that was very dangerous ground for a boy as curious as him. never wanting to disappoint his parents, but wanting that freedom, too - it was never going to work in his favour.

you came to hogwarts during his third year, a third year yourself having just transferred from another wizarding school in britain. a smaller wizarding school, and draco remembers walking through the halls, listening to people snicker about how far behind you were, how little you knew. he didn’t even know who you were at that time, as he was yet to have any classes with you, but he was prepared to experience the same amusement as the rest of his classmates upon initial meeting.

“snape had a field day with them,” said pansy, over a bowl of porridge at breakfast one day. “absolutely shocking how little they taught them at that old school they’ve come from.”

draco snickered. “what did snape do?”

“he was about to kick them out,” replied blaise. “honestly, draco, just wait till you see them. it’s hilarious.”

and so, draco prepared himself the entire day for the moment he would finally get to witness the reason behind his friends amusement for himself. classes ticked by in a blur, him scribbling down notes carelessly, knowing full well he would have to copy off his friends later on; for today, he didn’t care. he just wanted to get to astrology, the one class he knew he had with you.

when the bell rang for final class, draco all-but sprinted to the astrology tower. throwing open the door, his grin widened, his excitement spilling over, a snide remark already forming on his smirking lips-

a snide remark that died the instant he saw you seated upon one of the pillows strewn across the floor.

because you are everything he didn’t expect. you are nothing like the image he had conjured in his head, the image of stupidity, a dopey face and a clueless gait, someone he could make fun of without feeling terribly sorry about it.

but you’re not that at all. you’re small, and not in the sense that you’re particularly short. you’re short in the sense that overwhelms draco with the sudden need to protect you from everything and everyone. you’re small in the sense that you clearly understand you have been the butt of the joke since you arrived at hogwarts, and the comments aren’t exactly helping you get comfortable.

his falter didn’t last long. people started bustling into the classroom, forcing him to his seat even as his eyes never left you. you hadn’t even looked up, too busy staring at the hands in your lap, the hands that hadn’t stopped twisting and twitching the entire time. you wore a set of rings - one on each finger - and usually this fashion choice would have been a bit over the top in draco’s opinion, but the rings glistened on your fingers, complimented each and every one, even as you pulled them off and replaced them in that nervous way he found himself so entranced with.

you were seated on a pillow directly in front of the window, and even though the classroom was fairly dark - easier for trelawney to teach the planets in the dark - there was a soft glow spread across your cheeks, illuminating your cheekbones, making your eyes glisten every time you looked up. it left his heart thumping, a feeling most uncomfortable when he had never felt it before.

but from that day on, his heart thumped every time he saw you. his hands got clammy. his throat became dry, and he often found himself shamelessly leaning against a locker, or saying something witty in the hopes you would like his voice, stop and talk to him, compliment him on his oh-so original humour.

his friends started to catch on, but by the second week, draco was past the point of caring. no longer did he try to hide his affection for you, an affection that didn’t even make sense, because you had never even given him the time of day. you walked past him with your head ducked down. you didn’t speak to him in class. you got on with your life all on your own, and honestly, that was part of the reason draco was so enamoured by you.

one of the many, many reasons.

after two weeks, his resolve was starting to disappear. he couldn’t just ignore you. he couldn’t keep himself contained for much longer, a desire he had never felt before springing to the forefront of his very being. he’s always been so content with his friend group, but he wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice just the once.

and so he found you in the library on that fateful tuesday afternoon. he had no classes, astrology having been cancelled as trelawney claimed the spirits were telling her it was a bad day to come to work. draco usually took his free periods as a chance to go out and practise some quidditch moves, but this day he needed to make an exception. the team could make do without a seeker for a little while.

he pushed into the library, offering the librarian a keen smile and a nod; she merely scowled, but she does that to everyone, so draco didn’t think too much into it. his brain was elsewhere, anyway.

he flew through the library, ducking his head into the shelves in search of you. in minutes he found you, curled up in an arm chair by the fire, a thick leather bound book on your lap. as per usual, you didn’t even look up when draco approached, eyes glued to the novel, finger tracing the words in an attempt to stop the cramped, tiny sentences from getting jumbled up.

he cleared his throat. your head flinched up.

you stared at him a moment, thumb placed upon your bottom lip. it was endearing in the worst way, making something stir in draco’s stomach.

he cleared his throat again and said, “hello,” because he’s always been fairly certain that was the best way to start a conversation.

you blinked. “hello.”

