#he just needs to be strong enough for bosses to feel satisfying to fight and not a struggle

[rubys-domain]

you know... i don't think i'm gonna start the fontaine archon quest right away. i'm probably gonna skirt around and just trek through the wilds of fontaine first before doing anything else

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

This post may or may not be inspired by the fantasies I have at work 🫣 😂 I'm just a girl ✨

₊˚⊹ Fucking your boss ˚⊹

Both of your hands were resting on his shoulders as you moved up and down on his cock. Your hips were moving at an intense speed, chasing your own pleasure. This experience was already giving you satisfaction, as beneath you was your new boss, who was instructing you on your new path as a teacher.

However, Gojo was busy panting as your tight cunt kept moving alongside his shaft. He had a strong grip on your body, and you felt as his fingers would tighten with each passing moment, leaving red marks on your skin.

“Gojo,” you moaned, trying your hardest to keep quiet.

"Hmm..." a low hum was all he could say while looking at you with half-lidded eyes. Seeing his bright blue eyes looking at you with such hunger made you smirk and desire him even more.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his in an eager kiss. Your tongues immediately kept twirling around each other in an erratic rhythm, leaving no room for air or corrections. It was a sloppy kiss, one that resulted in lots of moans that filled the room. None of you cared about the others anymore.

You grabbed a handful of his white hair and pulled his head backwards, gaining dominance over him. Your lips went to taste other parts of his skin, going from his cheeks to the jawline and finally to his neck.

"Oh yes..." he said in a long, low tone, indicating his addiction to your touch.

"You like that?" you asked as you bit his neck hard enough to make his cock throb.

"Yes...yes..." he said in the same way, which made you unaware of his next move.

His hands moved to grab your butt, and suddenly you felt your body being lifted in the air. His cock remained inside you all this time as he placed you on his desk. A few tests fell on the floor.

"Satoru..." you yelped but were silenced immediately once he began to thust inside you. His pace was faster than yours, more eager. With each thrust, you felt him throb harder and harder. Heavy breaths were combined with little moans; his hair was all over his sweaty forehead, making Gojo a hot mess.

He lifted your legs over his shoulders, a moment in which you felt his cock reach the deepest spots inside you. The feeling was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn't control yourself. The desk was shaking underneath you two as he kept on rushing. You felt like a useless piece of meat in his hands as he kept pounding like an animal.

With a gutural groan, he came inside you, whitening your interior completely. Your own orgasm left you in a weak state, trembling legs falling on his shoulder.

Luckily, no one heard you two doing the dirty.

His four arms were all over your body.

“Hmmm, divine.” He said as he ran his fingers along the curves of your back.

You were one of his favourite soldiers, and now you understand that not only your fighting skills got his attention.

You breathe heavily as you feel all of his four arms groping your flesh. Two of his hands were resting on your hips, another was caressing your back, and another was slowly aiming to play with your breast.

“Hmm, fuck…” you whispered as you felt his fingers toying with your nipple. He kept pinching and rolling it between his fingertips, going so slowly as you antagonise you.

"Master.." you whispered, not wanting to hide the need for him.

"Patience, my soldier. Don't rush me." He said the last part in a bit of a threatening tone, and he squeezed your hips a little harder.

"My apologie...ah-" you let out a sharp moan when you felt one thick finger entering your hole. It came in and out of you, slowly as if he tested his new playground. He moved it in circles, tickling your walls and feeling them squeeze his finger.

"Hmm..." He let out a satisfied moan, and you smiled, knowing that your body was already pleasing the king. You playfully moved your hips back and forth on his finger, urging him to keep exploring you.

Amused by your act, he humoured you and added another finger, stretching you a little more. You bit your lip and exhaled deeply as you felt his second digit joining the other. With curved fingers, he picked up the pace a bit, just to make sure you're ready. When he felt like you had enough, he removed them and gave his cock a few strokes.

Your heart was pounding with joy and a little bit of anxiety as you waited for his next move. However, you became thrilled when you felt something hard tickling your entrance.

“Show me you want it,” he said, moment in which you pressed your chest to the mattress.

That’s when things took a turn.

He was fucking you raw, like you were the only woman for him. The groans, the iron grip, the little praises he would whisper to you were so fucking delightful as it felt you were being spoiled by a god.

His big shaft went in and out of you, rubbing your spot with each thrust. You could feel all that pressure building up, almost as if you were about to explode. Sukuna just overwhelmed your senses, turning you into a hot, sweaty, mess. His other hands were all over your body, bringing you over the edge.

Your orgasm was so intense that you fell numb in an instant. Lucky for you, Sukuna was holding your body as he kept thrusting inside you.

Another sensation followed once the King filled you up. It was so good, so addictive that it left you wanting more.

Being an intern was never so fun, especially when your boss was thrusting his fat cock inside you while your body was pressed tight on his desk.

"Na-nanami..." That's the only coherent thing that your trembling voice could say.

One of his hands was tangled within your locks, having a fistful of your hair, and the other was resting next to your face.

He supported himself on the elbow as he lowered himself over you.

"You have no idea for how long I've been watching you," he whispered with his smooth voice, contrary to the brute force of his hips. "I've laid my eyes on you ever since you first came in our office." His grip on your hair tightened, forcing you to lift your head and come closer to his mouth. "I wanted you the moment I saw you in that pencil skirt...so tight on your hips," he muttered the last few words, and they were followed by a very, very hard thrust, which made your body jolt. The whole desk was shaking, causing a few supplies to drop on the floor.

His mouth went straight to your exposed neck, and with his fingers, he moved away the fabric of your shirt that was in his way. The hand from your hair went to cover your mouth, and it was so big that it covered a good portion of your face. His fingers squeezed your cheeks as he thrusted, the grip tightening and loosening with each move.

Tears just shot from your eyes when he found your breast. His calloused fingers immediately found your sensitive nipple, pinching and twisting with enough force to overwhelm you.

With his mouth at your neck, his hand on your chest, and his cock buried inside you, it was all you needed to forget about yourself and the reason you accepted the internship. Feeling the unbearable pressure, you rolled your eyes and allowed yourself to be devoured by it.

The orgasm hit you hard, and you were lucky to have Nanami holding you as your body went numb. His arm went below your chin to grab the other shoulder; the other went to hug your waist as he kept thrusting inside you. He almost choked you, but he quickly released his load inside.

After that, he helped you clean yourself and get dressed.

"My apologies, Y/N; I didn't mean to destroy your shirt," he said while looking at the torn fabric. Quickly, he loosened the remaining buttons of his shirt and handed it to you. "Here, take it. I have a spare one; don't worry."

Your eyes widened when you saw his physique, and one thing ran through your mind: "This man is definitely not just a simple salaryman."

His recent employer asked him to teach you a few tricks, so he was technically your new boss until his contract was over.

You were sitting at the edge of the bed with your legs wide spread.

"Beautiful..." He looked down at you and smirked. He was completely naked, with his cock erect and its tip red. "See what you're doing to me?" He asked before giving it a few strokes.

"You should see what you're doing to me..." you replied, looking at him with those seductive siren eyes that drove him mad.

He eyed your wet cunt and moved one of his fingers between your slits, travelling from your hole to your clit, feeling the dampness that was between your legs, which caused him to let out a long, satisfied moan.

"I'm about to teach you soo much, little doll," he said as he bent over you. He never broke eye contact, not even for a second.

You gasped when you felt his tip stretching you, but Toji quickly pressed his lips over yours, resulting in an intense and passionate kiss. He pushed and pushed until his cock was buried deep inside you and continued at a slow pace so you could adjust.

"You're such a good slut for me," he said, moaning the last words. "You are taking me so well..." A hard thrust followed, one that you felt so deep within you that made you yelp. After that, he became more energetic, picking up the pace and rubbing that sweet spot within you.

His mouth was glued to your neck as he continued to suck and bite various portions of your flesh. He loved when you'd whimper in pain as he applied more pressure, enough to leave marks.

With his head buried at the junction of your neck and cock thrusting at a fast pace, Toji completely forgot the purpose of his mission. All he cared about was going as deep as he could in your cunt, fucking you senseless until you couldn't walk.

"Toji..." you cried out. He felt your cunt contracting more and more and knew the end was close.

With an iron grip on the sheets, he thrust a few more times until you came, milking him of every single drop he could offer. With a gutural groan, he filled you up to the brim.

"Now that's a training I enjoy," you said between heavy breaths.

"Oh, and the day is not finished yet," he said with a smirk.

[persona-brainrot-real]

a very long about haru because i love her and im upset about how the game let her story get overshadowed at every turn

its nearly 3am rn but i'm thinking about how genuinely insane it is for persona 5 to introduce Haru as a character who is struggling to find any of her autonomy and treat her the way that they do. her father is marrying her off to a man who makes it explicitly clear he wants to use her for sex and even Okumura, in his palace, is shown to understand this.

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru in her Phantom Thief outfit says "Father! You want me to be that mans plaything to satisfy your own ambitions?" the second is of Shadow Okumura, looking angry, saying "This is the only value you've had from the very beginning. The third image is before the boss fight against the cognition of Haru's fiance. He is saying "let's have fun! I'll play with you until I get bored!"]

even outside of the palace, in their daily life he makes it extremely clear that he has no intent on trusting Haru with company business (likely because he expects the company to be handed off to her husband after he dies) and he doesn't acknowledge her feelings or anything she says to defend her own autonomy (i know this is me reciting everything in the game i do have a point)

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru is upset as she says "So I'm not even allowed to decide where I will live, am I?". In the second, Okumura is saying "not only do you come home late, you've even stayed out overnight without permission..." looking disapproving. In the third image, Okumura is saying "I have my hands full right now with the company. Don't cause any more trouble for me." He is holding his phone.]

even when she first joins your team, she tries to insist on being useful and fighting, considering this is her request and her fathers palace, and morgana tells her she cant. i know its 'for her own sake' that she cant fight, but considering that Morgana was there when she first awakened and planned on using her to get through a palace alone, its really frustrating to then see him say shes not strong enough to fight in a team.

[ID: two screenshots of persona five royal. Both are taken in Okumura's palace. In the first, Haru is saying "I can fight too! Please, let me join you in battle!". In the second, Morgana is saying "Your persona is too weak to fight safely at the moment. Just leave that side of things to us for now."]

and this comes in AFTER morgana, while using her, gets her to insult his friends on his behalf because hes annoyed with them, even though she's visibly uncomfortable doing so, contradicts what morgana wants her to say, and is shown later to have no real malicious feelings for them - and all of the bitter feelings she DID have were because morgana told her that the PT's were mean and didn't treat him right or didn't need him, which wasn't true to begin with, and is why she has to ask him for direction on what to say,

[ID: Haru looks upset. She stands opposite the Phantom Thieves and looks at Morgana. She is asking him "What was it again?"]

and you bring all of this into a brilliant character of a girl who is so self-assured, so firm on what she wants and her own autonomy - i want to be a Phantom Thief, i want to be a hero, i want to have my autonomy but more importantly i want to earn it, i want to change my fathers heart myself so that he becomes a better person and a better business owner, i want to prove to him that i can be trusted with the company and that i have more worth than being married off - but never really gets to express that? Even when it comes to the fight with Okumura and her chance to have her moment - the moment where Yusuke tells Madarame he's a coward who lost sight of his passion, where Ann gets to tell Kamoshida that he's only alive because she wants him to live through all he's done (both in the palace and the real world), where Futaba gets to talk to her mom directly in a scene that always makes me tear up - Haru's moment to stand up to her father is overshadowed by her father speaking to Morgana instead!!!!!

i know that this could also be a huge meta moment - he sees his daughter standing up to him, defending herself, and dismisses her entirely to try and appeal to the next rational subject, a man, but . the man is a cat. it doesnt work as well if he turns to a cat to be like "well certainly you'll be more reasonable" and turns the focus to Morgana - who has already taken up a lot of time that Haru deserved to have recognised!!!!

i have issues with morgana, yes, and I believe a lot of that arc could have been really useful character building for him if it had been handled slightly better, given more weight and better pacing, but it really wouldn't have been such a big problem for me if it hadn't been pushed so heavily during Haru's character moments, because she is SUCH a good character!!!!

in her first appearance she makes for a really good subversion of what the PT's think that they are. her insistence on working for justice helps them work through their temporary doubt for what their purpose is and by having such a difficult situation happening in her life, she unites them all on something that they have to do. At least until they go to Okumura's palace for the first proper investigation, the intent to rescue Haru from her fiance is more important than the Phan-site and more important than any of Okumura's business practices.

she prioritises everyone elses happiness over her own to the point where she watches her father die on live television and tells the PT's to continue having fun at destinyland without her without considering that they'd want to be there for her. She has always suspected that people only wanted to be her friend for her money - and this seems to have affected her so much that despite being 'secretive about her history' at Shujin, she still doesn't mention at any point whether or not she has friends and is only seen speaking with teachers.

after her fathers death she has no real reason to trust any of the PT's - they were navigating with an unknown method, with no proof to show that what they were doing wouldn't cause a mental shutdown, they barely know each other, and yet she trusts them in spite of this and places her faith in the PT's regardless. even when faced with the person who DID kill her father, she understands that his death was a larger piece in a bigger plan and that it wasn't akechi's fault, it was the fault of Shido for ordering him dead, and in Shido's palace she's able to get the catharsis of killing the cognition of the person who aired her fathers death publicly on TV.

And what I think is a more frustrating part than any of that - where all of the Phantom Thieves, after their palace, get following story beats that increase their importance to make sure that you, as the player, can get attached to them, but the more PT's that join the team, the harder it is to juggle all of those characters and a lot of them have very vocal and prominent personalities that keep them involved. Yusuke's general quirks and behaviour keep him interesting, Makoto has an entire arc that's established ages before she's involved in Kaneshiro's palace, Futaba becoming navigator keeps her relevant, but where Haru's arc is taken over by Morgana in the palace where she's introduced, all subsequent story beats are entirely overtaken by Akechi.

Don't get me wrong, I love Akechi and he is in my brain 24/7, but it is extremely unfortunate that her fathers death immediately kickstarts the section of plot where the PT's realise that they're being tricked, meaning the plot suddenly ramps up, and during the school fair (something Haru is explicitly very excited about), Akechi's growing popularity and prominence in the story takes centre stage, especially as a day later he blackmails the PTs and joins their party.

Again, not complaining about Akechi, its just unfortunate that Haru's main story is clouded over by Morgana having a character arc and then the fan favourite comes in and immediately becomes the most prominent character for almost the entire rest of the game. It's sad because I love Haru but it wasn't until I romanced her that I realised how much I love her and how much there is too her - which ESPECIALLY sucks because it makes the section where you're reassuring her in the velvet room fall so flat compared to how you reassure everyone else.

ALL to say that i think it's wild to have a character whose entire arc routinely revolves around proving herself and reclaiming her autonomy from the men in her life, like her father and her fiance, and having her character arc so heavily influenced and even overshadowed by morgana, a male character. thank you guys for listening and if you disagree with me consider writing what your opinions are on your own post and not on mine :3

Anyway. huge rant post over. Haru is my wife and my girlfriend and my silly rabbit and i think she should be hyped up way more. ESPECIALLY for her showtime attack with makoto because that's fucking adorable. everyone must post one thousand haru okumura positivity posts right now

[ID: a gif of Haru Okumura, in her Phantom Thief outfit, holding her hat with one hand and pointing with the other. She says "I am no longer your subservient puppet!" while looking determined.]

[themememerchant]

Persona 5 Arcana Swap: Queenpin Of The Metaverse

I had this idea when I was awake one night and before I knew it I was opening a google doc to start writing a new Arcana Swap fic.

I have A LOT of ideas for all of the characters involved in this. Mostly revolving around various 'what-ifs' and headcanons I have in regards to the original story of P5R.

There's still a lot of kinks I Ned to iron out, specifically the confidants.

But the general idea of the phantom thieves has been sorted out in a way that I think I'm pretty satisfied with.

So keep in mind that some of these ideas may change later as I think of new plot threads to introduce, but for the most part the stories of the new Phantom Thieves of Hearts has been pretty well thought out.

So here we go! Introducing...

My Arcana Swapped Phantom Thieves:

Sumire Yoshizawa-Maruki - The Fool

Codename: Queenpin

Persona: Queenie

Despite being the protagonist and the fool, she doesn't have the wildcard ability, since I don't feel the need to include it from a literary standpoint.

MUCH different than her canon counterpart in behavior, as well as the fact that my version of her is trans and autistic (ME?! PROJECTING?! NOOO...)

The story of her arrest is that she came from an abusive household, one day she punched her father in a fit of rage while he insulted her for not being as good as her sister. The next night, the police crash into her room claiming they had an anonymous tip that Sumire had guns and narcotics in her possession, sure enough, when they searched her backpack, that's exactly what they found.

Her parents also hired someone to rig the trial she was forced to attend, they made it so they would be able to disown Sumire and people would think it was her own fault for being a criminal. When everything was said and done, her parents were all too happy to package her stuff up and send her to live with a foster caretaker to the other side of Tokyo.

After Sumire got to experience true freedom when she stood up to her parents, even if only for a moment, she vowed to never let people walk on her again. Which is exactly how her persona is able to coax her into having an awakening.

She's much less blindly polite than her canon counterpart. She's not insulting people left and right or anything, but she can and will call someone out on their bullshit. She's also not above some light jabs with her friends.

She flirts with every cute girl or hot guy with all the confidence of a maxed charm stat, but she immediately turns into a blushing puddle if anyone actually flirts back.

Growing up with strict parents who were trying to raise a perfect Olympic gymnast leaves her to feel the need to ask permission for the littlest things from any adults near her. She's fine in a room with just her friends or other kids, but when an adult is in the room she goes stiff and doesn't speak unless spoken to, the other thieves compare it to her almost going into a trance.

On the note from the above statement, she feels a little weird about being around people her age that are fine with acting relaxed around adults. it almost triggers a flight or fight or freeze response when one of the thieves so much as moves when an adult is talking.

She eventually starts a running gag with the thieves of calling Principal Kobayakawa, "Principal Humpty-Dumpty".

Her persona Queenie is called the godmother of Harlem, similar to how Arsene was called the pillager of twilight in the original. Queenie was the alias of an early 20th century mob boss, a woman who's own gang was so strong that she was able to keep Harlem clear of much more dangerous threats, she also employed many Harlem citizens with positions in her numbers-game schemes.

