#even if they have to experience all the hurt and pain once more

[seitmai]

He found himself spending as much time with you as possible. The two of you frequented bookstores and museums. You introduced him to a swath of movies and tv shows that he’d missed out on over the years. And he brought you back in time with each 40’s crooner he showed you on his record player. He’d never felt so comfortable, so at ease. And you returned the feeling ten-fold. 

Nothing better than getting closer to each other during cozy fun fall things 🥰

But that fear subsided when Bucky finally pressed his lips against yours for the first time. It took him all night to work up the courage. He found his focus drifting from Nightmare on Elm Street and settling on you. Your jack-o-lantern sweatshirt. Your slightly messy hair. Your bright smile. But he didn’t make his move- he couldn’t. He was far, far too nervous. And when Bucky eventually broke the kiss, you knew you this was it for you- he was it for you. He brushed his lips against your cheek, your forehead, the tip of your nose. And he asked you if you’d like to join him for an official date. You, of course, said yes.

🥰🥰🥰

On October thirtieth, he asked you to be his. And you told him that you already were- you’d been his for a long time. He just didn’t know it.

That is just so cute 🥰🥹

But as his head perked up, he didn’t find his best girl. No, he found only a bloody, decaying zombie sprinting in his direction. He’d never been so happy to see a monster.

Hahaha that's true love

But it was Bucky who gave you the final push you needed. He knew you were second-guessing yourself, knew you’d talk yourself out of it if he didn’t step in. And you were grateful he’d been there to encourage you.

I just love supportive relationships like that🥰

Admittedly, he wasn’t looking forward to his trip through the haunt. Of course, he was excited to see you in your element- he just wished your element wasn't a terrifying, immersive experience.

Valid

Bucky’s lips twisted into an uncomfortable, tense expression. He thought about what that experience might be like for him. How it might affect him. Once again, he found himself wiping his palm against his thigh.“I just don’t want it to trigger anything for you, you know?” And you meant it. A trip through your stupid haunted house wasn’t worth his mental health.

🥺🥺🥺

“Well, I assure you there is not a Hydra torture chamber in there, but I still think you should think it over before you go inside. Okay?” You knew Bucky too well. Knew he’d do anything to make you happy- even if it meant sacrificing his peace. But he’d worked so hard to find that peace, and you couldn’t let him shatter it just for you. “I won’t be disappointed or get my feelings hurt if you decide not to go inside, I promise. I just want you to have a fun night without any pain or flashbacks or panic attacks.”

Urgh they are just so caring and supportive for each other 🥹

“No, doll, don’t worry about it. Sorry I monopolized your entire break.” “Are you kidding me?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “this was exactly how I wanted to spend it.”

🥰🥰🥰

“Um, no,” Sam yanked the treat out of Bucky’s reach. “These are both mine.” Bucky scoffed, “You’re joking, right?”  “Nope.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “You’re actually double-fisting caramel apples right now?”

Of course he would 😂

Sam didn’t suspect that Bucky would actually harm any of the actors; he trusted Bucky more than Bucky trusted himself. But he wasn’t going to push. If there was any possibility that the things inside the haunt might send Bucky into a spiral, he was happy to steer clear.

I love Sam's trust in Bucky!

Bucky flipped on the hall light, bathing your face in a warm glow. He carefully raised his palms in a wordless promise that he wouldn’t hurt you. And once you gave him a small nod, he gently cradled your face in his hands. He carefully turned your head toward the light, allowing him a good, clear look at the marks on your face. And what he found ripped open a pit in his stomach. You didn’t flinch because you feared him- no, you flinched because you were hurt.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“He actually tried to hit me a third time,” you said. “I was already on the ground at that point. But he still went for it.”

This broke my heart 😭💔

He stroked along your jaw with his cold, metallic thumb. “You always put me first, don’t you?” “Of course,” you swept your thumbs over his skin, “I’d never dream of having it any other way.”

🥰🥰🥰

You rolled your eyes, sending a tear trailing down your cheek. “But you’ve been through a lot worse. I got punched- so what?” You scoffed, “You were abused for close to a hundred years. What happened to me isn’t-” “That doesn’t mean you can’t be upset,” he said. “You don’t have to compare your life to mine, sweetheart. No one should’ve laid a hand on you- tonight or ever.” He searched your face for a long moment, “Okay?”

This is just perfect and so important🫶🏻

Bucky used a butterfly bandage to carefully close your cut and fetched you a fresh cup of cider. He took care of you in a way you’d never experienced. In a way you’d never thought possible. And after the night you had, all you wanted was to curl up on the couch with him. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms and forget all about what happened. 

🥺🥺🥺

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. He was already planning to offer you a ring next October- doing so during any other month felt like sacrilege. 

Ahhhh so perfect 🥰

We Fell in Love in October | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello everyone, and…

🦇🧟‍♀️👻🎃Happy October!🎃👻🧟‍♀️🦇

It is truly the most wonderful time of the year! Halloween is my favorite favorite holiday, so of course I had to write a little something. I borrowed the title from a girl in red song that I enjoy. Also, if you're a New Girl fan, parts of this plot line might be familiar to you :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: minor reader injury

Shrieks and laughter echoed from every direction. The smell of fresh kettle corn wafted through the crisp autumn air. And two separate groups of children in Halloween costumes almost knocked Bucky to the ground. They blew past him in a blur of candy and chaos, shouting as they ran. He was certain that a rogue kiddo had somehow smeared the sleeve of his jacket with the sticky, sugary coating of their caramel apple, but he didn’t mind.

He simply took in the sights and sounds of the Halloween carnival, smiling to himself as went out of his way to step on crunchy leaves. 

Autumn was his favorite time of year- October, specifically. It was October when he first bumped into you at his favorite coffee spot, spilling your pumpkin cold brew all over your shoes. His insistent apologies and dedicated clean-up efforts endeared him to you instantly, as did his shy smile. He graciously replaced your drink and bought you a slice of spiced pumpkin bread for good measure, which you happily shared with him.

After that, Bucky knew he was done for.

He found himself spending as much time with you as possible. The two of you frequented bookstores and museums. You introduced him to a swath of movies and tv shows that he’d missed out on over the years. And he brought you back in time with each 40’s crooner he showed you on his record player. He’d never felt so comfortable, so at ease. And you returned the feeling ten-fold. 

It was October of the following year when he showed up at your apartment with a massive bag of candy and a bottle of your favorite wine. He knew how much you loved Halloween and all it entailed: the movies, the décor, the spirit of the season. And he was determined to make it extra special. The two of you watched scary movies and laughed uproariously each time the other jumped. And both of you consumed so much candy, you feared you might be sick.

But that fear subsided when Bucky finally pressed his lips against yours for the first time. It took him all night to work up the courage. He found his focus drifting from Nightmare on Elm Street and settling on you. Your jack-o-lantern sweatshirt. Your slightly messy hair. Your bright smile. But he didn’t make his move- he couldn’t. He was far, far too nervous. 

It wasn’t until the night came to a close that he finally found his nerve. You walked him to the door and thanked him for the candy. The wine. The company. And for making the first day of October one for the books. The goodnight hug you shared lasted longer than it ever had, and you swore he held you tighter than before.

The two of you lingered by the front door, chatting about nothing of consequence. Bucky needed to buy himself some time, and you wanted to keep him in your apartment as long as possible. You figured that if he hung around long enough, maybe he’d finally make his move.

But he left. After another long hug and some more nonsensical chatting, he bid you goodnight. He intertwined his fingers with yours for a moment, sweeping his thumb across the back of your hand. He gave your hand a squeeze and swept a kiss across your knuckles, and then he slipped out the door.

But before the disappointment had a chance to settle into your chest, a metallic knocking vibrated through your front door. You opened it instantly, figuring that Bucky had forgotten his phone or his keys on your coffee table.

But he wasn’t after any forgotten personal effects. 

Breathlessly, he asked, “Can I?”

“Please.”

And that was it.

His mouth met yours in long, deep kiss full of want and adoration and Halloween candy. His hands cradled your face, yours twisted into the front of his t-shirt. And neither of you took a breath for a very, very long time. Only when your chest burned from lack of oxygen did you finally pull away- but it was only for a second. He greedily recaptured your lips before you even knew what happened, not that you’d ever complain about it. 

And when Bucky eventually broke the kiss, you knew you this was it for you- he was it for you. He brushed his lips against your cheek, your forehead, the tip of your nose. And he asked you if you’d like to join him for an official date. You, of course, said yes.

Said date came only a few days later, when Bucky took you to a pumpkin patch and the two of you carved jack-o-lanterns together. You carved a rather accurate depiction of Ghost Face. And Bucky, of course, decorated his with a stick figure representation of the two of you at the coffee shop where you first met.

The night ended with a Halloween Hayride followed by a corn maze- and you swore Bucky got the two of you lost on purpose. He kept pulling you down errant pathways, insisting that they’d lead to the exit. No exit ever materialized at the end of his rogue, twisting trails. But they did provide the perfect venue for him to steal a kiss or three. And you didn’t complain once.

On October thirtieth, he asked you to be his. And you told him that you already were- you’d been his for a long time. He just didn’t know it.

It was hard for Bucky to believe that only two Octobers ago, you were a stranger. And now, you were his girl. He’d given all of himself over to you, and you accepted him with nothing but warmth and kindness and love. He couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough to meet you, to win your affections, to call you his. 

He was never a huge fan of dark, dreary, autumn, as he always preferred the warmth of summer. But meeting you was enough to turn him into fall's biggest fan. The two of you were inextricably linked to the season, turning it instantly into his number one favorite. And as he strolled through the Halloween carnival and allowed autumn to wrap around him like a blanket, he couldn’t help but feel at home. 

At the sight of the Haunted House, Bucky hung a right and curved around the back of the structure. He listened to the screams and subsequent laughter of the patrons inside as he waited for you. He didn’t particularly love haunted houses, and probably never would’ve considered partaking in one if it hadn’t been for you.

“Buck!” your voice broke through the noise of the festival and pulled Bucky’s attention. 

But as his head perked up, he didn’t find his best girl. No, he found only a bloody, decaying zombie sprinting in his direction. He’d never been so happy to see a monster.

“Woah! You look amazing, baby!” Bucky motioned for you to do a spin for him and admired your elaborate, almost-too-realistic make up and costume. “You’re gonna scare the hell outta these people, doll.”

A wide, satisfied smile stretched across your zombified face, “That’s the idea.” 

As carefully as you could you leaned in and brushed a kiss to Bucky’s lips. Of course, you didn’t want to dirty his face with your gory make up, but you simply couldn’t resist kissing him. And you’d never want to. 

“Wait, I thought Sam was coming with you,” you scanned the area, looking for Bucky’s partner in crime. “Did he change his mind?”

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “No, he’s here. But he saw a caramel apple stand near the front of the carnival and I lost him immediately.”

Your laughed matched Bucky’s, “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Bucky eyed the haunted house, with its flashing lights and eerie exterior. It loomed over the entirety of the carnival, promising heart-stopping terror and endless fright for anyone who dared to enter. A cold sweat dampened the palm of his right hand; he swiped it on his pantleg without a word.

“So, how’s it been going, doll? Are you having a good time?”

At first, you thought it might be strange to volunteer as a scare actor. You didn’t have any experience, and didn’t think of yourself as much of a performer. But the second you saw the listing for volunteers online, the idea wormed its way into your brain and refused to leave. You always loved Halloween, always loved all things creepy. And working as a scarer for a few nights a week sounded like fun.

But it was Bucky who gave you the final push you needed. He knew you were second-guessing yourself, knew you’d talk yourself out of it if he didn’t step in. And you were grateful he’d been there to encourage you.

“I’m having the best time! It’s been a blast so far,” the excitement radiating off of you was almost palpable. “Everyone’s so nice and we’re having so much fun. I’m really glad I decided to go through with it.”

“See? I told you,” Bucky shot you a wink. “I only wish I could’ve been here on opening night of the festival-”

“Buck, you were literally saving the world. I understand,” you told him. “There’s no hard feelings.”

“Well, I’m really happy for you sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re having a good time.” He gently placed his metallic hand on the least bloody part of your face, “And I’m so excited to see you in action.”

You gave him a strange look, “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that I can’t wait to see you doing your thing in there!” He gestured toward the haunt, “Can’t wait for you to scare me to death, baby.”

“Oh, Buck- no. I don’t-” you cut a glance toward the haunted house, knowing full well what lurked inside the walls. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? But I want to support you, doll-”

“You’re supporting me just by being here,” you leaned into his touch. “But I don’t think you should go in there, babe.”

Admittedly, he wasn’t looking forward to his trip through the haunt. Of course, he was excited to see you in your element- he just wished your element wasn't a terrifying, immersive experience.

“It’s a dark, enclosed space with blood and gore and people screaming,” you cautioned him. “And there’s actors who jump out at you from the dark. I swear, there’s one of us popping out around like, every corner.”

Bucky’s lips twisted into an uncomfortable, tense expression. He thought about what that experience might be like for him. How it might affect him. Once again, he found himself wiping his palm against his thigh.

“I just don’t want it to trigger anything for you, you know?” And you meant it. A trip through your stupid haunted house wasn’t worth his mental health.

He forced the tension out of his face and blanketed his features with a manufactured calm. You were always so supportive of him, always did your best to be there for him. And it was his turn to be there for you. What kind of boyfriend was he if he couldn’t even see you perform? Sure, going inside the haunt wasn’t his idea of a perfect evening, but he owed it to you.

“Yeah, but I’ve been through way worse, sweetheart. I can- I can handle a haunted house.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince- you or himself. “As long as there isn’t a Hydra torture chamber scene, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I assure you there is not a Hydra torture chamber in there, but I still think you should think it over before you go inside. Okay?” You knew Bucky too well. Knew he’d do anything to make you happy- even if it meant sacrificing his peace. But he’d worked so hard to find that peace, and you couldn’t let him shatter it just for you. “I won’t be disappointed or get my feelings hurt if you decide not to go inside, I promise. I just want you to have a fun night without any pain or flashbacks or panic attacks.”

Bucky found nothing but authenticity in your voice. You weren’t just saying these things, or secretly hoping that he’d still venture into the haunt. No, you meant everything you said; you just wanted what was best for him. Wanted him to enjoy himself. And he was endlessly grateful for your understanding. For your kindness.

“Shit. Alright, I-” you looked down at your phone and sighed at the new text illuminating your screen, “I have to get back inside, my break’s over. Sorry, baby.”

“No, doll, don’t worry about it. Sorry I monopolized your entire break.”

“Are you kidding me?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “this was exactly how I wanted to spend it.”

He pulled you in for deep- yet careful- kiss. He didn’t want to mess up the makeup you’d worked so hard on but couldn’t let you go back inside without a kiss. 

“Just promise me you’ll think it over before you actually go inside the haunt, okay?” You eyed him with a serious, almost grave expression. “There won’t be any hard feelings if you sit this one out.”

“I promise,” he said. “And to tell you the truth, I’m- I’m thinking I might just stick to carnival games and funnel cake.”

A massive sigh of relief left your chest. The worry you’d been holding onto dissipated into the chilly autumnal air. And suddenly, nothing sounded better than cheap, rigged carnival games. 

“See, now that sounds like fun.” You left one more kiss to Bucky’s lips before heading toward your next shift. “Have a good time tonight, Buck.”

Bucky watched your bloody form receded toward the haunt. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about your warnings, your cautionary words. You really did care about him. You loved him more than anyone ever had. And you always, always put him first. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to express how grateful he was to have you. And as he observed the way you went out of your path just to step on the crunchiest leaves you could find, he knew the two of you were perfectly suited.

“Baby!” Bucky called after you as you reached the back door of the haunt.

You turned.

“Do you still wanna come over later?” he shouted over the noise of the festival.

Your “DUH!” echoed across the distance. And then you disappeared inside.

“Aw, man. Did I miss her?” Sam appeared just behind Bucky, two caramel apples in hand.

“Yeah, she had to get back to work. Oh-” Bucky reached for the apple in Sam’s right hand, the one that hadn’t yet been marred by Sam’s teeth. “Is this for me? Thanks, I-”

“Um, no,” Sam yanked the treat out of Bucky’s reach. “These are both mine.”

Bucky scoffed, “You’re joking, right?” 

“Nope.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You’re actually double-fisting caramel apples right now?”

Sam gave a confident nod and took a bite out of one of the treats. “Leave me alone, man. I’m just participating in the spirit of Halloween.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s antics. “Okay, well then, I’m gonna go get one of my own. Are you coming?”

Sam tilted his head to the side and gestured toward the haunt with one of his apples. “Aren’t we going inside now that she’s back on shift?”

Bucky gave the unsettling building a long look. He really did want to support you- but he just couldn’t bring himself to willingly venture into that environment. He thought back on what you said: Dark. Enclosed space. Blood. Gore. People jumping out of the darkness. It was the perfect recipe for a flashback. He could practically feel his PTSD crawling out of the darkest corners of his mind, waiting to pounce.

“Um, no, actually. I’m not- I’m not gonna go in,” Bucky said. “I was cautioned against it by a very sweet, very beautiful zombie.” 

It didn’t quite make sense to Sam. “She doesn’t want you to go inside?”

“She said it’s just not the best idea. The way she described it, I know it’s not gonna be a good experience for me,” a sad smile pulled at Bucky’s features. “Plus, I don’t know how I’m gonna react to bloody people popping out of the shadows and screaming at me. I feel like my training- or my PTSD- is gonna kick in and I might hit first and ask questions later,” he shrugged. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

Sam didn’t suspect that Bucky would actually harm any of the actors; he trusted Bucky more than Bucky trusted himself. But he wasn’t going to push. If there was any possibility that the things inside the haunt might send Bucky into a spiral, he was happy to steer clear.

“Alright, yeah, we can- we can go play some games instead,” Sam suggested. “And you can win your girl a prize. Come on.”

Sam pointed Bucky in the direction of the carnival games- but not before he granted Bucky his second apple. 

“Wilson… I’m touched,” Bucky took a huge bite of the tart, sticky treat. “This is real friendship.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you’re getting the next round.” 

The two of them set off in the direction of the large array of carnival booths, both happily gnawing on a caramel apple. Bucky was grateful to have two people in his life who truly cared about his mental health. Two people who never forced him into situations that had the potential to rip open his old wounds. 

And though Bucky wished he could visit you inside the haunt, he knew it was better this way. If he chose to experience the haunted house and ended up having a violent flashback or a panic attack, he knew it would ruin your night. You’d spend the entire evening taking care of him, looking after him, worrying about him- you’d completely abandon your post inside the haunted house, and he couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t take away your Halloween fun, especially not when you’d just told him what a blast it all was.

No, he’d instead spend the evening playing shitty carnival games, drinking pumpkin beer, and betting Sam that he couldn’t eat another caramel apple. And later, after you’d finished your night of scaring, he’d welcome you into his apartment and spend the rest of his evening snuggled up with you on the couch. He’d make a batch of spiced apple cider and curl up with you under a blanket. And the two of you would fall asleep while Scream played in the background.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Around ten-thirty, a quiet knock pulled Bucky from his book. He dropped it on the coffee table- taking no care to mark his page- and dashed toward the front door. He couldn’t wait to ask you a million questions. To hear your stories from the night. But when he threw open the door, he didn’t find the smiling zombie he’d seen just a few hours ago.

Something about you seemed off. Almost hollow. But Bucky couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was certain you had to be tired- exhausted, really. You’d spent hours chasing after your victims and screaming at the top of your lungs. Surely, you were just worn out.

“Hey, Buck,” you did your best to force a smile, but it wasn’t at all convincing. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky pulled you into his body without caring that you were still covered in a thick layer of fake blood and zombie make up. “You good?”

You nodded against his chest, “Yeah. Just tired.”

Bucky felt his worry recede a bit- but it didn’t vanish completely. He took you by the hand and brought you inside, but didn’t pepper you with questions like he’d planned. All of his wonderings could wait until after you got a well-deserved night of rest. 

“I was thinking I could make us some spiced apple cider,” Bucky offered, “But if you’d rather just go to sleep, I can save that for tomorrow. What do you think, doll?”

“Um, whatever you wanna do, babe,” you rummaged through your overnight bag and unearthed your toiletry bag and pajamas. “I’m gonna go shower and take off my make up.”

Without another word, you retreated down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom. Something about your demeanor didn’t sit right with Bucky. This wasn’t just exhaustion; something darker lurked beneath your still waters. But he opted to give you your space. He didn’t want to delay your shower; surely, you wanted to shed your grime and get comfortable. And once you’d emerged from your clean up, he’d once again ask about your well-being. But not a moment before.

He quickly changed shirts, shedding the one that he’d willingly dirtied by hugging you, and went to work on the cider. Even if you only wanted a sip or two before bed, that was enough for him. He didn’t mind putting in the effort if there was even a chance it might make you smile- he’d do anything to see that smile. To make you happy.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said as you padded down the hall half an hour later. “Getting all of the blood and make up off is kind of a process.” 

At the sound of your voice, Bucky rose from his seat in the kitchen and met you in the hall with a mug of hot cider, which you accepted.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. I was just-” a smiled flashed across his face, “Oh, sweetheart, it looks like you missed some.”

Some of the blueish purple make up still stained your cheek and tainted the skin around your eye. A bit of fake blood ran through your brow. And clearly, you’d forgotten to remove one of your bloody contacts. 