“draco malfoy.”

you nodded. “i know.”

his heart thundered. he was certain you could hear it, could probably see the sweat dotting his brow, too. “oh. great.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n,” you replied. “is everything okay? you look a little ill, if you don’t mind me saying.”

he didn’t. he didn’t mind at all.

“everything’s fine,” he said, before gesturing to the empty seat to your left. “do you mind if i sit?”

“be my guest.”

he sat down. “you don’t mind the company?”

“i like meeting new people.” you looked down, biting your lower lip. draco was overcome with the sudden desire to reach over and grab your hand. “i haven’t got many friends around here, you know. it’s nice to finally speak to someone.”

draco’s chest tightened. he remembered the comments, the snickers, his initial plans to make fun of you just like everyone else had been doing.

but then he remembered your face in trelawney’s classroom, the faux light dancing across your cheekbones, that twinkling laugh you let out when trelawney got one of her predictions wrong and was gravely embarrassed about it.

“but that’s not important,” you piped up when draco failed to pull himself together in time to respond. “how have you been finding everything? i know you’re on the quidditch team - what’s that like?”

and so the conversation bloomed, draco loosening up with every passing moment, every phrase where he could fit in a question. he learned more and more about you, tiny facts that would usually hold no weight whatsoever, but facts he suddenly cherished - your favourite colour, where you’re from, the names of your parents, a pair of muggles who raised you to believe you were normal until your powers started to show.

at some point, you said, “i know the malfoys aren’t big fans of wizards who aren’t pure bloods.”

draco’s face warmed. “yeah, well...”

“are you going to get in trouble for talking to me?”

“probably.” he leaned back, crossing his leg across his own knee. “i don’t care, though. they’re not here right now, are they?”

so no, draco does not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. he doesn’t know how, or why, or when, but he knows it happened. at some point during this strange, spontaneous relationship, he fell in love with you, and has been unable to shake himself out of it.

it might be because you’re beautiful. it might go deeper than that. it might be because he’s never felt so comfortable with anyone in his entire life. it might be because, for the first time ever, he doesn’t care what his parents think. for the first time ever, he is more than willing to make his own decisions, to go against everything he has ever been told just to sit with you for one more day, one more minute, one more second.

and it’s not like these feelings crashed upon him all at once. it was gradual, an almost painful experience, an extraction of his sourness, replaced by this. . . fondness? this love. this love for a person so different to him, a person so unexpected, a person that shouldn’t fit so well into his life, but does so.

#harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fic #draco fanfic #draco fanfiction #draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader

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angelicmichael · 4 years ago

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Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope - Chapter Ten

Michael Langdon X Reader

Summary: Reader and Michael continue to work through their issues and finally start to warm up to each other even further.

Words: 5.9k+ …oops

Warnings: just normal IA warnings (swear words, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, enemies to lovers, slowburn, etc) anddd maybeee a bit of fluff 👁

A/N: hey guys! Sorry I haven’t updated this in a few months but hopefully this is satisfactory hehe. This chapter is kinda a turning point in the fic so I hope u guys like it!! Also I watched Jennifer’s Body as I finished this so.. do what u must w that information 😌 djdjd

Previous Chapter

Rain was never something you were accustomed too. Spending so much time in Los Angeles had made you partially spoiled when it came to the weather - which is why you knew immediately your day was going to be shit when you woke up to rain.

You tried to convince yourself that the emotions you were feeling weren’t complete disdain but rather just a pessimistic version of indifference.. or that’s what you hoped anyway.

You knew realistically that your day wasn’t already doomed before it even started; and that the rain was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.. However; you still felt justified in complaining, considering today was the day you were ripping the band-aide off and moving in to the apartment Michael had oh so graciously chosen to give you.