Queenie helps Sumire remain attached to reality whenever she's having a particularly rough time. Going from such a strict household to total freedom can give you some serious whiplash, so Queenie makes sure Sumire doesn't completely lose her mind from the sudden shift, while simultaneously helping her learn more about freedom.

Goro - The Magician

Codename: Ace

Persona: Sherlock Holmes

An ally who helps Sumire and Makoto by providing the information on palaces and changes of heart.

He doesn't fully take canon Mona's place, as he is completely human rather than the embodiment of humanity's hope. He does act as the resident expert on the metaverse due to the fact that he was once involved in the research of cogninitve psience, specifically, he was the first successful case of a person being transported to the metaverse when he was 13. Unfortunately, he ended up being trapped in Mementos for around 4 months without knowing how to escape.

The distortions of the metaverse affected him by turning his skin pure white with constantly changing black patterns, similar to Loki's design, he also has large crow wings on his back. In the real world, his skin turns it's normal color and his wings and dazzle-camouflage turn into tattoos all over his body.

He obviously doesn't have the ability to make people turn violent like he did in canon, nor does he have the ability to hold more than one persona. He's simply a guy who happens to know a lot about the metaverse and chooses to use that knowledge to fulfill his long-lost childhood dream of becoming a hero, he also has the hopes of making his mom proud from heaven.

Despite not going down the path of becoming a personal hit man for Shido, he still keeps his patented Goro snark that he had in the canon third semester. Though it's in much more of a-"I'm to tired to be polite"- way, and less of a-"Fuck you, just let me die already"-way.

My favorite line I've written for him so far is: "I'm Joe Schmoe from Shits-ville, DOES IT MATTER?!"

^This is right after Makoto tries to ask who he is.

Since he doesn't take on a different form in this AU, it means that he can't transform into a bus like Mona can. But he IS able to conjure a rather large trolley car thanks to his distortions giving him an understanding of how Mementos functions on a fundamental level

There's a running gag between the phantom thieves that Goro is homeless,-(think that one bit between Dream and Technoblade)-since nobody has ever actually seen where Goro lives. He likes to join in on the joke sometimes by coming up with increasingly ridiculous excuses as to why they can't come over.

^"Sorry, my house just got destroyed by an asteroid the other day. That's the third time this week too...OH WELL!"

His persona is Sherlock Holmes, not because he's a detective, but because in the early writings, Holmes was described as being a "Bohemian Genius", as well as being very antisocial and more like a renegade P.I. rather a straight-laced detective.

Holmes basically acts as Goro's impulse control, he also helps Goro realize whenever he needs to actually talk to his friends instead of being a smartass 24/7.

Makoto Niijima - The Chariot

Codename: Panda

Persona: Shek Yeung

Sumire's first friend at Shujin Academy, as well as the one who helps her investigate the newfound metaverse with Goro.

She used to be the same "good-girl type of pushover" that she was in canon, until her first day of high school when Kamoshida reeled her in as his newest catch. Halfway through her second year, she decided enough was enough and confronted Kamoshida about how he treated the students, unfortunately, Kamoshida being Kamoshida, tried to sexually assault her while in the student council room. She fought back at him, but he overpowered her and did the same thing that was implied to have happened to Suzui in canon.

After Makoto recovered from the...incident, she tried going straight to the principal about the issues, but he shut her down and called her delusional for insinuating that Mr. Kamoshida could have done something like that. Before she knew what was happening, her position as student council president went out the window, and she was suddenly known as "The girl who tried to whore herself out to Kamoshida-sensei"

To Makoto, it was almost liberating to have all of the expectations of the student council ripped off of her back-(minus the sexual assault part). She turned lemons into lemonade and decided that if people were going to give her dirty looks, she might as well have fun while doing it! So she dyed her hair all kinds of colors (mostly blonde), ditched the school blazer in favour of a customized bomber jacket, and fully embraced becoming a sukeban.

She swears a LOT, more than even Ryuji did in canon.

Chie had steak, Ryuji had ramen, and Makoto has pocky sticks. She always has at least two boxes on her person at all times, and always has one in her mouth, only eating it if shit starts to get real. If she looks you dead in the eye and starts chewing her pocky, you better start running before she swallows...

Makoto has, and will continue to start fights whenever some punk-ass thinks they can get away with being transphobic or ableist to Sumire, or any of the other thieves for that matter.

Less of an overprotective-mom and more like a badass-mom who's fresh out of jail. She's very lax most time but will instantly get on your ass if you do something stupid enough.

Her persona, Shek Yeung, was a woman from a brothel who married a pirate. After the death of her husband, she took his place as the captain of the Guangdong Pirate federation, who ravaged the coast of South China.

Shek Yeung helps Makoto fill the void that was left when Sae stopped trying to talk to her, acting as a big sister that supports Makoto when she can't support herself. She reminds Makoto to give herself some time to be selfish, as well as helping her be more open about what she actually wants in life.

Futaba Ishiki-Sakura - The Lovers

Codename: Rumor

Persona: Cleopatra

The chaotic gremlin child who unfortunately gets caught in Kamoshida's perverted grip when she first starts high school.

She joins the group a lot earlier than canon Ann did, mostly because she's a lot more pragmatic when thinking of solutions to her problems. She realizes pretty quickly that Sumire, Makoto, and "The guy with the weird tattoos" are scheming something that has to do with Kamoshida's obvious crimes, and she's not going to sit back and be a victim while everyone else starts taking action.

She overhears the three talking about how they need "-a third member to safely explore the palace." and decides to come to them directly.

^"Look, I don't care if you're blackmailing him, or planning to break his knees with a bat. Whatever it is you're doing, count me in!"

Her story doesn't revolve around being a shut-in,-(Though she still has social anxiety)-but rather that these new people she's met are really the first to actually make her feel valued as a person, and that she is someone worthy of respect.

Since she's not a shut-in, she's a lot less savvy when it comes to hacking and data mining, but she's sort of like the middle man between the thieves and some more...questionable sources of intelligence and resources. Whenever there comes a time for needing to analyze data, Futaba adjusts her glasses and calmly states: "Hehehe...I think I know a guy for that..." Nobody wants to ask what exactly she means by that, and it's probably for the best they don't know.

She has at least 157 different accounts built for browsing the dark web without the risk of collecting viruses or privacy-invasion. All of which have multiple fake IDs, credit cards, cryptocurrency, and other things necessary for her shady connections.

Her mom isn't dead in this AU, she was able to safely go into hiding with the help of Sojiro, whom she is now engaged to. Futaba has some repressed mommy issues since she still feels neglected from her mom needing to work, as well as her new fiance sweeping her off her feet at every turn.

Cleopatra, who needs no introduction, was the final Pharaoh of ancient Egypt. She was sought after by ancient rulers far and wide for her beauty, yet only in the modern day did people actually appreciate her for her intelligence and leadership.

Cleopatra sort of fills the motherly roll Futaba's needed for a long time, it's very helpful since Cleo knows exactly what Futaba needs to hear when she's upset. She praises Futaba for her work with the phantom thieves, gives Futaba reassurance on her appearance and behavior, and helps calm Futaba down from her frequent anxiety attacks.

Futaba once started bawling her eyes out in her sleep when she talked with her persona in a dream, and Cleo said: "I am very proud of you, Futaba...I love you..."

Yuuki Mishima - The Sun

Codename: Trickster

Persona: Geronimo

The fifth and final member of the founding phantom thieves.

He-(sort of)-takes the place of Shiho in this AU, where he has a breakdown on the school rooftop and strongly considers jumping, luckily Sumire, Makoto, and Futaba are able to shove their way through the crowd so they can talk him down and help him.

The story is that Kamoshida, after the gang starts screwing around with the stuff in his palace, finally snaps and decides that merely beating poor innocent Yuuki is not enough for him anymore. So he calls Yuuki into his office one day and decides to "Try something different..."

After the whole mess on the rooftop happens, the gang decides that Yuuki deserves to get some revenge on Kamoshida for what he did. They bring him into the palace and, sure enough, after seeing just how Kamoshida treats not just him, but the whole school, he awakens out of pure anger and desire to be a hero for once.

He's much more jokey than canon, usually opting to make hilariously bad puns and occasional innuendos. He also has no idea about anything involving the real world.

^Yuuki: "I'm inside her heart-shaped-box." ^Futaba: "You know what that means right?" ^Yuuki: "No actually I just know it's a song-" ^Makoto: "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YUUKI!"

He's just about as awkward as he is in canon, but rather than being treated like shit for it, his awkward jokes are usually just met with a slight pat on the shoulder and a comforting "......we'll work on it, sweetie" from Sumire or Makoto.

He still creates, opens, and monitors the phansite on his downtime. Futaba and Sophia usually help him with how often the requests get backed up.

Even though some of his jokes end up falling flat, he's still really good at coming up with zingers on the spot. The thieves have dubbed him as "The official phantom-comedian", to the point that he, Akira, Futaba, and Sophia all collectively come together to annoy the shit out of Goro

His persona is Geronimo of the Bedonkohe band of the Chirihacua Apache, an American-Indian shaman who fought against Spanish soldiers after his family was murdered. He was said to have converged with a spirit to become immune to bullets, and it took all of 5,000 U.S. soldiers to drag him back to the San Carlos reservation, which he escaped later again

Geronimo fucking loves Yuuki's stupid-ass jokes and will always be his #1 fan, but despite Yuuki's quips, Geronimo knows he's hiding a lot of pain from what he went through with Kamoshida, so he always encourages his other self to admit there's nothing wrong with being upset or afraid because of the circumstances.

Akira Amamiya - The Emperor

Codename: Ghoul

Persona: Brutus

The pupil of Madarame who writes poems, plays, and dables in art which Madarame, of course, plagiarizes from him.

The thieves hear about how Akira is the only pupil who has not left Madarame from another source, and they try to ask him about the plagiarism and accusations of abuse. Akira, of course, denies all of it, but the thieves can see that there's something in his eyes begging for an escape from his situation.

Things pretty much proceed as they do in canon with Madarame's palace, but rather than the whole "Nude painting incident", Sumire pretends to go on a date with Akira at his shack so Goro can sneak in and open the necessary door to help their progress. Madarame comes home, Akira has a panic attack, and they discover the room with the supposedly stolen painting and it's copies before dipping into the metaverse to escape the security.

The painting that Akira is obsessed with isn't the Sayouri, but rather, a self portrait of his father. Akira, of course, has no idea until Madarame's shadow reveals this at the end, but it explains Akira's fascination with it.

Even though he is a gifted painter, he is much more interested with acting and script-writing. He is 100% a gayass theater kid who joins Yuuki's bad jokes to give people headaches.

He is the king of random talents and parlor tricks; he can do a hand stand walk, write and type with his feet, he's very good with sleight of hand tricks, and can even use throwing knives to catch flies.

He's personality is pretty much that of Gomez Addams, he's a hopeless romantic who flirts with anyone and anything that moves, and is constantly down to do the weirdest shit for his loved ones.

His persona is Brutus, the trusted ally of Julius Caesar who later joined a conspiracy to end his life for the benefit of Rome. He realized that Caesar was a dictator and decided to side with his own lofty ideals and morals. He is best known for his role in the Shakespearean play: 'The Tragedy of Julius Caesar'.

Akira often consults Brutus whenever he faces a complicated situation that requires thinking of things from a different perspective, Brutus, being a master of rationalization, is always there to give Akira a push in the direction that will certainly benefit him in the long run, even if Akira doesn't like it.

Sophia Ishiki-Sakura - The Star

Codename: Rogue

Persona: Peter Pan

A 10 year old girl whose abusive mother was run clean-over by a truck 10 months before the events of the story-(not Ichinose). She spent the last several months being tossed around the abysmal foster care system until she ended up at the Ishiki-Sakura household with Futaba. When she moves in, Futaba's meta-nav pings in on a "semi-palace" that has begun forming.

The thieves begin brainstorming ideas on how to help Sophia, then Goro chimes in with: "Why don't we just help her confront her shadow?" and the rest of the team's like: "...what?". So Goro gives the gist that, theoretically, someone can change their own heart by directly confronting their shadow. The thieves decide they have no other choice to prevent Sophia from becoming fully distorted, and bring her into the semi-palace.

Things happen, Sophia awakens to her persona on the 2nd visit with the help of her shadow, but the semi-palace doesn't disappear. The thieves learn that the semi-palace is actually ruled by a cognition, (similar to canon Futaba), she confronts it and is able to change her own heart. After everything is said and done, she basically twists the thieves arms until they allow her to become a permanent member.

Sophia becomes much happier after her semi-palace is destroyed, up until then she was the poster child for gifted kids who were forced to grow up too fast. Her shadow and persona helped her tap into her inner child, now she gets a lot more enjoyment from being so smart, while still acting like a dumbass kid sometimes.

She goes to Shujin with the rest of the thieves, she was actually smart enough to skip a few grades and go straight to being a first-year.

She's basically the thieves collective little sister. Sumire and her bond over being neurodivergent and stim together, Makoto takes her out for rides on her motorcycle, Futaba is actually her sister and they bond over making immature jokes, Akira and her have actually started a club within the thieves for trauma dumping about abusive parents, and Yuuki and her bond over a shared experience with being sheltered and needing to learn more about real life.

As for her and Goro's relationship...

^Goro: "I've only had Sophia for less than a day, but if anything happened to her, I would kill every shadow in Mementos and then myself."

Her persona is Peter Pan, the forever child who resides in the fantastical world of Neverland, where he leads the group of lost boys and learned magic from sprites. His childishness is meant to be depicted as negative, but here is something to be said for seeing even life itself as another grand adventure.

Even after the thieves take her in as one of them, she still has a lot of trouble with allowing herself to act and play like a little kid, Pan is usually the one to help her indulge in those things she feels ashamed of. He acts like the reverse version of impulse control, encouraging Sophia to enjoy herself with dumb fun instead of trying to live up to her reputation as a gifted kid, Sophia of course, is grateful and tries to listen to his advice.

Haru Okumura - The High Priestess

Codename: Vigilante

Persona: Calamity Jane

She takes the place of Kobayakawa's lap dog, but not by being the student council president, she is simply encouraged by most people in her life to "-have good connections early on." Most of the pressure she experiences comes from her father, who is no stranger to cooking the books.

Unlike canon Makoto, she is much more reluctant to blindly follow the orders of the teachers, but she feels as though she doesn't have a choice in regards to what she does. Mostly in the fact that Kobayakawa has close ties to her father, and threatens to speak to him unless Haru spies on the new transfer student he's obsessed with trying to expel.

Haru befriends Sumire under false pretenses, but goes back on her spying when she learns that Kobayakawa has a personal connection to a local "mafia" and has been exploiting the student body for a long time now. So she goes to Sumire and the thieves to come clean, as well as ask them to change the principal's heart.

Eventually, the thieves need Haru's help with proceeding through the palace, in doing so, she awakens to her persona and begins working towards earning the thieves' trust once again.

Once she gains their trust, she officially joins the thieves as a valued friend. They all forgive her fairly quickly once they proceed further in Kobayakawa's palace

She's slightly more unhinged than she is in canon, constantly saying the most out-of-pocket shit you've ever heard.

^Haru: "Do you think stabbing someone in the dark could be used as a legal loophole for assault?"

She and Goro are absolute besties in this AU. They constantly shit talk random people behind their back, especially the people whose hearts the thieves have changed. She also does this with Sumire and the "Principal Humpty-Dumpty" joke.

She and Ann have a secret "shit-talking-tea-date" that nobody else is allowed to know about. They talk about the stunts pulled by the other thieves.

If Makoto is the fresh-outta-jail mom, Haru is 100% the sassy aunt who encourages her nieces and nephews schemes in an effort to mess with the mother. In most cases, Haru usually just sits back and watches the chaos while calmly sipping a cup of tea.

Calamity Jane was an old West heroine who got her name for her reckless nature on the battlefield, as well as being known for riding straight into an enemy ambush to save her ally. She was a heedless, foul-mouthed, and heavily opinionated woman who made her name famous with her sharpshooting skills.

Whereas many of the thieves directly consult their personas for help, Jane acts more like a spectator with a bucket of popcorn while Haru hilariously flails around without contributing anything to creating a solution. If Jane is really feeling like a nuisance, she will interject with the most batshit things at the worst times.

^Haru: *Taking a test and trying to remember the answer* ^Jane: "Pssst-I think the answer is 25..." ^Haru: ".......this is an English test, Jane..."

Yusuke Maruki - The Hermit

Codename: Prophet

Persona: Paimon

Maruki's son whom he adopted in secret after the suspicious death of Yusuke's mother.

Things happen in a similar manner as canon, medjed threatens everyone, Futaba tries and fails to find a way to stop them, Yusuke contacts them under the alias of "Avra" saying that he can help them track down the one responsible for the threats if they change the heart of Yusuke Maruki.

Sumire investigates, finds out about Yusuke's story, and her and the thieves agree to change Yusuke's heart for him.

His palace takes the form of haunted catacombs, with a cognitions of the men in black suits being the true rulers, while his shadow is an imprisoned spirit who's desperate for freedom.

Sophia proposes that since the circumstances are similar, they could just bring Yusuke into his own palace to confront this shadow like she did. Goro interjects, saying that Sophie's semi-palace was no where near as large or dangerous as a full-blown palace, meaning that things are more likely to escalate poorly.

Yusuke comes in on his own during the thieves' heist, he awakens, and the team has a brand new navigator on their side.

Even though he is similar to canon Futaba with hacking skills, he has much more of an occult aesthetic rather than being a super-nerd. He simply picked up coding and hacking as a hobby when he ran out of books to read.

He's still as eccentric as ever, constantly joining Akira in being a drama queen about everything. He 100% knows how to commit to the bit.

Somehow he is even more deadpaningly hilarious than canon. Contending with Haru for saying the most out-of-pocket things, causing people's heads to turn.

^Futaba: "Why do you always say the most outta-pocket shit?!"

^Yusuke: *Deadly serious voice* "It would appear that the pocket has barely been opened at this point..."

His persona Paimon is the ninth spirit listed in the Ars Goetia, as well as a revered king of hell. Said to be a master of "all matter of secret things", he will bestow his conjurer with otherworldly knowledge whenever summoned.

Jane is a spectator who enjoys Haru's lighthearted suffering, and Paimon is a spectator who constantly wants to bash his head against a wall for all the things Yusuke is clueless about. He constantly has to put up with an antisocial teenager who can't so much as read a subway map correctly, despite living in Tokyo his whole life. Paimon is also forced to suffer second-hand embarrassment when his other self unknowingly drops the ball when talking to people.