“Here, let me.” He raised his hand to your cheek and tried to swipe the remaining make up from your skin with his thumb, but you yanked your head away.

Pain burned in Bucky’s chest. You’d never flinched like that around him. Never once did you dodge his touch or fear that he might hurt you. You always said you didn’t see him as a threat, didn’t think of him as a monster. What had happened in the last few hours that changed the way you saw him? 

He felt himself teetering on the edge of heartbreak, but the puzzle pieces fell together before he had the chance to fall apart. He didn’t recall you wearing bloody special effects contacts earlier tonight. And your zombie make up hadn’t been that shade of indigo. 

Bucky flipped on the hall light, bathing your face in a warm glow. He carefully raised his palms in a wordless promise that he wouldn’t hurt you. And once you gave him a small nod, he gently cradled your face in his hands. He carefully turned your head toward the light, allowing him a good, clear look at the marks on your face. 

And what he found ripped open a pit in his stomach. You didn’t flinch because you feared him- no, you flinched because you were hurt.

A large, dark blue bruise bloomed under the skin of your cheekbone. And another bruise stained your orbital purple. The area was already swelling, and Bucky couldn’t help but think about how much pain you were in. A gash sliced through your eyebrow, just above your blackened eye. And unfortunately, the blood staining the white of your eye wasn’t part of a creepy contact lens- it was real. It was all real.

“Shit. Baby, what happened?” 

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky insisted. 

A few tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You spent your entire ride to Bucky’s telling yourself that you were fine. That you were okay. That it was just some bruising. That crying wouldn’t fix anything. You told yourself that people go through way worse every day- that Bucky had been through way, way worse for almost a century. You told yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. That getting emotional over something so small was unnecessarily dramatic. 

But Bucky automatically validated you- without even knowing it.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

You cut a glance to the side- which only made your eye throb. “Um, there was this guy who came through the haunt. And when I jumped out at him, he um,” you shrugged. “He hit me.”

A hurricane of emotion ripped through Bucky. He was horrified. Concerned. Wrathful. Heartbroken. All at once. 

“He hit me twice, actually…” You knew it would only make Bucky more upset. But what was the point of hiding the truth? He was going to be distraught either way. “He hit me here first,” you pointed at your cheek. “And then the second time, he got me in the eye. He had one of those big, collegiate class rings on- that’s what sliced my eyebrow open.”

“Jesus. Okay, um, you hang tight right here. I’m gonna grab my keys and some shoes- I need to get you to the emergency room,” Bucky threw his attention down the hall, searching for his keys.

“I don’t need to go to the ER-”

“Then I’m at least taking you to a minor emergency clinic,” Bucky insisted. “You need to be seen by-”

“The medic at the carnival already gave me a once over,” you rested a hand against his chest, calming him. “She said I’m fine. The cut doesn’t need stitches. I just have a minor concussion.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment while a war raged inside his head. He knew you were okay, that your life wasn’t in danger. And he could tell you were too tired for an unnecessary trip to the hospital. But he’d feel more comfortable if a doctor took a look at you. If he had a guarantee that you’d be alright.

“I promise I’m okay,” you told him. “I really just wanna rest.”

And after another long moment of internally weighing the pros and cons, Bucky conceded.

“Okay. Here, I’ll take that,” he took your mug of cider and placed it on the hall table. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Bucky took you by the hand and led you to the living room. He got you situated on the couch and draped a blanket over your lap.

“He actually tried to hit me a third time,” you said. “I was already on the ground at that point. But he still went for it.”

You didn’t mean to sound so wounded. So pathetic. But part of you was still in shock. And the other part was heartbroken that one person had ruined your entire experience. 

“Thankfully, a few of the other actors got to him before he had the chance to actually make contact again.”

Bucky thought he might be sick. “What the fuck?”

You shrugged, “I’m not… I don’t know.”

“Um, do you need- I’m gonna get you some ice, okay?” He didn’t want to leave your side, but he could practically feel the throbbing, pounding pain hammering inside your head. And when he returned from the kitchen with an ice pack, some Tylenol, and a glass of water, he took a seat next to you.

“Why would he- he knew he was going into a haunted house. Why would he hit you?” Bucky couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He knew it was possible that the trauma from his Hydra days could make him lash out inside the haunt, so he chose to abstain. Why your assailant hadn’t done the same baffled him. 

“And why would he hit you multiple times?”

You shook your head and instantly regretted it as pain surged through your face. “I mean, they say ‘fight or flight.’ He clearly chose fight.”

“But after the initial hit, the shock and fear would’ve worn off,” Bucky reasoned. “He would’ve been able to recognize that he wasn’t actually in danger. That you were an actor, not a threat.” He sighed, “At least, he should’ve been able to figure that out.”

With a swig of water, you downed the pain relievers and sunk back into the couch cushions. The ice stung against your tender, pulsing wounds and you hissed at the sensation. But as the cold rendered your face completely numb, you recanted your initial, ungrateful thoughts.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’d been drinking,” you rolled your eyes. It sent pain rocketing through your skull. “One of the guys that pulled him off of me said the guy was slurring his words pretty badly and absolutely reeked of beer.”

“Oh, perfect,” Bucky clenched his hands into tight fists. “Did anything happen to him? Is he gonna face any consequences?”

You offered him a downtrodden half-shrug. “I’m not sure. There were some security guards who escorted him out, but that’s all I know.”

Bucky leaned over and brushed a light kiss to your cheek- the one that hadn’t been marred by stranger’s fist. A razor-sharp feeling of helplessness carved deep into his flesh until it struck bone. He had a duty to you, and felt as though he’d failed. He couldn’t save you. Couldn’t protect you. Couldn’t even take you to the emergency room. 

All he could do at this point was try his best make you feel comfortable. Safe. And above all, he had to take care of you. 

Alarm struck him in the chest as he noticed what appeared to be a fresh drop of scarlet oozing from your brow. He stood from the couch with worry pulsing through his veins. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna go get some supplies to tend to your cut. Okay? You stay here, I’ll be-”

“No, that’s okay, Buck. It’s not that bad,” you shook your head, rejecting his offer; the throbbing inside your skull multiplied.  

“Baby, you’re bleeding…”

“What?” you removed the ice pack from your face and used your free hand to swipe a finger across your brow- only to find a warm, sticky sensation. “Oh, I didn’t even notice. My face is numb,” you brandished the ice pack at him. 

Bucky’s soft laugh filled the room, “I guess that’s a good thing?”

You gave him a careful nod. “Definitely.”

“Sit tight, doll. It’ll only take me a second.”

And he was right. He was only gone a few moments at the most; anything more than that felt unjustifiable. 

“Alright, let me see,” Bucky took a seat on the coffee table and placed his first aid supplies down next to him. As carefully as he could, he took your face in his hands and appraised your wound. He used gentle pressure to hold a piece of clean gauze against the bloody ooze. And though the cut wasn’t severe, it didn’t stop the dread from circling him like a vulture.

“I should’ve stuck around longer,” he lamented. “I should’ve stayed at the festival. Maybe I could’ve helped you somehow. Maybe I could’ve-”

Your hands found his forearms and wrapped gently around his wrists. “No, Buck. I didn’t want you going inside the haunt, regardless. Even if it was only to be my knight in shining armor.”

He stroked along your jaw with his cold, metallic thumb. “You always put me first, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you swept your thumbs over his skin, “I’d never dream of having it any other way.”

If there was one thing Bucky could count on, it was being your first priority. He’d never imagined he’d meet anyone who valued him. Who saw his worth. But you did- you always did. And you placed him proudly on a pedestal as your number one. Nothing came before him; nothing could take his place. He mattered more to you than anything or anyone ever had.

You were the kindest, most understanding person he’d ever met. You saw the good in everyone, even if they couldn’t see it themselves. And knowing that someone hurt you, that you were shown anything other than gentleness, killed him.

“Baby, I’m- I’m so sorry this happened. You didn’t deserve it.”

You poked at the ice pack resting in your lap, “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not ideal. But I’m not dying, or anything.” Your gaze dropped to the floor, “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky waited for your eyes to meet his, but had no luck. “Sweetheart, can you look at me? Please?”

After another long moment, you finally dragged your eyes upward. Bucky instantly clocked the tears gathering along your lash line.

“I know you’re not dying; I know this isn’t life threatening- but it’s still a big deal,” he said. “What happened is not okay. And you don’t have to pretend like it is.”

You rolled your eyes, sending a tear trailing down your cheek. “But you’ve been through a lot worse. I got punched- so what?” You scoffed, “You were abused for close to a hundred years. What happened to me isn’t-”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be upset,” he said. “You don’t have to compare your life to mine, sweetheart. No one should’ve laid a hand on you- tonight or ever.” He searched your face for a long moment, “Okay?”

It took a while for his words to sink in. For you to believe them. Rebuttals formed on your tongue every few seconds, but the concern in Bucky’s eyes banished them.

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief left his chest, and he delivered a long kiss to your forehead. He didn’t want you to diminish the events of the evening all because of him. Didn’t want you constantly using his suffering as a litmus test for your own. He knew you’d never consider your trauma as worthwhile if it always had to stand up to his.

With a fresh piece of gauze, he swiped the tears from your eyes. “Good. I love you.”

This wasn’t what you expected out of life. You were the last of your friends to find something real. To find someone worthwhile. And you assumed you’d missed your window. All of your exes treated you like you barely existed. Like you weren’t worth their time. None of them were ever concerned about your happiness or your well-being. And after dating more assholes than you could count, you resigned yourself to a life without romantic love.

And then Bucky spilled coffee all over your shoes, and you’d never been happier to have stained sneakers.

Bucky used a butterfly bandage to carefully close your cut and fetched you a fresh cup of cider. He took care of you in a way you’d never experienced. In a way you’d never thought possible. And after the night you had, all you wanted was to curl up on the couch with him. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms and forget all about what happened. 

But just as Bucky took his rightful place next to you on the couch, he was gone.

“Buck, where are you-”

“I almost forgot!” he called from down the hall. And just as quickly as he vanished, he reappeared with his hands behind his back. “Those carnival games are really hard- I mean, really fucking hard. And it took me all night, but I won this for you.”

With a quiet “Ta-da!” he revealed his prize and held it out for you. 

“I know he’s kind of ugly,” Bucky laughed, “But-”

“He’s not ugly!” You snatched the prize and held it close to your chest.

It was a little black teddy bear with orange spots- and upon further inspection, the orange spots appeared to be jack-o-lanterns. An orange and black plaid bow sat perched around the bear’s neck, and a tiny witch’s hat rested atop his head.

“Buck, he’s perfect,” you reached for him, pulling him down for a long, deep kiss before he even had the chance to sit. “I love him!”

“I’m so glad, it took me longer to win him than I’d like to admit,” Bucky laughed. “I’m sure Sam will happily tell you all about it.”

Once again, you captured Bucky’s lips with yours. Sure, you were exhausted. And hurting. And sad. But as Bucky’s hand cradled your face, and the prize he’d worked so hard to win for you rested against your chest, the pain of the evening melted away.

“Thank you, Buck.”

He shot you a wink, “Anytime, I-”

 “I mean it,” you abandoned your new teddy bear for only a second and took one of Bucky’s hands in both of yours. It took most of your strength, but you finally got him to take his spot next to you on the couch, “Thank you.”

His arm snaked around you and pulled you tightly into his side. “I’ve always got your back, baby.”

With your new teddy bear resting in your lap, you snuggled as close to Bucky as you possibly could. He brought you a sense of peace, a sense of safety that you’d never experienced before. All he ever wanted to do was take care of you, and you thanked the universe every day for granting you someone so gentle and kind and sweet.

Bucky put on a classic Halloween movie from your childhood, Halloweentown, to help you feel a little more at ease. And it came as no surprise to him that you were asleep less than fifteen minutes in, but he didn’t mind. He simply pulled you into his chest and carefully carried you to bed- along with your new stuffed animal. 

And as he climbed in next to you, he couldn’t have been more grateful for your cautionary words about the haunt. He thought about how different the night could’ve been, how much worse things might’ve gone had he stepped foot inside the dark, scary environment. What if he had a bad reaction and hurt one of your coworkers? What if he hurt you? If he’d been the one to strike you in the dark, you absolutely would’ve required an ambulance and a hospital stay. 

Just thinking about his metal fist connecting with your face made him nauseous. With a shake of his head, he forced the thoughts away. You were okay, you were right there next to him, sleeping soundly with your teddy bear tucked safely in your arms. He eyed you in the light of the moon, and thanked any deity who would listen for keeping him out of the haunt.

Just as he considered allowing his eyes to close, you moved. You loosened your grip on your bear and let him fall to the side as your sleepy hands searched for Bucky. He moved closer to you and watched with a smile as you draped your body over his. A tired, contented sigh fell from your lips, and Bucky thought his heart might melt.

He knew he didn’t deserve you. Knew he’d done so much wrong in his life. But now that you were his, he’d spend every day trying to protect you. Trying to make you happy. 

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. He was already planning to offer you a ring next October- doing so during any other month felt like sacrilege. 

————————————-

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[justwonder113]

Sharing bed with Seungmin

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: After facing the horrible and vile beast and hurting your leg in the fight, your best friend offers to let you stay in his house. Where one thing might lead to another. Warning: cursing as always, there's no surprise there. Not proofread. Both Seungmin and Reader are quite goofy. Reader is gender neutral. Mentions of kissing.

A/N- Hey babies! I'mglad to say I'm back and well. I hope you'll like this fic. Reblogs and cooments are greatly appreciated. Feel free to request and send your thoughts if you have any❤️ Word count- 1.8k

Having your own house is a beautiful experience. It’s like an adventure of having your own kingdom and being a monarch. You have all the privacy and personal space one can dream of; you have peace and quiet; you have freedom to do whatever you want be it walking around butt naked or cooking up a three course meal at  3am; you can have random 3 am dance concerts and so on and so on. Most importantly you could do whatever you wanted to decorate and style it which is what you were busy doing right now.

Lately your Pinterest feed was full of various versions of colorful archways. People came up with so many interesting ways to add a pop of color to their house and it seemed quite easy to do so. So here you were perched on the stool unleashing your inner artist on your archway. Well at least that was the plan. Everything went to gutter when you saw a movement in the corner of your eye. You turned around made eye contact with probably the most disgusting and vile looking grasshopper ever. The horrific appearance of the beast made you scream so hard the beast also got startled and fucking jumped on you! Obviously you lost your shit at that too, your already shaky and unstable stool just couldn’t take it anymore. One second you were screaming your lungs out the next second you were on the floor with your leg hurting like a bitch.

You must have made quite a lot of noise because almost immediately the front door of your house basically burst open and Seungmin rushed towards your hunching figure. You had almost forgotten he was supposed to come over. You had even left your door open for him. Quite convenient, because no way in hell would you be able to stand up and walk towards the door in this state. You sure as hell hoped you didn’t break it.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Seungmin looked frantic as he nervously examined you. You wanted to keep your cool, you really did. But the pain and the shock took over your senses and the next thing you knew you were bawling your eyes out as Seungmin, confused and unsure of what to do, cradled your body close to his frame and tried to calm you down.

You were unsure of what happened next. You were pretty out of it. Maybe out of shock maybe because of the painkillers, who knows. Seungmin did most of… Well basically everything. He helped you get ready, took you to the hospital, did basically all the talking with the doctors, stayed with you through every procedure… He even took care of all the paperwork, bought all the meds and not once did he complain about anything! Even more, he bought you to his house! Well he said because you couldn’t be trusted to be alone but you knew it was because he was worried, also you did complain quite a lot about being afraid of the beast lurking in your house. With your foot strained like this there wasn’t even a possibility for you to run away from the hideous creature.

If you thought that he wasn’t husband material before (oh no you were totally not crushing on your best friend, not at all!), he even made you dinner, which was just finger licking good! He made sure to step away to his room to make a call, but you could still hear how he asked Minho for tips. How could you not love him? He even called Minho! He hated asking him for help. He looked so good doing everything too, all you could think about was how you wanted to kiss him.

“You’re the best Minnie.” You cheered as he helped you get to bed. He insisted that you take his bed, refusing to hear you protest. You loved how he always acted like everything was such a bother and then went out of his way to do it.

“Shut it, I’m only letting you sleep on my bed because knowing your clumsy ass you’ll fall of the sofa and further injure yourself!” He grumbled as he tucked you in like you were a literal child.

“Aww you do care about me.” You couldn’t help but tease.

Seungmin only scoffed – “Don’t push it!”

“I love you too!”- You mused, he rolled hie eyes at that but you could have sworn the corner of his lips lifted up. He was about to leave but you reached in just in time to grab his hand. Seungmin looked taken aback for a second but quickly gathered himself. “Please stay?” You made sure to do your best puppy eyes and it worked! Seungmin immediately caved, but being a stubborn ass, he is he just plopped on you. Careful to not touch your leg but still with enough force to squish you.

Honestly, jokes on him because you only saw this as an opportunity to wrap your hands around him and tightly hug him. He “tried” to get free but you knew that this softie enjoyed the hug, the big ass smile on his face confirmed it. In mere sounds he stopped resisting and continued to just flop on you.

“What are you doing?” He huffed out while his face was adorned with the prettiest smile ever. God you couldn’t understand how could he say anything bad about his smile or even think of hiding it. It was always so innocent and pure. It never failed to put a smile on your face, to light up your whole world.

“Showing how thankful I am?!” – To further prove your point you leaned in and gave him the fastest smooch on his cheek. Seungmin made sure to grimace as dramatically as possible, but as always, his arms wrapping around your waist told whole another story about how he felt.

“Oh really? By kissing my cheek?” What a little shit. Now it was your time to roll your eyes. “Are you insinuating I should kiss you elsewhere?” You tried to not sound as hopeful as you actually felt.

Seungmin barked out a teasing laugh-“As if you could, you don’t have the guts for it!”

You quickly let go of him and crossed your arms to show your disdain, with equally matching scowl adorning your face. That didn’t stop him from hugging your frame, in fact he tightened his hold around your waist. “How dare you sir!”

Seungmin looked at you with challenging look, his eyes full of amusement. “What? Are you going to kiss me then?” His voice was teasing, you couldn’t tell if he was actually for real or not. You couldn’t’ tell if you should challenge him or not.

“I just might!” – You challenged, thinking that you just might as well go with it. You could always play as if you were joking. You hated hiding your true feelings but anything was better than possibly losing him as a friend.

“What are you waiting for then?”? You thought you knew him the best but you couldn’t really decipher what his face meant. Was he actually for real? Were you two about to cross the line that could possibly ruin your friendship either for the best or for the worst?

“Don’t you dare regret it!” You whispered against his lips. When did Seungmin’s face get so close? With every breath your lips slightly brushed against each other. You could smell the minty smell of his toothpaste. God you were really about to do it!

“Wouldn’t dream of it love.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. God, you couldn’t resist him anymore. Here went nothing. Bringing him closer with his face you finally connected your lips together.

His lips were a bit cold and chapped but nonetheless you loved how they felt against yours. Your whole heart was bursting with joy. Every drag of your lips against each other felt like heaven, you couldn’t help but lean in for more. Seungmin must have also felt that way because he also kissed you like a starved man, like you were oxygen he needed to breathe. His hands had shifted from around your waist, one hand held your hip tightly while the other migrated to your neck and softly rested there. You also couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, your one arm was wrapped around his shoulders as the other still held his cheek to have him as close as possible. His lips were almost addictive like a drug you didn’t know needed in your life you just couldn’t get enough.

Unfortunately for you, you had to lean back to get some air. You always thought that oxygen was overrated anyway but biology or whatever. Seungmin also seemed unimpressed to be away from your lips but that still didn’t stop him from covering your whole face and neck with sweet kisses.

“I thought I was the one supposed to be the one saying thanks?” You couldn’t help but giggle as he kissed the ticklish spot on your neck. Seungmin looked up to you for a second then quickly got up. Your heart clenched at the idea that you might’ve done something wrong but he immediately washed away those worries by walking around the bed and laying down on the bed next to you, under the same queen size cover.

You looked at him with wide eyes as he got more comfortable laying on his back and opened his arms for you almost like an invitation. “All done!”

“What are you doing Min?” A smile crept up your face as you examined his mischievous smile.

“I just got more comfortable, you can thank me as much as you want now.” Seungmin answered proudly with the prettiest smirk adorning his face.

 You couldn’t help but mirror the expression. “You’re such a brat sometimes. What should I do with you?”

As if seriously thinking things over Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows and to be extra dramatic crossed his arms. You loved how giddy he felt after your kiss. It felt nice knowing you weren’t the only one losing your shit on the inside.

Seungmin smiled, and you knew immediately he was about to smartass you. You tried to turn away from him to not give him the satisfaction but he was quicker. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer to his body, his forehead gently resting on yours. “You love me!” After rolling your eyes at his goofyness you sighed in defeat and relaxed into the hug.

“You know what? I do.” You leaned in and sealed your lips again to further confirm your feelings. You would have hurt your leg a long time ago if you knew it things would end up like this.