Your pessimistic mood surrounding the entire situation was inevitable, and that was something you didn’t even bother to resist or fight. It didn’t take long for your thoughts to quickly go south as you quickly packed. Hatred that seemingly came out of nowhere (but that you realistically knew was only temporarily dormant) wasted no time in blinding your judgement - making you feel a nearly nauseating amount of jealousy and anger for people who actually seemed to be fucking happy in their relationships and werent forced into.. whatever shitty living situation you knew you were bound to find yourself in.

An apartment with no strings attached was way too fucking simple, and you knew it was too good to be true. You knew you were basically walking into a trap, and for what reason were you doing that so willingly? Just so that maybe Michael could start to tolerate you? You resented yourself for even agreeing to this but you also understood you really had no other option.

However; personal feelings aside.. you still had a mission to accomplish. You still had to attempt to seduce Michael, and even though you were doing a shit job at that so far - you still had to try. You knew realistically it was only a matter of time before Cordelia would ask about the progress you've made, and you would have to tell her something.

You had to do this.

That's why you were (semi) blindly choosing to move in to a building you knew you absoluetly couldnt afford; and why you were sucking up your pride and choosing to become semi reliant on Michael.

No one from the coven knew, and for the time being you intended to keep it that way. After all, even though Mallory didnt exactly know that Michael gave you a whole ass fucking apartment - your sure she probably suspected that something important happened between you and Michael just from the short conversation you three harbored together. But for the time being, you didnt have to worry about that. You had bigger things that were on your mind.. like the actual apartment door itself that you currently stood in front of.

You held the keys limply in your hand, your bag slumped next to you as you procrastinated something as fucking simple as opening a door. How pathetic.

You continued to stall in the hallway regardless - thankful there was no one passing through to witness how ridiculous you looked. Your gaze fell south down to your keys which were cold in your hand. Dripping slowly with the subtle rainwater that managed to linger on them, along with the rest of your clothes.

Your skin stung from the cold that seemed stubborn to leave, and a nice change of clothes and a hot shower wouldnt be the absolute worst thing in the world..

Fuck.

You bit your lip in order to prevent letting the profanity from rolling off your tongue. Quickly getting a better grip on the keys (which only made you somehow colder) and numbly, hastily unlocking the door.

You pushed it open, letting the door hit the wall and taking a few steps inside before dropping your bag to the floor.. as well as your jaw.

No words could possibly convey how you felt as you noticed how the room was already illuminated with not only natural light from the already huge windows you could see.. but also with a warm, yellow artificial glow.

Was someone already here?

What the fuck?

The hatred and resentment you previously felt toward others earlier rapidly started to return - except this time it was targeted at one very specific person.

It didnt even register in your mind that the light could've been left on by accident or that people besides Michael actually existed that could be present in the room but.. you didnt care. Anger was the only emotion that was solely present in your body as you fully abandoned your bag by the door. Advancing forward; and only feeling more shock and disbelief with every step you took at the thought that he could very possibly be in (what was supposed to be) your space.

"Michael, I swear to God-"

"Y/n?” said a soft, feminine voice.

It was practically automatic how you froze. Just getting close enough to notice that it wasn’t Michael after all that was on your bed in your new studio apartment, but a woman sat on your bed instead.

For about two seconds, you were scared it was Madison but.. that was a stupid assumption within itself. The company you were with was from a far different nature than of which Madison was, even though at first glance the two woman might look or sound similar. There were so many qualities that distinguished Mallory from Madison. Brown, auburn hair.. dark eyeshadow.. and her classic black boots. It didn’t take long for your anger to fade away as you tried to not think about how logically this still didn’t make sense - walking closer to your bed anyway.

"How did you get in here? And since when did you ever break into peoples rooms?" You asked with a laugh.

Mallory echoed your laugh back, seemingly watching you and your behavior. As if she was expecting you to do something or to act a certain way.. like perhaps leave.

"I didnt break into your apartment but.. you should probably sit down." She spoke, before nodding off to her side. Nonverbally suggesting you to sit next to her.

You did as you were told. Noticing briefly before you sat down how nice the apartment actually was.. including the bed.

The walls, and most of everything in the apartment was a solid black. It looked sleek, and even though black paint made most rooms look small - the natural light helped keep things looking open which you appreciated. It was no surprise that the bed matched the dark theme too. The sheets were silky, black satin. You almost laughed at how comfortable the bed was once you sat next to Mallory, the entire situation was so ridiculous it nearly hurt for you to not laugh out loud. The two of you sat in the silence for a moment.. you were each incredibly anxious, that was more than apparent.