Ann Takamaki - The Empress

Codename: Knight

Persona: St. Jeanne d'Arc

A friend of Sumire who has suspected her of being a phantom thief ever since the incident with Kamoshida, and later, the Principal. She later came to Sumire requesting that she change her mother's heart.

Instead of Okumura being the one who exploits workers and is involved with the mental shutdowns, Ann's mother is the CEO of a small-scale conglomerate who plans on ascending into politics.

Ann has known Sumire for a good minute, so she trusts her when it is resealed that she and her friends are the phantom thieves, but Ann still wants to see a change of heart in-person so she knows whether or not it is as justified as they say. It also helps that Ann has been hearing the faint voice of her persona over the course of a few months, so Sumire believes she can help with the awakening process.

The exact details of how the thieves prove their methods to Ann will be revealed later on, but the bottom line is that the thieves encounter another semi-palace that they need to take care of as quickly as possible.

Unbeknownst to the thieves, Ann has been very close to having an awakening and forming a semi-palace for several months, and she is beginning to reach the end of her rope. This all culminates in her trying to wrestle her own shadow to death whilst her persona tries to stop her.

When all the madness ends, Ann awakens, she helps the thieves destroy the semi-palace of their target, and she agrees to go forward with the plan to change her mother's heart.

She and Sumire bond over their conjoined "trans girl swag". She's pretty good with helping Sumire out with any lingering dysphoria that she's not comfortable about sharing with the rest of the thieves.

She has a weekly shit-talking session with Haru which usually happens over tea and sweets. They basically just talk about the stupidest things that the other thieves have attempted that week.

She and Futaba often unite to sow chaos amongst the group, they plot, they scheme, and then they make some popcorn to watch the chaos.

Her persona is St. Jeanne d'Arc, the woman in charge of flying the French flag before battles during the 100 years' war. Despite the fact that she had no formal position in the army, she was always found on bravely rushing to the battlefield, she was even known to give the troops tactical advice during meetings.

Jeanne is Ann's biggest enabler whenever she wants to have some harmless fun, basically, her favorite thing to say in response to Ann's ideas is: "Do it." But she also helps Ann come to terms with the fact that she needs to take responsibility and take things seriously.

Ryuji Sakamato - The Justice

Codename: Crook/Black mask

Persona(s): Nezumi Kozo/Maximilien

Takes the place of the culprit behind the mental shutdowns and rampage incidents, as well as taking the role of being the traitor who works with the conspiracy Shido runs.

His story is similar to canon Akechi, his mother was a prostitute who was killed by Shido one night. Ryuji, instead of becoming a detective, decided to become an extremist dedicated to bringing Shido, and the entire Japanese government, to it's knees.

He willingly signed up for some unethical cognitive psience research experiments so he could get close to Shido, there were other people who underwent the training, but Ryuji was the only one that actually survived long enough to gain his powers.

He climbed his way up the ladder until finally getting an audience with Shido, and he offered to become his hitman for the same reasons as canon Akechi. By this point in his life, Ryuji had become so jaded by everything he's been through, that he's convinced himself that everyone he killed needed to die for the greater good.

Ryuji's main cover story is that he's a justified rebel who uses graffiti art and peaceful protests to speak out against corruption, not only does this help him publicly detest the phantom thieves, but it helps Shido's reputation when they publicly join together around the election time.

He's not quite as irredeemable as canon Akechi, but when it does come time for him and the thieves to reunite in the 3rd semester, it basically boils down to: "YOU ARE GOING TO BE A GOOD PERSON! AND YOU ARE GONNA LIKE IT!!!"

During his "redemption" phase he still has to get over the fact that he's very cynical in how he views the world, as well as people in general. His philosophy is that since everybody has a shadow self, that means everyone is automatically at least a little evil.

He and Sumire have more of a "frenemies" type of relationship rather than the homoerotic undertones of canon Akechi and Joker. They insult and antagonize each other constantly, but Sumire is the only one Ryuji will allow it with, if it were anyone else insulting him, he's break their spine.

His "false" persona, Nezumi Kozo, was the "rat kid" who plagued noblemen across all of Japan during the Edo period. Even though his status as a vigilante is widely debated by historians, many folk songs and Kabuki plays portray him as an outlawed hero of justice.

His "true" persona is Maximilien, the man who was credited with leading the French reign of terror, which ended up being the most violent time of the French revolution. He encouraged the peasants and common folk to go on an execution spree against all royals, nobles, and anyone suspected of corruption. Ironically, he himself, was executed in July of 1794.

Nezumi Kozo started out as nothing more than a farce Ryuji created to help him get closer to the phantom thieves, a way to conceal his true nature. As the thieves helped him mentally recover from...everything, Nezumi seemed to gain consciousness, becoming his own separate entity from Maximilien and showing that Ryuji is on the right path and is dedicated to being better.

Maximilien is sort of like Ryuji's reluctant assistant who knows that what's happening is wrong, but is trying his best to support his friend in the hopes he will make the right choice in the end. As Ryuji becomes more distorted with the need for revenge, Maximilien talks to him less and less, and eventually Ryuji doesn't hear or see him unless he summons him in the metaverse.

Maximilien and Nezumi have a lot of friction when they need to share the space within Ryuji's heart, at first it's like the classic "angel and devil" situation. Luckily though, the two manage to work things out and work together to do their best for helping Ryuji becomes his best self.

That's all I'm going to be doing for now, I do plan on making bios for Morgana as the hope and Zenkichi as the charity, plus all of the confidants in royal, but I need to save that for another time.

This took way too long for me to make, but I'm very proud of it.

I do plan on making this full-blown story on ao3, and I'm working on the prologue right now. Hopefully I'll be able to start publishing chapters soon.

Until then,

Farewell bozos

[senjuushi]

What if a really wealthy Master (lives in a mansion, is a big boss) decided to buy the guns but not for fighting but to use them instead of hiring staff. As in, they are so rich that they need people to get stuff done (like cooking, cleaning the house, bodyguarding, paperwork, gardening... etc.) but figured that getting the guns will be cheaper and easier. For any guns of your choosing, tell us which ones would you put to which duties :3 personally i think Fal would be a great personal assistant/secretary and Sieg would be a good gardener (for some reason i feel like he really would)

Fal

Though he's struggling massively with the change in environment, Fal makes a wonderful secretary. He'll handle any paperwork assigned to him with unsettling efficiency, keep his work area impeccably tidy, and even keep an eye on your other staff members to ensure they're performing properly as well. Internally, underneath the polished facade, Fal is terrified. All too aware that he's out of place here, he's just waiting for something to go wrong.

Siegblut

The whole situation seems demeaning, at first— he's a weapon, not some kind of maid—, but working as a gardener turns out to be a lot less awful than Siegblut initially expects. And when he's allowed to make use of the produce he's grown in the kitchen, that "not awful" gets even better. Though it's a far different role than he's used to, Sieg thrives on praise; the more you acknowledge his competency and successes, the more he'll enjoy the job.

Mikhael

Figuring out what he's capable of is an awkward process (Mikhael does not enjoy being seemingly interrogated over his flaws), but once he lets slip enough about his interest in music, it's progress. Though he's expecting, at best, to be decommissioned for his uselessness before long, it turns out that you're perfectly satisfied with letting him play for your guests, or be lent out for shows from time to time. He's able to rest like this, and hurt less because of it.

Marks

His first couple of weeks were rough. Being separate from his previous Master left Marks agitated and emotionally volatile, leading to him trying to trail after you no matter what other task he'd been assigned. He does wonderfully as a bodyguard, though, where his guard dog-like alertness and attention to potential threats are finally put to proper use. And so long as you don't mind how clingy he is, staying by your side helps him calm down.

Tabatiere

Combat wasn't exactly his strong suit, in the first place, so maybe this will work out...? Tabatiere isn't exactly hoping for much (he never is), but he tries his best with the chores you give him. It's nice to be able to cook more often, especially when that's enough to earn a bit of praise here and there. Though he never stops feeling rather out of place, domestic chores certainly aren't beneath him; if anything, this sort of life is far less stressful.

[crazyunsexycool]

How would Steve react if he and reader were to sleep together atm and he doesn't fire her because he's so hooked, but he sleeps with another maid for whatever reason and fires her, but this maid knew he slept with reader and didn't fire her. She's so mad and shouting about why didn't reader get fired and calling her names/being rude about her etc 👀

I’m turning this into a drabble….

Warnings: smut-ish, mentions of sex, bit of asshole Steve, threats are made

Steve was fucked.

He finally got what he wanted, you. Instead of finally satisfying the long standing need that you had created, sleeping with you only made Steve want more. He wasn’t even sure how it happened. You were in his room making his bed and in the blink of an eye Steve is hovering over you and caging you in. His lips are on your neck while your nails dig into his back. It’s like you’re claiming what’s yours even if you don’t know it yet. It didn’t help that you sounded so pretty when you begged for more.

When it was over and your breathing was back to normal you grabbed all your clothes and disappeared into a spare room to make yourself more presentable. You didn’t even spare a glance at him as you left but he could see the worry on your face. Steve sent Coulson a message and told him that under no circumstance would he allow you to be let go.

~~~~~~~~

The following days had been tense between you and Steve. It didn’t help that the new maid, Kate, kept flirting with Steve and he would openly flirt back. You couldn’t understand why, when you went in to talk to Coulson he said he was under strict instructions that you weren’t fired and he wouldn’t accept your resignation. Especially if he was going to continue acting like he had before. So you you just had to grin and bare it.

It was about a week after you and Steve had been together that you heard him and Kate in his office. He’d never done that before. Anytime he slept with someone it was up in his room, maybe he wanted you to hear it. You kept yourself busy and fighting off the tears. It wasn’t until a yelling match started that you reappeared to see what was going on.

Kate stood in the middle of the living room, her hair disheveled and uniform a crumpled mess.

“You can’t just fire me. I’ll sue you for sexual harassment.”

“It’s in the contract you signed so is an NDA. So you sue me and I’ll own you.” Steve shot back.

By now Bucky, Sam, Dom, Coulson and a few other men were watching the fight. When Kate noticed she looked around and saw you standing in the door way. Your presence made her see red.

“Why didn’t you fire her? You fucked her last week and she’s still here.”

Everyone’s attention was on you and it caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment.

“What is she your favorite whore? Are you going to pass her around to the rest of your friends first.” She turned to you with a twisted smile. “How does it feel to know you aren’t good enough for him? You are just some fuck toy form him and his friends.”

“Fuck off Kate.”

“Oh she speaks. I thought you were only good at being his dumb fucking slut. How stupid do you have to be if you think he’d-“ she doesn’t get to finish what she was saying because Steve had pulled her away from you. His palm covers her mouth as his fingers dig into her cheeks. The hold is strong and the look in his eye is terrifying.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk to her like that again or I’ll cut your tongue out myself. You should be so lucky to be in her presence. Now get the fuck out of here. The only dumb slut here is you.” Venom dripped from every word and it was enough to scare Kate and have her scramble to leave the house for good. “What the fuck is everyone looking at, get back to work.”

His eyes land on you but the hardness is gone. Steve takes a step closer to you but Bucky pulls him away and Dom escorts you to the kitchen while glaring at his boss.

~~~~~~~~

After taking a moment to calm down Steve walks into the kitchen. His intention was to make sure you were ok but of course you weren’t. Why had he been so stupid? You sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so upset.

“Dom give us a minute.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Dom stand between you and Steve in order to shield you from the man.

“I said get out.”

“And I said I wasn’t going too. You’ve done enough already.”

“I’m your boss you’ll do as I say.”

“As if I give a flying fuck. Walk out now Rogers.”

“It’s ok Dom, let him get this over with.” You said from behind him. He reluctantly walked out of the kitchen but didn’t go to far.

Steve knelt down beside you but you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you’re the boss you do what you want.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You turn to look at him, now with that fiery gaze he loved so much. “You’re right I didn’t deserve that but I should have known better too. You’re a man whore and I didn’t know what I was expecting to happen. You got what you wanted from me.”

“I thought I could get you out of my system. All I can do is think about you all the time. It was different with you and I didn’t know what to do with that feeling. I though I could just get over you if I was with someone else.”

“I’ll make it easy for you then, I quit.” You stood up and headed for the changing room.

“Wait you can’t just leave. That was a mistake.”

“No, being with you was a mistake. I never want to see you again.” You say, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

Dom walks in with a scowl on his face followed by Bucky and Sam.

“I should cut off your dick for what you’ve done.” Don says.

Steve ignores the older man and walks out. His only thoughts now are how he could possibly get you back. Not only to the house but back in his bed and keep you there permanently.

[sang8262]

i said i'd rant later but waiting for akuma release amd patch notes is destroying me so:

WT's boss fight and why i dont like how they wrote it:

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First let me be clear, I love World Tour. And that is why I see how it could have been better and wanted so much more from it. But alas, they tried to make a whole stand alone, single player rpg game ... but it's only got the resources of side content to a fighting game.

To start, the story as a whole is paced ehhh, not so ideally. It feels both rushed *and* tedious at times, because of certain quests or maps.

Overall, we don't get to know Bosch too well to develop as STRONG of a bond the game wants the players to imagine: because we never get to spend much time getting to know him at the start of the game. So this "friendship bond" is ham-fisted through cheesy cutscenes, which feel fake and hollow because we ate pizza and bought a silly hat like, Once. This is to say: Bosch's sacrifice also feels hollow, because while we understand the weight of his actions, it isn't very personal. If they rather MADE Bosch the main character, the story would have been much much stronger. And also a completely different game.

WT needed to have custom player avatars, for Battle Hub, and because their vision was "players learning martial arts from the characters in the roster! interacting with them as student and master!". That's the fantasy they wanted to make, and so WT is pulled in two different directions. One that wants to sell the fantasy of meeting the game's characters, training under them, and becoming the champion yourself.

Then another about the world of SF6: Nayshall and Metro City; Bosch and the Resistance versus Shadaloo; the new generation of fighters who have their own ideals, clashing with the old. But now NEITHER has enough room to be the best version of itself, because they must compromise each other to exist in the same story/game mode space as the other.

In short, they wanted to do so much with WT that it ended up feeling half-baked across the board.

------

JP too, doesn't feel like the main villain until waaaay too late in the story. That is, unless you read the comics. But even then, he's introduced into the story so late that you aren't even thinking about him as a character until that point. There's nothing to establish that JP is "pretending" to be nice, and therefore, no satisfying -reveal- that JP was evil all along when we finally do get to fight him. I think his whole character fantasy is the deceiver, the schemer, and we REALLY don't see evidence of this through WT at all.

In fact, what we do have of JP in WT is honestly not great!! And now I'm just going to be complaining:

After Bosch gets blown up by the belt, why would JP gloat to the avatar about everything?? A bomb just blew up and not only is he someone important, he was standing right there: logically, he should've acted panicked and afraid for his safety, and have fled immediately. Instead, he casually saunters over TO Bosch and the avatar, then villain monologues. He even takes a jab at how Bosch's sacrifice was 'a small bit of entertainment', which is NOT what someone trying to act innocent would say ever??

Also, this was during the award ceremony. Y'know, the event that's being streamed and filmed and seen by thousands of people. Even if the explosion caused that huge fire and damaged equipment, there's no guarantee that people aren't filming this. And knowing how up to date with technology this game is (Footube influencers, crypto, AI deepfakes.. JP's whole philosophy is that people value entertainment over the truth even), there MUST be people risking their safety to film everything. Which is to say, JP should've known better than to RISK being caught FIGHING one of the contestants immediately after an "alleged" terrorist bombing.

He even uses Psycho Power?!? Like he's okay with just putting all that and his face out there for a whole audience to see and record??? I don't think he'd have done that had he NOT been forced to be a boss fight.

Even after we fight him, there's no good explanation for what happens afterwards. He just, concedes and collapses on the arena floor...?? And then what? We just let him go? We also pass out??? He teleports away? What did he just fight us for anyway when he could have teleported to escape then???

He's entirely right about the fight and our victory meaning nothing because the fight was very meaningless, and so of course defeating him has no meaningful satisfaction either. The whole fight only happened because the game demands we have boss fight, but they did a poor job of making that fight actually good at all.

------

Do I have any fixes for the issues I have with WT? Somewhat. Definitely shorten the quest fluff in the mid-game to give more time with Bosch, BEFORE he gets kidnapped and given Psycho Power off screen. We spend more time chasing after him and fighting him after he's been experimented on. Make us care about him as a character more so we care about his motivations. Hell, have us meet Yua and learn more about her. We get barely anything about her as a character beyond "Bosch's sister who worries about him" so, the stakes are superficial and implied ("it's his sister! you should care!").

The fact that she's one of the dancers for the tournament feels also significant: she's relative to one of the Resistance members (Bosch), and clearly knows about what they're fighting for. Even if you suggest she's part of the tournament to relay information, as informant or spy, that doesn't make sense as she would be risking her safety, something she doesn't believe in and something the other members would not have allowed. What if you instead have it so JP intentionally made Yua one of the tournament's dancers, as a bargaining chip against Bosch? On the surface, it might look like JP (or his association) is supporting their sponsored fighter, giving his sister the chance to perform for everyone on such an honored tradition! But in reality, it's to keep Yua close under Shadaloo's watch. Idk, just something to explain why Bosch's sister just so HAPPENS to be a dancer in the very tournament he's fighting to end.

---

Have more scenes showing JP lying to everyone. Show us him being interviewed on TV about his support for the upcoming tournament, have him express his sympathies for the Resistance movement. Like in the comics, show us how JP actually knows a lot about Nayshall's history and culture, and how he uses that to feign admiration and care-- but importantly, show how those around him are charmed by his act.

THEN, follow up by showing us Luke conflicted and uncomfortable about seeing JP on TV. How he doesn't want to talk about his past association with him, or what happened with Ken. Show us Bosch being angered by JP's lies, being frustrated that he can't do anything the way he is right now, and how he doesn't want to get the avatar involved in what he feels is 'his' duty.

---

If I wanted to even go a step further, in respect to my own bias and wants, I'd have thrown in some sort of dinner or conference scene with all the fighters and tournament staff, before the big event day. Show us the contestants talking about why they want to win, why they fight, as part of the game's narrative focus on "the reason we want to become stronger". Show us how JP puts on his public 'CEO of the NGO' persona in front of others, and how likeable he is, as Rashid notices. Show how JP lies about why Bosch isn't at the event (he's too much of a risk to have at the event being interviewed. And probably not stable enough from the Psycho Power destroying him anyway).