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated^^

Taglist (feel free to either comment or massage me if you want to be added to my taglist ❤️) : @velvetmoonlght

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

return of the king messes me up every time i watch it. like. you can’t go home, home will never be the same because you have changed. you will never return from this journey. physically you may go back, but mentally a part of you is left behind. something is missing. you become changed by the grief and it never really leaves you. there was something i told my mom a while back. i told her i hadn’t felt truly happy or excited for anything in a long time. she told me that was part of being an adult. even if she didn’t mean it this way, i think i understand.

[g8d]

i wish i could somehow (believe that i) live in a reality where interacting with me isn't going to destroy this boy's heart

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[zylev-blog]

Batman opened the door, catching the falling body that had come out of the tube. Glowing green Lazarus water flowed around his feet, but he didn’t care. He gently laid the boy onto the ground, listening for breathing sounds. But he wasn’t even sure if his species could breathe. The boy was no older than Tim, with stark-white hair, and pale green skin. The boy wasn’t human, that was for sure, but as to what species he was, Batman had no clue. The teenager hadn’t even opened his eyes since being removed from the tube.

The Lazarus water didn’t smell quite like the pits he was used to. The water smelled cleaner, stronger. Less like battery acid and more like a strong-scented cleaner that he couldn’t give a name to.

He grasped the boy by the shoulders as he picked him up bridal style. He needed to take the boy to the cave, and figure out if he was even alive. A regular hospital wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

“Batman, we’ve apprehended the last of the men in white suits.” Red Robin said over the comms.

“Good,” His voice was gruff, “Make sure they don’t escape before police arrive.”

Tim didn’t bother saying anything else to him. Neither of them were in the mood for jokes. Not after what they had seen tonight. They had stumbled across a lab in Gotham in an abandoned warehouse. They had thought that it was a Joker hideout when they first arrived, but they had quickly found out that wasn’t the case. After they had began to investigate, they had found corpses of many people that had been thrown into a pit. The bodies had evidence of vivisection, torture, and experimentation. The bodies had ranged from children to adults, but the results were all the same. They were all dead.

They had found tubes like the ones used at Cadmus. They held a few humanoid-species, but most of them looked like they were in varying stages of death. The only tube that looked like it held someone living had been the teenage boy he now held in his arms.

The worst thing about all of this were that they had no idea what this place was, what they were doing, or why they were in Gotham. They had stumbled in by mistake.

He had a lot of work to do.

“No survivors.” Nightwing’s voice sounded. Not even Dick was in a good mood anymore, and he had been joking around for the last few hours.

Batman looked down at the boy in his arms. The boy hadn’t stirred once, hadn’t moved, and hadn’t breathed. He might be carrying a corpse for all he knew.

“And the files?” He prompted.

“Downloading.” Red Robin’s voice was grim. “You’re not going to like it.”

He didn’t like anything about this situation already. How could it get any worse?

“From what I can tell from skimming through the files,” Red Robin continued, “They were experimenting with people’s souls. They killed all of these people because they wanted to catch their ghost.”

“Hrrn.” He looked away from the teenager in his arms. Maybe he didn’t have a corpse in his arms—but a ghost. A ghost of a teenager he failed to save.

What if it had been Tim lying in his arms? Dick? Jason? Damian? Did this teenager have parents before he died, or were his parents in the pit?

The boy stirred, whipping Bruce’s attention back to him. The boy moaned in pain, starting to writhe in his arms.

“You’re safe now.” He said to the boy. “You’re saved.”

“Nnnngh.” The boy opened Lazarus green eyes to look at him. The eyes were hazy, as if exhaustion plagued them. “Batman?”

“They won’t hurt you ever again.” He promised.

“Where is my sister?” The boy asked. “They took her.”

Dick’s words played on repeat in his mind. No survivors. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“We’re still searching the base. She’ll be here somewhere.” He lied.

The boy closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. But even with Bruce watching him, the boy did not breathe. Maybe he didn’t need to anymore. Tears leaked down the boy’s cheeks, as if he knew Bruce’s lie.

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[jeneveuxrein]

mutual (AESPA Karina)

word count: 12.5K

(finished right before their comeback, but i'm a mess this month. anyhow, enjoy pls)

-- -- -- 

You couldn’t believe she’s gone. 

People talk about grief coming and going like the ocean on the shore, but to experience it firsthand like this, so suddenly with no warning whatsoever, feels like the tide pulling you in.

You didn’t want to be here. If you had the choice, you’d be on a plane to anywhere else, running away from reality instead of facing it. 

Your best friend, Kim Minjeong, died in a tragic hit-and-run accident. It hurts to say out loud. Let alone think. The worst part of it all, was that she was on the way to see you after living abroad for the past year. Guilt weighed on your shoulders, to the point where you were so close to falling off the rails, but you didn’t. 

You stare blankly at the portrait her family chose. It’s a photo you took one Christmas at the annual family party. Your parents, specifically your mothers, were close. The best of friends since university. They hoped you two would fall in love, and it was halfway a possibility—on your end. 

You couldn’t explain it as it was happening, realizing that the feelings brewing for Minjeong wasn’t how you felt for the other girl friends in your life. It was confusing, jarring, that by the time you understood what it was, she already had a boyfriend. 

It didn’t stop you from dating other women, but there was always that sliver of hope Minjeong would see you more than a childhood friend, that held you back from being committed. They noticed, which didn’t faze you since you weren’t looking for anything serious to begin with. 

You reserved those feelings for Minjeong, but now they’re pointless, unresolved, lingering, painful. 

A hand gently rests itself on your shoulder, snapping you out of your revere. You look up, and it’s Jimin. She gives you a soft smile, rubbing the spot enough to be soothing, comforting even. 

“We don’t have to be here. Our eommas said we could leave,” Karina says with the same smile still on her face. You don’t think you’ve smiled since you got the call, so it was confusing to see her smiling. 

(If you were in the right state of mind, you’d see through Karina, knowing she’s doing her best to hide how she feels.) 

You nod, and Karina extends her hand out. You let her pull you up, interlacing your fingers together. She drags you through the room, bidding farewell to the guests. They give their condolences, which irks you for some reason. These people didn’t know Minjeong the way you do, and you try letting go of Karina’s hand, but she keeps a firm grip. 

Once the cold air hits your face and the door slams shut, the mask cracks. She breaks down, falling into you as her knees give out. It’s almost reflexive how you encircle your arms around her, pulling her into you as you fight the tears threatening to spill. 

Karina was strong in front of people, but when it was around you, she was vulnerable, sensitive to her feelings and thoughts. She didn’t trust many, but she trusted you.  

“Jimin,” You whisper, voice cracking at the use of her real name instead of her baptismal name. “I’m here. What do you need?” 

Karina buries her face into your chest, sobbing as the emotions overwhelm her. You hold on tight, body immovable as you support her weight. 

(The thing is, Karina is your best friend too. You all were. An unexpected trio of childhood friends that had been through everything together.) 

After a few minutes, Karina takes a deep breath. She mumbles something you can’t quite make, and you softly ask her to repeat it. 

“Let’s get drunk.”

-- -- 

You slammed the car door shut, barely noticing Karina’s body flinch. She gave you a pointed look, rolling her eyes as she connected her phone to the bluetooth. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” You muttered, starting the car the same time she chose a song. 

“Something happened and I’d bet you tteokbokki it has to do with Minjeong,” Karina teased, chuckling when she saw you pout. “Bingo, you owe me.” 

“I just don’t get what she sees in him, he’s a fucking ass.” The scene of Minjeong laughing at  what’s-his-face’s probably not funny joke left a sour taste in your mouth. “He’s not even funny.” 

“And you are?” Karina remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“You laugh at my jokes.”

“Because you are one.”

“Okay, ouch.” You reached for the volume, turning the knob to drown out her giggles. 

Once you pulled out of the parking lot, hitting the main road, Karina asked to get dinner together. You didn’t want to, but relented when she said it was her treat. To, you know, placate witnessing how Minjeong acted around her boyfriend. It was becoming a more regular thing these past few weeks, which may be partly your fault since you actively searched for her during breaks and in the hallway. 

You arrived at the small mom-and-pop shop around the corner from your house. By pure reflex, you walked around the car to open the door and Karina let you. 

It was a weird dynamic, even though it had always been platonic. At least, to you two. Minjeong would often call herself the third wheel when you were together, something that irritated Karina while you brushed the comment off. 

Your feelings stood with Minjeong and Karina was highly aware of it. You vented about them to her constantly. Minjeong’s new relationship had increased the pining tenfold. 

“You don’t have to keep opening the doors for me. People might get the wrong impression,” Karina said as she stepped out. 

“What? Who cares what people think. I’ve been doing this forever, to you and Minjeong.” You closed the door, gentler than when you left school. 

“People think we’re dating,” Karina grumbled after you covered her body with your jacket. “Stop doing that too!” 

You pinched her shoulder. “No,” Simply stating a fact. “If people think that, whatever. You know who I like anyways.” 

You continued walking, mainly to open the door for her again, but if you had kept her pace, you would’ve heard Karina’s defeated yeah unfortunately I do.

-- --  

“Why the fuck did you buy so much?” You groan, dropping the heavy bags on the coffee table. There’s a loud clunk and Karina slaps your leg as you collapse on the couch. 

“Can you not do that? I don’t want to clean up the glass if it breaks.” Karina glares, taking the bottles out along with the snacks. 

You mumble a half-assed apology, helping her set things up. You didn’t do much except for folding the plastic bags. Karina hands you a soju bottle that you automatically unscrew for her, exchanging it for another for yourself. 

You clink bottles before you take a healthy swig of the peach flavored soju Karina made sure to get. It’s your favorite, even though she always teases you for having the taste palette of a child. It goes down smoothly as it settles bitterly in your stomach. 

You sink into the couch even deeper, crossing your arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. Karina takes the bottles and places them on the table before she lets out a sigh. Your eyes follow her movements, arranging the chips and candies in an orderly fashion. It’s a habit of hers whenever she’s stressed, anything to keep her distracted so she doesn’t have to think. 

“Karina,” Your hand reaches out after she turns the bottles around again, making sure they face the same direction. “Come here,” You pull her into you, sliding your arm around her waist. Her body’s tense. It’s practically radiating off her, that you do what you know best—wrapping your other arm around until she melts into you. 

It takes a moment longer than usual. Not like you timed yourself in situations like this. You have always been perceptive of Karina’s feelings and moods, reading her like an open book while others found her difficult to talk to. 

(Well, for a shallow reason. Karina’s beautiful, gorgeous, a bombshell. Growing up, boys and girls thought she was intimidating based on that reason alone. She wasn’t, not in the slightest. You may have been biased since you’ve known her forever, but you didn’t think she was. A bit sarcastic with the right amount of kindness. Her being visually appealing was just a bonus.)

Karina doesn’t like physical affection, but she never had that issue with you. So it’s nothing out of the ordinary when she slots her head in the crook of your neck, body relaxing into the embrace as she throws her arm over your stomach. 

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Karina says quietly.

Your heart breaks all over again. You had been so wrapped up in your head that you neglected to be the support Karina needs. You may have lost the what if in your life, but she lost her best friend too. 

“I know,” You murmur, fingers tracing up and down her back. “It’s fucked.” 

“Who am I supposed to call when you’re being difficult?” It’s a joke, but it doesn’t sound like one as her voice cracks at the end. 

“Me. Just tell me I’m annoying.” You reassure her, pulling her in closer as you rest your cheek on the top of her head. 

“You’re annoying right now,” Karina huffs and you actually crack a smile. “I don’t know what to do next.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s strange, melancholic and whatever other word like that fits.” 

“What is?”  

“From now on, Minjeong’s only a memory.” 

-- -- 

You held your head low, avoiding the remaining students in the hallway as you walked out of the principal’s office. Your cheek hurt, but it was more embarrassing to make eye contact with someone for them to ask what happened if they didn’t know at this point. 

Once you made it outside, you beelined straight for the sidewalk. Your car was in the shop so you had no choice but to take public transportation today—of all days. It wasn’t an easy escape since you were shoved, knocking you off balance that you almost squared up again, but immediately dropped your fists when you realized who it was. 

“Karina, what’re you—” She shoved you again. You noticed Minjeong a meter away, eating ice cream. You pleaded for help, but her view was blocked with the wrath of Yu Jimin. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shrugged, acting as if you didn’t know what she was referring to. “Let me see your face.” Her hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes widened when she saw the bruise on your face. 

One would think there would be some sympathy involved, yet here you were, getting physically assaulted by your best friend. You were glad there weren’t that many people loitering, but there were still a handful that could spark a rumor. 

“Jimin, enough,” Minjeong sighed, standing from the ledge. “Let’s just talk to him first okay? Stop hurting him.”

“No,” Karina said sharply, shaking her head as she prepared for another swing. “If he wants to get into a fight so badly, then we’re fighting right here.”

“Domestic disturbance,” Minjeong mumbled as she stepped in between you, effectively halting Karina from landing another hit. 

“Move.” It came out as a warning, but it didn’t scare Minjeong in the slightest. 

“Why did you get into a fight?” Minjeong turned her head slightly. Karina wouldn’t hit her. 

“What’re you even talking about?” Playing dumb wouldn’t get you anywhere, but it was better than explaining why there was a nasty bruise on your face. 

Minjeong sighed again, turning around completely to face you. “Ryujin told Yeji that she saw you basically beat up two seniors. The reason why, however, was unknown.” 

Look, you didn’t mean for it to happen. 

You were generally not a violent person, but you had a bit of a temper. Your mother put you in a bunch of activities growing up, like taekwondo and basketball, to keep you busy and ‘out of trouble’ as she liked to say. She didn’t want you to fall with the wrong crowd, but it wasn’t like that was possible with Minjeong and Jimin by your side. They kept you in check more than anyone else in your life.

You would argue that the only way to really get under your skin was if it involved said women, which was why you saw red when you overheard these two fucks talking about Karina so crassly as you were getting your things for practice. It was disgusting, and it pissed you off. The things they said weren’t appropriate, especially so out in the open. 

Naturally, you had to say something. They didn’t appreciate when you told them to shut up, going further to say that since they had seen you around Karina so much that you had to be fucking her and a lot of other things that you didn’t want to repeat–ever. 

Obviously not the fucking case, but you digressed. 

“We just got into it,” You shrugged, stepping away from Minjeong as she tilted her head, curious at your response. “Boys just being boys.” 

“You have a fucking bruise on your face!” Karina exclaimed, throwing her hands up in desperation. “Don’t use that fucking excuse.” 

“Oppa,” Minjeong crossed her arms, waiting for you to give the real reason. 

“They said some things and I put them in their place, that’s all.” 

“What could they have possibly said that they both needed to go to the hospital?!” Karina questioned. You could tell she was getting tired of your vagueness. “Ryujin ran to get Mingyu to pull you off, but by the time they made it back, none of you were there.” 

“Look, I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” You bit back with more attitude than you intended, but your face hurt and all you wanted to do was sulk and brood. 

“Too fucking bad,” Karina slid herself in between you and Minjeong. “We’re not going home until you fucking tell us why.” Minjeong carefully pulled her back, but Karina being as stubborn as ever wouldn’t budge. 

“You really want to fucking know?” Your emotions were getting the best of you. You didn’t want to do this now, maybe tomorrow or the day after, but you just needed to think about your actions. Though, if you were being honest, you’d do it again. 

“We’re still here, aren’t we?” Karina replied sarcastically, ticking you off more. 

“Fine, if you want to be a fucking child about it,” You let out a breath, rolling your eyes as you recount with as much detail as possible about what they said. How they wondered what kind of underwear she wore. How they just knew that she was a ‘freak’ so to speak in bed. How it wouldn’t be hard to ‘tap’ that ass, or whatever. Or how she’d easily give it up since the rumors of her sleeping with every guy were ‘apparently’ true. 

(As far as you knew, Karina had one boyfriend her entire life and she hardly went out on dates. If she did, it was always with a group of people.) 

“So there, that’s what they fucking said. Obviously I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk about you like that. I’m going home.” You ignored the way Karina’s expression softened and the way Minjeong’s mouth opened, slightly in shock. You didn’t want to tell either of them that you got into a fight because of Karina, but obviously said woman just had to get in your business. 

(Granted, okay, it involved her. But that was beside the point.) 

“Wait!” Karina called after you as soon as you walked through the school gates. 

You didn’t turn back. You kept on pushing. You were ashamed enough for getting suspended for the rest of the week, and your parents were going to have a field day. 

You just wanted to sleep at this point. 

You’d deal with Karina and Minjeong later. 

-- 

Later came as you were falling asleep. 

There was a knock on your door that startled you. You turned over, hoping that whoever was on the other side would leave. Your mother already went off on you for acting so recklessly, but by some cosmic force, your father actually supported your decision. He didn’t necessarily agree with violence and thought you would have handled it better, but he didn’t get on you as much as his better half. 

Instead of another knock, you heard the doorknob click. You forgot to lock it since you collapsed on the bed, exhaustion creeping in from the day. The door quietly shut before the bed dipped. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You smelled her perfume as soon as she walked in. 

“Can we talk?” Karina’s voice came out softly. You didn’t move, staying as still as possible. “I know you’re still awake.” 

When you didn’t respond, you felt Karina pressed up against yours, an arm snaking around. 

“Karina, let me sleep,” You grunted out, scooting away. It was futile since she latched onto you like a koala, holding onto you like her life depended on it. 

“No,” Her head shook against your back, face nuzzling in between your shoulder blades. “I’m not leaving until we talk.” 

“Then goodnight,” You stated bluntly, trying to shrug her off. She held on tighter. 

“Fine, guess I’m sleeping over.” Karina let go. It didn’t take that long for you to realize she was likely sending a message to her parents that she’d be staying the night. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and your parents always welcomed her.

“You have a class early tomorrow.” 

“And I don’t care,” Karina said simply as you heard her place her phone on the nightstand. You sighed again, literally rolling off your bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud. “What? What’re you doing?” 

You pushed yourself up, noticing she wore your hoodie you had been looking for, but made no comment. “I don’t think either of our parents would appreciate finding us in bed together.”

Karina reached for your shirt, pulling you until you reluctantly end up on your bed again. “Do you think I care?” 

“Clearly not.” You muttered, resting your head on the pillow. You tried to get comfortable, closing your eyes, but you felt Karina’s gaze bore on the side of your face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Karina moved—annoyingly—until her leg brushed up against yours underneath the blanket. “Thank you,” She mumbled.

You knew what she was thanking you for, but you didn’t have the energy to get into it. You still wanted to sleep. 

It was just… 

You weren’t expecting to sleep next to Karina. 

--

Waking up early was normal, except the fact that you woke up this morning with an arm over your stomach. You almost freaked out, but quickly remembering that you fell asleep with an unrelenting Karina. 

You tried to move, but her hand bunched the fabric of your shirt. You tried again, but this time Karina woke up. She immediately let go, pushing herself up before profusely apologizing. 

“It’s fine,” You sat up, waving her off as you leaned against your headboard. You glanced at the clock, and it was still dark outside with the sun peeking through the curtains. “How’d you sleep? Sorry if I kept moving.” 

Karina mirrored you, sitting up while pulling the blanket. You noticed she removed your hoodie, shoulders exposed by a thin tank top that you had to look away out of respect. “I forgot you run really warm. I had to take off my hoodie in the middle of the night.” 

“Do you mean my hoodie?” 

“Other than that,” Karina didn’t acknowledge your question, “I slept fine.” 

“Cool,” You avoided looking directly at her. “You should leave. You have an early class today.” 

“Not until we talk about what happened yesterday,” Karina said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest in your periphery. “Your father told me more about what happened.” 

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a big deal. I’m not going to school the rest of the week so my mother is using that as free labor at the restaurant.”

Karina tugged at your arm, forcing you to look at her. Your gaze fell directly on her chest and you blushed. It was too early, and being this close to her didn’t exactly stop your body from reacting. You didn’t quite have a control on your hormones. You quickly averted your eyes to hers. “It is a big deal.” If she noticed you gawking at her chest, she didn’t comment. “You got into a fight because of me.” 

“Yeah and I’d do it again,” You shrugged, eyes looking everywhere else except her. “You don’t deserve that.”

“People are going to talk regardless,” Karina sighed, shaking her head. She had a point, but it didn’t mean you’d let that stop you if you heard it yourself. “I don’t care what people say about me, and you shouldn’t either.”

“I do. I fucking care if someone’s talking about you like that. It’s fucking—” 

Karina placed her index finger on your lips, shushing you, “You’re not going to be able to stop every single person that talks about me in that way. I’ve heard it. Yeji’s heard it. We’ve all heard it, but it doesn’t mean we throw a fist every time. Yeah it’s annoying, but it’s not worth the trouble. They could say whatever they want about me, but only the people I care about know the truth, right?” 

You hated to admit she had another point, so you relented. She poked your cheek, “Stop brooding. I appreciate you sticking up for me, but really, it’s okay.” 

“I’d do it again,” You pouted, crossing your arms. 

“Yes you’ve said that,” Karina chuckled, resting her head on your shoulder. 

You couldn’t help how you felt your friend down there reacted, stirring at the proximity of an attractive woman especially in your bed. You cleared your throat, needing to get away from the situation and into the shower—a cold one at that. 

Karina was your best friend and you had a crush on your other best friend. 

This was all too confusing. 

“Walk me home?” Karina asked innocently, unaware of your inner turmoil. 

You nodded, not trusting your voice, but ultimately jumping out of bed. “I’m going to shower first.” 

Karina waved you off, sinking back underneath the covers. 