You looked up at Mallory, expecting her to speak first and explain herself since after all.. shes the one who broke into your apartment but she still remained quiet.. Stalling, you could only guess.

"So, why are you here? How did you even get in here? Is everything okay?" You asked, your words speedy and rushed.

Panic started to temporarily set in when you realized that something could be serisouly wrong with the coven, even though you knew how completly irrational it was to think that way with no evidence. What if witch hunters found them? What if someone preformed the seven wonders and it went wrong? What if the plan had suddenly changed with Michael?

Mallory seemed to pick on how anxious you suddenly were, putting a hand on your upper arm before making you meet her gaze. Her soft, hazel brown eyes immeadietly making your breathe slow. That was another reason you were so thankful for Mallory - the soothing, calming effect she seemed to have on everyone she met was something you never took for granted.. Espically now.

"Hey, nothing's wrong and nothing happened. I promise. I just wanted to see you and talk to you, and I figured we should catch up after Michael basically made me leave," Mallory explained.

You quickly nodded. Feeling guilt start to creep into your system once you remembered how Michael previously treated her.

"Yeah, youre right. I've been wanting to see you anyway and I'm sorry I didnt just call you last night or something.. and I know I cant control him but I'm still sorry for how Michael treated you. I shouldn't have brought you into that-"

"(Y/n), stop," Mallory said urgently. Shaking her head slightly in disagreement with your words. "Sure, Michael was acting like a dick but.. it's nothing I'm not exactly accustomed too. It was harmless," she ended her words with a smile. One that was meant to comfort you both at the epiphany her words brought.

You sat with her words for a moment. The realization suddenly hitting you like a truck-

"Wait.. what? Do you know Michael?"

Mallory fell completely silent. Looking at you almost in a.. guilty manner. Her gaze fell downwards before she looked up to meet yours once more, licking her lips anxiously before she uttered out a quiet reply.

"I wasnt going to tell you because I knew it would make you upset but.. Michael called me last night-"

"And you answered?" Your voice raised up a few octaves unwillingly. Threatening to break as you tried to process what you were hearing.

As much as you wanted to immeadietly jump to conclusions, you had to remind yourself that this was Mallory you were talking too. Your best friend, Mallory. You knew she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

You noticed Mallory was also starting to get tense. Her spine suddenly a bit too straight and her shoulders were rigid. It was nice to know you werent the only person in this situation who was feeling this way, although you would be lying if you were to say that you werent curious for why Mallory felt tense.

"At first, no but he kept calling so I figured it would cause no harm to see what he wanted so, I answered," Mallory said cautiously.

It was obvious she had more to say and as much as you wanted her to keep talking and fully explain herself - you were more than happy that you didnt have to cut her off again. It was too much. This was too much.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before loudly exhaling with a shallow growl. Not really caring that it probably was coming off like you were mad at Mallory when in reality, that wasn’t the case. Mallory wasn’t the problem; you were really just beyond fucking pissed at Michael.

But at this point.. that wasnt new news.

"I told him that we shouldnt be talking, but he insisted," Mallory continued with a shrug.

You tried to sit up straight again; trying to exhale some of the pure fucking anger that was currently coursing through your system. Your vision was spotted black when you opened your eyes - your gaze pointed upwards at the smooth, blank ceiling. Quickly wishing that you were anywhere else, or really anyone else at the moment.

What you wouldnt kill to swap bodies again.. but then again, who knows what the hell Michael was currently doing at the moment.. He couldnt be trusted.

That was more than obvious now.

You should've known that he would contact Mallory, but how he even got her number was beyond you.. Unless-

"How did he even get your number?" You asked. Your tone strikingly calm.

Mallory looked incredibly spooked when your head suddenly snapped over to look at her. As if she was worried you were angry at her still, and as much as you wanted to reassure her otherwise, you really didnt have the energy to do so anymore. Not at the moment anyway.

"You can't be mad when I tell you the answer, okay?" She said softly.

Your features immeadietly softened at her words. The rest of your body relaxed as well; your shoulders dropping and your jaw unclenching.