But JP might say how much he respects the sponsored fighter, for training even now to prepare for the tournament! How he sincerely hopes Bosch succeeds, and that we too, may find what we're fighting for. All the while us KNOWING he's exactly the reason why Bosch is suffering. Does he suspect us after what happened in the trophy room? Is Bosch really okay? Make it so that the avatar and player are also confused by his words.

And of course, this is a public event with bystanders. We can't fight him now, and we can't just start calling him out in front of everyone, less we ruin the plan. So what else can we do but grit our teeth and play along.

This kind of struggle would have made for greater tension, and thus, greater pay off when we DO get to throw down with him and beat him into the ground later. It would have shown how manipulative JP is in the game, just as he was in the comics, in a more direct manner.

---

What about the actual boss fight itself? I think JP running away and the avatar chasing after him would've made more sense. I get the arena on fire is a hype stage, and it was really cool true. But it just doesn't fit JP as a character. He's not someone to choose violence or direct confrontation unless absolutely necessary, and much less so in such an open space, that was being STREAMED to the internet. And the boss fight as is just... doesn't feel so 'necessary' that he had 'no choice' but to fight then and there.

So instead, I'd have him run underground. The underground hallway with all the locker rooms and the trophy room, is mirrored on the opposite end of the arena: but this part of the map isn't currently used at all. So, have him run there, with the avatar chasing, through the panicked crowd, trying not to lose track of him. And because the whole arena is built into the mountain ruins, it's easy to add some sort of hidden cavern or unfinished construction space as the 'stage'. Hell, the Resistance headquarters is exactly this. They also have a hidden cavern that's connected to the arena's main stage, so this isn't even farfetched of an idea.

The setting of 'secret cave away from everyone's eyes' is also much better of a circumstance that JP would CHOOSE to fight in, if he HAD to as a boss fight. This doesn't redeem his spiel at the end, of how the victory is meaningless, or how he escapes at all. The next bet suggestion is having the room (still in construction) about to cave in, cause you broke some support beams during the fight or whatever. He can still give you the spiel, but have him teleport away as the room is caving in, and the avatar has to let him go to get out to save themselves too.

Could imagine that the avatar is shocked to see JP still alive after that, post game, and demands more answers about his abilities that helped him in the fight, but also to escape. It's more of an incentive for the avatar to want to learn under him, despite him LOSING and also being the enemy. It never made sense to me why the avatar would try to learn from him, when last we see him, he just... collapses on the floor of the arena and laughs about how he lost?? Having to cut the fight short, even evading death using Psycho Power, that's a much better look for the 'villain' and someone the avatar would begrudgingly agree to train under.

------

Anyway, this got way longer than I intended, and it's all over the place;; But I don't have time to edit it through so, it shall have to be. Thanks for being interested enough to read it, if you did, and as always I'd love to hear others' thoughts on this if anyone wants to share!!

Now back to waiting for Akuma..........

[mtdthoughts]

The Twins' Motivations Pt. 1 (Migi & Dali Analysis)

After thinking a lot about this series, I think I'm pretty confident enough in my understanding of the twins.

Specifically, I think I understand what exactly drove them in their decisions throughout the story and in their mission to avenge their mother.

The short answer is that their *platonic* love for each other served as their motivator, as they each held the other as the most important to them. I feel like that's quite obvious by now, but there are some differences between what they did and feel, and this post will seek to explain the details fully.

Part 2 here.

Spoilers below, of course.

First, let's begin with Migi, who's easier to understand (IMO). We all know how obedient and trusting Migi is towards Dali. Sure, Dali may boss him around and throw him into situations he does not want to be in, and we do see Migi sometimes being vocal to the viewer about his complaints. Yet, Migi always sucks it up and goes along with Dali's wishes anyway; hell, he even does things for Dali without being told, such as when he decided to befriend Eiji while Dali was sick, and when he decided to stay with Reiko while pretending to be a baby despite Dali's worries for his safety. Even after Migi separated and later reunited with Dali, he's still (mostly) obedient to Dali, such as when he willingly let Dali stay in his shadow near the end of the story.

It's quite clear that Migi has always admired Dali and looked up to him as his cool and smart older brother, and relied on him for comfort and validation. Thus, it is likely that Migi's obedience to Dali stems from this, and perhaps he viewed the mission of avenging their mother as a means of satisfying Dali and earning his approval. Sure, Migi has always been quite attached to his mother Metry, but the fact is that he's been with Dali a lot longer than her. Over time, he has subconsciously replaced her with Dali, which explains the dependence on Dali he's shown in the first half of the story and why he was keen on being like him.

It's also clear that Migi is not Dali, and certainly executing a mission like theirs would be difficult, especially for Migi who doesn't have the same talents and skills as Dali. Migi seems to be aware of this, which leads to a sense of insecurity as seen in Chapter 11 right before he started a fight with himself. Thus, Migi seems to have been under constant pressure to do his best for Dali and make him proud despite his perceived inadequacies, which explains why he was so happy that he could put his impersonation skills to good use in Chapter 9 and why he was so nervous towards Dali about the bedwetting in Chapter 10. However, as time went on, this pressure seems to have decreased over time with the introduction of the Sonoyamas, Akiyama and of course Sali.

Thus, it makes sense that Migi was willing to give up on revenge in Chapter 30 (Ep 8). Though he did love Metry, he recognized that his actions in avenging their mother wasn't for her sake, but rather Dali's. He was willing to endure hardship (e.g. being bullied by Maruta, acting as a baby) because he wanted Dali's approval and for him to be happy, because he believed that Dali loved him. However, the discovery of Sali's identity threw all of this into question. With Dali hurting Migi, Migi doubted that Dali actually loved him, and perhaps began to think that Dali only cared about himself. With this idea in his mind, Migi then broke away from Dali to pursue his own happiness and a life where he won't get hurt because of Dali.

However, he realized his mistake when in Chapter 33 Eiji pointed out the truth that he believed for so long, that Dali really did love him. Migi soon found out the pain and suffering he's caused Dali, and that even though Dali appeared to be strong, he was just as vulnerable and lonely as him.

After almost losing his brother forever, Migi became determined to never let Dali fall into despair again. To set things right, he needed to look to his emotions and instincts rather than just Dali's words. This explains why he was so determined to return home together with Dali and why he desperately wanted Dali to leave the shadows. Migi's words to Dali in Chapter 43 plainly revealed exactly what he wanted all along, i.e. that Dali's happiness was his happiness, and this idea was strongly hinted back in Chapter 25 when Migi got the Sonoyamas to comfort Dali despite his protests.

Hence, with all this in mind, everything becomes clear, namely that everything Migi did was for Dali. There were definitely elements of manipulation in their relationship, but undoubtedly Migi was consistently driven by his love for Dali. Just as how Migi was willing to do anything for Sali, Migi showed a very similar devotion towards his brother throughout the story. Sure, his absolute trust and reliance on Dali may have contributed to the problems that caused them to separate, but these behaviors were all rooted in his desire to make Dali happy, because he's always loved Dali.

In the second half of this, I'll talk about Dali and his attitude towards Migi.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Platonic Topher and Adelle + "We need to talk about your life choices"

(Here, have some Pacific Rim AU!)

-

"We need to talk about your life choices," she tells him, proud when her voice doesn't shake. The metal of the gun is cold in her hand, the weight of it more than its sum, but it does the trick: He puts his hands in the air, pausing his calculations.

"Okay. Sure thing, boss. Talk away." But any facade of fondness has fallen away (not needed, not anymore); the smirk he gives her is cold, his eyes empty. So different from the warm, lovely smiles he used to offer on even the darkest of days.

Her beautiful, beautiful boy. What have they done to him? "Topher, I know you're in there."

He rolls his eyes. "Look, we've been over this already: he can't fight me. None of you can. He's-"

"-not strong enough. Yes, you've mentioned." It feels like a betrayal to even say, but she will not fight that war when a far greater one is raging around them. "But he can still hear me, can he not? There are a few things I've like to say to him. Two, really."

Apparently satisfied that she isn't going to shoot him, he lowers his hands, turning back to his computer. "I mean, go for it. Not sure why he'd listen to you after you did this to him, but-"

"I didn't!" She protests before she can stop herself, but then forces herself to inhale. Focus; this isn't about them. "Very well. First of all, I want you to know that I forgive you. The things you're doing aren't your fault; they're forcing your hand."

Topher-or rather, the thing now using him-scoffs, continuing to push the buttons to usher in the apocalypse. "Wow, that is just... Super touching. Might even shed a tear about it when he kills you."

The image of that-of poor Topher having to live with that-is too dreadful to even contemplate, and she pushes it firmly aside. "And the second thing is that I love you. I always have, as dearly as if you were my own child."

He's too caught up in his laughter, in his mockery of pathetic human emotions, to catch the shift in her tone. She steps forward, gun long replaced by a thin syringe, and plunges it into the side of his neck.

As he collapses, she catches him, cradling him close as they both sink to the ground. Pressing her forehead to his, she murmurs, "And I promise you, I will find a way to save you. But I can't let them destroy us all."

[ealeczander]

Rating KinnPorsche ghost ships:

PetePorsche - 10/10

Adorable, amazing, brilliant, showstopping, spectacular! Best friend to lovers to soulmates for the win. Really pure ship. What else is there to say? Pete and Porsche will sneak away on little dates, mostly to eat and smoke. They will be partners in crime to all sorts of crazy ideas. Pete will definitely go and open a restaurant by the beach with Porsche. Pete and Chay will be best friends. Chay will also have to be the mom of the group because the other two morons don’t know what self preservation is. Pete’s grandma will be so happy that Pete has found such strong and beautiful boyfriend, she will start sending food to feed a small army claiming Porsche and Chay need to grow even stronger.

MacauChay - 7/10

Love them! I really do! But those little gremlins will kill each other if they date. I see why people ship them. They’re both from a broken family with only one brother to rely on. They’re both trapped in their circumstances and may find comfort and understanding in one another. They will absolutely hate each other at first, though.

ChanBig - 10/10

Did someone said Daddy Chan? I think we all saw that scene in ep1 and we collectively went - yep, they fuck. It’s the way Chan has all the power, the way Big doesn’t want to disappoint him. My daddy issues could never. It’s their power dynamic, it’s Big refusing to look at Chan’s eyes, it’s Chan being firm but gentle. I don’t need to say anything more, there are already amazingly slutty fanfics about them.

VegasTay - 10/10

This ship gets bonus points for the aesthetics alone, they are both gorgeously styled. I can see it happening as a one night stand. When Tay has finally had enough of Time’s bullshit, he goes to a club and sees Vegas there. Tay is ready to make some bad decisions. Vegas on the other hand has no idea what is happening, but one of Kinn’s best friends is flirting with him and he’ll be a fool to miss that opportunity. Vegas wrecks Tay’s world that night. Tay tells him he can leave marks. Vegas knows that his definition of “marks” is different from most so he controls himself. It will be so much more satisfying if Kinn’s friend does not regret this in the morning. Afterwards Tay tells the story of his shitty relationship and Vegas suggest murdering Time. Tay should have found that calm statement frightening, but he didn’t. He actually found it quite funny. Having his friend’s hot psycho cousin care more about his feelings than his actual boyfriend. Tay suggests doing that again, gathers his things and leaves. Vegas doesn’t know why he never told anybody about that night, maybe he forgot.

ArmKhun - 8/10

I’m taking points out because of the power imbalance and I’m giving points back because of the aesthetic. Diva Khun and Bodyguard Arm! Yes, give me more. The scene of them fighting the minor family with Arm’s car-bombs which were bedazzled in gems by Khun is what sealed the deal for me. They are an amazing team. Khun is such a fun and crazy character and I would like to see him in a more serious situation. What if he gets a gun pointed at him and goes into a ptsd episode while Arm has to be the best bodyguard and protect him but also later calm him down. The crack but also angst potential is astonishing.

KenBig - 6/10

Someone said they are the Mean Girls of KinnPorsche and it hasn’t left my mind since. Yes they are! Them just gossiping around and making everyone’s life miserable, love to see it. Don’t know if I can see them as something more serious than fuck buddies but I see the angst potential of both of them dying without knowing about what happened to the other.

ArmPorsche - 7/10

I’m seeing this starting as one sided love because notice how Arm looks at Porsche, that boy is in loooove! He was ready to go against his boss just to help Porsche. If Kinn was actually cheating on Porsche, those two boys would be game.

KinnPete - 6/10

Pretty sure this ship became famous after VegasPorsche left KinnPete in the dust in that alley. I can’t see this ship working, surprisingly because Kinn is a cinnamon roll when he’s in love and Pete is a psycho when he’s in love. But there is something really homoerotic about Kinn having trust issues and Pete being the only one he trust unconditionally. I can see it if the story takes a “dead dove do not eat” approach. With Porsche betraying Kinn and Kinn turning dark, and Vegas betraying Pete and Pete turning desperate.

[katsukikitten]

Chapter 1 - Captured

Please see the master list here for all warnings and the synopsis on this fic. Enjoy!

Jerking against the zip ties that bite into your wrists, you try kicking off the ground, lifting yourself from the dirty floor as your body presses against a strong chest.

“Stop.” He snarls, although your erratic movements do nothing to knock him off balance. Especially for his size, the behemoth of a man must have been valuable to whoever was in charge considering to stay this fit and healthy he would have to be eating enough for three people at the very least. That and he radioed in, “Think I found the thief, boss”

The end of the World wasn’t too kind to humanity but it wasn’t as if humanity ever returned the favor.

And now Mother Nature was getting her revenge on the piss poor excuse of a species that she let run rampant too long.

That was nothing a little mutated virus couldn’t fix.

With shaking muscles, you still try to fight against his iron grip, bashing your head backwards knocking directly into his nose. You hear him hiss, the same sound he made when you almost broke your fist against his strong jaw. Still it was satisfying to watch his lip split and for him to spit blood. It wasn’t satisfying to be on the receiving end of that.

Or the matching black eyes you gave one another.

He contorts your body, and the lock pick you have sewn into the inside of your shirt threatens to break skin. Although you are more worried about it falling out all together, it was obvious you were going to need it, there was no way in hell a compound this size wouldn’t have a jail of some sort. The large man had taken you into the old sewer system the first chance he could but you still didn’t have a grasp on how large this place was until after he took you through the wall of pallets and stacked cars. Past the reflective yellow sign covered in ruddy, flaking handprints as it read, Dead End.

By your guess, there had to be almost a hundred people within the makeshift metal and wooden walls, a dangerous number to keep and what had to feel like an impossible number to feed.

Anger boils your blood, even with that large number it wasn’t as if your handful of dry goods you stole monthly would be noticeable in the scheme of things.

Now the weapons and tools on the other hand, yeah you’re sure that was noticed when it was missed.

Desperation just did those types of things to you and the world was unkind and unjust.

He leads you up and out of the sewers, and you can tell you’re almost in the center of the “city”. Lights strung all around, inside and outside homes. In the distance a generator could be heard under the cover of night. With little head movement your eyes dart around as you try to commit the zagging alleyways to memory, the old town turned city after the End.

Whoever was leading this well-run shit show had a sizable house, probably what was once the mayor’s as it was larger than the homes around it. Each house decreasing in size the closer you got to the outskirts by near the outer walls. The large man doesn’t take you up the old rotting porch, instead he takes you around the house, through the fence and into the back yard. The patio starts to become overrun with clover as mother nature grows between the cracks in the bricks. Reclaiming what was once hers.

Your blood runs cold as you see the drained inground pool with crude rebar shoved into the sides of the concrete, the metal was poorly welded together. The makeshift jail is a haunting sight, the vast pool’s deep end has to be ten feet in the ground, grading up to a set of stairs that the old bars are fixed to. The deeper end has a foot or two of old rain water that stood stagnant, a dark vile color from neglect while the stained concrete had several bodies in various stages of decay littered every few feet.

The large man shoves you to your knees, his bulky hand resting on the back of your neck to keep you there while he speaks. You glance up at the “boss” but the man is shrouded by shadow behind the standing flood light that washes the yard in a harsh white.

Still you squint against the light, seeing his steel toed boots covered in flecks of dried blood, dark pants tucked into his boots and the further you go up the tighter the pants get tighter around muscular legs. A large machete and a few knives hang from his homemade belt.

“Found her in the barn, boss.” The large man comments, he squeezes the back of your neck harshly before stepping away, “I know she’s the one who’s been giving Denki and Sero the slip these past few weeks.”

The commander steps fully into the light, thick arms crossed as he glares down at you with burning vermillion eyes. He takes mental note of his head of security’s face, the blood from his nostrils, the split lip and blackened eye. You and the head guard look the same, his jaw ticks from the thought.

“Been scurrying around like a fuckin rat?” He growls and instantly the sound of it sends you on edge. Grating your nerves as it sunk deep into your skin. Like a splinter sinking deep into the subdermal only to fester, "Stealing from my compound?!"

Your lack of answer infuriates him more, he leans over the waist, one large hand resting on the handle of the unsheathed machete. Surly an intimidation tactic, that or he really did intend to use it on you. The rusted blood confirmed as much.

"Fuckin answer me!" He’s close to your face, too close for your liking. And his voice was really starting to piss you off, so you spit blood onto his face. If he was going to kill you, you thought you’d make it worth his while.

"Bitch." He growls, yanking you to your feet just to bash his forehead into yours. He hits you hard enough your vision blurs before you black out.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[kimbapmmbapbap]

More k-dramas y'all should watch

So, at the end of 2017, I created a post going through my favourite dramas of all time. Obviously, I have watched more dramas since then so I have a few more dramas that everyone needs to watch!!

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon

This is an obvious one, so if you haven't watched it, have you been living under a rock?? When I first heard of it just before it came out, I thought it was going to be a rip off of weightlifting fairy Kim bok joo. But boy, was I wrong!! This drama has the perfect amount of romance, comedy, thriller and crime, so it is a good all rounder drama!! The whole cast (not just the leads) had amazing chemistry. The only flaw with this drama is that it does queerbait a little. I wish they either didn't add it in the story or fully went with that the main lead is Bi.

The story surrounds a girl with superhuman strength who wants to be a video game designer. She has always hid her strength due to fear if hurting others and losing her power. She in a unrequited love with her childhood friend who is now a police officer. She then crosses the path of a CEO of a video game company and her starts to become more chaotic. With a serial killer on the loose, Do Bong Soon needs to decide if she will keep a low profile or use her powers for the better good while also falling in love on the way.