Thank god you thought.

You had to remind yourself you liked Minjeong. You just had a natural reaction. 

(That was what you told yourself, ignoring the scratch behind your ribcage as you looked back at Karina with her eyes closed on your pillow.) 

-- -- 

Karina whines as you beat her again in Mario Kart. She had the bright idea to play after you finished another bottle of soju. 

“Why don’t you let me win?!” Karina whacks you over the head, causing you to drop the controller. “You’re such an ass.”

“You’re the one that wanted to play!” You glare, rubbing the spot. “It’s not my problem that you suck.” 

“Shut up,” Karina puts you in a headlock, catching you off guard as you struggle to get out. “Say sorry.”

“What are you, five?” Her grip tightens at the sarcasm. “Okay okay, I’m sorry!” 

Karina finally lets go, huffing as you glare. She grabs another unopened bottle, handing it to you without saying anything. You reluctantly open it, but not before taking a sip that she hits you again. 

“Jesus christ,” You mutter once you give the bottle. “My neighbors are going to think I’m being abused.”

Karina rolls her eyes before standing up. You ask where she was going, and she answers that she was leaving. “It’s getting late. I better leave to catch the last train.” 

“What?” You pull her back down before she could take a step. “Just stay the night. I’ll take the couch, you take the bed.” It’s a simple solution. You also don’t want Karina to leave yet. It’s been a while since you spent time alone together. 

Karina contemplates it for a moment, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, please stay,” You nod, tilting your head towards your room, “Go change into some of my clothes.” Adding with an easy smile, “Just like old times.”

Karina laughs, shaking her head shyly, “Do I get to keep a hoodie or two?”

“Absolutely not,” You deadpan, bursting into laughter a second later as she trots to your room. “You have more than enough!” You yell after her, shaking your head. 

It’s nice to be with Karina. Life has been busy, leaving little to no time to actually see each other. You hadn’t seen her in almost four months, and that was at her birthday dinner Minjeong planned. You texted here and there, but it was hard planning anything since she was in and out of the country. 

Your best friend is a model for high fashion luxury brands. And, well, you’re just you, living a relatively normal life. She had a completely different lifestyle that associated her with a bunch of people in an industry you weren’t familiar with. When she caught her ‘big break,’ you were nothing but supportive. 

Time was precious. Minjeong dying definitely taught you that hard lesson, so you’ll take whatever time you can with Karina before she’s off jet setting across the world again. 

You realize that you’re drunk. Not tipsy. Flat out drunk. You glance at the empty bottles on the coffee table, counting them as you wait for Karina to return. There’s a couple unopened ones, which you’ll drink and you’ll call it a night. You don’t have any plans tomorrow, but you also don’t want to nurse a hangover. It gets harder to bounce back and be a functional member of society.

It could’ve been five minutes or thirty minutes, but the moment Karina walks back to the living room, your brain short circuits. You have to consciously close your mouth, jaw clenching as you take in her appearance. You have to also bite your tongue to halt whatever thoughts you’re having. 

You’ve seen Karina wear all sorts of your clothes throughout the years. From shorts to pants to shirts to sweaters to jackets to whatever else was in your closet. You thought nothing of it before, but now you’re thinking everything of it. 

Her outfit choice isn’t anything crazy, and you’ve seen her wear something like this before—sort of. She took one of your shirts, that would fit just right on you, but because you have a bit of height on her, it’s completely oversized. The shirt falls just past mid-thigh, and you couldn’t remember if the shirt was that big on you. You say this outfit is sort of similar because she usually paired it with shorts or sweats, but not this time. 

All you see is skin, her skin, and you can’t help the way your eyes trail up her thigh, mind drifting if she’s wearing anything underneath. 

You pray to the universe or whatever god she believed it that she is, because even the thought of nothing has your soul needing to be cleansed of the sins crossing your mind. 

“Everything okay…?” Karina’s question snaps you out of you ogling her. 

You clear your throat, nodding your head, “Yeah.” The word comes out a lot rougher than you expected. “Yeah,” You repeat, hoping it sounded a lot smoother.

(It didn’t.)

Karina apologizes for taking so long, explaining she took a quick shower to freshen up, as she reclaims her seat on the couch. You keep your eyes up, forcing yourself not to look down at the exposed skin. 

“I didn’t even realize you were gone for that long,” You say sheepishly, bashfully looking away and you fuck up by looking down. The shirt’s still big on her, but it slightly slid up, showing more. 

“Okay ass,” Karina rolls her eyes, swatting her hand playfully on your shoulder. “Go change. You have to be uncomfortable in that.” She gestures to your slacks and dress shirt. You took the tie off once she challenged you to a race. 

You agree, standing, but not without ruffling her hair because you just want to annoy her. She curses at you as you walk away, dodging the couch pillow in the process. 

You choose something simple—black sweats and black shirt. You decide to shower too because your hair feels oily and you need to wash away whatever that was in the living room. A cold shower too. To cool your body from the soju. 

(That’s what you tell yourself anyways.) 

You don’t take too long, but as you’re getting dressed, you hear a shriek from the kitchen. You run out from the room to Karina fumbling with the stove and water rolling over the small pot. You quickly notice the flames growing with each drop of water, and instinctively rush over, wrapping a strong arm around Karina to pull her away. 

“Be careful,” You lightly scold her, shutting the stove off with Karina pressed against your side. “What were you doing?” 

“I was hungry,” Karina’s arms rest on your chest, shaking her head. “I was looking for ramyun since I know you always have a supply of them.” 

You roll your eyes, “I’ll grab it and make it for you.” You move to let Karina go, but she tenses in your arm. Your grip slackens, and there’s a wide-eyed expression on her face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

Karina’s mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. She glances down and you realize why she’s suddenly frozen in your arm. When you heard the commotion, you completely dropped what you were doing, as in, you didn’t put a shirt on because you thought she hurt herself.

Clearly rationale goes out the window if Karina’s involved. 

(It wouldn’t be the first time. 

More on that later.)

“I—uh,” You stutter and drop your arm awkwardly, grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe the surface. “Sorry. I’ll clean this up and put a shirt on and make us food. Sit on the couch or do whatever.” It came out rushed, dismissive, embarrassed that you couldn’t look her in the eyes.

Karina’s seen you without a shirt before, but for some reason… 

It was different. 

Really different. 

That you didn’t know what you were thinking or feeling. 

-- -- 

“Oppa!” Minjeong yelled, grabbing your wrist. “There’s no point, he already left. Just let it go.” 

“Fuck that. I’m going to beat his fucking ass.” You were upset. Actually, upset didn’t even describe it. You were livid. For a small woman, Minjeong was able to stop you, yanking your arm back to keep you from doing something stupid. “Minjeong, let go.” You said calmly, but you definitely weren’t. 

Minjeong sighed, rolling her eyes. She didn’t let go, tightening her hand, “You ‘beating his ass’ or whatever,” She mocked and that added fuel to the fire, “Isn’t going to do anything.”

“It’s Karina’s birthday. How the fuck is he going to break up with her on her birthday?” You spat, frustrated with how the night was turning out. 

“Jaewook’s an ass,” Minjeong emphasized, “We’ve known this. She knows this too. She wasn’t serious about him.”

“She’s fucking crying.” Your free hand gestured to where Karina was. Her face was buried in Yeji’s neck while Ryujin rubbed her back, consoling her. “Who the fuck does he think he is?” 

“Look,” Minjeong slowly released her hand, gauging that you wouldn’t go anywhere, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It—”

Your childhood best friend cut you off, “It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. It was always going to happen, it just happened to be today. If you want to do something useful, go make Karina feel better.” Her hands gently rest on your shoulders, pushing you in said woman’s direction. 

“What do I even say?” You asked, suddenly uncertain how to do something you had done before.

Minjeong shrugged, a teasing smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “You know her as well as I do. Maybe slightly less, but I digress. Now go. She most likely wants to see you.” 

If it were any other time, you would ask what Minjeong meant by that. Given the circumstances, there was no time to elaborate. 

You walked up to the trio, and Yeji noticed you first, tilting her head curiously. Ryujin turned around, tapping Karina lightly on the shoulder that she did the same. 

“Um, hey.” You scratched the back of your head, a well-known habit you did whenever you were uncomfortable. “Can we talk?” 

Karina wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, nodding. Some telepathic conversation happened between her and Yeji, that she gave Karina one last squeeze before she took your hand in hers. 

You guided her through the crowd and out of the bar, the cool air from the night hitting your face. It oddly felt suffocating in there, but you rationalized it was because of the amount of people. 

This breath of fresh air was exactly what you needed. 

You walked a bit, away from the entrance of the bar with Karina’s hand still in yours. To anyone passing by, it would look like you were a couple. That happened a lot. Even your own friends (Minjeong included) thought you were secretly dating, but you and Karina vehemently denied such rumors. 

“I’m sorry for ruining the night,” Karina said softly, voice slightly raspy as you passed by a coffee shop. “I didn’t think I’d react like that.” 

You gave her a confused look, legs stopping on the sidewalk as you turned to face her. “Wait, why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Karina forced a smile, eyes looking down like she was being scolded by her parents. “I meant to end things before tonight, but with work, I haven’t been around.” With the recent signing with an agency, she had been traveling in and out of the country. You yourself had hardly seen her, only knowing what’s going on from Minjeong. “I just didn’t think it’d hit me this hard. Another failed relationship to add to my belt.” She said bitterly, biting her lip and you saw how hard she was trying to keep it together. 

Without much thought and since you were still holding hands, you pulled her into a hug. It took her by surprise as her arms stayed limply at her sides. You weren’t the same height anymore—at a least tall enough to rest your chin on her head—so Karina fit perfectly against you. Her body trembled, face burying into your chest, and you didn’t mind that there would be tear stains on your shirt. 

What you did mind was how she was feeling. She had always been hung up on dating once you graduated high school. Minjeong told her to just be patient while you never understood the sudden change. It wasn’t like finding suitors was hard for her, but you witnessed that keeping them was the problem. 

(A problem you couldn’t solve.)

“It’ll happen,” You mumbled, holding her tighter, “I don’t know when, but it will. If it makes you feel any better, Mina dumped me because I was, according to her, emotionally unavailable.” 

That comment made Karina giggle. She looked up, meeting your gaze, “But you are. You like Minjeong.” Something flashed in her eyes as she said that, but it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Yeah I do,” You shrugged. “But I like you too. So if some punk like Jaewook couldn’t see how great you are, his loss.”

Karina’s arms wrapped around your waist, “Stop,” She whined, embarrassed at the sudden compliment. “You’re making me blush.” 

“Good,” You nodded. You didn’t know what you were going to accomplish by pulling her away from the party, but you were glad you did. 

“Wait,” Karina tilted her head back again, “You didn’t go after him right?” 

You gave a sheepish smile, “I may or may not have tried.” Karina slapped your lower back, followed by a small pinch. “Okay I tried, but Minjeong stopped me.”

“What have I told you about getting into fights? You never listen to me.” Karina huffed, unwrapping her arms before stepping backwards, crossing them over her chest. 

(You ignored how you wanted to pull her back in.) 

“I didn’t get into one,” You retorted, raising an eyebrow. 

“But you would have.”

“It would’ve been for you!” You reasoned as Karina started walking away, shaking her head. 

“I know,” Karina said once you caught up, shoving you off balance. “You’re still the same as when we were kids.”

“When it comes to you? Absolutely. That’ll never change.”

-- -- 

You place the tray on the coffee table. Two bowls of ramyun along with a plate filled with whatever sides you had. You even cooked an egg since you know that’s how she liked it. 

“Thanks,” Karina sends you a small smile, reaching for the utensils. 

It’s just a tad awkward. After the ordeal in the kitchen, you went to put a shirt on and prepared a quick meal. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to satisfy a drunken craving. 

You eat in silence, the only sound is the slurping of noodles and the occasional blowing to cool them. You’re at a loss for words because as much as you want to say something, your mind is elsewhere. 

It fell into uncharted territory, a place you didn’t know existed, hidden from you until you absolutely had to find it. You couldn’t figure out if that consciously or subconsciously, but all you know is that however you felt for Minjeong doesn’t compare to what you’re feeling for Karina. You can discern that it’s the same, but different. It’s more intense, more intentional, just more. 

(Maybe you’re just drunk, but don’t people say that when you’re drunk, it magnifies feelings you already have?)

You finish eating at the same time, awkwardly smiling before you stand to clean up. Karina doesn’t let you though, instructing you to relax since you did everything. “It’s only fair,” She says quietly. 

As Karina puts things away, you grab an unopened bottle off the table. You doubt alcohol will help you understand what exactly you’re feeling, but it’ll keep them at bay. 

(Or it won’t. Who really knows at this point.) 

Your body feels warm, especially your cheeks. You hardly pay any attention to what Karina’s doing, but keep an ear out in case something happens again. You’re lost in your thoughts that you don’t feel the couch cushion dip, but Karina’s arm brushing against your arm snaps you out. 

“You okay?” Karina bites her lip, that the thought she’s cute crosses your mind. 

“Ye-ah.” The word gets stuck, turning a one-syllable word into two. “Should we finish these, and then go to bed?” 

More alcohol sounds like a bad idea, but there isn’t anyone to stop you. Plus, you couldn’t let it go to waste. 

Karina nods, and you sense a question coming, but she doesn’t ask anything. She instead tells you a bit of her current project, somewhere in Paris, and how she just left without any warning. Her manager was pissed, but she didn’t care. She needed to return to Korea and be here for this. For you is what she meant, but you’d never know that. 

“Are they mad?” You ask out of curiosity. Karina barely spoke about her job with you so this would be the first time you hear it from her. 

Chuckling, “No. They understand where I’m coming from, and even if they took me off, I couldn’t care about it. This is more important.” 

What you heard was Karina being a good friend, a good daughter, to be there in this serious time, but you felt she meant that you were more important than her job. It could be your imagination, making something out of nothing. 

You are an important person in Karina’s life, but not that important. You didn’t see yourself as someone that had that much of a presence in her life. Maybe when you were younger, but as you grew up, you both had different friends. 

(But you had always been there for each other.)

Whatever weirdness that was there, vanished, poof. It was as if whatever formed wasn’t there, but you’d bet your life that it was. The moment passed, but you were stuck. 

The conversation shifts into something light, easy, blatantly ignoring the tension that hung over you as you spoke about your job and the mundanity of it. Karina listens. She always does with such attention that you had never seen her give anyone else. She hung on every word, eyes always on you as if you were the only two people in the room. 

You’re not keeping track of time as you talk. It’s easy talking about whatever crosses your mind without worrying about what you’re saying. Karina knows you, never judging but always quick to call you out when you’re wrong. You valued her opinion the most so you listened. 

“Where was Jennie?” The question catches you off guard, not expecting that name to come out of Karina’s mouth. They didn’t get along. Cordial for your sake, but you heard it from Jennie and Minjeong that they didn’t like each other. 

You thought they’d have a lot in common. They’re both models, so it made sense that they’d have something to talk about. They knew of each other, but never worked together. 

You also thought the first time they met, introducing Jennie to both Karina and Minjeong, went well. They seemed friendly, laughing a lot from what you heard. 

That was not the case. 

Minjeong said that Karina said that Jennie was not worthy of your time and attention as Jennie said that Karina liked you, pretty much in love with you. You didn’t know what she was talking about because you had never seen Karina that way nor had she ever acted like she saw you more than a friend. You had seen Karina in relationships, and how she was with them wasn’t like that with you. 

It was a point of contention in your relationship. Jennie accused you of using her to make Karina jealous. You called her delusional because there was no way Karina could ever see you that way, no possibility of that happening because your best friend was out of your league. Hell, you didn’t even play the same sport so there was no competition.

“Ah, well we broke up a month or so ago,” You say vaguely. You didn’t feel the need to go into detail about why. “It was mutual. Things just weren’t working out.” 

“What?” Karina turns to face you. “What does that mean?” 

What happened was Jennie was going away for longer and longer periods of time. You knew what you signed up for, but within the past few months, she’d take on more projects. You learned she was avoiding you after she saw you and Karina from a distance, as she said she had never seen you look at her like that. When you asked what she meant, she couldn’t explain it. She just said it was different, and you denied having any feelings for Karina, which she chuckled at. She agreed that maybe you didn’t, but she couldn’t bear to find out. 

You were stumped after she left, leaving you alone in your apartment, staring at the door. You didn’t know what to even say because Jennie had it so wrong. You liked Minjeong. 

Right?

You couldn’t let it rest. So you decided you’d tell Minjeong how you felt, to prove to Jennie that who you actually liked was Minjeong—not Karina, definitely not Karina. 

You would never know now. Minjeong was gone, and any chance of learning if she felt the same was impossible. The ‘what if’ kind of situation if things hadn’t happened the way it did. 

“Scheduling and all that,” You tell a partial truth, figuring getting into that right now would reveal something you’re not ready to admit. “I’m not hurt about it. It was easy to move on.”

(Would you ever move on from Minjeong? That question lingered in your mind.

Unless…)

Karina doesn’t believe you, but she accepts it, still saying I’m sorry as you finish what’s left in your bottle. You tilt your head all the way back and when you’re done, she’s doing the same. 

“Would you have ever told Minjeong how you felt?” Karina asks quietly, eyes focused on the bottle as her hands fidget. 

“I was going to,” You say simply as her eyes widen in surprise. You take that as a sign to continue, “I think after my last conversation with Jennie, I needed to know. I planned to tell her that day, but now it’ll just remain a mystery.” 

You aren’t prepared for the next words that come out of her mouth, “So pretend I’m her and tell me.” 

“Karina, what?” Shocked at how easily she said it, as if it was just telling her what day of the week it is. “What’re you saying?” 

“Tell me what you would’ve told her,” Karina paraphrases it, but it isn’t making sense why she’d suggest it. “What’s the big deal?”

“Uh, that’s personal,” You argue. She raised an eyebrow, calling your lie. She’s heard it all throughout the years, but this time, it felt like something you had to keep from her. 

“What’s different telling me now than all the other times you have before?” 

Karina’s right. 

It shouldn’t be different, but your gut tells you it is. That whatever you say now is actually meant for her. 

“Come on,” Karina continues, grabbing your wrist in her hand. “You telling me won’t change the outcome.” She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either. “Think of it as a way to get everything off your chest.” 

You hesitate. Your anxiety spikes. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you actually consider it. You’re scared that you’re going to say something you’re not prepared to admit. 

Emotions are high. Being drunk makes it hard to regulate them, let alone understand what you’re exactly feeling. And you go back to Karina’s current outfit, which doesn’t have you thinking clearly to begin with. 

It’s a split second choice, but you relent, deciding that whatever you’re feeling is how you truly feel. Maybe it’s the soju. Maybe it’s Karina. Maybe—ultimately—it’s a sobering realization that you’ve actually fooled yourself all these years. Jennie was right. 

You were—are—in love with the woman in front of you. 

But she’s telling you to confess how you felt about Minjeong when that never existed. Minjeong was still your best friend, but you quickly realize just how different your relationships with each woman were. 

Karina tugs your sleeve, breaking you out of your thoughts. She tilts her head, concern etching her eyebrows closer. “I mean you don’t have to. 

“I…” You trail off. “Okay,” Nodding, “I’ll tell you, but take me seriously.” 

“When do I not?” Karina smiles, nodding. She swings her legs up, causing your gaze to drift down, as she crosses one over the other. 

You couldn’t believe you’re doing this, but here goes nothing. You hope she doesn’t read between the lines for once. 

“So I have something to tell you,” You start because even though you rehearsed it a thousand times for Minjeong, this is the first time for Karina. You have no idea how to say it and your current state of mind isn’t making it easy. Her gaze is unwavering, adding more pressure. “I’m…” 

“You’re…” Karina gives you a soft smile, knowing where the sentence is going, but unknowing that this is to her. 

“In love with you,” You admit out loud for the first time and for yourself. You decide to keep it short because there’s just too much going on in your head. “I don’t have much else to say, but yeah, I’m in love with you.” 

Karina’s jaw drops, eyes squinting as you don’t say anything else. “That’s it?” 

“Well, yeah?” You didn’t feel the weight leave your chest the moment you said those few words. If anything, the weight got heavier, pressing harder. 

“There’s no way. You’ve told me way more than that,” Karina argues, scooting closer that her leg brushes yours. “You’re hiding something.” 

“What could I possibly be hiding?” You snap, moving your leg because physical contact is not what you need right now. 

“I don’t know,” Karina shrugs, “But there’s something you’re not telling me.” You couldn’t say much, so you stayed quiet. That was enough for further questions, or from your point of view, demands. “Tell me.”

“I told you I’m in love with you,” You say easier, more confidently, more sure. “What else is there to know?” 

“Present tense?” Stupid semantics. “You’re in love with me?” Karina points to herself, as if she’s clarifying your statement. 

What did you have to lose? Oh, that’s right, her. You never got to the what happens after part in your head since you were still comprehending what’s happening now. 

“Yes,” Here goes nothing, “I’m in love with you. I think it was always you, not Minjeong, that I actually had feelings for. You’re one of the best people I know and I’m grateful for you in my life. I’m starting to realize that if there’s anyone I’ve ever lost my mind for, it was you.” 