"Mallory, I could never be mad at you. You could never piss me off, i'm just.. frustrated at Michael. It's not at you, I swear," you said. Trying your best to make your words sound reassuring and genuine.

Mallorys reaction wasnt one that was verbal but immeadite nonetheless. Her arms suddenly shot out and wrapped themselves around you. Her body temporarily pressing into yours as your hands went to her back, before she quickly broke the hug.

"Promise?" Mallory prompted. Brown eyes looking diligently into yours.

"Yeah.. I promise. Just tell me what that idiot did,” you said halfheartedly.

"So.. I've had his number for a while. Not for too long but just since you two switched. But, we never really talked," Her voice stalled as she watched your reaction. Your mouth grew dry as you really tried to let it sink in that they've known eachother since- well for atleast a week. "But I knew immeadietly that it wasnt you.. that day. I'm sorry I lied, but Michael made me promise."

"Why didnt you just tell me?"

Mallory looked at you in a guilty manner. Her lips pursing shut as she looked solemnly at her shoes, avoiding eye contact. You knew exactly why she was being quiet - she didnt want to admit why she had lied but.. the answer was pretty obvious.

Even though Mallory was one of the strongest witches - almost stronger than Cordelia on some days, she still was scared of Michael and that was nothing worth holding a grudge over. After all he was still the antichrist, no matter how (mostly) harmless and idiotic he seemed to you now.

"Okay.. I guess that doesnt really matter," you admitted with a laugh. Figeting with your hands as you heard a shallow laugh omit also from Mallory, which made you smile. The shallow pit that resided in your stomach finally starting to let up. "But.. What did he call you about last night?"

Mallory hesitated again before giving you another subtle smile.

"It was mostly about you.. I know how you feel about him y/n, but its working. I promise you. Hes finally warming up to you. I just wish you could hear how he talks about you,” she spoke. Taking your hands into her soft, warm ones.

"I wish I believed that," You admitted.

"I wouldnt lie to you. Hes finally starting to warm up to you, plus it was obvious yesterday-"

"Yeah; It was obvious how strong he was coming onto you."

Mallory laughed again at your words. Shaking her head slightly in protest.

“Y/n you know that’s not true. The only reason why he was flirting with me was just to get to you.. I thought that was obvious.”

“It was obvious I just.. didn’t know that you knew that. I mean, Michael has Madison.. or he did so you think that would at least satisfy his flirting needs for a bit but.. Michael faking to be interested in you, that would mean he wanted a reaction out of me on purpose? Why would he-“

“You know why. You need to start cutting yourself slack and realize that maybee this rivalry is starting to be one sided.”

You pouted at her words at the realization that they actually held more truth in them than you were willing to admit. If Michael didn’t hate you anymore, if he was truly actually willing to be civil.. then why were you still so upset? Were you the one who was unintentionally causing problems now? Was it now you instead of Michael that was holding the relationship back?

How fucking stupid.

“I can’t trust him, Mallory. How can I when he and Madison literally tried to kill me. I can never forget that they did that to me.”

“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, y/n. I’m just saying that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start having an open mind around him, and see where it gets you.”

You were struck silent, knowing that Mallory was completely right. If you wanted to have any hope at all of making things right with Michael (even though you really didn’t do anything wrong..) you would have to try a different approach because obviously; what you were doing now wasn’t working. Being snarky, and vaguely threatening him every chance you got was fun of course but- it wasn’t working. Even though Mallory was probably the sweetest person you knew, the fact your own best friend had to (very politely) make a intervention was.. not a good sign. Although, you knew Mallory was doing this for your best interest because if she didn’t say anything, then Cordelia certainly would.

And sadly, Mallory was actually right.

If you wanted things with Michael to advance any further; or to advance at all you needed to step things up but, you could always worry about that after Mallory left.

“So what, are you guys besties now or something?” You sneered.

“Shut up!” Mallory said with a laugh, playfully pushing you over a bit. “He’s barely even my acquaintance. The only reason he’s being nice to me is just to get to you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean that’s the goal-“

“Do you think that’s the only reason?” You interrupted.