While You Were Sleeping

Again, an obvious one, but it has to be watched!! Like strong woman, I was a little apprehensive of this one. Mainly because I hadn't heard good things about Suzy's acting before this came out. But it really surprised me and I really loved it! I'm a sucker for anything crime related, so with a really cute love story as well, it was amazing!! It has really good chemistry and likable characters. The second male lead is also amazing!! I usually don't get second male lead syndrome, but damn I felt it even though I also really loved the main lead. I can't really find any faults with it.

The story surrounds two people who can see the future through dreaming. This includes good and bad things. When the female reporter about dying while on the job, she quite her job to try and changes her fate. A prosecuter move across the street from her, initially they do not get on and their bond starts to grow. Together, they use both of their skills and their power to help change the future and solve crimes along the way. They also soon realise that this is not the first time they have crossed paths.

Psychopath Diary

I cannot recommend this drama enough!! Honestly, it is so underrated!!! Yoon Shi Yoon's performance is incredible, he really embodies the role here. It is so funny, and sweet. You also see a serial killer low key but high key fall in love with the male lead, so there is major gay vibes. The only issue I have with it is, I wish there was a little romance involved. But it is a not a major want.

The story surrounds a pushover who is working at a stocks company. After a major issue arises, he becomes the Scapegoat of the company and is being blamed for it, even though he tried to prevent it. Due to this, he decides that he will end his life. On the way to do this, he witnesses a murder and accidentally picks up the serial killer's diary. While trying to escape, he gets hit by a car and gets amnesia. When he wakes up and reads the diary, he believes that he is the serial killer.

Honestly, please watch this drama, it is so so so funny, the chemistry of the whole cast is incredible. It also possibly has one of my favourite villians in any drama.

Your Honor / Dear Judge

Yes, I am a simp Yoon Shi Yoon. He is just so good and thus role just confirms it! His acting is incredible, king of the double roles! He plays twins and you really tell when either pop up on screen which one he is. This is a really wholesome drama that makes you cry. It has some really sweet moments in it, the leads have such good chemistry. This only issues with this one is that the ending felt rushed. I hate that the TV company changed it from 20 eps to 16 eps.

The story follows a set of twins. Twin A is a top judge in Korea, who is incredibly smart and is living a rich life. Twin B is a criminal who has been screwed over multiple times by the justice system and Twin A. Their mother always sides with A and will tell B not to bother him. When A goes missing, B goes undercover and takes his brothers place. He soon learns about the corrupt world of the court system and his brother. B meets a law student who is meant to be shadowing A. Like B, she has also been affected by the corrupt system and is wanting to be a judge to convict those who have wronged her. Together they fight the system while also falling in love.

Because This is Our First Life

This is a slice of life drama so will have some heavy moments in it. But on the whole, it is just so lovely and cute. The acting is incredible, they really take on the role. It also has one of the best female friendships which is not toxic, they all genuinely care for eachother and want eachother to achieve their dreams. It also has some true badass moments in it as well! I feel like all slice of life dramas have this, but it does have some frustrating moments where the characters are almost purposely making their life's difficult

The story focuses on a woman who is a drama script writer. Due to her patriarchal family who always favour her brother and being let down by her crush, she wants to move out. She ends up moving in with a friend of a friend of a friend. It is to her surprise that the person who she is moving in with is a man who is very much stuck in his own ways and likes to stick to routine. Due to their own desires to be on their own, they decide to get married to relieve the pressure that their families are giving them. This (of course) causes issues and both have to learn about their new feelings for eachother while trying to get through the struggles of life.

Thirty but Seventeen

This drama is the definition of wholesome and cute. I feel that while I was watching it, it went by so quickly and I always had a smile on my face. The romance is so cute and lovely and you could tell they really cared about eachother. The side characters were also amazing and sweet. Honestly, the acting is incredible. The female lead does an amazing job.

The story follows woman who as a child was involved in a bus accident and fell into a coma. She wakes up over ten years later and learns that her family have stopped coming to see her. While on the search for her family, she resides with a man and his brother who are now living in her old family home. The two soon learn that there are more connected than they thought. With the man trying to push her away, the more his feelings grow for her.

Introverted Boss

This is a revenge to love story. It on the whole is a really cute drama where you get to see the leads grow for the better. The acting is incredible and you really fall in love with the leads and the support cast (except for the second lead). It is not a perfect drama, but it is a really easy watch with an interesting story.

The female lead is a stage actress who quits her job to work at a marketing firm. This firm happens to be where her sister used to work. She is out to get revenge against the CEO of the company who she blames for her sister's death. She learns that the CEO is extremely introverted and becomes confused by how he was responsible for her sister's death. As the story goes by, she becomes more intrigued by him and focuses less on revenge and more on helping him open up.

Vincenzo

Ahhhhh, how do express my love for this one!! It is just amazing!! The story was so well thought out and the actors did a fantastic job. It was so satisfying to watch, I wanted to be a member of the mafia lol. The villians were also incredible, like I just love this drama so much. Like Your Honor, the only issue with this one is that the ending felt rushed.

The story surrounds a Korean man who was adopted into an Italian family and became the consiglerie of the mafia. After an issue with his adoptive family, he travels back to Korea in search an insane amount of gold bars which happens to be underneath an unsuspecting block of flats. He then gets involved with a major legal court case with a pharmaceutical company. As he delves deeper into the case, dark secrets start to get revealed.

[its-nebula]

Nagito, Korekiyo, Kokichi x Short! Aggressive! S/O

He likes your height honestly.

Thinks that it's really cute.

You're the perfect cuddling size.

Definitely likes your softer side more, you remind him of a teddy bear.

He's a little bit intimidated once you swear to start beating up people, though.

Warns other people when somebody pisses you off.

"I'd stand back, if I were you."

Tries to look on the bright side! He's hopeful that you'll teach the aggravator a lesson.

If he thinks you're out of line or overreacting, he wont say anything about it. Why should someone like him be allowed an opinion? Who does he think he is telling you what to do?

He does everything he can to make you happy. When you get angry, he sees it as him not doing enough to keep you happy and satisfied, and he's not doing his job.

You try not to get angry with him as to not encourage his self-destructive mindset. If you happen to slip up, he gets a little scared but ultimately thinks he deserves it.

"No, no, S/O, you're totally right! Gosh, I guess I should really learn my place and keep my mouth closed, huh? It's okay! Really! Go on, hit me if you want!"

Nagito, n o.

He thinks you're a little funny.

Tries his best not to make you angry on purpose, but when you are angry, he finds it fascinating.

"It's marvelous, truly amazing... how can so much aggressiveness be bundled into one tiny vessel, such as yours?"

Learns the hard way to shut his mouth around you.

When people gawk about the height difference in public, you glare at them.

If someone happens to comment, oh boy, get ready.

Whenever you happen to get into an argument, Kiyo sits back and drinks his minding his own business juice.

Unless he sees the person as an imminent threat, then he has to take matters into his own hands. Apologizes to the person, then grabs you and hurriedly escorts you to safety.

"As much as I know that you're fully capable of defending yourself, I'd rather there not be any injuries today."

When you get mad at him, he just exits the area and lets you have space.

Buys you a punching bag to get all your anger out.

When he knows you're calm, he goes to you and apologizes to you.

Twinsies!

Finally, a worthy opponent. Your battle will be legendary.

Even though that battle will be very short because you would most definitely kick his ass.

He definitely pretends that you can't directly obliterate him.

Gets on your good side just in case.

"People of our height will someday take over the world!"

Sees you as a weapon of mass destruction to be honest.

Absolutely loves it when you get angry (at someone else). He cheers you on from the sidelines.

"YEAH! GO S/O! SHOW THEM WHO'S BOSS!"

Thinks it's very exciting, takes bets on who will win. Gains a lot of money because he always bets on you and you always manage to tear their ass up!

Feels bad if you get hurt.

"S/O! Why'd you let yourself get injured like that! Great, now I have to sit down, patch you up, and uuugghhhhhh..."

Don't worry S/O, he's concerned about you, he really is. He just doesn't know exactly how to express it.

He secretly wishes he was as strong and brave as you, so that he could step in and aid you in your fights if he thought you needed the support.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (part four)

-part four because I couldn’t fit everything in part three-i went overboard, I’m sorry

-please enjoy I worked a month on getting this out, haha. it is a labour of tears and love.

---->PREVIOUS PART <-----

Summary: You need your memories back. But how will you get them?

Gracefield House

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?” You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die. Die. Die. Die. He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together?

“Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. He forced himself to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Don’t struggle.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off the ground. Your leg hit Mama’s arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma stood frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She wrapped you in a tight embrace and you rubbed her back comfortingly. It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

(University name), DAY TWO

Class went by rather quickly today, and maybe that was because you were sure you’d seen similar material before. Each answer came easily along with each mark on your paper like a memory from long ago. You’ve answered harder questions, much more difficult tests that held more weight than a simple grade.

“I was impressed by your extensive knowledge on world history,” said Mr. Baker. He was the world history teacher. Unlike the others, he was young, perhaps in his mid twenties. In the hour you’ve gotten to know him and the class, you’ve come to realise he’s a class favourite. For good reason, too. His jokes were phenomenal, the material entertaining, and the atmosphere, friendly.

It was like having a conversation between friends rather than teacher to student.

“Do you know what school you went to before you came here?” he inquired. You shook your head. “No. I don’t think I went to any school before this actually...but I’m not sure. I wish I knew, sorry Mr. Baker.” He offered a warm smile. “Maybe my jokes will remind you of something. In the mean time, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll remember eventually.”

Eventually. You didn’t want to remember ‘eventually’. Living a life of ignorance was difficult as it was, why should you continue it? You adjusted your grip on a notebook and said, “See you tomorrow Mr. Baker.”

“Same to you, Letha.”

The cafeteria wasn’t hard to find. Students crowded in the hallways, pushing and shoving as they stuck close to hurry towards for their meals. You didn’t care much for the food. There wasn’t any way it could measure up to your, or Gramps’s, cooking anyway.

“Letha!”

You spun around as much as you could in the congested hall. Flanna raised a hand above her head and waved. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking for you. “Letha, you comin’?” There was no way out of avoiding the red-head. She had too much energy, and an eerily observant eye hidden under her smile.

“Hello to you too, Flanna.” you said, matching her step. Flanna grinned brightly. “Are you excited for lunch? My first day here, I thought it’d taste terrible. You’d be surprised how good it is, but maybe that’s because the school’s expensive.” She let out a snort that was lost to the chatter of the crowd.

The cafe wasn’t all too big. Despite the long tables stretching out across the floor, and the high ceilings and tall windows, it felt small. Crowded. The sheer amount of teens gathered in one area was daunting, scary even. It made your head spin, and your stomach lurch in disgust.

Was this what everyone dealt with every single day? How could they do it? This was madness.

Flanna patted your shoulder and led you towards the lunch line. “You get used to it after a while. Can’t say I have, but it’s not so bad.” She handed you a cup of fruit from a large cooler. You watched as she did the same and instructed the lunch lady on exactly what she wanted.

You copied her. It was all you could do to prevent embarrassing yourself.

Once you found a table, a long sigh left your lips. “That was actually...a bit stressful.” Flanna chuckled good-naturedly. “Oh, I get it, you’re shy, aren’t you? I had a friend like that back in ninth grade when I still lived in the countryside. Couldn’t even go in line without help from me.”

“What happened to that friend?”

“Moved away. Lots of people do. They like the city because it’s “full of opportunity”.” Flanna rolled her eyes. “I think it depends on what you want. I’d prefer a quiet life where all I have to do is take care of a farm. You know, sheep, chicken, cows. It’s easy because the only person who’s your boss is you.”

Flanna clearly didn’t favour modern life as much as her peers. She went on about the difficulties of technology and how they were “nothin’ but trouble” for simple folk. You couldn’t say much about that, but you wish you understood.

The rest of the day went by in a flash. It turned out, your last three classes were with Flanna. She didn’t talk as much in class, but she asked you a lot of questions about why you knew so much. Of course, you couldn't remember, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know who you truly were.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

The setting sun illuminated the sides of your face as you glared at the frosty grass below your winter boots. You stood outside, wrapped tightly in your thick, fur coat. It was Gramps’s daughter’s before yours, so it smelled like him. The forest. A cosy fireplace. Hot chocolate. It did little to comfort your aching heart, and maybe that was because a part of it was still missing.

Standing in the last rays of sun reminded you of that boy with light hair and kind eyes. It reminded you of his touch that refused to leave your mind. He was scorched there like an emblem on wood.

“So why can’t I remember you?” Your words were lost to the harsh, frosty breezes. “Who are you to me?” He wasn’t family, that much you knew, nor a friend either. He was much more. Much closer to your heart than either of those.

-----

This wasn't a massacre. It was the shambles of a bloody war.

The remnants of limbs and broken bones lay strewn across the throne room, where pools of crimson stained the tile flooring with its iron stench. Part of you wished you hadn’t opened the door, and another said it was your fault for letting everything get this far.

Would you have been able to stop Norman if you ran faster? If you had stopped him earlier?

Your stomach flopped and turned. The smirk painted on Norman’s lips wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. He was satisfied, not with the massacre, but with how perfectly his plan had been executed. It played out like a game of chess. Each pawn he sent out had been eliminated, leaving only the most powerful pieces on the checkered board.

“I’m sorry,” Norman said. “It’s too late (Y/n).”

He wasn’t sorry and he sure didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to you. Or at least, that was what you wanted to believe. Every fibre in your body screamed at you to run at him, slap him to the moon and back, or beat him to a pulp for lying and cheating you all. Yet you couldn’t do it. Not with the way he kept his eyes to the floor.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely,” he added. “It’s a shame you were a little too late.” Your gaze lingered on his for a moment longer before you cast it to Ray and Emma. They stood strong with you, yet you had a feeling they wanted to waver just as much as you.

Emma stared at the sticky crimson under her boot, eyes wide in disbelief. “They’ve...they’ve all been...?”

“Killed.” Norman plainly finished. “They killed each other and they’re all dead now. The Queen, the nobles, the Giran clan. All of them.” Despite the pleasant way he spoke, you had a feeling he didn’t mean it. The Norman you grew up with--no--the Norman you knew wasn’t like this. He was kind. Gentle. Sweet. He cared for everyone and everything, which was why he chose to be shipped out in the first place.

And why he always chose to be the sacrifice.

You heaved in a deep breath. If this were the reality of your situation, you had to accept it. Ignoring Norman for who he was and what he did wouldn’t do a thing.

“I reforged the Promise.” You made your way across the room, eyes straight and head held high. The smug glint in Norman’s eyes vanished.

“Everybody can escape to the human world and no one needs to fight. You don’t have to kill anymore, it’s over.” That was what you wanted to believe with every fibre of your being. But was it really all over? Could you escape to the human world and leave this place after what’s happened?

Norman shook his head, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s too late for that.” he plainly said. “No, it’s impossible. A monarchy that has lasted thousands of years has collapsed. Governance for the demons is impossible now. So is peace.” He glanced at the lifeless body behind him. “Iverk was the last one, and I killed him myself.”

You stiffened.

“We’ve put a lethal fissure in the demon society. A fissure that can’t be mended. All that’s left to do is,” he threw out a careless hand, “shatter it. All of the demons will die out. There’s just one more factor left. We can’t go back now. We have no choice but to wipe them out.” He straightened and it was like you were staring at a different person. There was no kindness in his eyes, or that light that you’ve relied on to keep you waking up every morning. “Don’t get in the way.”

You clenched a fist. “No.” Your voice came out strong, reassuring. “What is the point in wiping out a whole race just because we can’t see eye-to-eye? There’s hope and I’ve finally grasped it! For thousands of years, there’s been a cycle of slaughter and war that we have to break. I don’t plan on standing back, and I don’t plan on letting you become more of a murderer!”

Norman’s eyes were dark from under his cloak. “(Y/n)...”

You stood your ground. Defying him was the only way you could stay strong, the only way you could convince him. “We’ll find a way together! It’s not going to be easy, but I know we can do it!”

“(Y/n)...!”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself again and I’m not letting you do this alone!”

Norman’s tight expression relaxed into an uncomfortably serene smile. “What are you talking about?” he lightly inquired. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m not going anywhere.”

You heaved in a sharp breath because he stopped telling you the whole truth ages ago. He stopped relying on you because he thought he had to do everything alone. “I can’t trust you. You’re a liar! You think you can fool me? I know something’s wrong with you, you’re just trying to hide it! Don’t underestimate the family you grew up with, stupid Norman. We can see through all your lies and tricks!”

You thought back to the day you walked into his office alone.

I know you Norman, don’t forget that.

It had been too long since you’d seen him and thought him dead. Too long since you were able to hold his hands in yours.

And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself.  

It was nice to see him again, yet there was something off about him. He hadn’t changed much besides growing as tall as a tree.

I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again...

The only difference was the hesitance in his stance. As if he were trying to hide something very painful in his chest.

...but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.  

Then he left your words open-ended, as if he knew he couldn’t possibly lie to your face like that. He knew you saw through him from the start. It was only a matter of time before he acknowledged it.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you slowly inquired. “Because you’re so smart, you chose the reliable path. Because you’re so kind, you shoulder all the burden. I know you Norman, didn’t I tell you? You don’t want to slaughter the demons! And you don’t want to wipe them out either!”

That was the truth that shone in your heart. You wanted to believe in Norman because he always believed in you. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t have allowed you to go the Seven Walls. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t have allowed you to walk without him.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself,” you added. “What are you hiding? What are you so afraid of?” He raised a brow challengingly. “Afraid?” Norman wanted to laugh. “I’m not...”

“The Norman in front of me looks like a scared child.” You said it like it was fact, and judging by the way Norman’s gaze unfocused, you were right. He wasn’t just scared, he was terrified. Of the consequences, of how you would look at him again, of how the blood would never, ever wash off.

But it was okay, right? He was strong. Just a little longer and it would all be over.

You took a step forward. Norman firmly held out a hand. “Don’t come any closer.” His voice was void of any emotion, cold even. “I’ve come this far. I have no intention of turning back now.”

“Well that’s too bad!” you exclaimed. “Because neither do I! I’m not letting you go this time!” You grasped his hands in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Yes, you’re strong, yes you’re smart and you’re amazing and all those great things, but you’re stupid too! And arrogant! Can’t you see that you aren’t alone? Don’t be afraid to believe in us! We’re here to share everything. The tough, the burden, the painful things and the scary!”

Emma nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve done that since day one. It’s what we’re here for!” Ray locked gazes with Norman. He wasn’t about to be left out of this, not after Norman’s little stunt back in Grace Field. “Don’t be so reserved either,” he added. “Just spill it!”