You look away, shy and embarrassed for saying all that. Karina stares at the side of your face, and you don’t know what she’s thinking. Your body feels warm, and you couldn’t blame the alcohol. The room’s quiet, tension thickening the longer she doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re in love with me,” Karina repeats, unsure that she has to say it to herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. 

“I mean, yeah, I think? I’m a bit drunk but you’re making me feel things I’ve never felt,” Biting your lip, “Maybe acknowledged is the better word.” 

When you look up, Karina’s lips catch yours and you light up. Your body goes from warm to hot, burning at the sensation of her. Her arms fall on your shoulders, steadying herself as she lets out a sigh against your lips. Body pressed against you as you sink into the couch. 

“You have no idea,” Karina breathes out, air hot on your lips, “How much I’ve wanted to hear that.”  

As you start to move your lips, Karina pulls away. You go to chase her, but her hands firmly keep you in place. Your body tenses, hands twitching at the need to have her close again, but you stay. 

“And if I loved you back? What then?” Karina asks, voice transforming into something you’ve never heard—or better, experienced. It sends a shiver down your spine, and she smirks as your jaw clenches. “Well?” 

“Do you? Do you love me?” You don’t recognize your own voice as the words leave your mouth. 

“You’re an idiot,” Karina leans forward and pecks you sweetly on the cheek. “Completely oblivious,” She murmurs against your skin, lips ghosting your ear. You lose it when her teeth nip at your earlobe. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” 

You’re about to respond when Karina places her index finger on your lips. You kiss it, eyes slowly meeting hers once you get to the tip. “Prove it.”

Karina’s expression darkens, and you’re fucked. It goes straight to your cock as it stirs underneath your sweats. “Let’s go.” She stands, taking you with her, “You’ll eat your words soon enough.” 

You want to eat her out, but you’ll see what she does first. 

Karina drags you to your room. A lot of thoughts cross your mind, and your imagination runs wild. You aren’t, however, prepared to be guided to sit on the chair across your bed. You typically used this piece of furniture as a placeholder for your clothes that you were too lazy to put in the laundry basket. It was in the bathroom, but some days, you were exhausted.

A finger tilts your gaze to meet Karina’s, heat shoots through your body. Her eyes are glazed over, hooded with lust as she watches you like prey. “I’ll show you,” She murmurs, “Watch me.” 

Her wish is your command as she slowly leans back, fingernail lightly scratching on your chin. She glances at your crotch, smirking at the pitched tent poking through. You weren’t small by any means, well above the average, that there was no way to hide it. 

“Keep your hands here,” Karina guides them to the arm rest, “Don’t move.” What she says, you do. She kisses you softly, tongue trailing against your lips. You groan when she pulls away, eyes filled with mirth. 

“You know…” Karina trails off, slowly walking backwards, “I’ve wondered what you’d feel like.” Her knees hit the bed, playfully laying down. “Especially after you slept with Yeji.” There’s a slight tinge of jealousy in her tone. 

It was a one time thing. Yeji wanted to get dinner after midterms, and you were the one willing while everyone else wanted to sleep. You didn’t know how it happened, but you ended up in bed with Yeji to blow off steam. Obviously Karina and Minjeong found out. The latter chuckled while the former gave you the cold shoulder for a whole week. She couldn’t believe you’d sleep with her best friend, and you didn’t see the big deal. You were single regardless of your feelings for Minjeong, you had needs. 

Karina props herself on her elbows, legs spreading that the shirt (your shirt) hikes up, exposing more and more of her skin. “She literally would not shut up about you for a week.” 

It’s a vague memory since it happened so long ago, and you remember getting teased by the group. You had no idea Yeji was so vocal about it. 

You watch the way Karina trails her finger down your shirt, pausing at the hem before you meet her eyes once again. “Naturally, I could not stop thinking about you for a week and then some.” Adding slowly, “She was very detailed.”

In a subtle move, her hand slips underneath, knees falling open like a book and you sharply inhale when the action confirms what you had been wondering since she walked out of your room. 

“Karina,” You growl, but you don’t move. She told you to stay, but your body is practically screaming to pounce. 

“Bet you weren’t expecting this,” Karina teases, eyes fluttering as she swipes a finger lightly through her folds. “I wasn’t expecting anything to happen, but… I’m glad I’m comfortable.”

Then it starts.

You’ve had thoughts about Karina before, especially as a teenager. Guilt washed over you anytime you thought of her like that. She was your best friend. It was slightly hypocritical to say since you could say the same about Minjeong, but there was something different about Karina. She was the type of girl you could never get close to. Untouchable in that sense, and it may have annoyed you whenever someone did get close to her in a way you never would. 

Until now. 

You watch, nearly holding your breath, as Karina touches herself. It doesn’t help your downstairs situation when her eyes are focused on you the whole time. You’re witnessing first hand how Karina pleasures herself, and you want nothing more than to be an active participant. 

“How you holding up there, buddy?” Karina teases, the whites of her eyes making a brief appearance as she rubs her clit. You don’t realize how hard you’re gripping the armrest nor do you realize how much your body leans forward to get a better view. “Yeji said you were thick.” Your cock practically throbbed at that statement. “I better stretch myself out, no?” 

It happens instantaneously. The moment Karina slips one finger in, she lets out the hottest moan you’ve ever heard. 

“Jimin.” You could spontaneously combust. 

“I’m, like, really tight,” Karina says casually, as if this could be said in typical conversation. “Be a good boy and let me see what I’ll be working with.” 

You nearly rip your sweats down, cock springing out from the confines of the fabric that was holding it together. You don’t miss the way Karina’s eyes widen nor do you miss the way she adds another finger, gasping before she draws out a moan.

“Okay,” Karina pants, staring intensely at your length. “Yeah, I’m going to need some help.” She raises her other hand, gesturing you to come join her on the bed. 

You kick off your sweats on the way over, leaving you naked from the waist down. The offending piece of clothing discarded somewhere on the floor as you kneel in between her legs. You’re salivating at the sight of her and all her naked glory. Her pussy’s shaved, clean, very well kept that your imagination called that. It did not, however, imagine how wet she would be. 

You dip your head, but Karina grabs your hair before you could do anything. A pathetic groan escapes your mouth and she laughs. 

“Hold on, lover boy,” Karina says coyly, tilting your head away. “I still want you to watch me.” 

“You’re a fucking tease,” You breathe out, mesmerized by the way she pumps her fingers inside her. Her walls are sucking them in, and you feel yourself leaking at the tip. 

“I have to, a little bit,” Karina pants as she grazes over her clit, “I’ve had years of this building.” 

Her pace quickens, which her shirt rides up, revealing her well-endowed chest. They’re not huge, but you wanted to see how they’d feel in your hands. 

Her back bows suddenly, pushing her breasts forward, letting gravity push them as her orgasm washes over her. You can’t help yourself, but your hand wraps around your cock, moaning as you finally give yourself some attention. 

“God,” Karina breathes out once her orgasm subsides, body relaxing into the bed. “Okay, none of that.” She flicks your forehead.

“Come on,” You pout, release your cock before you could do anything. 

“No.” Karina cups your jaw, trailing her thumb along your bottom lip. “Sit against the headboard.”

“Karina.” You’re flat out horny for the woman in front of you. Being in between her legs and not eating her out is a crime. 

“Do as I say,” Karina caresses your cheek, affectionately, sweetly, like she has you right where she wants you. 

You relent, huffing, but not without being a little shit as you blow against her clit. Her knees come together, trapping you there, at the sudden stimulation, body still sensitive from her quick orgasm. 

“Fuck you,” Karina groans as she pushes your face away. “Now go sit.” 

You crawl on your bed, momentarily pausing above Karina’s face. She watches you curiously, head tilting to the side as you slowly bring her into a chaste kiss. You don’t bother taking it further as her lips simply feel nice against yours. Though, her squirming beneath you has you smiling. 

You follow her directions, settling against the headboard with your legs wide as Karina turns over. She sits on her knees, calculating her next move, which results in her hand on your thigh. “You know…” Trailing off as her nails lightly trace over your skin. 

“Not again,” Your lungs have seemed to stop working as her hand moves closer to where you want her most. You have to force yourself to breathe. 

An airy chuckle falls from her lips as they turn upward. Her finger faintly touches your cock, causing your body to jerk. 

“So… Sensitive,” Karina states matter-of-factly. You hold your breath as she leans forward. Her breath ghosts your tip, that’s embarrassingly leaking. You almost want to push her head down, but you’re slightly scared she’ll stop if you don’t obey her orders. “You’re a lot… bigger up close. Maybe even the biggest? It’s hard for me to say.”

You’d rather not hear about Karina’s previous lovers. She has never told you about it explicitly. At least to what you would imagine she’d say to Yeji or Giselle. She doesn’t seem to pick up on the jealousy, and if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing with this torture. 

Karina pushes herself up, face up close to yours that you’re realizing how beautiful she is. “What?” Her hand snakes around to your neck as her other rests on your chest. Her weight presses into you that you freeze when your cock brushes against her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that,” She laughs nervously, eyes darting away. 

“Hard not to,” You gulp, raising your arms to hold her waist. She tilts her head down just enough that her lips brush against yours. 

And a chord inside you breaks. 

You pull her body in, bringing your lips together as she moans softly into your mouth. Her tongue swipes on your lower lip, and you comply, granting her access fully. It’s all teeth and tongue, wrestling, fighting for dominance. 

Karina wins the moment a soft, small hand wraps around your cock. It catches you off guard, groaning into her as she slowly moves up and down. 

“Fuck,” Karina rubs her palm over the tip, collecting whatever’s leaked to spread all over your length. “I can barely wrap my fingers around you.”

You know. You feel it in the way she slightly squeezes, like she needs to get a better grip. It’s dizzying how she moves so fluidly with every flick of the wrist. You’re losing yourself with her lips moving easily, taking whatever you give her. 

You want to give her the universe at this point. 

“Can I?” Karina murmurs against your lips, picking up the pace of her stroke. 

“Can you what?” Your eyes roll back. 

“Put my mouth on you.” 

You groan again, nodding eagerly as she lowers her head. You’re entrance at the way her tongue sticks out, extending the slightest as she licks your tip. “Holy shit.” The first contact of her on you has you reeling. 

A pretty smirk paints her pretty face as she languidly moves her tongue over your length, not leaving any part untouched. It’s embarrassing how fast you feel yourself coming apart. You haven’t even had the full experience of her mouth around you—

“Fuck.” You spoke too soon because her mouth engulfs your tip that your hand shoots to her head, gripping her hair as you try to have some kind of control. 

By accident, or not, you push Karina’s head down, enough to the point where your cock hits the back of her throat. The action triggers her gag reflex, forcing her off. 

“Okay relax,” Karina says sharply after she gasps for air, a little bit of saliva sticking on her chin. “I think I’ll need to practice.”

“Then fucking practice,” You snarl, eagerly waiting for her to continue.

Karina shakes her head as she rocks to her heels, swinging a leg over yours. She’s suddenly seated on your lap, and her hips rock the slightest, pussy brushing over your cock. Your hands wrap around her waist, pulling her back. It elicits a gasp followed by a sigh as she rests her arms around your neck. 

“Later,” Karina’s hands slip behind her when you feel her fingers wrap around your cock, lightly slapping it against her clit. “I want this—”

“Condom!” You grip her body as she slowly lowers herself, a hot warmth engulfing the tip. 

“What?” A frustrated sigh leaves her lips as she raises her hips. You hold in the whimper as your cock leaves her body. “Why?” 

“I just want to be safe?” It lacks confidence, making it sound more like a question. 

“Eh?” She looks like she wants to rip your head off. She seemed very determined to get you inside her, to feel all of you, but you were taking the one thing she desired for. “You’re fucking weird, but I don’t care. You’ll let me take it off at some point.”

“Doubtful,” You say weakly, watching that same determination increase across her features. 

She’s going to ruin you. 

You reach into your nightstand, conveniently having a box of condoms ready. Karina rolls her eyes at the easy access, but hey, you have a healthy sex life and you didn’t need a bunch of little yous running around. 

Within seconds, you tear the wrapper, rolling the offending piece of material over your length. Karina scoffs, shaking her head, as you toss the trash on the floor. 

“You did that fast,” Karina mocks, shifting her hips back to the original position. “You’ll wish you didn’t put one on.” 

You’re about to make a crude remark, but Karina moves without warning, hand guiding your cock in the apex of her thighs. You feel the warmth radiating over the condom as her pussy wraps around the tip. 

“Karina,” Your hands grip her hips, steadying her. “You’re so tight.” You moan through gritted teeth. 

“My fingers aren’t that big,” Karina sighs at the intrusion. “Your dick, however, is.” 

The statement goes to the aforementioned organ and you can’t wait. You drag her down your length, bullying through her walls. The sensation overwhelms you, choking out a breath as she stops halfway. 

“It’s too much,” She’s trying to breathe, but a pained expression stops you.

You have to control your body, your hips, your hormones—everything. You want to lose yourself in her, which you’re just about there, but you care more about her comfort. 

“I could just eat you out or something,” You offer. Her pussy contracts at the statement, eliciting a moan. 

Karina shakes her head, teeth biting into her bottom lip, “No, I can take you. Just,” She breathes out, “Give me a moment.” 

You don’t want this moment to last for too long because your cock is throbbing, but you grin and bear it. 

You don’t want to admit Karina’s right, but your mind goes haywire at the thought of how this experience would feel without a condom. It’s a lot through the condom. 

“Okay,” Karina says more to herself, mentally preparing as she gently rocks her hips. The motion steals a sharp moan as she takes more of your length. “For fucks sake.” 

Your first mistake was looking at where you’re joined. The sight of half your cock being swallowed by her pussy has you at a loss for words. 

Your second mistake was your hips jerking upward, accidentally forcing her to take more of you. Her legs spread wider, welcoming the intrusion as she inches closer to the base. 

It takes a few more minutes and a few more rocks of her hips that she’s fully wrapped around you. 

Hot. 

Tight. 

Warm. 

You would like to say you have an extensive vocabulary, but you couldn’t find the words. You’re speechless, when you’re known to have a mouth. One of the things Karina finds the most annoying about you. She could never get you to shut up, yet she finally has—in the hottest way possible. 

“Bet you want to take off the condom,” Karina murmurs, teeth nipping at your jaw as your head slowly tilts back. Your body shives once her lips kiss your neck, tongue soothing whatever mark in its wake. 

“I don’t want to get you pregnant.” 

Karina chuckles, lips curling up against your skin, “It’s called birth control, a part of modern medicine. I’m safe, but it would be a thrill to find out if you could.” Her pussy tightens at her words, sending a shock through your cock that has your mind blank at the thought of that. 

“Karina,” You warn, hands tightening around her waist. The temptation is too great. The chances of her getting pregnant are low, but still. You couldn’t let your morals go, as much as you wanted to. 

Karina rips your shirt off, head slipping through before she haphazardly tosses it over her shoulder. You’re completely naked and her eyes devour your physique. 

“I knew you were fit,” Karina’s nails lightly trace over your abdomen, muscles flexing at her touch, “But I didn’t know you were this fit.” 

Your hips snap up once her finger brushes over her clit, jolting her body forward. “Stop with the teasing or let me just fuck—okay, okay.” She rolls her hips down, sending your favorite body part into sensation overload. 

“Watch me,” Karina commands softly and you comply, eyes watching her as the anticipation builds. Sweat drips down the back of your neck as she tugs her shirt off, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

“You look so fucking pretty.” You stare at Karina in awe, struck by her beauty and, well, her bare chest. You’re on even playing fields, but you were still at her mercy. 

Karina smiles as she lifts herself slightly, dragging her walls along your length before dropping down. She lets out a breath, biting her lip as she repeats the motion.

Slow.

Deliberate. 

Intentional.

As if her one goal is for you to lose your fucking mind. 

You already lost it the moment you felt her warmth wrap around you, but this? This is different. 

You do as she says, watching her body move fluidly over you, working your length in and out of her body, ensuring that no part of her goes untouched. It’s damn near a spiritual experience that your arms lift to hold onto your hips, to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but she pins your arms above your head against the headboard. 

“No,” Karina says roughly, voice thick with want as her pace increases, hips undulating that has your body on fire. “I’m in control.”

“Jagiya.” The nickname slips out after a particularly jolting thrust. “Please.” You whimper, head tilting back hard against the headboard. There’s going to be a bruise, but you couldn’t care less. 

It’s difficult to pay attention to the pain when you have someone like Karina on top of you, doing the most ungodly and deprived things to you, as if she has something to prove. 

Karina’s pace gradually increases, forcing her to let go and tethering her hands on your shoulders, nails digging into your skin. The pain adds to the pleasure and you can’t help but moan after every thrust. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Karina says through her teeth, biting her lip to muffle her moans. “I wish you didn’t put the fucking condom on.” And you agree. You shouldn’t have, but you’re absolutely certain that you would not last if you felt all of her without it. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, hands finding her hips to guide her movement. “Do you want to—” 

Shaking her head, Karina breathes out, “No, too late. I’m going to—fuck.” 

Karina suddenly crashes her lips against yours, arms pulling your neck into her as she lets out a broken moan. Her body seizes in your hold, back arching that her breasts press against your chest. Then what follows has you gripping her hips tightly as her pussy tightens rhythmically on your cock. 

Her orgasm wracks through her body to you that you throw everything she has commanded of you so far out the metaphorical window. You finally take control, thrusting up into her body as she screams at the overstimulation. 

“C’mon baby,” You murmur, burying your face into her neck. “Keep going,” You goad, spurring her on as her body trembles. “Keep coming for me.” 

“God, yes,” Karina cries followed by a choked sob, slamming her hips against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” She repeats like a mantra, a prayer to take her over the edge again. 

It’s all too much for you, that small pit in your lower abdomen growing. Your orgasm is right behind hers and by some divine intervention, you’re able to tell her. It triggers something because she suddenly lifts her body off, ripping the condom off before two hands wrap around your cock. 

“Cum all over me, you know you want to,” Karina says seductively, stroking her hands up and down over your cock. 

And you’ve been obedient from the start, why stop now? 

You explode without much warning, letting out the deepest growl as Karina aims your cock over her chest. Her face lights up once the thick ropes of your essence shoot out. It’s a lot, but it doesn’t deter her in the slightest. She welcomes it, even sticking out her tongue as a bit of it hits her chin. Your vision goes white, too overwhelmed with the intensity and pleasure flooding your body. 

“Jagiya,” You whimper, fingers circling her wrist as she keeps going. “It’s too much—fuck.” She eventually stops, leaving you fucked out and empty. You’re in a daze, not cognizant of what she’s doing. You moan, eyes shooting open when her lips place a soft kiss on the tip. 

Karina chuckles softly, shaking her head as a small smile tugs at her lips. She leans away, and you wish you had your camera nearby. It’s a sight to behold of you painted all over her body. It’s a mess, but what a beautiful one. 

“Next time,” Karina says lowly, eyes narrowing, “You’re going to cum inside me.” 

You agree like an idiot willing to risk everything for her. She giggles, rolling her eyes, since your ability to form a coherent sentence is limited. “Yes ma’am,” Is all you can manage to say with her still on top of you before your eyes close, heavy with exhaustion. 

The last thing you remember is Karina’s lips on your cheek, smiling as sleep inevitably takes over. 

-- --  

You wake up relaxed and content. For the first time since the accident, you see the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s all thanks to Karina. Sex aside, you’re more sure of how you feel and everything you ever felt for Minjeong was how you actually felt for Karina. 

You didn’t know how to broach the subject of you and her, but you were confident that you’d be able to. You were sure there would be arguments, but that was just how you spoke to each other. When it boiled down to it, you and Karina were more than understanding when the other was involved. 

(You wouldn’t admit it, but when it came to Karina, you took everything seriously.) 

You don’t notice it at first, but after scratching the sleep from your eyes, you realize that the other side of your bed is empty and neatly made. You vaguely remember waking up in the middle of the night to Karina nestled into your side before falling back asleep. 

Except for a folded note on the pillow. 

You sit up slowly, stretching the aches from last night’s activities before grabbing the small piece of paper. You figured Karina had to leave early, briefly remembering she had a flight back to Paris.

But as soon as you read the familiar handwriting, your heart sinks. 

Last night was a mistake. 

It shouldn’t have happened. 

I’m sorry. 

-- -- –

(i, too, am sorry. there will be a sequel tho, that much i can guarantee. when? idk, but thank you for reading, lolz)

[yvesntul]

abby anderson x reader ࿐

content loss of virginity, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of strap

‘ come on, baby. how come you’re always getting shy on me ? ‘ abby’s hand was under your shirt, her fingers skimming the lacey material of your bra. you hated the bummed look on her face, your digits weaving themselves through her loose hair as she left kisses on your neck. ‘ i just don’t want to disappoint you, ‘ you whispered, ‘ here you are with all the experience in the world, and here i am with nothing, kind of humiliating. ‘ you cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

‘ what do you mean ? ‘ she laughed. ‘ i’ve never had sex before, abs. that’s what i mean. ‘ your hands fell to your sides as you avoided looking at the girl on top of you. ‘ hey, ‘ she cupped your chin, ‘ are you serious?’ you nodded slowly, sucking in a breath as her eyes darkened over. ‘ you’re telling me that someone as beautiful, perfect, and smart as you are hasn’t had sex with anyone ? ‘ a shy smile graced your lips from her genuine praise. ‘ abby, i’m being serious ! ‘ you hit her chest playfully.