Your throat automatically tightened after you spoke, the threat of your words potentially being true coaxing you to silence. Your not sure why the thought of Michael using you made you upset.. it’s not as if you didn’t think he was doing it before but this time it was different. Perhaps it was because you finally thought Michael actually had some type of interest in you.. and to have that suddenly ripped away?

That would leave you beyond broken.. you knew that for certain.

Mallory looked at you solemnly, as if she was already resenting her words before she had to say them outloud.

“Look, I don’t exactly know Michaels intentions and I’m not going to pretend too.. I don’t really think anyone does at this point but I do know that regardless of your feelings, or even his feelings that.. you have to try.”

You let out a loud exhale.

“I mean you said it yourself.. Michaels so unpredictable, there’s no point in guessing how he feels so.. maybe I should just.. ask him?”

Realistically you didn’t know how good of a idea that was- but.. trying to remain realistic was something you gave up on days ago. Pretty much the same day you switched and that definitely wasn’t a coincidence by any means.

As soon as Mallorys mouth opened, you heard three loud knocks. Quick and rapid with no hesitation between them. The apartment nearly shook with the force of whoever happened to be at your door, and you certainly didn’t doubt that your neighbors heard the knocking as well.

Mallory looked at you in utter confusion, but stayed on the bed nonetheless with no sign of getting up. Naturally, you found yourself scooting closer to the end of the bed, knowing it was you who was going to have to get the door.. and that made you scared shitless. Not because you were necessarily scared to open the door but because you had a horribly bad feeling on who was on the other side.. There was only one person that you knew of that was aware of where you lived, and you knew it wasn’t matience or staff.

You knew standing up was the logical thing to do but you still stalled. Hands starting to painfully dig into the soft, expensive sheets that lie underneath you. You mouthed a silent, ‘what the fuck?’ to Mallory but your head snapped back at the door..

Three more knocks which were only louder and more persistent than the last.

“Coming!” You quickly called out.

It was pure anxiety that fueled your next actions. You quickly stood up from the bed, trying to walk hurriedly to the door as fast as you could and trying your damn best not to think.. Hoping Mallory also had a idea of who was at the door and also happened to get the fuck out of view.

You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday happening again today, and you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to slap Michael if he tried to flirt with her again. Even though, you knew you weren’t supposed to act like that anymore.. but why should you have manners if Michael refused them as well?

Opening the door swiftly and without a second thought; you stood breathless as you saw a familiar blonde standing in front of you.

You both stared at each other at first - each not daring to have the balls to say ‘hello’ or anything else for that matter.. You noticed how Michael first eyed you up, fully looking up and down your body (as well as peering behind you, hopefully not making eye contact with Mallory). You made a point to just look into Michaels eyes, refusing to do what he was doing.. whatever the fuck that truly was.

“How did you know I would be here?” You breathed.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d come, but it also never hurt to charm the hotel staff a bit,” Michael responded swiftly without a second beat, almost as if he anticipated your words. His lips upturned slightly at the edges, in a way that nearly made your stomach sick.

“The hotel staff-?!”

“I have connections everywhere y/n, I thought you knew that,” he sneered.

He brushed past you as you continued to stand in shock. Your mouth slightly falling open as Michael took a few steps into your apartment - looking curiously around, almost as if he knew Mallory was here..

“I did.. I think that’s obvious,” you shot back hurriedly. “But thank you for the apartment again, Michael. I still feel weird taking it but it is nice I’ll admit,” you continued. Hoping to make him turn around to look back at you and hopefully not find Mallory.. Which worked. At least for a few seconds at least.

Michael made direct eye contact with you for a moment, almost as if he wanted to speak but was deliberately choosing not too. Instead he turned around, walking in deeper in the apartment.

Your mouth immediately dropped open - your feet carried yourself forward as you started to feel a bit numb with shock- not knowing even in the slightest how you were going to handle the situation if Mallory didn’t fucking move.

Sure enough..

“You always manage to linger.. don’t you?” Michael spoke.

It took only a couple steps for you to fully realize he wasn’t speaking to you. You only saw his backside as you approached them. Quickly meeting Mallorys gaze as you came into view.. Her brown eyes darker than ever as she peered up at you.

This time it is nearly impossible to distinguish whether she looked in agony from Michaels appearance or yours; since you apparently interrupted them. Her gaze quickly returned back to meet Michaels before you could think anything of it.