You squeezed his hands tighter and stood a little closer. “You don’t need to protect us anymore! We want to walk with you, not behind you!” Answers were simple, but the journey was everlasting and dangerous. You understood what it took to get here even if you weren’t walking in Norman’s shoes. It was difficult. Terrifying. But with all the accomplishments under your belt?

It was time to reunite with him.

“Your family and siblings are your friends.” added Ray. “We don’t want a future where you end up suffering no matter what the result is. And you? What do you want? What do you want to do, Norman?”

He pulled away and the warmth left your hands. “No, it’s no good.” he stated. “You’re already too late. I’m...I’m in a place where I just can’t go back. You can’t walk alongside me--”

“We know.” you interjected. Emma nodded. “About the poison, Mujika and Sonju...”

“And the experiment in the basement.” added Ray. A hopeful smile inched itself onto your lips. “See? We’re not too late. It’s okay to be vulnerable. If you’re the real Norman, then let’s lose our way together. Let’s struggle too, and laugh.” You held out a hand and Emma and Ray joined you.

“Let’s live together.”

Norman didn’t struggle to keep his cool. You re-called the look in his eyes, the same one you saw that night he was told his shipment date. He cried, not just because he chose to get shipped out, but because he was scared. For you. For himself. For his family.

That stifling look of serenity washed off his face. His lips trembled, his shoulders shook, and his eyes watered. You all wrapped each other in a tight embrace. No one deserved to face all the ages of time on their own, no matter what it was, and more than anything, you’d do that for him.

“But...” Norman’s voice trembled. “It’s too late. It's pointless because of the drugs we were forced to take. We don’t have much longer left to live--we can’t live on.” He collapsed to his knees in a heap. “Help me... (Y/n), Emma, Ray... Please...”

That was when all the puzzles finally fit. After laying in wonder for so long with thoughts that kept you awake until the sun rose, you understood. The hesitance in his walk. The way he tried to hide his sluggish step. The way he acted like he was running out of time.

“You’re dying.” The words left your lips before you could even stop them. “It’s...the drugs from Lambda, right?” Norman tried to suppress a sob, but it came out in a way that sounded like he was chocking on his own lies and tears. You took a knee, gently placing a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Norman.”

He couldn’t stand the soft look in your eyes, or the tone in your voice that was like a warm summer breeze. You should have yelled at him. Should have stamped your foot against the ground and growled and slapped him. Yet you knelt in front of him, caressing his dampened cheeks with a touch that said it would all be okay.

Norman wouldn’t look at you--no--he refused to because he was just as you said: a liar. Why were you so kind to him when all he did was lie? He said he’d let you go to the Seven Walls. He said he’d wait for you. He said he wasn’t going anywhere and that he’d live, laugh and do everything to be there with you, for you.

Norman wondered what a murderer like him ever did to deserve you.

-----

The grass crunched under your feet. Towards the brick walls you walked, following the sun as it lowered deeper and deeper towards the ground. You had to keep reaching for it. You had to see it.

In times of trouble, it was your beacon of hope, the last bit of your old life you were sure you could recall. No matter where you were, it was always the first thing you followed. Towards the light. Towards that ray of hope.

You came to a stop at the edge of the school grounds, right where the gates separated you from the outside world bustling with life. The occasional car zoomed through the streets, interrupting the quiet air with its incessant honking and screeching.

The sun disappeared over the horizon, bathing the skies in navy blue and purple.

“Excuse me.”

The voice was light, warm, polite.

“You should really hurry home. It’s not safe out here at this time, especially since we’re students.”

You stuffed your cold hands in your pockets. “I really appreciate your concern,” --you turned to face him-- “but I’m fine. Thank you.”

A boy with light hair and kind eyes met your gaze. Something about him reminded you of something--no--someone. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the boy did. He’d never forget you, no matter how many lifetimes he lived.

“(Y/n)?” He was breathless, frozen in time as you awkwardly knitted your brows together. (Y/n) wasn’t your name. It was Letha, the name Gramps gave to you because you couldn’t remember your own.

Your confused frown made the boy’s eyes well with tears. You stared, watching as he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a pained sob. He was a student here just like you, sporting the traditional sweater vest, white button-up with a tie, and black slacks to match. You’ve never seen him before, yet he looked so...familiar.

Gosh, why couldn’t you remember?

“It’s been over a year and,” he chocked, “I’ve looked everywhere. How could you--how could you do all that for us? You promised we’d live together, but you reforged the Promise and--and...”

The boy's knees wobbled, and out of instinct, you threw out your arms. He fell into you, right at the crook of your neck. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his tears must have been frozen by now. It was cold out here.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was small, fearful almost. It made the boy cry harder. “I don’t know you, but why don’t we go inside? There should be a cafe down there, and they’re open late, so...”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused.

“I’m so sorry.” he echoed. “I wish I was there. I wish--I wish it were me--but instead...”

You patted his back as if you’d known him for a lifetime. Maybe you felt bad and that was why you hadn’t shoved him off, or maybe, it was because having him in your arms felt so right. Familiar in a way you couldn’t put into words.

Your gentle touch made the boy’s sobs relapse. He curled into you, wrapping his arms around your middle like you’d run away. Like you’d disappear. There was something so nostalgic about this hug and the way you both had your arms around each other.

It had happened before.

“The Promise,” the boy muttered, “you made it in exchange for--”

------

Bright, blue sky stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, and oddly calm. Perhaps a little too calm. After running through a maze of illusions and riddles you struggled to solve, you arrived in this place. Alone. The ground was like water, and with each step you took, it rippled and fanned out.

Someone sat in the middle of this endless sky and water, hovering over it serenely.

“What is it you seek?” the demon inquired. You stepped forward. “I want to reforge the Promise.” The demon’s single eye gazed straight through you, as if you were nothing more than a sheet of paper held to the light. “Sure, (Y/n).”

You pursed your lips together. He was unnervingly calm, child-like even, and you had a feeling it had to do with his ‘reward’ after the promise.

“So what is it you seek?” questioned the demon. “You must give me a reward as well.”

Yes, that was the catch. But what could it be? This demon was a being higher than anyone in the land, a god that once split the world in two. He transcended time, yet remained relatively simple-minded and difficult to read.

“The reward,” the demon fiddled with an orb in his hands, “hmmm... It would have to be something important. Ambition. Desire. What someone longs for. What I would want is something important to the other party. Will you make a wish despite that?”

This was for more than your family and Norman. You had people relying on this one choice, this one Promise.

“Yes, I will make a wish despite that.”

It all meant more than the world to you. You had to liberate your family, the children who were raised like livestock and mass-produced like wild animals. And the mamas who fought to survive--you had to think about them too.

“I wish for all the cattle children to cross over...”

They didn’t choose that life of suffering. None of you did.  

“And after that, for it to be completely impossible to pass between the two worlds.”

The demon continued to stare. You stood strong and proud with the weight of all humans in this Neverland on your shoulders. If he granted your wish, then the tide would turn and you’d be able to save everyone and everything.

“I will grant that wish,” he said. “And the reward I want are your---”

----

“Memories?” The words fell from your lips in a hasty breath. More than anything, you valued finding them. It was the only missing piece in your heart. The last portion of the unsolved mystery.

This boy--whoever he was--talked about you like he knew you. Held you like you meant something. Said that name, (Y/n), like it were his life line. He pulled away with a sniffle, settling his hands on your shoulders with a loving touch.

“You don’t remember me.” He lifted a hand and raised it to place on your cheek. But he couldn’t touch you like he used to. Not when you looked at him like he was far away and out of your reach.

“You don’t remember me.” the boy quietly repeated. He began to pull away, but you grasped his hand in yours. It was warm, soft. “No, I...I’ve seen you before.” There was a pained look on the boy’s face, as if he thought you were lying to him.

“Haven’t we been through this before (Y/n)?”

No, said your mind. Yes, said your heart.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Your grip tightened around his hand, but not enough to hurt him. “I...I do know you. You’re...” You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. But you did know this boy, and all this time, you yearned to see him.

Remember.

Remember.

Who was he to you?

Who were you to him?

Remember.

Remember!

“I can’t remember your name,” your eyes welled up with cold tears, “but I know I’ve missed you all this time.” You pulled his hand to your cheek as he brought you close. The scent of parchment, aged books, and the woods. Yes, that was nostalgic, so much that it felt right. The final piece, fragmented and broken, began connecting again. It brought the dots and the gaps you tried so hard to fill together.

But something else was still missing.

The boy pulled your head to the crook of his neck and rocked you from side to side in the moonlight. Even the hazy streetlights were drowned out by the stars. You liked to think it was because this part of the city was quiet, isolated, from the rest of the world. And the rest of your worries.

“Norman.” he said.

You looked up at him.

“My name is Norman.”

“And mine is...(Y/n)?”

“Yes,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “I think the day I fell in love with you was when you got excited about something Ray told you. Ray is our family if you’re wondering, and so is Emma, and Gilda, Don...” He told you about people you once knew, and the life you once lived. Some parts he left out, and others he kept.

But you wouldn’t have known. Not when your memory laid in fragments.

“...And so we looked for you. I didn’t think you’d be here, but I’m glad you were.” He laid his chin on the top of your head. “You used to joke that I’d never be taller than you, but now I am.” A sad chuckle left his lips. “I wish things could be different and that you--”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a flash of red hair. Your head began to pound and you nuzzled closer into Norman.

“What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts.”

He ran a hand through your locks, arms folded close around you as he hummed a sweet tune. It was sad, melancholy, and the only one you’d ever known your whole life. “I know that song.” you mumbled. Norman smiled softly. “Mama used to sing it to us all the time. When Ray had nightmares, she put him to sleep with this song.”

The pounding in your head increased and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I did too. I sang...to you.” Norman’s lips parted, but he settled on a nod and smiled instead. “You remember?”

“I think so.” The memory was hazy, as if someone were trying to make you forget for good. But you fought that urge, held on to the image of a room with white sheets and bed lined up side by side. “You were...talking to me...about a...I don’t know...”

“Go on.”

“You were crying late at night...so I...I sang to you.”

Norman kissed the top of your head. When he was in Lambda, locking in that room all alone running through test after test, he held fast to that memory. It kept him from giving up on what he fought for, and kicking the bucket for good.

“I missed you so much.” he wistfully whispered. “You can’t leave me again, or else you’ll break my heart for good.” You looked up to meet his watery eyes. “Why would I leave?” Norman shook his head. “It was in the Promise, wasn’t it? You can’t break it.”

The pounding began to fade. You tiredly smiled, but it was warm and thankful and happy. “That won’t stop me, Norman. I don’t think I could live without you.” He warmly chuckled, intertwining his hands with yours. “Me too.”

And it was then that you began to feel a little more complete, a little more you from then. You were sure you wouldn’t have to dream another little dream of your wodeerful Norman any longer, for he would be right by your side, where you both belonged.

You released his hands and cupped his cheek. It was a natural act you didn’t even have to think twice about. When you were you, you had done this more than a thousand times. Your lips connected in a sweet kiss. He tasted like coffee and tea rolled into one, and you had a feeling it was because he couldn’t choose which was better.

“I love you.” you said. He warmly smiled, but underneath, it was almost sly. “I love you too. Why don’t we do some catching up?”

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[ktheist]

title. “it’s armani, not polyester.” | m

pairings. ceo!jimin x secretary!reader x ex-boyfriend!director!jeongguk

inspired by. conan grey’s heather.

genre. e2f - f2l , office romance, sugar daddy-baby-esque.

words. 10.6k

warnings. explicit content (obviously). mentions of alcohol use. 

concept. a retelling of conan grey’s heather in its future days.

story time.

x

“that’s your ex?” wendy blinks once before proceeding to openly ogle the - as per jennie’s excited text - ‘tall and handsome as hell cutie’ who’s in the middle of speaking to irene who seems to be sporting a larger-than-her-daily smile as her body moves as she nods and laughs and nods again, “i mean - i was expecting some hobo looking guy with spectacles bigger than his head and snot running down his face.”

with a cringe, you shoot her a much needed side eye, “okay first off - ew,”  throwing your gaze back at jeongguk, “second off, we only dated for like three months before everyone started sleeping with everybody.”

“like orgies and shits?” this time, it’s her turn to cringe.

“no,” you roll your eyes, “i mean we had our first fight, he slept with my best friend so i slept with his brother who was dating that best friend.”

“oh,” you can almost feel the way her eyes shift from you ex to you as you continue to type on the computer, “guess no more family dinners.”

“it gets better,” you feel a creep up your face as you turn to meet her wide eyed gaze, “me and his brother got into the same college and we decided to stay friends and now his mom knows me as taehyung’s best friend instead of her second child’s ex-girlfriend.”

by the end of it, wendy’s jaw is quite literally on the floor, missing her chance to greet the cutie who’s obviously led here by irene. standing up, you fix the man who seems to have turned into ice, “thank you, irene, i’ll take it from here,” without even missing a beat you give jeongguk a once over, admitting his worth of the nickname he’ll soon forth be known as in the office, “mr. jeon, mr. park is thrilled to meet you.”

jimin didn’t exactly say that - he only yawned when you briefed him about the interview with the possible new tech guy before dozing off in the passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

“you work here?” thawed from his initial shock, jeongguk hurriedly tries to catch up to you when he sees you walking towards the double doors of your boss’ office which is just twenty feet away.

“oh no, i just deliver pizza and happen to know where the ceo’s office is,” and that marks your second eyeroll for the day to which jeongguk’s lips tuck into a blatant sneer.

before he even finished his “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed”, you’re already knocking twice on the door before strutting into the room where jimin’s face lights up at the sight of you before returning to its unsmiling state when his eyes lands on something over your shoulder.

“mr. park, mr. jeon is here for the interview for the management information systems director position,” you hand him the ipad with jeongguk’s resume opened and ready for inspection.

jeongguk pretends not to see your feigned smile as you pass him but before you manage to exit the room, a voice stops you, “oh, miss ____, do you mind telling  irene to make me an extra strong coffee?”

“i can make that, mr. park,” you announce, eyebrows threatening to weave themselves together at the peculiar order.

jimin only chuckles, “miss ____, you and i’s definition of extra strong is vastly different,” but before you can debunk it, he’s already complementing his insult with a praise, “you make the nicest chamomile tea though.”

all while jeon jeongguk stands in the middle of the way yet he’s the last thing you see and probably the last thing jimin notices.

“that’s fair,” with a nod and an amused smile, you leave through the door, knowing full well jeongguk is more than able to distinguish between what’s a facade and what’s not.

and he may very well be the first to call bullshit on your too respectful interactions with your boss.

x

jeongguk gets the position. naturally, he would - he graduated at the top of his class, became valedictorian, dished out an inspiring speech to which taehyung showed you a video of when you were having your trimonthly meet up a year a ago.

he was a cutie with brains and brawn. his department sucked him in as their new director and colleague in no time. the news of the new tall and handsome as hell cutie who apparently looks better than most people in suit has spread to every other department with wendy and irene liasing between the rumors - considering the fact that they take the ‘first interaction’ privilege.

perks of being part of jimin’s secretary trio, you suppose.

the aforementioned man peeks up at you with a smirk, his leather black salvator snaking up the side of your black mesh pantyhose as you stand in front of him and just until five seconds ago, were briefing him about his meeting with the representative of the manufacturing company for the new chip.

“miss jisoo will be here in two hours and she’ll be discussing the direct materials cost, direct labor cost and manufacturing overhead - that’s where i’ll need you to pay attention because maque it is known for their concrete bargains but exceptional product outcome.” you inform.

“mr. park,” his eyes snap to yours, “my eyes are up here.”

you’re not sure what he sees, but it may or may not have something to do with your unyielding force but flirtatious tone - either way, he lets out a surrendered chuckle.

“i got it - bargain, get the cheapest overall cost but the best production,” he says before guiding your hand that’s under his chin to his mouth, taking your pinky finger between his pearly whites.

“good, call me if you need anything else,” you nod in approval, lips curling into a satisfied smile before summoning your hand back to your side.

the sound of your heels reverberate against the walls as you make your way to the doors but before you manage to step one foot out, he’s calling out for you, “____,” voice unsettlingly calm but his words couldn’t have been any more overbearing, “i expect the same amount of dedication for your... other line of work.”

you would have let that smile tuck into a knowing smirk, would have given him something to look forward to - enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day but not enough to be a distraction to his tasks. if not for the sight of a flock of wavy black hair and darkest brown eyes.

“mr. jeon,” your voice may have rose a pitch higher but you’ve managed to school it into a pleasant smile, “how may i help you?”

jeongguk’s eyebrows falter just the slightest bit as a flash of confusion mixed with suspicion crosses his face before he plainly says, “i have something to discuss with the ceo about my work.”

“i’m not sure how things work at your previous company but you need to schedule a meeting with mr. park before anything else but i��ll be glad to navigate you through your scope of duty since mr. park will redirect me to you anyway,” you say simply, noticing how the man’s eyes flit towards the tinted grey glass with three horizontal parallel line down the middle where one can distortedly see jimin’s body turned towards the glass the way it had been when you last saw him.

clearly, he’s watching this unfold through the same see through space.

“it’ll just take a sec - i promise,” jeongguk sounds halfway annoyed with your insistence.

when he takes a step to the side, you take another to the same side, “mr. jeon, this kind of behavior - and on your first day, at that - isn’t something you need on your record and i didn’t make that policy, it was mr. park,” with a the slightest tilt of your head, you let the smile turn into a snide one, “and since you’ve been going around chatting with your new coworkers, you should know a thing or two about how seriously mr. park values one’s descipline during work.”

he shoots you one last pondering look, tongue forming a gentle protrusion in his left cheek like he’d unconsciously do when he’s debating to do the opposite of what he’s told by first agreeing and then finding another way to get what he wants.

“fine,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, hands shoved into his pocket as a strand of hair falls over his forehead, “i need a list of names of the people in my department as well as the last twenty year’s worth of projects held by the company.”

the smile you have on threatens to split into a disgruntled sneer at his ridiculous demand. ten years is the maximum amount of time someone would take to review and understand the workings of the company. fifteen is a stretch because there’s a chance of a change of policy. but a record of the past ten years means you’ll have to do some digging in the storage room since not all files were digitalized and being the new director of the IT department, jeon jeongguk is not oblivious to that very fact.

“i’ll have them on your desk by thursday,” you announce and he reiterates, “i need them by tomorrow.”

and that’s the last straw for you - letting out a sound between a scoff and a snide laughter, you place your hand on your hip, “huh, are you crazy?”