‘ so am i. why would you think you’d disappoint me by being a virgin ? ‘ she caged you between her arms, leaving a kiss on your temple. ‘ because i want you to feel good too. ‘ you met her eyes for the first time during this whole ordeal. abby shook her head, ‘ this is about you, making you feel good would make me feel even better. ‘ she pulled you into a kiss, slotting herself between your thighs. ‘ let me do that for you, beautiful. let me make you feel good. ‘ you moaned when she grinded against your cunt, the thin material of your leggings having nothing on the rough denim of abby’s jeans.

‘ okay, ‘ you let her take off your sweatshirt, her hips grouding into yours once again. ‘ i’ll be easy i promise, ‘ she sat back on her heels, pulling down your leggings and underwear in one swoop. ‘ yeah? you like that?’ abby’s jaw clenched as she took in the naked sight of you, practically making her mouth water right there. ‘ if you want me to stop anything, just say the word baby. ‘ she picked up one of your legs, allowing your ankle to rest on her shoulder. you shuddered as abby traced your folds, her thumb teasing your clit.

‘ fuck, you’re soaked already ? ‘ you moaned once she started a steady rhythm. she continued like this until you grabbed her wrist, your shallow breaths now pants as you felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. ‘ you okay ? can’t take it ? ‘ she leaned forward, moving faster as your grip on his wrist tightened. ‘ d-don’t stop. ‘ your eyes rolled back just as you felt a finger at your entrance.

abby’s finger entered you slowly, your walls fluttering around her digit. ‘ does that hurt ? ‘ you shook your head, your hips chasing her hand for more. ‘ you’re doing so good, yn. ‘ she kissed you, the added penetration making your thighs shake. ‘ w-wait, i think i’m gonna— oh my god, ‘ you were cut off by your orgasm hitting you full force, a cry ripping itself from your throat. abby inserted a second finger, this alone making black spots dot your vision, your body thrashing against the sheets underneath you.

‘ o-okay, okay ! ‘ you tapped her arm, trying your best not to scream at the overstimulation. abby grunted, putting the same fingers she had inside of you, inside her mouth, your eyes widening as she did so. ‘ fuck, you taste so good. ‘ she was quick to discard all of her clothes, your jaw dropping at the size of her cock, having doubt in being able to take it. ‘ i can’t promise this won’t hurt baby, i’ll stop if it’s too much for you, okay ? ‘ you nodded, wrapping your arms around her neck, her lips grazing yours as she lined herself up with your entrance.

she smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before taking you in a kiss, your heart melting at the same time she pushed herself inside you, your eyes screwing shut at the pain shooting up your spine. abby groaned at the sight of you, her head dropping in the crook of your neck. ‘ holy fuck. ’ she breathed out, her large palm cupping your bra—clad tit. ‘ hurts, abs. ‘ tears stung your eyes, your nails digging into her skin. “i won’t move until you tell me to, angel.” you held her face in your hands, adjusting to her while the pain subsided.

‘ i think i’m okay now, ‘ you wrapped your legs around her waist, a whimper leaving abby’s lips as she pulled out, thrusting back into you slowly. you moaned, the stretch feeling more blissful with each stroke of her cock. within five minutes, you and abby were moaning and holding onto each other like you’d disappear if you let go. she was getting rougher the closer she got to the edge, her hand occasionally wrapping around your neck.

‘ fuck, harder, please abs. ‘ she huffed a laugh at your request, tugging your hair as she flipped you over, her fingertips digging into your hips as you took you from the back. in this position, she reached even deeper, your pussy clenching around her as she pushed your face into the pillows, muffling your screams. ‘ shit— ‘ you whimpered, moving your hips to meet hee thrusts.

abby fisted your hair, pulling you up so your back was flat against her chest. ‘ that’s it, you gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl ? ‘ she talked into your ear, her other hand coming around to rub tight circles on your clit. ‘ oh, fuck yes, ‘ you would’ve collapsed if it wasn’t for her holding you up. ‘ cum baby, i got you. ‘ as if on cue, you gasped, abby cursing at the noises escaping your mouth, ‘ oh, fuck, i’m gonna cum too. ‘ you didn’t even get a chance to go through the aftershocks of your second orgasm before she got on top of you again, still rubbing your clit as she fucked into you like she was merely using you to get herself off.

you winced, overstimulation setting in as you felt the build up of a third climax underway. ‘ you’re so good abby— ’ those words alone sent her spiraling, her hips stuttering as she reached herself at the end. ‘ give me one more, yn ‘ she grunted, her abs constricting as she switched her angle, pinning both of your thighs next to your head. ‘ abby wait— holy shit. ‘ you were sure she had crescents indented in her skin by how hard you were scratching her.

‘ there you go .. ‘ she trailed wet kisses from your chest to your neck, wiping away a tear that slid down your cheek. you panted, finally opening your eyes only to see abby smiling down at you. ‘ that’s not funny, ‘ you breathed, holding onto her hand as she rolled over to your side, ‘ that was .. better than i thought. ’ abby stroked your hair, pulling you close to her. “that was amazing, yn. i didn’t think you could be anymore perfect but i was wrong.” you smiled against her skin.

maybe it was the way your girlfriend brain was wired, but you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about her past conquests who probably felt the same way as you did right now; literally dickmatized and on top of the world. ‘ why are you so pouty now ? ‘ she cupped your cheeks, your eyes rolling at her teasing tone. ‘ because.. you’ve made other girls feel like that too. ‘ you twirled a loose strand of her hair that framed her face.

‘ mm well if it makes you feel any better, no other girl has ever made me feel like this and can’t even compare to you. ‘

+ could y’all also have ur age in ur bio if ur interacting cs it’s getting annoying to block .. i can’t refrain minors from snooping n reading but the least u could do is respect boundaries by not interacting or following thank u

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[killerpancakeburger]

KNIGHT IN SHINING KHAKI

Gif by @bastardcompany

SUMMARY: You've angered the wrong officer. You think you're a goner when Johnny sweeps in to save the day.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader ("her" is used to refer to reader once, that's it) (+ Reader's hair is long enough to grab)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Depressed!Reader, Insecure!Reader, Angry!Soap, Protective!Soap, GuardDog!Soap, canon violence, hurt/comfort, swearing, blood mention. Ghost makes an appearance as a matchmaker lol. The love is requited they're just insecure idiots. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: My original prompt for this was: civilian!reader sees Soap in action and gets Horny. No Scared Just Horny.

Then I found out that Soap canonically beat up an officer. I am also obsessed with this video.

Part 1. Part 3.

This is it, you thought to yourself. 

This is how I die.

The day had unfolded like any other. Your shift was over and you were locking up your office, as usual. Your attention was focused on your hands’ motion, your guard dropped, your back exposed.

This explained why, when the stranger grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the door mercilessly, you didn’t see it coming in the slightest. The fact that you had zero combat experience while the person manhandling you was a decorated military officer obviously made matters worse, but at the moment of the assault, you didn’t know that.

The thud of the collision was eclipsed almost immediately by the pain exploding in your face. Half-stunned, all you could comprehend at the moment, every single signal sent by your brain was compacted in one word: suffering. Sharp, all-encompassing. You yelped, your hands vainly pushing against the cold, hard surface to get away.

“I've finally found you, you little snitch. Didn’t think you'd get away with it, now did you?”

Despite the blood thumping in your ears, and how groggy the hit on your head made you, his words reached you perfectly. They were seeping with fury and disdain. His voice didn’t ring a bell, so you tried to turn your head to glimpse him, if only at the corner of your eye, and he granted you some leeway to do so.

Perplexity filled you as you finally caught sight of your aggressor: you've never seen that man before.

“I don't even know who you are,” you winced.

Talking back in your situation would be judged stupid and reckless by a majority of people. Laying low assured more chances to avoid harm.

However most people hadn't been mugged at knifepoint like you had been, and most people valued their lives way more than you did.

Once the confusion and incredulity subsided, the pain still vivid but manageable, you were left with frustration and anger towards your interminable bad luck and the man behind you. His aversion was harder to take seriously when it seemed to have no foundation.

The grip on your hair tightened, making you grit your teeth.

“I'll refresh your memory, then.”

One part of you managed to be pleased to know that this mystery would be solved; the rest was ringing alarm bells when hearing the underlying threats in his tone.

“Weeks ago, you filed a report for embezzlement.”

You frowned, having no recollection of his claims, before a memory emerged. You saw them in flashes: the sudden, abnormally high spendings, the certificates full of anomalies, the incoherent dates; all this lead you to complete a reporting form, just as your job required you to. It was just a formality. You hadn't even even paid attention to the name attached to the expenses, therefore the officer was still anonymous.

Your aggressor scoffs menacingly, easily reading on your face that you remembered.

“They're gonna strip me of my rank and throw me in jail because of you. I'll make you pay even if it’s the last thing I do.”

That last sentence was finished in an almost shout, making you flinch, wishing you could pass through the door.

You quietly resigned yourself to your fate. No one was coming for you. You were no stranger to the inner workings of the military - no one would dare cross an officer that high-ranked for your sake. 

I've lived a good li- well, no. A pretty shitty life, actually. But at least I can say I did the right thing.

Just as you closed your eyes and braced yourself, hoping this wouldn’t drag on, a Scottish-accentuated roar resonated in the empty hall.

“Get yer hands off her-”

You had never heard Soap sound so enraged, nor his pitch so gravelly. Relief flooded through you at the sound of his voice, blended with gratitude. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes.

All of a sudden the unyielding grip on your hair was gone, the sound of something violently hitting the wall punctuating your newfound freedom. 

“-ye fucking bastard!”

You immediately turned around to see what was happening, leaning against the door behind you. Your legs were too shaky to be reliable. The harmed side of your face was throbbing in pain as you took in the scene with wide eyes.

Johnny had pinned the officer against the wall with one forearm across his chest. He dealt him a punch to the face powerful enough that the resulting thud made you grimace, despite not feeling any sympathy for his target.

He managed to administer a second blow before his adversary snapped out of his stupor, and the advantage he gained from taking him by surprise ran its course.

As your assailant defended himself with the strength of someone backed into a corner, you couldn't help but fear for Soap's safety for a moment. Despite knowing that one's rank didn’t reflect their fighting prowess, a rush of anxiety passed through you at the idea that he could lose that confrontation.

Nonetheless, he quickly put your mind at ease as his skills proved to be largely superior. The gap between the two was deep enough that it was obvious even to a neophyte like you.

Paralyzed, you couldn’t do anything but stare at the display of violence with a mix of morbid fascination and sadistic satisfaction. Honestly, if you could borrow Soap's body, you would without a doubt inflict the same treatment on that man. Maybe worse. Fair payback for the threats, the smashing of your face, the probable trauma you'd get from this. Maybe not that fair. But maybe for once you'd stop trying to act like a paragon of virtue.

You should have been scared, you realized. You had never been involved in a fight before. You had never witnessed firsthand the brutality Johnny was capable of, despite being aware of it, between his status as a soldier and the reports you read. The dog tags jingling from his neck and the khaki of his uniform were like so many visual reminders that he was a killing machine. His ferocious wrath, his yelling and his punches should have made you cower in fright.

However the only feeling inhabiting you was safety, as paradoxical as it sounded. Soap was safe, you were convinced of it, consciously or not.

This whole ordeal felt like it lasted an eternity and a minute at the same time. You blinked and out of nowhere, Johnny was straddling the officer on the floor. Blows kept pouring in but they were one-sided - the sergeant had gained the upper hand. The rhythm of his strikes seemed attuned to the beatings of your heart. Each resonated inside of your ears with your skull as their echo chamber. The noise was loud enough to cover your own thoughts.

As you focused on your breathing, you managed to slow down your heartbeats, and the blood-fueled pump between your ribs no longer felt like it could burst out of your chest at any moment. You failed however to contain the tremor in your hands.

You chose to focus on Soap's hands instead. They were soaked red from blood spilled, but not his. Specks of crimson sprinkled his hair, his face, his neck, his t-shirt.

There was a certain sort of lethal beauty to this brutal display that you couldn't help but contemplate in reverent silence: the way his bicep swole when he threw his arm back before hitting his target. The tightening of the muscles beneath the tanned skin of his arms. His icy stare. The harsh line of his jaw. His stern, inflexible expression, one he usually wore in meetings or after Price gave the order to leave.

The expression of someone who would stop at nothing, provided a bleak little voice in the back of your mind. The idea didn’t bother you nearly as much as it should have.

“Not gonna make him stop?”

The familiar grunt of Ghost's voice almost made you jump out of your skin. You pivoted and the behemoth of a lieutenant was there, in casual clothes, right by your side. You had no idea when he arrived or how long he's been standing there, quiet like a shadow.

Something dark flashed in his brown eyes as his gaze lingered on the hurt side of your face.

“Why would I show mercy to someone who would have granted me none?” you scoffed bitterly.

“Someone's bloodthirsty.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You turned your attention back to Soap and Ghost did the same.

“I doubt he would listen to me.”

“He would,” stated the masked man, with the assertiveness of someone announcing a conviction. 

“But if ya don't believe me…”

A beat, then.

“Oï, Johnny!”

The shout was nonchalant, like it was something he did often, calling off his sergeant from some prey like the Scotsman was his personal attack dog.

The effect was immediate.

Soap abruptly froze, blinking a couple times as if awakening from a trance. Then he perked up, and turned around, eyes searching. The first sound that left his lips was a call of your name. His gaze latched onto you and didn’t let go as he stood up and rushed towards you. The naked vulnerability, the raw openness in his voice and on his face were so earnest that they felt like a Cupid's arrow shot straight between your lungs. It left you devoid of speech and motion, so as Johnny reached for you, all you could do was try to convey your reassurances through your eyes; that you were mostly fine, and so grateful, but worried for him, that he made everything better-

His arms closing around you made the outside disappear, and suddenly the whole world came down to Johnny, and only him. His embrace was enjoyable for a second before the pressure of his body against your face woke up your contusions. You let out a muffled cry of pain and he released you immediately, swearing and apologizing. However his hands didn’t leave you, grasping your shoulders.

“C'mere hen, lemme have a look at ye.”

“Oh, I'm fine, you should worry about-”

Your voice pathetically died in your throat as he cupped your face, leaning over, way too close for your heart to not start stammering uncontrollably.

The combined attention of his fingertips on your skin and the turquoise of his eyes roaming your visage turned your cheeks into a blazing inferno.

Unable to maintain eye contact, your gaze wandered over his own injuries, a split lip and a couple of bruises.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, tilting your face one way and the other. Your skin flared up at the contact, pleasant yet nervous tingles scattering all over your body.

“Ye sure he didn’t hit ye on that side? Yer a wee bit red.”

You bit back a whine of complaint at that comment. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

“Yer makin’ it worse, Johnny.” sneaked Ghost, the amusement manifest in his voice - at least to you.

Soap looked up to him, frowning in incomprehension, indignant. 

“The hell ya on aboot L.T.? How am ah makin’ it worse?”

You panicked.

“Shut up Riley!” you hissed, in a desperate attempt to put a stop to his shenanigans, forgetting that you were supposed to be severely intimidated by the masked man.

That drew a gruff chuckle out of him. Your sudden outburst caused Johnny to release you.

“Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you two even here, anyway?”

You were kind of proud of your ability to change the subject.

“Was comin’ tae get ye fer a game,” smiled Soap, and it reminded you of a pet proudly presenting its owners with its findings.

“This one wasn’t coming back, and neither of you were answering your phones, so we figured somethin’ went wrong. And we were right. This poor fucker is wanted. Called in reinforcements to deal with him.”

Footsteps’ noises caught your attention. A group of soldiers in uniform seized your aggressor and brought him to his feet, before unceremoniously shoving him in the direction opposite of you.

“Gotta tell Gaz the game ain't happening tonight.”

By the time you took in what Ghost had said, and turned away from the procession, he had already disappeared.

“This isn’t over,” menaced the officer, passing by your spot as he was hauled away. “When I get out-”

“Shut the fuck up,” snarled Soap instantly, protectively positionning himself in front of you.

“Found yourself a faithful guard dog, uh?” the other man taunted.

One one hand, that last remark wasn’t so far from the truth - he had been acting a lot like that: barking threats, baring his teeths, standing between you and the menace, reducing a man to a bloody pulp for hitting you…

But on the other hand, letting that piece of shit talk to Johnny this way was simply out of the question.

Before thinking, you found yourself walking in front of the sergeant and retorting.

“What, jealous he's ten times the man you'll never be?”

Fortunately for you, he was dragged away before he could snap anything back. That didn’t prevent you from regretting your snarky comment immediately. It had been a purely impulsive urge, the kind that could make you feel heavy remorse for days, if not years. As if this seasoned combat expert needed your aid to defend himself. The idea was ludicrous.

You didn’t get a moment to mope around however, as Johnny proceeded to grab you by the hips and press you flush against him with a jubilant smirk. You couldn’t do much except prop yourself with both hands on his pectorals to avoid stumbling.

“My hero.” he praised like a smitten damsel in distress.

“Look who's talking.”

You lowered your gaze despite yourself, mumbling your reply, a half smile on your lips, embarrassed but amused.

“Going after bastards is mah job, not yours. You gutsy little thing.”

You refrained a sarcastic laughter at the nickname - gutsy and little were two things you have never been called, as far as you can remember. But you weren't about to argue with the man who just saved your sorry ass.

His fingers pressed into your flesh, sending tickles at the bottom of your spine.You were about to ask him to let you go, the position too incriminating for this public setting, when you noticed how dilated his pupils were. He had to be high on adrenaline from the fight.

You may have let yourself get lost in the blue pools of his eyes, until his expression turned grave.

“Ye sure yer good? Yer too calm about this. No need tae put oan a brave face fer me, aye?”

The genuine, serious concern in his eyes made the inside of your stomach twist.

“I'm good. You arrived just in time,” you assured.

How peculiar it felt to be the one to comfort Johnny, rather than the opposite; that the lionhearted, superhuman sergeant Mactavish might even need such a thing; that he might require it from you, of all people.

“He didn’t get to do much.”

His pretty features contorted into a scowl at the reminder of your attacker.

“That sonuvabitch… raising a hand on ye in broad fuckin’ daylight… if he ever touches ye again, I swear I’ll…”

As he kept fulminating against your assailant, you couldn’t stop an endeared smile from spreading on your lips. Listening to one of Soap's rants brightened your mood; it was familiar. The sincerity in his words and his tone was welcome. He wasn’t able to fake those emotions even if he wanted to; they spilled out of him like a waterfall. His honest worry and righteous ire towards someone who hurt you was… flattering, in a sense. It made you feel cared for, like you mattered.

Then red started dripping.

“Johnny… your nose is bleeding.”

He wiped it negligently with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing it over his face. You couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Bend over. It will stop faster.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

He punctuated his quip with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's just go to medical already.” you grumbled, starting to walk decisively, albeit stiffly, in the right direction.

“Aye, aye,” acquiesced your savior, jogging a bit to catch up to you.

[alien-magnolia]

You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.

[eupheme]

LOGAN HOWLETT [WOLVERINE] | NSFW ALPHABET

x fem!reader | deadpool & wolverine | 2k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Logan is a considerate man, and knows he can really wear you out. Early on, maybe he’s a little more aloof - giving you privacy after fetching something to clean up with, stretching out in the bed after.

Once you’re his girl, he’s a lot more sweet. Makes sure you have some water if you need it, snacks, a shower - whatever you might want. Tucks you against his side, an arm wrapped firmly around you as you drift off.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Loves your mouth. Not just for reasons but because he loves your voice, loves to see you smile for him. It lets him know you’re happy, and god if you can be anything - he hopes that you’re that.

Enjoys your curves as well, especially your ass. Wear something that shows it off and his hands will be at your waist, pulling you flush against him. Loves to fuck you from behind, see it jiggle with his thrusts. Will rub a thumb against you (if you let him) slick with his spit, or let his palm crack down against your skin.

On himself, it’s hard for him to pick. His hands have hurt more than he’s held. Phantom pains in his knuckles after he’s healed. His face reminds him of his father, even as those memories fade. If he was forced to pick, maybe his chest - but only because he knows you like it so much. Letting your head or hand cradle against him, hearing his heart beat for you beneath.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he’s given the option, he’s coming inside you. Mouth is nice, pussy is preferred. Doesn’t like pulling out, wants to feel how you get all tight and wet around him before he’s spilling inside you. Gathering what slips out, either pushing it back inside you or smearing himself on your clit as he makes you come again.

Bonus points if he can keep you full for a little while, shooting you pointed look or a smirk from across the room while he drips out of you - your shared little secret.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wouldn’t mind if you used him. Thinks it would be hot if you called the shots for a night - watching as you straddle him, using his cock for your pleasure. It’d be cute to see you try.

Secretly enjoys when you snuggle up next to him after. He'll probably never express how much you truly mean to him and the love he has for you strikes him like a lightning bolt at times. Logan is terrified of losing you like he's lost others (and he is so fucking aware that he won't age the same way you do).

It's easier to pretend he doesn't feel as much as he does.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. He’s a good-looking man who’s walked the world for two hundred years. There’s not a lot he hasn’t tried, and he’s very willing to share what he’s learned with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes you every way - missionary so he can watch your eyes glaze over. Mating press so he can grind his come into you and not spill a drop. Prone bone so he can fuck you into the mattress. Cowgirl gives him easy access to your tits, as he guides your hips.