“I’m not here to see you, Michael.” Mallory announced. Her tone harsher than what you were expecting what apparent friends would use.. Were they even really friends?

Mallory suddenly stood up while Michael was still standing a few feet in front of her. Making eye contact with Michael for a split second before almost ducking around him before she stood in front of you.. leaving Michael speechless behind her. She quickly hugged you, her arms only embracing you for a split second before leaving. It was obvious she was in a hurry to leave now but.. you weren’t sure exactly why.

“I should get going, you and Michael have a lot to talk about,” she subtly smiled before turning to leave.. not letting you reply or have any sort of reaction to her words.

You stood solemnly as you heard Mallory’s footsteps gradually go farther away, before hearing the door open and close. You watched Michaels back as he refused to turn around.

“How was your nice chat with Mallory?”

“Why are you asking? Am I not allowed to see her or something?” You bit back. Your words possibly twice as venomous as his were.

Michael hastily turned around, looking at you with utter disbelief. His blue eyes looking into yours, as if he was suddenly surprised by your tone and how you were acting - as if his behavior didn’t proceeded yours.

“You need to relax,” he snapped. He approached you until he was right in front of you. “I wasn’t asking because I’m trying to control you, I know that’s what your thinking,” His words fell soft until they were nearly inaudible. “I just wanted to ask what she talked to you about.”

“About us?” You prompted.

“Well what else would she be talking to you about,” he snickered. His words spoken as more of a statement than a question. His laughter quickly dwindled off after he saw how rigid your frame suddenly looked. “Kidding. For the most part.. she said she was going to talk to you, and I figured I should actually speak to you this time rather than her.”

“Are you.. actually trying to trust me, Michael Langdon?” You teased. A smile, as well as laughter escaped from your lips at the mere thought.

Even though the thought was amusing on its own, you still didn’t completely trust him. Even now when he had Mallorys trust (for the most part), you still didn’t doubt that he had a ulterior motive.

Michael finally stepped back, hesitantly breaking eye contact before inaudibly beckoning you to follow him.

“I’m trying, just like how I told you I would,” He hauntingly reminded you.

You followed him silently to the long leather couch that sat by the overly expansive windows. Sitting down next to him in a way that felt almost too casual.. but being casual around Michael and not borderline fearing for your life was something you would have to adjust too.

You noticed how he instantly slipped his shoes off; drawing up his feet on the couch.. his arms and as well the rest of him contained. Away from you.

“So if your trying.. now,” you suggested uncertainly. “Then.. tell me why you came here to talk suddenly again? I mean why not just go through Mallory again like you’ve doing previously?”

“(Y/n), please. Take me seriously and just trust me for once,” His words came out quick and stern as he spoke them. “I was being serious yesterday, as well as all the other times when I told you I wanted to start.. putting effort in and trying.”

You stared at Michael utterly dumbfounded.. Feeling a bit hopeless that you actually felt almost.. touched by his words. That’s if he was actually being serious, anyway.

“What does trying mean to you?” You asked carefully. Your mind naturally went back to Madison.. were they even broken up yet? Was that even something that Michael was willing to do for you, and how was that something you could just ask? “What about-“

“Madison’s fine. She’s fine.. with everything,” he replied hesitantly.

You simply ignored the fact that he seemed to pick up what you were talking about almost immeadietly.. focusing on rather the latter part of the sentence.. that she was okay with everything?

“So she knows? That you’re here?”

“Yeah. She knows but that’s besides the point. Madison isn’t a part of the equation anymore, I don’t want to talk about her,” He spoke as if his words were final and not to be argued with, but his tone wasn’t angry. He was just done.. and you were too.

You wish that wasn’t the case though. Cutting Madison off didn’t sit right with you in the slightest, and it would definitely have to be something that would have to be mended later. That was a given.

Madison and Michaels relationship was far too close for them to suddenly split and remain like that forever - it was temporary, but so is everything really. That shouldn’t phase you but - it still managed too.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ you started.