“i mean, as the new director, i need to learn the ropes of the company asap, no? don’t tell me you can’t even do that?” a smile creeps up jeongguk’s face, one that mimics that of a predator who’s caught his prey walking straight into his trap, “and all that talk about discipline.”

the contemptuous chuckle at the end is what boils the blood in your veins and before you know it, you’re spouting out words that you instantaneously regret as soon as they come out.

“of course, i’ll have them on your desk by tomorrow.”

x

“achoo!”

you curse underneath your breath as you sniffle from the remnants of the sneeze. fourty-three minutes in and you’re already on your nth sneezing fit. index finger flitting across the labels on the box, it takes you three nose scrunching and five boxes down the shelf to find a light blue label with ‘1998′ written next to a ‘september’.

well, that’s the second month of the year 1998 that you’ve managed to locate. the process repeats itself for a good twelve more minutes before you hear the screech of the in-need-of-oiling door and the echo of footsteps against the quiet walls before a tall, black haired figure steps into your periphery.

he’s looking as fresh and crisp as the tie hanging around his neck while you’re pretty sure your updo hair is halfway to giving out to gravity with how you’ve been moving boxes of files around.

“so what are we looking for?” jeongguk begins unnervingly calmly.

but you’re not one to turn down a hand, “anything blue with a label of 1990 up till 2010 - oh and they come in months.”

instead of complaining or at least making his displeasure known, the man simply starts searching the shelves five feet apart from you.

and so it goes, your file searching journey with your ex slash newly appointed coworker. multiple scenarios rushed through your head when you first heard jimin’s excellent review after jeongguk left. the elder man had been typing away on his mac when you’d come to pick up the empty mugs of coffee when he’d passingly say, “you know, there’s something about him that the other candidates lack - where’d you find this guy?”

but you never thought that being stuck in the files room alone would ever come up with this outcome-

“i heard you were the one who recommended me,” that voice of his is as sweet as the first drop of nectar but instead of the boyish tint, it’s tinged with a taste of wine and masculinity.

it’s familiar yet foreign all at once.

“then you must know all three secretaries were required to pick someone to recommend the job for,” with that, you twirl on your heels, a partially full box in your hand as you strut towards the desk where its blue shaded comrades awaits.

“so i’ve been told,” and that’s how you know jeongguk’s initial casual nature was just a facade to conceal his guilt-ridden conscience, “why didn’t you tell me? you didn’t even sign your name in the email - you never mentioned anything -”

“it’s nothing personal, guk,” you cut him off, back on him you pretend to rummage through each individual file of the recent box you’d found, “we needed a new IT director and you fit the criteria but if i gave out any indication that i was the one who reached out to you, your decisions might be affected by that - even just the slightest bit and that’s the last thing i want,” you say simply, “not to mention we pay better - so you get it, right?”

when you twirl around to face him, arms crossed over you chest, ass leaned up against the desk whilst your left knee slants to rest over its right counterpart, you finally meet the man’s curious doe eyes. they’re marred with the signs of life but still as exuberant and beautiful as the first day he stopped you in the hallway. his smiles are more expensive now and he doesn’t shyly look down before talking to you but he’s still the same high school heartthrob you’d had the fattest crush on.

and that’s the thing about high school and the matters of the heart - they’re meant to stay in the past as a fond yet foolish reminder of the things you would do when you were 16.

“i can’t have my guy prancing around the office like an uncivilized raccoon and ji- mr. park is extremely particular about time,” you sigh, throwing your gaze to your blood red soles if only because you can’t hold his gaze longer than this, “trust me, i don’t do things to inconvenience you just because i should have some kind of personal vendetta against you - i don’t.”

“wonder why i have been getting the opposite vibe from you ever since i came,” his shoulder line jolts slightly as he shrugs, eyes rolling but the tiniest smile on his face tells you that it’s all a good natured jest.

“i’m sorry - every time i look at you, it feels like i went back to being that high school girl who lashed out at everyone and everything,” it’s the way his eyes sparkle like stars at your words that drives you to quickly add, “my therapist told me to take a step back every time i feel like saying something mean to you because it’s just my own defense mechanism - i’m still working on it.”

“oh,” is all he says before a blanket of silence wraps around the both of you. it goes on for the longest moment with jeongguk’s unfocused yet heavy gaze on you.

he does that - staring off at something when he’s processing information and knowing his ex-girlfriend who he cheated on now goes to therapy, isn’t something one hears everyday.

“well, let’s get these,” you light tap the box on your left, “to your office - i’ll have the intern pick the rest later.”

“oh-” almost as though snapped from a daze, jeongguk blinks. one. twice. until he’s rushing to your side to get at least two boxes, one piled on top of the other, in each arm while you choose to only carry two.

when he finally finds his words, the first thing he says it -“you don’t have to get me all 20 years of record - 10 is enough and if you walk me through how things work, i’d be really grateful.”

you scoff, a smile on your lips before he mimics yours, “are you like, concerned about me cause i told you i’m seeing therapist -”

“me? concerned? about you?” his body moves along with his eye roll but his tone lacks the sarcasm he’s intending, “not in a thousand years.”

x

jeongguk is concerned. he tips toes around you like you’re the thinly veiled ice over a lake of emotions. as though one wrong move and you’ll break. and that’s how you know you’re not the only one who’s changed and grown with the years you spent apart.

the jeon jeongguk you knew couldn’t care less if you’d fallen into the darkest depth of your ruins - only because you’d hurt him just as much.

though you haven’t got to the point of having lunch together like wendy and irene and the entire team from his department had, you’ve had moments in between  coming back from lunch with jimin and just before lunch hour is up where you’re in the pantry with ice cream in your hand and your phone in the other.

while you’re sure no one would be coming around this time of the day, jeon jeongguk finds away to surprise you with his sudden appearance. strutting in as if he doesn’t notice you, picking up the instant coffee packet only to place one newly stirred coffee cup between you and him as he sips his own that he made with the one he’s apparently gifting you.

“why?” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion filling every inch of your curled lips.

“oh you know,” his shoulder line shrugs and you realize he’s grown a few inches taller because his shoulder fully past your head, “cause i heard you like your coffees with cream too.”

“how do i know it’s not poisoned?” still dubious, you keep your eyes on him like a hawk - nothing can get past you, not even a nervous gulp.

but instead, he throws his head back, sighing, “___, you literally saw me make them.”

“i don’t know, you’re acting kinda sus, guk,” you insist, phone screen long dead as you take one last bite of the ice cream before tossing the stick into the trashcan.

“sus? me?” his free hand comes flying up to his chest as he looks at you in disbelief.

“give me yours,” you finally announce, hand struck out with your palm facing upwards.

“whatever, idiot,” he shakes his head still, despite failing to hide the tiniest smile that begins to tuck on the corners of his lips before placing the cup he’s been holding on your awaiting hand.

“yay,” you grin, delighted before taking  one long sip and breathing out in satisfaction, “i live another day.”

x

and so it goes, the light banters between moments in time. luckily for you, jeongguk is all round charmer that makes anyone and everyone - men, women and non-bonarys alike - who’s talking to him smile from ear to ear from something he says. possibly a compliment, possibly an agreement to what the other party was saying.

nobody suspected that either of you knew each other prior to this and that’s one less office rumor to look out for. you offer to help jeongguk settle in, murmuring names of the people who greets him so that he’d greet back with their informed name, seeing their faces light up a bit more at the realization that their new boss’s recognition.

“aren’t you with park 24/7? how do you know everyone in this company?” he asks one fine morning after you both got to his desk.

“i’d say it’s talent but i basically had to memorize them overnight right after i joined,” you shrug, “it wasn’t easy but you realize the difference it makes in everyone’s performance when they think their boss knows who they are.”

“so that’s the kind of person park is,” jeongguk nods whilst clicking on the ‘transfer files’ option on the screen of his computer.

“mr. park isn’t like the devil boss from hell - he’s just really self-disciplined,” you correct.

“if he was then why did he make you memorize the names of his employees?” he shoots you a look, one that says ‘you know i’m right’ to which you only roll your eyes.

“the same reason why he needs three secretaries to do his bidding - he’s too busy,” you shoot him a ‘no, you’re not’ look before sticking out your hand after the files are finish being transferred.

“how come i only get one?” his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of dissatisfaction and confusion as he places the usb drive into your hand, not quite showing any signs to take his own hand off just yet.

“maybe ‘cause you’re not that important?” you shoot him a similar ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner and before he can even say anything, you’re curling your hand over the drive before twirling on your heels.

“ouch, you know that kinda hurts,” a voice comes up behind you and almost like a tidal wave, your apology comes in a second too soon, “really? sorry, i went too far-”

before you can even finish your words, you’re left rooted in your spot. a few feet away from the glass encased room where most of the executives and their secretaries are seen stepping in.

it’s the chuckle that reverberates against your eardrums that washes away your initial guilt like sand on shore, “you’re so-” jeongguk pauses, staring at you with eyes you can’t quite decipher and a flash of emotion you have never seen him make, “you’re so soft, you know that?”

“that wasn’t funny, jeongguk,” you fix him a hard stare, arms crossing over your chest.

“sorry - what i meant is,” and that’s the thing about the two of you - ever since you’d admitted your faults, jeongguk has followed your lead to apologize first. pride seems to be the last thing standing between the two of you at the moment - and it’s times like these, where you’re willing to listen and he’s willing to explain, that you think you might just escape that dark dwelling you call your past.

“miss ___,” a familiar voice drums in your ears, a hand on your lower back pulling your attention from the man in front of you to the attractive devil that’s on your side. the infernal spark in those dark eyes of his disappears as soon as he turns to - “jeongguk, i take it miss ____ has been a great help with the presentation you’re about to show us?”

“yes,” the aforementioned man nods, a look of unadulterated confidence making its way to his face as it replaced the lingering stare where jimin’s arm disappeared behind you, “i couldn’t have finished it this fast without ___.”

at jeongguk’s words, jimin lets a smile slip onto his strong features, making him look less like the unapproachable man he’s known for, “i’m looking forward to it.”

it’s only after jeongguk is walking a few steps ahead towards the open doors of the meeting room and jimin’s hand has long left your body, does the man murmur under his breath, “i’ve received applications for jeongguk’s secretary position, do you mind looking through them for me? though... i left them at my place - if you could come up with me to pick them later after work, it’d be great.”

“really?” you quickly say, before realizing it’d come off too excited for a request of overtime so you clear your throat, looking around the vicinity to see if anyone noticed, “i mean, yes, i can do that - i can drop by for a few minutes.”

“perfect,” his eyes disappears into crescents as the corners of his lips tuck higher before you part ways - him taking the seat at the end of the oval table while you head over to the computers connected to the projector, shoving the drive you’ve had trapped in your hand into its port.

x

“i’ve heard some things,” jimin’s honey voice is barely the subject of your conscience as you watch his lithe fingers working around the buckle of his belt until one end hangs loose before he pulls on the other, the sound of leather against fabric cutting the air like knife.

after jeongguk’s presentation which was met with praises and positive responses by the board, jimin had easily approved of the proposed updates on the - as the first would call it - a tad bit out dated data base. when the wendy, irene and the rest of his team was about to head out for dinner to celebrate their well earned success, you’d belatedly told them that you couldn’t make it because you had to drive jimin home.

seeing as it was a norm for the head secretary to also take on the role of the ceo’s chauffer, nobody questioned it.

nobody but the latest addition to the company.

jeongguk looked like he wanted to say something, stared at you a little longer as you fixed him and the rest of your leaving coworkers a ‘have fun, guys!’ kind of wave. but you suppose that could wait.

“i didn’t think you’d be one to pay attention to rumors,” you manage to say, swallowing heavily as you tear your gaze from jimin’s apt hands that are looping the belt into its buckle.

“this one’s a little bit interesting,” the chuckle he lets out is sinfully innocent compared to the way he slips the looped belt through your head and pulls on it, forcing the leather material to envelop your neck like a collar, “something about you and jeon having a special relationship.”

“that’s-” the words gets stuck in your throat when your heart leaps up at the slightest tuck on your neck, almost as if he’s saying to ‘choose your words carefully, dove.’

“it’s a matter of the distant past,” you say, sending a grateful prayer to the gods for allowing your voice to sound unbothered.

“didn’t seem like what the rumors are saying,” his breath fans your face as he whispers against your ear - you have to clench your fists together to stop the shivers from wracking through your body, “but that’s alright - at the end of the day, it’s my name you’re screaming.”

a moan escapes your mouth when a pair of plump lips press against yours. sparks in your veins and passion in your heart. before you know it, you’re blindly grasping onto the zipper of of jimin’s trousers, salivating at the thought of a part of him you know too well.

“please, daddy, let me suck your dick,” you plea, eyebrows knitting together with a sort of yearning and frustration from how achingly patient the striking blonde man in front of you is.

if it were up to him, you’d be soaking up the carpeted floor with your arousal throughout the night and he’d still manage to edge you on until you’re begging to come.

but that’s the thing, either way, you’re going to be begging for him. and you’d learned earlier on that you gain less from holding onto your pride than holding onto jimin’s dick.

with your mouth, that is.

x

it’s the morning after that - that you curse yourself for not putting any restraints to your carnal desires. in your defense though, begging and pleading jimin to push you to your limits seemed like an irresistible option at the time. that is, until you’re digging out what clothes you have in the drawer in your allocated room only to find most of them catering to the neck-to-just-above-the-cleavage-reveal kind of look.

so you opt for scarves - the bruises aren’t bad but the first days are always the hardest. and jimin notices the way you’re craning your neck from side to side as you keep your eyes trained on the red light that’s about to turn green anytime soon.

“does it hurt?” the saccharine sweet voice drips with honeyed concern whilst his hand goes to massage the back of your neck.

you hum in appreciation, “that feels good.”

“maybe i should’ve been gentler,” the tinge of remorse in his voice doesn’t go past you.

“that’s not even where it hurts most,” you giggle, feeling the familiar tingle in between your legs but you manage to push it to the back of your mind as you say, “but you know i like it when you’re rough.”

jimin only laughs, head shaking at your blatant confession. and so the mini massage session continues until the car starts rolling into motion. you go on with your morning routine of reminding him of the list of things he’ll have to do and people to meet for the day.

it’s only after you’ve parked the car and turning off the ignition that your phone dings with a notification of a ‘you received 50, 000 dollars from park jimin’.

squealing, you hop out of the car, heels click clacking against the concrete as you mini run towards the blond who’d slipped out of the car a second earlier.

“thank you, daddy!” you grin, hands wrapping around his arm as he chuckles softly, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

“i booked you a session at lotus nirvana for the weekend,” he says a minute later as you stand in front of the elevator.

“oh my god,” you gasp, jaw hitting the floor, “the lotus? really?”

“and you can bring a plus one,” he boops your nose with his index finger, making you scrunch it because of the ticklish feeling it leaves.

“you’re the best!” you stand on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheekbone just before the elevator stops one level below the ceo and chairman’s parking level, revealing none other than jeongguk in a dashing cobalt blue louis vouitton suit.

you’ve managed to detach yourself from the now-unsmiling ceo who shoots the newcomer a brief smile as a greeting when jeongguk takes longer to look between you and his boss before finally stepping in.

“morning,” you greet with a wave, hoping to brush off the elephant in the room.

the man echoes back your words but nothing else - at least until you reach the 19th floor where jimin turns to you, hands in his pocket, “miss ___ i need to discuss something with you in my office,” just before you’re about to point out the sunken eyes in the younger man’s appearance.

“yes, mr. park,” you say in a heartbeat, before mouthing a ‘catch you later’ to the brunette.

x

in the next few days, you’ve opt for a variety of scarves to match your outfit. but more importantly, to hide the darkening bruises around your neck as you style your hair to hide what the scarves can’t.

it’s times like these that you keep your distance from people, choosing to stay in front of the computer unless jimin calls for you. whether to ask for if you’re up for having lunch with him, to inquire about the meeting he has or simply to just say “i miss your chamomile tea.”

at that, you can’t help but let the giggle break through your iron wall of a facade, “that’s what you called me for?”

the man’s eyes flit to the right for the briefest second, as though in search for a better answer which he finds none of before meeting your own, “yep, that’s what i called you for.”

“you’re so cute, daddy,” you gush, before placing you ipad down on the desk, hands coming up to frame around jimin’s cheeks as they turn round from the smile that slips onto his face, “i’ll make some for you tonight!” but then your shoulder line falls, eyebrows coming together, “wait - i have dinner with jeongguk tonight.”

“you mean jeon?” he raises an amused eyebrow to which you nod, hands falling away from his cheeks.

“i’ve been avoiding him these past few days and i think he’s getting a little suspicious about us spending so much time together - he thinks you’re... forcing me to do things,” you sigh - just this morning, the black haired cutie caught you in the middle of your way to your desk, pulling you to the side with a set of concerned eyebrows knitted together, “are you okay?”

you took a moment, eyes roaming around the vicinity as though it’d help spot the reason to this abrupt intervention before looking back at him, smiling cluelessly “...yeah, i’m fine.”

he let go of your arm to push his soft tresses which seemed to be missing its usual slick gelled look today, “the ladies have been saying park tends to work you to the bones every few times a month - like right now, and that’s a normal thing here?”

and because it wasn’t the kind of question you got asked often - people just accepted and were even glad that it wasn’t them that jimin was calling to his office every hour throughout the day, you had to take a moment to ponder on your answer “...yeah, it’s normal.”

“and you don’t care?” jeongguk’s blinked, mortified.

“i mean, that’s my livelihood right there so...” and you shrugged.

“i don’t know, i don’t like him,” his shoulder line tensed as he turned his body towards the wall sized window, eyes casted towards the neighboring skyscrapers.

“why?” was all you said - you’d understand intimidating. strict. unapproachable to describe the words jimin is, but no one’s ever confessed to outright disliking the man. but then again, you are the closest person to jimin in the company, no employee would risk getting fired because they blurted out their dissatisfaction towards their ceo to his head secretary.

“there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way,” instead of shrugging like what 17-year old jeongguk would have done, this older version of him didn’t even stutter.

you suppose one’s confidence and sense of reasoning - even though there wasn’t any particular reason for him to dislike jimin-

“...something about a ceo calling his head secretary ‘miss’ while he casually address everyone else by their name but never really talk to anyone beyond business matters while nobody’s has a single bad thing to say about him,” when jeongguk’s obsidian eyes fell on you, it was as though the background faded and you found yourself trapped in a glass cage - unable to run away from the truth he seemed to possess, “especially the person he’s overworking the most.”