Forced to pick a favorite and it would be from behind - he loves seeing you on all fours, ass high in the air as you wait for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not very goofy at all. Serious in the moment, but will smile or laugh if something accidentally humorous happens (or in a condescening way).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimate for sure. Likes to have you close and wrapped around him. Filth murmured in your ear, his lips at your neck and throat. Always wanting to be touching you, will keep himself inside you after, just because he likes how it feels.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Logan is a hairy man - a pretty expanse across his chest. A nice, happy trail that leads down - he does groom, but not overly so.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Early on, he jacks off to the thought of you often (especially if he can't have you). His hand fisted around his cock, head tipped back and eyes shut as he pictures you bouncing on his lap instead.

Once you’re together, it’s typically only when he’s away. Very down for mutual mast if he can get away with it - hearing how much you need him really gets him going.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves nothing more than coming inside you, grinding himself deep. Absolutely tips towards a breeding kink, with the way he likes to see you full of him.

Has a praise kink that goes both ways - has to hold himself back from coming early when you're telling him how good he feels, how close you are. Loves how responsive you are to the praise he coos at you ("fuck, there you go, baby. look so pretty when you come for me.") and how it turns you into a puddle.

Enjoys being in charge and calling the shots. He knows you want to be his good girl and he's definitely going to lean into that, just to watch you squirm. Seeing you listen to him - putting your pleasure in his hands, it does a little something for him.

(Might get a little turned on while play-wrestling as well, especially if you try to run from him. More than one evening has been ended on the floor together, with you pinned beneath him.)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not super picky. Preferred is his or your room, because he does like to take his time. But like with quickies (below) - as long as you’re physically safe he’s not above something adventurous.

Ideal location would be a secluded cabin, with a huge bed. And preferably no clothes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Easily motivated. If you’re giving signals - flirting with him, wearing something that shows off your curves (or better yet, just letting him know or telling him that you want him) - he’s there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn’t want to hurt you. Might lean into a claw kink if it’s what you really want, but wouldn’t want to leave a permanent mark on you. Would not be down to spotaneously share you - it would be something he had to think about first.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Pussy-eating king. Always eager to get his head between your thighs, legs thrown over his shoulder (preferably for hours.) Teasing you about how wet you are for him, making you squirm with his fingers while he edges you with his tongue. Might be a bit lazy on the cleanup so he can smell you on him all day.

Bonus points if you're wearing something cute for him - he likes to see how the fabric gets damp from him before he tastes you (and definitely might pocket them in the afterglow).

Does love when you go down on him - loves the way he looks in your mouth. Loves how you drool, trying to make it fit. Definitely into it as foreplay, but would love to finish in your pussy if he’s allowed to pick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the day. When he’s needy, he’s rough - bending you over with brutal, short thrusts. Grinding himself deep as he growls in your ear.

He’s not used to softness. If there’s an early morning where he can take things slow, he will. Savoring every minute, edging you with slow, lazy thrusts - only so that it will make things last a little longer.

Q = Quickie (opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Totally down for a quickie. Knows how to make you come hard and fast, and has no problem taking advantage of that. Especially as mentioned above - if he can sneak a quick round before a night out, he will - seeing you squirm with the memory and how his scent is all over you only fuels a longer, drawn out round later that evening.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Pretty risky. Would never put you in real danger, but isn’t above something quick with a hand pressed over your mouth to stifle your moans. A dark corridor, empty room, bathroom, bent over the seat of his bike - all fair game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He recovers quickly, and his applies to his refractory period as well. Second (or third, or more) rounds are to be expected when you both have time - though he’s always going to put you and your comfort first.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

With how old he is, he’s not a huge fan. Will come around if there’s something you want to use with him, but wouldn’t really offer or think about it himself. Pretty cocky about the fact that he doesn't think you need them with him, but if it's something you want to try (a toy to fill your other hole, or something like a strap), he will give it a go.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loves to tease. From just giving you a look (all darkened, lingering eyes that travel down every curve), to gropes and murmured filth in your ear. On a night out, you're both riled up before you make it back home.

Will edge you with his tongue, his cock, his fingers until you’re begging for it. And then he might edge you just a little more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, etc.)

Dirty mouth. Not super loud in bed but will pant, moan, grunt in your ear. Asks (sometimes condescending) questions when you’re fucked out, knowing he has you too close to the edge to fully answer. (“You can be louder for me, can’t you? That's it, that’s my girl.” / “Just needed my cock, didn’t you sugar?”)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Not random (just didn’t fit make it into the above), but Logan is bisexual and open to a polycule (if it's the right person, or if he’s joining an established relationship.)

Loves hearing that you're his. A well-placed "yours" will make him moan.

(He also won’t admit that he liked when you accidently called him daddy. Might have laughed when it slipped out, all low and husky. Teasing with a “is that right, sweetheart? come on, tell daddy what you need.”, but he didn’t mind it. It scratches at that protective/dominant itch inside him.)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under the clothes)

He’s sculpted beneath. Thick arms and thighs, broad chest. You know this even before he takes any clothes off because Wade’s told you about it. Multiple times. In detail.

It’s still a shock.

(It’s heavy. Long, too - a thick vein running down the shaft that mimics the ones in his arms. Pretty and flushed - your fingers struggle to wrap around. You’re not sure if it will fit, but by god - you’re gonna give it your all.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, when he’s not stressed out. He thinks about you a lot, even if he doesn’t say it. Loves connecting with you physically, knows that even if he doesn’t have the words, he can make you happy like this.

Sometimes even when he is stressed - working out some of his frustrations on you (fucking you hard and fast, legs thrown over his shoulders, or pounding you into the mattress as you sing for him.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

When he feels safe, somewhere far from danger and tucked away, he will doze off with his arms around you. Still a light sleeper, but he will let himself have this indulgence.

Logan does struggle sleeping next to you, sometimes. It’s not you. It’s not your fault. Afraid of waking from a nightmare or startling awake - claws drawn - and accidently hurting you. He’d never forgive himself - it’s enough that he’ll wait for you to drift off, before he slips away to sleep close by. He's still gonna watch over you, after all.

thanks for reading! 💖 sfw alphabet coming soon!

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 18: Sex Pollen - Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was your first mission out with your mentor, Bucky, but not all goes to plan when you stumble across an old Hydra laboratory and accidentally trigger a trap.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content (kinda), mentor/protege, grumpy/sunshine trope, sex pollen, fingering, begging, crying, rough sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Can you stay close to me?”

“Bucky, if I was any closer to you, I might as well be your shadow. Will you chill out, please?”.

All the response that you are given is an exasperated sigh from your team leader, who was directly in front of you, his gun raised and pointing in whichever direction his eyes followed. You were so close to him that the head of his body seeped through his uniform and into your back as you followed his steps, almost like a choreographed dance with the synrosy.

It was technically your first mission today; even though you’d been over comms for Bucky countless times, he finally gave in and agreed that you could join. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you; in fact, he trusted you more than most. It was more due to his intense mentorship and protectiveness that he’d developed for you over the years, which had everything to do with your clumsiness.

Yes, you were an agent, but there were only so many times that you could accidentally hurt yourself before they called in your experience and practice. You were moved to a behind-the-desk job, which pained your heart, but soon, Bucky was your partner, digitally through the headset and then in person, as you begged him daily for training and a chance to prove yourself.

He was reluctant, but you were like an incessant fly, always buzzing around him with that chirpy personality that even managed to draw a smile to his grumpy old - yet handsome - face. The more time he spent with you, the more you could chip away at his heavy exterior and mask, which only hindered your chances of returning to the field again, as the thought of having you so close in the danger zone had him near palpitations.

He blamed it on your clumsy nature, tripping over your own feet or dropping vital machinery, but in truth, Bucky had wanted to prioritise your safety, which was hard when he had a job to do. However, after months of pestering, you wore him down enough to agree that you could attend the Avengers to a sweep of a supposed deserted Hydra base.

“If you continue down this corridor, I can check the rooms”, you say quietly, hardly audibly over a pin drop, but with Bucky’s increased hearing, you knew he could hear.

“Absolutely not; you’re staying with me; we’ve discussed this. We’ll check the rooms together and finish the rest of the corridor”. Bucky’s word was final, so you didn’t argue back, restraining violently to not eye roll at his authoritative tone.

“You two are like an old married couple”, Natasha quips over the comms, which was enough for both you and Bucky to roll your eyes. It was a comment frequently shared with those around you, and it warmed you to hear such pleasantries, and then the realisation that Bucky would never go for someone like you had the sensation of ice coursing down your spine.

“I think you’ll find he’s the old one, not me”, you retort sarcastically as Bucky leads the way into the first room. “This looks like Bruce’s office or something. Do you recognise any of these experiments?”

It was an old, decrepit office laced with dust and thick cobwebs, similar to something from Frankenstein with the number of attempted experiments that seemed littered around the room. Endless stacks of paper, vials of dusky-coloured liquids, and photographs stapled to the walls that were decaying with age.

“No, I don’t recognise any of this, but whatever it is can’t be good news. Stay close and don’t touch anything”. You once more refrain from the eye roll, knowing he means well, but you’re not a child who needs to be reminded to hold their parent's hand all the time. Taking a step away from him, your eyes scanned the various objects, noticing that it was in a language you didn’t quite recognise.

“Thor, I think we have some voodoo stuff here that’s from your neck of the woods”, Bucky announced through his earpiece. 

“You think so?” you ask over your shoulder towards the man with his back to you.

“Yeah, I recognise some of these markings from his hammer”.

“Huh. maybe it’s one of the bases Loki was hiding in; he did like dark and damp places- SHIT!”

To your credit, you hadn’t touched anything or even tripped and knocked something over; potentially, a trip wire or a sensor was trapped in the room, but a light drizzling mist sprayed into your face halfway through your sentence. As you were talking, the concoction settled on your tongue but also seemed everywhere else: your eyes, nostrils, and ears felt wet.

“What? What happened?!” Bucky snapped, standing in front of you in seconds as he assessed you, wiping your eyes.

“I…I don’t know, something sprayed me in the face”. As soon as you’d explained what had happened, Bucky was cradling your face more harshly than you’d have liked, tilting your face in all directions, even sniffing close to see what had covered you, but it had already absorbed into your skin.

Bucky’s eyes were frantically searching over every pore of your face like it would give him answers about what had sprayed you. His gloved finger and thumb holding your chin tightened as he swore. “Fuck! I told you to be careful and stay by my side! Why would you touch anything?!”

Pushing his hands away from your face, you gave him an incredulous gaze, “I didn’t touch anything! I’m not an idiot, so you don’t have to talk to me like I’m one, bucky! Stop- stop trying to touch me, I’m fine,” he had been reaching for your face to examine it again, ignoring your sassy, angry tone. Still, you stepped back out of his reach, becoming frustrated with his lack of trust.

As Bucky’s mouth opened to probably further chastise you, the door ricocheted off the wall as The Avengers swarmed into the uncomfortable small room. Natasha was by your side first, examining your face just as closely as Bucky, but at least she had listened when you explained that you felt completely fine. Tony then scanned your vital signs, which were also fine.

“I told you! It’s probably some mouldy old water or something; I feel fine now can you all give me some space? You’re making it hot in here”. You were fanning your face to try and cool yourself like someone had just turned on the heating, but it was primarily because the small room was full of warm-blooded people.

“Let’s head back out, and we’ve nearly finished the sweep on the North side”, Tony began, the face plate of his suit sliding back into place. “We’ll continue and finish the rest.” He lifted his metal-covered hand and pointed a finger towards Bucky. “Barnes, take her back to the Quinjet, keep an eye on her”.

“No! Don’t send me back to the jet like a child. I told you, I feel absolutely fine!” you quickly tried to rationalise with Tony. Still, he ignored you, hovering off the ground and flying out into the corridor. You looked to the other Avengers with the hope that one of them may find some pity for you, but all you had in response were close-lipped smiles that notified you that there was nothing that they were going to do.

Letting out a frustrated shout, you stopped, admittedly like a child, in the direction you and Bucky had walked down. Even though his steps were silent, you knew he was behind. You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head.

As you returned to the Quinjet, Bucky continued to stay silent as you both sat on opposite sides of the seating bay. Your anger spiked as you shrugged off your jacket, still feeling slightly warm and needing air to reach your skin.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked as you moved across the jet with determined steps.

“The toilet, or do I need you to hold my hand as I’m doing that too?” you snap, cheeks heating as anger bubbles deep in the centre of your chest. Bucky, for once, looked taken aback by your tone as he shook his head and allowed you to go to the bathroom.

Once inside the small compartment, you rushed to the sink, turned the tap onto its coldest setting and began to scoop it over your skin, sighing in contentment as your skin began to cool down. Pressing your fingers against your face, you felt uneasy with the temperature of your skin, and it was like you were starting to get the flu but also not quite at the heat that concerned you. You decided it was probably from rushing back to the jet after a few minutes of deep breathing.

A rush of guilt settled heavily in your stomach as you thought about how you’d spoken to Bucky. You’d never broken rank and been that rude to him before. Not once had you ever raised your voice or even been angry with him, even through all the times that he’d declined your joining for a mission; it was always for the best, but now, everything just seemed to have escalated. You couldn’t calm yourself down like you were buzzing from the inside out, affecting your temperature and mind.

Three swift knocks on the bathroom door had your head snapping in that direction. “Everything ok in there?” Bucky asked tentatively.

“Yes! Can’t a girl pee without being interrupted?” you snapped, and immediately, you regretted the nasty tone you’d spit out.

There was a pause from Bucky before he continued to speak, but this time, he had lowered his voice in a soft and calming way. “It’s been half an hour, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, Sweetheart”. 

Half an hour?! You could have sworn it was only a couple of minutes. Rubbing your hands over your face and shaking away the tension, you nervously opened the door, tentatively looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just didn’t want to let you down, and I promise I didn’t touch anything in the lab-”.

Bucky pulled the door open entirely, his eyes roaming over your body to check you were still in one piece before he sighed. “It’s fine, Doll. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok… Are you… ok?”

His blue eyes flicker over your face as he notices that there's something not quite right with you, but all you can manage is a shrug of your shoulders, wiping your eyes that were feeling a little irritated. “I feel mostly fine. I think I need a lie-down, though”.

Bucky looked unsettled by your words but didn’t stop you from walking over to the onboard bunker, where you rolled onto the thin mattress and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

“So, are we just going to leave her here?” Tony sarcastically asked the other Avengers members, who were now watching you sleep.

“No, asshole. I’ll take her”, Bucky grunted, moving past the billionaire to squat beside your body. You’d been in a deep slumber since collapsing onto the bed. Bucky had stayed by your side the entire journey home, which was a fair length, so he was surprised to see you still asleep. Tony had set up the screen to display your vitals, which he watched like a hawk and other than the fact that you weren’t waking, everything remained normal.

The other Avengers didn’t argue with Bucky, knowing how protective he was over you, as they shuffled out of the loading hatch. Bucky shimmied one arm underneath your knees and the other to support your back as he carried your bridal style. You moaned at the disruption, arms circling around his jacket-covered shoulders.

Bucky contemplated taking you to the medical bay for a thorough check, but seeing your peaceful face, he didn’t want to disturb you. He’d stay with you to ensure you were checked as soon as you woke up. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d stayed with you as you slept, as there were many times you’d either fallen asleep on his arm during a movie or gotten too drunk during an Avengers event that he stayed just to make sure you didn’t choke on your vomit.

As he walked through the Avengers headquarters, he ignored the call for a debrief by his teammates and continued until he arrived at your bedroom, booting the door closed behind him.

Your bedroom was just as messy as he had anticipated it to be, stepping carefully over the shoes, clothes and books that you liked to say were carefully placed into piles on the floor, but you’d simply just left them there to clean up another time. Your bed was just as bad with mountains of pillows that you insisted on having, even though Bucky thought it was severely excessive.

Trying to reposition his hold on you, he hoisted you higher to spare one of his hands to throw the numerous pillows you owned onto the floor. In doing so, your forehead rested against his cheek, and you released an unsettled whine on the impact of his skin touching yours.

Bucky froze at the noise, trying to look down at your face, but in his position, he couldn’t see properly as you were thoroughly tucked under his chin. Finally having enough space, he ever so carefully led you out onto the soft mattress.

Your eyebrows were furrowed as if you were having a nightmare. Bucky sat beside you on the bed, counting your breaths and frowning when he noticed that you were breathing more rapidly than you had been when he was in his arms.

Sweat began to gather along your temple, causing your hair to stick to your forehead, which he quickly moved to move away. As the tip of his fingers connected with your skin, many things seemed to happen simultaneously.

For one, you released a deeply pained groan as you curled your body into a ball on your side, beginning to breathe in quick succession like you were hyperventilating.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky asked with rising concern, now cupping the side of your face with his flesh hand, but this seemed to trigger the pains enough that you awoke.

Your eyelids fluttered open just to clamp shut again, squeezing as you cried in unbelievable agony. Your skin was burning as if all your nerves had been individually set on fire, causing sweat to come to the surface of your pores drenching your clothes, which was still mostly your uniform.

“It hurts. It’s too hot”, you whimpered, lower lip wobbling as eyes effortlessly tracked down your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you attempted to undo your trousers, but the stabbing pain in your abdomen caused you to curl further into a ball like you were trying to shield your stomach from anyone touching it.

“Let me help. We need to get you to cool down. JARVIS, inform the medical bay that we need some assistance”, Bucky shouted Tony’s AI that ran throughout the building.

As Bucky managed to undo the button to your trousers, JARVIS responded with news that had Bucky’s heart almost stopping. “They are aware of the situation as Mr Stark has requested that I record her vitals from returning to Avengers headquarters. You are both officially in quarantine until they can find out what it is that was sprayed and affecting her”. 

The sound of the bedroom locking echoed louder than any of your sobs as Bucky cursed, running up to the barricade and attempting to break out. “You can’t just lock us in here! She’s going to die, Stark, you piece of shit! Open the door!”

“Bucky!” you cried pathetically, still attempting to remove your clothes even though all that remained was your t-shirt and underwear. Bucky didn’t immediately rush back to you as he removed his jacket, giving him more freedom to swing his metal arm back and punch his way through the bedroom door, but all it did was bend; it still wouldn’t open.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted, seething with unending rage as he rushed back to your side, helping to pull the shirt over your head. “Christ Doll, your skin is warmer than mine. Come on, I’m going to carry you to the bathroom; we need to cool you down”.

Bucky carefully carried you to your en suite bathroom in the same bridal style as before. He tried not to grunt at how warm your body was against his flesh arm as he carefully placed you into the bath, but as he tried to move away to turn on the shower, you screamed out, grabbing onto his arm to keep him close.

“Don’t leave me; it feels good to have you close, please!” Bucky frowned, not entirely understanding what you meant, as surely his higher-running body temperature didn’t feel good when you were burning up so significantly.

“I need to turn the shower on. I’ll be two seconds, and I’ll be back, I promise”, he explained and then didn’t wait for your response as he pried your nimble fingers off your bicep. As soon as some of him didn’t touch your skin, the symptoms worsened.

Bucky flinched at the pitch and volume of how you screamed. He scrambled to reach over the bathtub to switch on the shower head high above the wall and hastily turned the temperature down until cold water was running out.

“Sweetheart, you need to move further under the water; please work with me here. You’ll feel better, you just need to move for me”.

Your whole body was shaking with such force that you found it difficult to suck in air as the heat of your skin was the last of your worries. The pain in your abdomen had turned into pure agony, and if you were to describe it, it was almost like you were cramping, waves of stabbing pain but exaggerated to a level that made it impossible to breathe, think, or even want to survive. It was so severe that you couldn’t hear what Bucky was begging because you were desperate to try and hold your abdomen as it would in some way ease the pain, but not only this, your body was reacting in an extreme way to try and fight the unknown sensation coursing through your veins.

As if to relieve the cramps, your cunt produced an obscene amount of fluid to the point that it was dripping out of your hole and pooling beneath where you sat. If Bucky turned off the shower, you’d probably appear just as wet with how much of your juices were coming out.

“Fuck this”, Bucky whispered under his breath as he failed to get you to move by yourself. Awkwardly, due to the limited space, Bucky climbed into the bath, hoisting you forward to sit behind you and force your body further under the cold water. This, in turn, means that he began to get soaked, including the tactical gear he still wore on his legs, his combat boots and the black t-shirt. He didn’t care though, not when you were deteriorating so significantly.

Bucky put it down to the water, but as soon as he was in the bathtub, his body pressed against yours and arms wrapped around your waist so that the bare skin of his arm and metal touched yours, the screams reduced to stuttering whimpers.

Your head rested back on his shoulder, out of the way of the flowing water, but as your forehead turned and met his chin, you turned further to nuzzle closer.

“More”, you whispered, fingers digging into his forearms to hold him closer.

Bucky readjusted your body so that it sat fully between his thighs. “More what, Doll?” he asked gently, his thumb rubbing in circles along your rib cage. It was only now that he contemplated that you were in your underwear, but it was an emergency, even though some part of him deep down was awakening in some deep-seated emotions he’d been trying to keep locked away.