“It’s fine. I knew you would ask.. She’s the reason why I’m here actually,” His eyes broke contact and averted down to his hands. “I don’t mean that as in I’m not here to see you but, it was something she said that brought me here.” He continued, his voice almost growing soft now at just the mention of his ex girlfriend.. and now, you felt like you actually were starting to understand his point of view. Not fully but, it was clear that Michael was trying to be more open with you, and this time he wasn’t ‘fake’ drunk.

It took nearly everything in you to not immeadietly retort but just like the night where you were at the party; you tried to fully hear him out since this was apparently one of the few times he was being civil.

“So Madison gave you advice and you actually took it?” You said while laughing softly. Trying to lighten the mood since Michael seemed to be brooding.

Michael didn’t laugh back but instead his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a moment. The corners of his mouth upturning in a shallow smile that only lasted for a few seconds.

“I did because it made sense.” He said, his tone still remaining serious. You noticed how careful he was being with his words.. something that was typical for Michael to do but this time it seemed a bit too deliberate. You wanted to ask what exactly Madison even told him to do but.. that felt wrong. “It was also the right thing to do.. Being close to you is something I should’ve done a while ago, probably immeadietly-“

“But what’s in the past; stays in the past. And since your so adamant about being close to me.. we can always try now,” you cut in.

Michael continued to sit a good distance away from you; you thought it was ironic how he could talk about wanting to get close with you but wouldn’t dare to move any closer. That thought made your pride a little bit too happy.

Right before he could open his mouth to say something; his phone rang. The sound suddenly earsplitting and blaring but Michael didn’t bother to flinch. Instead he stood up and answered his phone.. making sure to nearly trek across the apartment before he said anything into the phone.

You stretched and casually examined him as he talked, you had a feeling who it was on the line..

After how tense things were with Mallory - you knew they probably weren’t going to be on friendly terms anytime soon.. especially in front of you. And judging by how.. oddly relaxed he seemed (yet timid when he caught your gaze and realized you were staring), it had to be one person.

You were about to sink back into the couch and try your best to not speculate what they were talking about, but before you could fully turn - you realized Michael was sauntering towards you.. clearly still on the phone.

Oh fuck.

Before you could ask what was wrong, the look he gave you alone ushered you to silence.

He quickly held the phone away from his ear. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that the call was still active.

“You said you forgive Madison.. right?” He spoke lowly. His words barely audible, more so mouthing the words than actually speaking them.

You looked at him with a expression you’re sure looked as if you were furious but you were really just completely confused. You wanted to ask but.. there was no time if she was on the phone, but knowing what you were about to get yourself into would also be nice to know.

His eyes had since lost the sharpness that had nearly cut you earlier, instead swarming with urgency and a bit of panic.. It had to be Madison. The only person that could ever have that effect on Michael was Madison.

You simply nodded in response. Not trusting yourself to speak quietly outloud but you also didn’t exactly trust your response because it wasn’t exactly truthful, but Michael seemed to be level headed.. for now.

Michael immeadietly turned and held the phone back up to his ear, this time staying in closer proximity and within ear shot. Putting on his shoes as he continued to hold the conversation he was having.

“Okay

...

So when are you coming?

...

Great, see you then. . . Bye.”

If you didn’t just hear the words that you thought you had heard.. you knew under normal circumstances your heart would’ve ached when you realized how Michael hesitated before he said goodbye, most likely catching himself before he said ‘I love you’. Instead though, you felt a gruesome wave of nausea suddenly rise through you.. urging you to shakily stand up and speak without thinking.

“She’s coming to see you?”

Michael barely gave you a second glance as he turned around and started to head for the front door of the apartment.

“Yes. You’ll be seeing her too, don’t worry.” He spoke before he quickly let the door shut behind him.

You continued to stand, utterly speechless.

Part of you wanted to run after him and the other part merely wanted to scream in anger that he had already made fucking plans but instead you felt numb. Numb and calm.

You returned to your bag and unpacked, trying your best to not let your emotions consume you like they previously had too many times.. until you finally broke down and called Mallory.

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#michael x reader #Michael Langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon #my fic #Imminient Annihilation #hopefully y’all like this and it’s not all over the place djdjd #about to post to ao3 like always #ALSO thank u for the 2k hits on ao3!! 🥺💖#also side note - Jennifer’s body was amazing and now I wanna write something related 😭

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