For the first time since you’d been in pain, you responded to his voice by turning your head slightly but only to rest your lips against his neck. “More!” It was like a siren was sounding through your mind, and the sensation of Bucky’s skin against yours was quietening it to a soft buzz; even the cramping had eased somewhat to a dull ache.

Bucky frowned, confused by your demands, but he squeezed his arms around you further, deciding that maybe it was the comfort that was helping you.

“It hurts”, you sobbed against his neck, “wanna feel more of your skin”.

“My…my skin?” Bucky asked, completely confused by your request and deciding that you’d probably entered the delirious stage of whatever illness you were experiencing.

“Mr Barnes? Are you there?” came a voice from the speakers in the ceiling.

“JARVIS? Is help coming?” Bucky asked with hope pleading in his voice.

“No, sorry, Mr Barnes, but we have an update. It seems that Mr Odinson has read through some of the markings found in the footage taken from the lab. The mist sprayed was, in fact, from Asgardian origin. Mr Odinson informs me that it is most likely planted there by Mr Laufeyson as a trick he has played many times in their lifetime.”

A prank? It sure didn’t look like a prank with the way you were trembling and crying in Bucky’s arms. “So what the hell is it? How do we stop this from getting any worse?”

“This is of a delicate matter, Mr Barnes, so forgive me. Mr Odinson informs me that the chemicals used in the mist are an aphrodisiac used during specific parties in Asgard to increase the user's arousal. Still, due to the amount of time that this substance had been left in this hydra facility, it has caused the ingredients to age and the symptoms to increase in intensity. However, Mr Odinson has reassured me that the symptoms should reduce if you were to consummate”.

Bucky was speechless as he looked down at your precious, unwell body in his arms. “You can’t be fucking serious”, he’d meant to shout, but all that came out was a doubtful whisper. “What would happen if we left her? Would the symptoms lessen? She doesn’t seem to be in as much pain when touching my skin”.

“Unfortunately, after some time, the symptoms will reduce. The chemicals used are designed to last as long as possible, and as they are all out of date, Mr Odinson is unsure how long this may last, but with her vitals as abnormal as they are now, it is unwise to leave her. Mr Stark has suggested that if you cannot fulfil the role of consummation, then he would find someone who could”.

Bucky’s reaction to Stark's comment was to shout in rage, and he could picture him now smiling at his sarcastic comment. There was no way he was letting anyone else touch you. “What if she doesn’t want that? I’m not touching her if she doesn’t want-”

“I do”, you gasp whilst still resting your face on his neck, calming your cries enough that you could hear JARVIS. “I want it so bad; I need the pain to go away. Please help me Bucky”.

Whether it was the way that you begged him for the intimate act or the thought of potentially what was happening, Bucky regretted to say that his cock twitched in the confines of his underwear as he sat up further. “Sweetheart, do you understand what’s being asked? To do this-”

“I want you to touch me, Bucky; I don’t need to tell you how long I’ve wanted this. I know you know how I feel, but please, I can’t feel like this anymore; it hurts everywhere”.

Bucky’s eyes glazed over. All the time of knowing you, he had somewhat of an inkling of the shared feelings. Still, it was firstly unprofessional of him to act on any feelings, but his self-conscious bias of being undeserved of love due to his past as the Winter Soldier stopped him further.

However, now, you were led out before him, ready to live the dreams and fantasies he’d been stuck on for so long, but what’s worse was the pain you were experiencing. It seemed he took too long to answer as he could feel the shift of the heat radiating from you once more.

Your back arched as your fingers delved between your legs, cupping your mound as the pain increased; this time, it wasn’t just the cramps but also white-hot tingles beginning in your clit, over every little sensitive nerve that ran throughout your core.

“Please help me!” you cried, tears lining your eyes.

Bucky had to decide then and there if he would potentially watch you suffer with unimaginable pain or help in the only possible way. He’d agreed, had from the second Jarvis had suggested it, knowing that he couldn’t lose you.

Sitting up slightly, Bucky reached behind his head to pull the black t-shirt off and onto the floor, the wet material squelching on impact. With his chest bare and kissing the skin of your back, you sighed in relief, but the throbbing between your thighs didn’t cease.

“Off, I need these off!” you referred to your underwear, the bra and panties restraining the areas that hurt you the most. Using his metal hand, bucky quickly tore through both garments and discarded them onto the floor to join his shirt.

The sound of relief that you made caused his heart to beat with a more affectionate rhythm as he looked down at your now naked body. The shower continued to coat you with cool water that glistened off you. Your nipples were the first thing that he noticed, impossibly hard and aching to be touched, and it seemed he was reading your mind as you grabbed his metal hand and used it to cup the squishy mound, directing his thumb and forefinger to pinch the sensitive nub.

You released a heavenly cry, back arching and thighs clamping shut at the lightest of touches. With his warm hand, he did the same to your other breast as he carefully squished both in his palms before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Yes! Feels so good, just like that”, you beg, eyes still shut, but your head had rolled back onto his shoulder, giving him the space to respond to his desire of gently kissing the column of your throat. Even this sparked more moans from you, needing to feel the plumpness of his lips, needing the electrical tingles that came from his touches to continue.

The kisses were soft, like he was scared to touch you, but as your sounds of pure elation continued, so did his confidence as his mouth opened, applying wet, open-mouth kisses to your skin.

As if on instinct, responding to these touches, your hips began to rotate, pushing down harder against his groin until Bucky was moaning in pleasure.

“More, touch me more”. Bucky responded to your demands by smoothing his flesh hand down your abdomen, feeling the skin taunt, reacting to him. He moved over your mound as he watched closely from over your shoulder. This was when he felt it, the wetness that was continuing to be produced and pour out of your cunt. Even though the shower was still coating you, the substance was different, verging on feeling slimy, more slippy and seemed to cover everywhere from the waist down.

Bucky contemplated licking his fingers to taste you, especially as his mouth filled with saliva with the need pulsing through him. Still, it wasn’t about him, so he continued lower until his fingertips were parting your labia.

The second his middle finger stroked your clit, it seemed a wild animal took over you like you knew how close you were to receiving what you truly wanted but not quite going at the speed you wanted.

One flick of his middle finger against your swollen, throbbing clit was all you allowed before you were turning in his arms, pushing his arms away momentarily as you raised onto weak knees.

“Need you now. I can’t wait; it hurts so much Bucky”. As you explained your reasonings, your shaking fingers were reaching for the waist of his tactical trousers, trying to undo the belt but grunting when you struggled to do so. Bucky thankfully helped you then, ignoring the evident trembling in his fingers from all of the adrenaline as he unfastened his belt, button and zipper.

With this new freedom, you were able to reach inside the space and grasp his hard dick, pulling it out of the confines of his clothes. You marvelled at it for a single second, enjoying the softness of the skin but the firmness of the shaft, the bulging veins and tip that was bulbous and aching to be stroked. It was like your prize, your pot of gold at the end of the tunnel, and you needed it inside of you right that moment.

Seeing and hearing your desperation to be as quick as possible, as the cramps continued to pulse through your abdomen, Bucky quickly grabbed your hips, pulling you over his lap to straddle him, even with the awkwardness of the squished space in the bathtub.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you lowered yourself. Neither you nor Bucky had ever experienced anything like it. The agony catapulting through your veins completely shifted to one of pleasure, like a switch had been flicked throughout your body as you took inch after inch of his delicious cock. Bucky, on the other hand, was having to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cumming, but he did moan in an animalistic way. He’d never been inside a cunt that was so perfect before, so deliciously warm and unnaturally soaked; you squeezed his cock in pulses that he soon realised was the thump of your heart.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky couldn’t help but praise, wrapping his arms around your back to provide further support.

As your body naturally seemed to adjust to the size of his cock, you didn’t waste any time before beginning to ride him with the help of Bucky’s strong arms.

The shower still coated you both in refreshing cold water for the heat, devouring the two of you. Bucky is still wearing his tactical trousers and boots, and you are completely nude and riding him like your life depended on it. Well, it did, in a way.

Up and down, you bounced, your tits jumping on your chest, which caused your pebbled nipples to rub against his, giving extra stimulation. You were so incredibly out of breath with the momentum of fucking him, but you didn’t stop, only occasionally softening the bouncing to a soft roll which always caused Bucky to moan and squeeze the cheeks of your arse together.

In no time at all, you were finding your peak, cunt pulsing dangerously tightly around his cock as you came, face hiding on his shoulder as you slumped against him for a second. Bucky thought this would be over, that he would have to carry you to bed and hope you felt better soon, but then he began to feel the wetness flowing around his cock and the throb returning. Shortly after, you were whimpering.

“It hurts again, please Bucky, I need you again”.

Bucky didn’t need telling twice as he thrust his hips up to snap into yours, causing your delicious moan to echo around the room. He needed to hear it again, so he repeated the action, but it was difficult to find any sort of leverage in this position, so with his metal arm positioned beneath your arse, he supported your weight and stood. His boots were now the objects to be squelching as he moved towards the shower wall.

There, he pushed your back against it and began to fuck you with deep, fast penetrations. Your head fell back against the tiles, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blades as you didn’t want this pleasure to end.

“Harder, Bucky fuck me harder!” you cried out, knowing he was still holding back. Bucky grunted, shifting so that both of his hands were beneath your arse cheeks, holding you more securely so that he could fuck you without any restraint.

Each thrust had you almost blacking out; they felt so good. The tip of his cock smashing into your cervix, which any other time would have potentially hurt, but for now, it was just what you needed.

You came again, spluttering and quivering from your mouth and cunt as he helped you over the edge. However, once more, the pains returned.

Bucky had once thought that his increased libido due to the super serum was a hindrance, but for the only time in his life, he was thanking whatever asshole had experimented on him for this moment.

His trousers and boots had been removed as he had carried your dripping body out of the shower when he realised your temperature remained low if he was fucking you. Into the bedroom, he continued his impressive and thorough fucking. Pushed onto the bed on all fours, in the spooning position, even missionary, and he wouldn’t change positions until you were a cumming bumbling mess. Wherever he decided to bend you over, it was always him on top; your legs were shaking too much to support your weight anymore, but he didn’t mind, not when he could take full control and draw orgasm after orgasm from you.

After god knows how many orgasms, Bucky finally couldn’t edge himself anymore and came with a gruff moan against your collarbone from where he lay over you, his seed seeping into your swollen hole, warming and massaging internally. This finally seemed to settle you, like it was the one missing ingredient your body needed, as you slumped onto the bed without any more cries of pain.

Bucky collapsed next to you, pulling your exhausted, limp body on top of his, your face resting on his chest as you both tried to calm your breathing.

He thought you’d fallen asleep, but then your face was tilting up to look at his, which, in turn, he looked down to look at yours. Even though you looked thoroughly exhausted, he could see that you were beginning to return to your usual self as you smiled so gently that it caused his heart to beat harder. Something you could hear as your ear rested over his heart. Tilting your head up further, your lips caressed his before Bucky could contemplate what you were doing.

The kiss was light and delicate, and it finally dawned on Bucky that this was the first kiss shared between the two of you, having been so distracted with fucking your brains out that he thought kissing would be too intimate. Neither of you said anything, just continued to smile before sleep finally captured your conscious minds.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even. 

Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether. 

But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames. 

“I—” he mumbles. 

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

You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try. 

But the thought doesn’t last long.

You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight. 

Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you. 

But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him. 

You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.

Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.

The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table. 

This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.

His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it. 

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live. 

You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible. 

“___.”

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”

“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in. 

Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him. 

But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit. 

Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay. 

You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that. 

Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go. 

You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.

You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.

“___.”

“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.

“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.

You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.

Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.

“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly. 

He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.

“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading. 

You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic. 

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”

You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you. 

Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”

“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.

“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”

“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”

Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him. 

Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around. 

He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you. 

He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.

Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.

But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.

“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.

“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”

“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”

“What?”

“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”

Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.

Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough. 

He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.

Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.

As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely. 

The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.

At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that. 

Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through. 

Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much. 

You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces. 

“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.

“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”

“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.

“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”

You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.

“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”

“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.” 

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”

Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.

“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”

You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.

“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”

“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”

Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you. 

As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.

You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back. 

But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”

“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.

You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”

The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart. 

You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last. 

There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.

All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful. 

“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”

“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize. 

Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice. 

“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”

“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”

“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”

“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”

“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”

“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”

It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks. 

The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for. 

You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to. 

Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.

“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”

It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time. 

You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day. 

After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you. 

What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is? 

You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.

Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.

Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him. 

That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish. 

During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him. 

You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there. 

But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more. 

Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind. 

But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you. 

Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse. 

“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks. 

“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”

“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror. 

You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building. 

The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already. 

“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”

“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.

“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.

But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear. 

He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours. 

His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all. 

He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything. 

It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.

He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place. 

You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did. 

But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.

Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too. 

And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all. 

But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it. 

You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end. 

The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table. 

There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.

“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”

“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”

You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you say softly.  

“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”

“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”

“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”

Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.

“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”

You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks. 

“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”

“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”

“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”

“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration. 

But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.

“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”

“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”

“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”

“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”

You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.

“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”

Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed. 

Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe. 

He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place. 

Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.

It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing. 

But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away? 

The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.

The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.

He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.

“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”

It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again. 

Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.

And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.

He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same. 

It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.

The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.

But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.

“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away. 

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”

“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.

It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.

“I was rushing,” he explains. 

You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work. 

It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible. 

You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after. 

Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.

Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.

“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?” 

His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.

You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.

Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out. 

“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.

“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”

As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”

“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.

But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.

Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour. 

He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.

“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.

“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”

His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected. 

“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.

“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him. 

But still, you don’t.

“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.

“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.

So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad. 

“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod. 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.

“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”

“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you. 

“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”

You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing. 

“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout. 

“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”

“Neither am I.”

Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race. 

He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more. 

“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.

“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty. 

“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”

“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”

You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.

“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.

Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you. 

“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly. 

The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides. 

“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.

He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours. 

He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.

You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table. 

He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk. 

Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.

Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned. 

This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything. 

But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.

“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”

You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now. 

His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.

“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.” 

“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.

“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”

The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you. 

He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.

“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”

“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do. 

He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to. 

“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”

Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought. 

You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference. 

“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.” 

His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do. 

“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”

This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him. 

He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.

“___, please. I just want to be with you.”

It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.

Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”

With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again. 

Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle. 

He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.

You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier. 

You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.

It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened. 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you. 

And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away. 

Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him. 

Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around. 

You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye. 

You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted. 

You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life. 

Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you. 

You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy. 

He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you. 

You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.

He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.

They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you. 

You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did. 

You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered? 

Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes. 

He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay. 

He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor. 

This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.

He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go. 

Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around. 

He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too. 

His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away. 

The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it. 

At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.

Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered. 

“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.

It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today. 

Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.

They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.

With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake. 

“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?” 

“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea. 

“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”

“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”

Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.

“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”

“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”

“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean. 

He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.

“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”

You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from. 

You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.

Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder. 

You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to. 

So you give Mr. Ri permission. 

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”

Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now. 

“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”

“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.

“I did. She also told me what happened.”

“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”

Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.

“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”

“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”

“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”

“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”

“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”

The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.

But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.

“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”

It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?

“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.  

“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”

Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life. 

The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time. 

Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before. 

“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”

“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”

“She— what?” 

Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years. 

“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”

“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.” 

“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”

The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other. 

“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”

She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there. 

“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”

As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks. 

“Did… did he hurt them?”

“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree. 

“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times. 

“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”

The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran.  The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.” 

Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”

Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own. 

But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.

“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe. 

“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”

“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying. 

“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you. 

“Did she know? And did she love you back?”

“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders. 

“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.

“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”

It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.

“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.

“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”

“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”

“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”

“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father. 

“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”

At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”

“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable. 

And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?

It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?

The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way. 

He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too. 

“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”

“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”

“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”

“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride. 

The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him. 

“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.

“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”

“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”

“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”

Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.

They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.

His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years. 

The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.

It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone. 

“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks. 

“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”

“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”

“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”

The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.

“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”

“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”

“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.

“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.

“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well. 

“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”

“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”

“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”

There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on. 

“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”

Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind. 

Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.

There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.

Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.

He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.

He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life. 

You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too. 

You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now. 

But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well. 

Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you. 

It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well. 

You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most. 

Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.

“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”

“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes. 

“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.

“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.

“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?” 

There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way. 

He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.

You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for  beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him. 

He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.

You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away. 

You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place. 

Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all. 

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[innerfare]

You Just Do It Better 

Summary: There are some things that are better left to you

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy:  

When his hat is in a state of disrepair, as it often is, he now hands it over to you to be fixed. You did it once when he was sound asleep after a fight, and when he woke up, he discovered his most prized possession looked better than it ever had. People are so rarely allowed to touch his hat, but he begs you- puppy dog eyes and all- to fix his hat for him every time it gets damaged. You just do it better. 

Zoro: 

Why does your sake always taste better? And your beer? And, though he’s loathe to admit it, he’d rather swipe that fruity cocktail you’re drinking than have his own whiskey because whenever you order a drink, it just tastes better. Oh, and when you make it? Forget about drinking it yourself. If you make a drink yourself, be it ice water or hot tea or something with liquor, Zoro will at the very least be stealing a few sips, even if he’s made his own. You just do it better. 

Sanji: 

Who knew you had such a talent for frosting cupcakes? He takes such pride in cooking for you, never imagined for a moment he would allow you to pick up even a single kitchen utensil. But he had his hands full one day and you took over the cupcakes he’d made upon Luffy’s request, and you did such a beautiful job he didn’t even let the crew eat them. Now, it’s your job to frost any sweets he makes. You just do it better. 

Ace: 

It’s everything you touch, really. Whether you’re picking out a necklace or seasoning a dish, you just do it better. But most especially, you talk. Whether you’re talking about nothing or speaking on something important, you have a way with words that he simply doesn’t. He always puts his thoughts and feelings through a you filter because however you phrase things is going to be the best way. You just do it better. 

Sabo: 

You edit his manuscript. He has no shortage of people who could do it for him, people who have real experience doing such things. He could do it himself, too, educated as he is (though he hides it well). But you’re so much better. You know exactly how to read his words and improve on them without changing the underlying point he is trying to make. He even has you read his private journals just for your opinion. You just do it better. 

Law: 

You put the right words in his mouth for him. Law often stumbles over his words and isn’t the best at communicating his emotions. You have a special talent for reading his emotions and explaining them, so much so that when he has a conflict, he comes to you and you help him piece together the right thing to say so he doesn’t end up snapping and saying something rude (still probably ends up snapping, but it’s not as bad with your help). You just do it better. 

Kid: 

Applying the soothing gel intended to calm the residual pain in the stub of his arm used to be a private ordeal, the fact that his arm hurt perhaps his most closely guarded secret. But you walked in on him one night and found him in so much pain that you took over despite his protests, and he found the gel worked even better when you massaged it into his arm. Now, he doesn’t even bother trying to do it himself. You just do it better. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[avis-writeshq]

summary: "drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain."/"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain." The first time you meet Spencer Reid, you swore that you could feel the sparks fly. You figured that it would be unreasonable to ever consider him to be anything more than a friend, and in a moment of selflessness you tell yourself that you are perfectly fine in that position. As time goes on, the line between romantic and platonic love begins to blur indefinitely. But it would be ridiculous to think that the resident genius would feel anything for you... right?

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, happy ending warnings: rated 16+ for canonical criminal minds trauma, drugs/relapsing, torture, therapy, panic attacks/night terrors, guns, death, ‼️always read each fic's individual warnings for triggers‼️ taglist [CLOSED]: here playlist: here status: complete

main masterlist || ao3

bonus! 00 — l.d.s.k

in other words, the first time spencer calls you 'angel'. // wc: 2.2k

part of my 2023-2024 milestone event! you can find it here!

01 — better than revenge

“she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” 

you thought you were past the immature arguments now that you're an adult. you thought you left those in high school, or even college. maybe you thought you did. apparently, spencer thought otherwise. // wc: 10.4k

02 — haunted

“something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.”

it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be a normal open-shut case. but people are unpredictable and you're left picking up the pieces as you work yourself to the grave. // wc: 10.1k

03 — labyrinth

“uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?”

everything hurts. it's understandable, after everything he's went through. spencer wishes that he could erase every one of his scars. he wishes he could stop chasing the highs and embrace the lows. but at least he has you. // wc: 3.8k

04 — you are in love

“you can hear it in the silence.”/”you can hear it on the way home.”/”you can see it with the lights out.”

spencer didn't think that something like this could happen. no, rather, he wanted to deny the fact that something like this could happen. but all he can think about is you. in other words; the four times spencer wants to kiss you, and the one time he wishes he did. // wc: 3.4k

05 — enchanted

“please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”

the line drawn in the sand that was once supposed to be an invisible boundary to never cross is washed away by the sand. these are the kind of lines where you could never go back to should you cross them; and yet here you are, so scared to see the ending as the two of you pretend that this is nothing. // wc: 4.9k

06 — untouchable

“come on, come on, say that we’ll be together”/“i’m caught up in you.”

so close and yet so far. maybe in some twisted way, you are each other's romeo and juliet, doomed from the beginning. or maybe you are each other's hamlet and ophelia, the tragedy of a love that never really was. // wc: 4.3k

07 — wildest dreams

“he’s so tall, and handsome as hell”/”his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”

never in your wildest dreams did you think that you would be privileged enough to experience something so good. spencer reminds you that these things are reality. // wc: 3.3k

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