“well,” there’s this habit that you do - laughing in the face of crisis and this was damn well a crisis because, “if you feel that way then you feel that way.”

“is there something you want to tell me?” he pressed on, speaking under his breath, “if you need help, you can always come to me.”

and that was when the laughter broke into a fit and you’re holding your stomach and his shoulder with your other hand, “jeongguk - i’m fine, really,” there was a tremble in his eyes as self doubt crept up his conscience, which meant whatever you were doing was working, “listen, how bout we go for dinner tonight with wendy and irene? i’m late but i wanna hear how your first staff dinner went.”

you managed to escape jeongguk right after his ‘...yeah, sure’ before mrs. yoo came up to you to ask about the arrangements of the seating for the upcoming corporate dinner. it’s in five months but preparations must be made in advance.

“if he’s starting to notice that means i’m not the only whose got his eyes on you,” the sweet honeyed voice pulls you out of your memories, almond shaped eyes staring at you with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

and for some reason, you felt the need to clarify where you stand and where jeongguk stands, “we were kids when we started dating - we know better now that both of us clash like two magnets on the opposite poles if we go beyond what friends are.”

“you know i have the utmost respect for you,” butterflies set flight in your stomach when jimin guides your right hand to his lips.

x

the place you end up going to is called han chu where it’s most famous for its variety of chicken-based cuisine which happens to be irene’s boyfriend’s family’s long standing business. it’d been packed with people, mostly those who’d got off work like yourselves but apparently, they have a different room for adhoc visitors who popped up out of nowhere.

“irene’s taking a long time at the washroom,” wendy announces, a small, jealous pout on her lips as she sticks her chopsticks into the rice bowl before you and jeongguk exchange a knowing look with each other.

since her boyfriend works here, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room knows irene, in fact, did not go to the washroom. and wendy isn’t too secretive about her want for a man she can call her own to which, two bottles of soju later, she slams her glass against the table and confesses, “i’m so lonely, i want a boyfriend!”

by then, irene’s already back and chiding the younger woman about how she needs to stop drinking so much because apparently, at jeongguk’s congratutional dinner, she was that coworker that drank herself silly and might or might have not blurted out something about jeongguk’s exceptional proportions in front of the entire IT department.

“___! you’re single, right?” the way jeongguk’s hand seems to be take longer to pick up one of those spicy-sweet chicken even though he was gobbling them up like there was no tomorrow just five seconds ago, doesn’t go unnoticed by you, “let’s go to a mixer! i’ll text my friend to include our names for one this weekend.”

this time, the way jeongguk’s visibly tensed shoulder line is no coincidence.

“i’m good, thanks,” you chuckle, patting the woman’s shoulder.

irene on the other hand, looks increasingly worried about her fellow coworker as time passes. it’s when wendy starts to gulp down the soju straight from the bottle that you step in, swiping it out of her hands and placing it back down on the table.

“alright, that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you home” at that, you shoot irene a signal with your eyes, counting a short ‘1,2,3′ before you both hoist her up to her feet, directing her arm over your shoulder while irene does the same with the other one.

“i’ll get the car - you ladies wait at the front of the restaurant ” jeongguk announces, just as you step out of the room.

“thanks, guk,” you fix him an appreciative smile, grateful for not having to drag the half-conscious woman’s body all the way to the parking lot.

“you know, he’s been staring at you the whole night,” a voice giggles - and seeing how wendy can barely even open her eyes, that could only mean that it’s the only other woman that’s holding her up that also decided to let out such absurd statement.

“that’s cause i was sitting next to wendy - who by the way, isn’t exactly a quiet drinker,” you roll your eyes, before a separately realization hits you- “you didn’t drink.”

“well, i can’t really at the moment,” the brunette’s voice takes a gentler turn as you watch her free hand clasp her stomach.

“oh my god,” jaws on the ground, you’re not sure if you’re even blinking, “you’re pregnant? how long far along are you?”

“a month, me and jae were discussing how we’re gonna tell our families,” she meets your wide eyed gaze half-heartedly, “and if i’m going to continue working after i give birth.”

“either way i’m so happy for you,” you reach out your free hand that’s not wrapped around wendy’s waist to which the elder woman accepts, squeezing your hand just hard enough for you to feel her fears and excitement and overflowing joy flow through you, “you and jaebum are gonna be the best parents.”

“i never really said it but you helped me a lot when i just started,” the tears in her eyes makes them look like sparkling stars in the midnight sky, “and you’ve always been so supportive - seriously, ___, thank you.”

“stop,” you squeak in between holding your breath and holding back your tears, “i’m gonna cry.”

“if you cry, i’ll cry,” irene is already pulling her hand away and fanning her face, glimmering eyes turned to the sky.

it’s a moment later that a car rolls to a stop in front of the two of you. the window rolling down, revealing an extremely concerned jeongguk, “what happened?”

the “it’s a girl thing” comes a few moments later, particularly after you slipped into the passenger’s seat next to him while irene sits at the back with wendy’s head in her lap.

by the time you reach wendy’s apartment building, irene announces that she’s staying over at the first. if only to look after the drunken woman and make sure she’s okay.

“are you sure?” you ask to which she nods, murmuring something about how wendy couldn’t survive without her hungover soup if she didn’t stay and make it.

wendy manages to sober up and walk with irene holding her hand. and with the way she’s slow-waving at you, you take it as your cue to leave too.

“call me if you need anything, okay?” is the last thing you say before the two of them step through the clear glass door.

the rest of the ride is filled with silence, save for the faint sound of low volumed music in the background. 

that is, until one of you decides to break it with a kind of heartwarming concern you thought already left his mind, “so are you okay?” he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, as if to check if the tears were still there, “you were crying just now.”

you can’t help but laugh, “don’t worry - they were tears of joy.”

“oh?” only then does he allow the smile to tuck on the corner of his lips, “what about?”

“i don’t know if i can say it,” you feel your own lips curling, “not my story to tell.”

“okay,” he nods, “as long as you’re okay.”

and so the silence returns but this time, it’s no where suffocating or makes you want to hop out of a moving car just to get away from the man you thought you could never stand to be alone with five months ago.

at first, you told yourself that it was for the good of the company - that you didn’t need to be friends, civility was enough. but then you had that talk in the storage room - both equally tensed but both grown out of their youthful impatience into someone who was willing to listen and learn.

and you realized that you work well together - too well, in fact, that jeongguk’s own secretary would come to you even after four months of working with him, just to ask you if he’d prefer his coffees black or with cream.

but you suppose it was because this was her first job after graduating - you were used to taking notes of the littlest of things jeongguk did because that was what worked best for jimin. that, minus the already known facts about jeon jeongguk that you’d gathered during your two years of knowing him and three months of dating him.

and it’s almost as though the plants and the stars align, as the car comes to a stop in front of your apartment building and as he pulls the brake before turning his upper half towards you, “i had a great time tonight.”

“me too, guk, and thanks for driving irene, wendy and me home - you’ve become quite the gentleman,” you chuckle to which the corners of his lips upturns, while his eyes casts itself down to his hands before they meet yours again.

“it was the right thing to do,” but then you can’t escape his eyes - those obsidian eyes that seem to reach through the windows of your soul effortlessly.

“well,” the smile may have been forced but it’s still comes from the heart, “i better go in.”

“yeah - yeah you should,” he nods and you thought you’re just imagining things - irene’s initial observation might or might not have gotten to you.

but just as you’re about to open the door, hand on the handle, jeongguk speaks again, “i was hoping,” at that, you turn to him, “you and me,” you can only hope he can’t hear the sound of your pumping heart, “we could try again, you know?”

you’d like to believe that you’ve gone past that part of your life where you hurt and you hurt others back - the ones that tried to help you, pull you out of that darkened cocoon that you grew so accustomed to.

like to believe that it took a bit more nudging for you to break through the cocoon and that was okay - everyone needed a little bit of help at some point of their life. yours happened to be when you were sixteen hitting seventeen. and even now, you still need help to fly - to let your wings flutter through the wind without breaking and hitting the hard cold ground.

but all of a sudden, you find yourself that same cocoon you thought you abandoned with the ugliest dark brown and maroon walls - the color of the school mascot that seemed to be the symbol of the baseball team’s undefeated victory throughout the year. and all because taehyung’s brother, jeongguk just joined the team.

and you were just one of the many girls who had her eyes on the ace. except your best friend was dating the captain so you sometimes joined her as she watched him practice. until jeongguk noticed you. until he lift you up and broke you down.

“jeongguk,” you say, heart erratically clawing against your chest - obsidian is the color of jeongguk’s eyes as he waited for your answer with bated breath, a rap song is playing in the background, smooth is the material of the handle of the door under your fingertips, marc jacobs is the perfume that faintly wafts from jeongguk’s collar and sweet is the taste of peach soju you had, “i think it’s best to maintain a professional working relationship instead.”

almost as though being pulled from a trance, jeongguk recoils, eyes blinking once before he blurts out a “yeah,” then, a moment later, “yeah, that’s probably the best - sorry for-”

“it’s fine,” you shrug.

“-making everything awkward.” he finally stops.

“i’ll see you on monday,” you say - not so sure if it’s the right thing to say, but jeongguk nods, echoing your words, “yeah - see you monday.”

and with that, you slip out of the car, heels clicking against the ground as you tread towards the door without looking back.

x

monday turns to tuesday and then tuesday turns to an abundant of weeks. your interactions ceased to a strictly professional, work-based relationship. jeongguk talks to you only when he needs clarifying where his own secretary can’t give him an answer.

you go to him when his secretary is doing a job that requires her to go mia for the day. wendy and irene are well aware of the sudden shift in your dynamics but if you’d gladly told them jeongguk was your ex-boyfriend then you gladly told them what you told jeongguk that night.

your only regret was taking away their own friendship with jeongguk. none of them went out for dinner with him because they were torn between their loyalty to their colleague-turned-friend and the boss whom they were halfway to befriending if not for your complicating the whole thing up.

“but you decided to keep your peace instead of the peace around you and i’m proud of you for choosing yourself first,” jimin had told you as he traced patterns on the dip of your back.

and you might or might not have cried and fell asleep in his arms that night before cancelling your appointment with your therapist with the next day and choosing to have it at the end of the month like you were supposed to. ever since then, your relationship hadn’t been all that physical.

“i think i need time for myself,” you’d told him in the middle of getting stuck in traffic with unmoving cars on either side of you, “but i also still want to see you.”

jimin who’d been staring out of the window mindlessly had turned to you - instead of asking you to repeat what you’d said because he barely caught it, he’d fixed you the warmest of smiles, “it’s been over a year, ___, didn’t it ever occur to you that i wanted more than just sex from this? from us?”

if there was something park jimin was, it was arcane. mysterious - just as you thought you figured out his wants and needs, he makes a 180 and surprised you in ways you never would have seen coming.

“doesn’t it bother you that i’m... this?” there was no word for it - for being yourself but also feeling like someone entirely different all at once.

“no, it doesn’t,” he’d look straight at you as he said it, “i know you probably don’t feel like it right now, but let’s go on a walk by the han river.”

and that was where you talked about your feelings and what you could and couldn’t give while you nibble on the fish shaped bun that was wafting with heavenly scent throughout your walk until you found the stall.

jimin still wanted to pay you for the times you’ll be spending together even though there won’t be sex invloved. 

“we still have another few months of the contract, if i don’t pay you then i’d be breaching it,” he’d argued with crescent shaped eyes and the most beautiful smile.

“alright but i’m paying for dinner and lunches from now on,” and there was no changing your mind.

so it goes, you work in the day and leave with jimin for the night. he’d steal away your mac and you’d steal away his but for the most parts, you’d do work in the same room. he’d stop and stepped out only to bring you a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows and you’d pay back with chamomile tea.

then came the annual dinner which marked five months since that night. he’s decked in a stylish cut black tux with a blue sheen reflected under the light. paired with a glass flute of white wine, he’d probably already won at least three hearts only an hour into the commencement of the dinner while your teeth clamor at the low temperature of the hall.

you’re halfway ready to curse yourself for foregoing your crop blazer in jimin’s car all because you remember been too warm in it - but that was last year and the air conditioning needed fixing - when something warm engulfs your open shoulders.

“jimin,” you blink, recalling the last man talking to a board member just a moment ago before you’d stepped out.

“you should’ve told me you were cold,” he chides and only then do you notice the lack of blazer on his vest-hugged body.

stealing a glance into light poured room, you briefly stand on your tip toes, hands wrapped around the man’s arm as you pull him down to meet your halfway.

“thank you, daddy,” with that, you step away, feeling the rush of heat on your cheeks and the thrill of adrenaline in your veins.

“you’re welcome, dove,” and as soon as he goes back inside, he’s swarmed with other guests who must have wondered where the star of the night went.

and you would have turned to the cityscape if not for the glint of light trapped in glass.

“jeongguk,” your voice is strained, so you clear your throat and put on a smile to cover it up, “how long have you been there?”

a scoff follows your inquiry, “you’re not 16 and a guy giving you his jacket doesn’t mean jack shit, ___.”

at the uncalled for response, you subconsciously tug on the center front of the blazer, “first off, it’s armani, not polyester,” you say, not missing the way his eyes twitching at the comparison - he used to lend you his jackets and sweaters back when you were dating, “and whatever i do with my personal life is none of your business - i don’t have to explain myself to you.”

another scoff hits the air as he steps out of the shadow and into the sliver of light that pours from the hall and onto the veranda, “so all that talk about maintaining a professional relationship were just excuses? because you couldn’t get over the past?”

“the p -” you almost choke on your words, “the past when you cheated on me with my best friend all because i said taehyung was in the right for getting mad at you over you ruining his only chance to get into one of the best theater school in the world?”

“it’s cause of you!” the fact that his voice rose doesn’t go unnoticed even to him as he looks around and only after making sure that nobody was listening, does he continue is a hushed but harsh tone, “i slept with heather because you pushed me to her. if i wanted someone to point out the many list of things i did ‘wrong’ i could’ve just went to my parents.”

you sigh, “that’s the problem, guk-” 

“don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that,” he shoot backs.

“jeongguk,” you rephrase, fingers fiddling with each other until you’ve hit the ten-second mark, “what we had was toxic. we needed so much work on our self-esteem and personal traumas but we turned to each other hoping the other could fix it and all we did was make it worse.”

“please, you were the one who was so insecure about heather - you think i don’t realize how you look at her? how you compare yourself to her when all she did was be your friend?” it takes everything in you not to flinch at his choice of words, “what personal trauma,” he laughs dryly.

“that’s what i’ve been working on but i’m not the only one flawed -your parents,” you say, choosing to ignore the first part of his retort, “them constantly paying more attention to your brother just because he was older and achieved a little bit more than you did. and everyone else who compared you to taehyung’s ‘legacy’. so you turn to the only girl who noticed you,” there’s a flash in his eyes, one that burns bright with anger - just like it did all those years ago.

but you pretend not to notice, “and i was so caught up with the idea of a boyfriend of my own - a guy that didn’t choose heather over me that i did everything i could to keep you. i was toxic to you because i agreed with everything you said, i put down others while i lifted you up but as soon as i tried to fix what i’d done,” you heave out a sigh, “one push - that’s all it takes for you to fall right out my arms and if that wasn’t enough i hurt you by sleeping with taehyung.”

the last thing you see is the boy the with maroon and brown jacket, staring right at you with eyes prickling with tears and face flushed pink but no words come out from his clamped mouth.

so you turn you back on him like you did five years ago. you turned your back on jeongguk and you don’t look back.

you find jimin somewhere amidst the crowd, conversing with a guest from your rival company.

“mr. park,” his eyes focus on your tight-lipped smile as soon as he sees it, you don’t even have to say another word when he excuses himself and you, not even sparing a glance at the guest before his hand finds itself on your waist, guiding you through the room and into the empty hallway since all the guests have arrived and jimin was supposed to deliver the opening speech before you took him away from it.

you barely remember the ride to his place and how he’d sat you down on his bed, kneeling right in front of you with eyes overflowing with concern.

smooth is jimin’s skin under your fingder pads when you touch his face. plump is his lips that you kiss and sweet is the taste of his mouth from the red wine you’d seen him down at the beginning of the event. the woody scent of bleu de chanel that you got him for his birthday last year is what fills your senses.

but they’re gone too soon.

“are you sure?” jimin’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something - something you can’t pinpoint.

“jimin, please, i-” and that’s all it takes for him to press his lips harder to yours, one hand groping your breast while the other pushes the weight of the jacket off your shoulders.

x

the room is silent.

save for the tapping sound of your fingers across the keyboard. that is, until another pair of hands capture them and brings them across your chest in a hug whilst you giggle at the ticklish sensation of deep violet strands brushing against your cheek, “let’s have dinner together tonight.”

at that, your mouth clamps shut, body recoiling to the side to meet a pair of almond eyes, “don’t you have dinner with chairman of samsung tonight?”

from the way jimin’s lips purse together into a pout, it seems like you hit the nail right on its head, “you quit being my secretary - you should let me lie to you and say i’m free so we can have some ‘us’ time.”

“nope,” you shake your head, breaking free from the man’s grasp before looking at him pointedly, “you’re not going to skip a meal with one of the most influential person in the world.”

“how’s the website going?” he attempts to change the topic, eyes focusing on the sequence of letters and numbers on the screen of your mac as if he understood what the codes say.

yet you humor him, “it’s going okay, though i can’t seem to figure out how to configure the servers.” 

it’s been six months since you’ve quit the job. three since you permanently moved in with jimin and one since you’ve got the paperworks done to open up your own joined business with irene. she decided to follow your footsteps to quit even though wendy was basically clinging onto her legs when she came over to pick up her belongings with a growing belly and a sort of radiance on her face.

naturally, the position for co-secretary was opened and applications were flooding in, so much so wendy had to beg you to meet with her somewhere just to review them together.

“i don’t know how to read people,” she lamented, “i do the technical stuff and you do the mind games - by the way,” something flashed in her eyes as her voice lowered into a whisper, “how did you to it?”

she meant, the explosive and tea-worthy news of how you and jimin came to be.

nobody knew about you and him until much much later. when you were free to go out to dinners and social events together with your hand on his arm and him strutting in with a never-before-seen smile. more jaws dropped that afternoon than the money raised for the event.

jeongguk is still the director of the IT department - you left to keep your peace but you’d also hope to keep his. because that’s the thing about past loves and open wounds. they hurt and they bleed with just the right words as knives but it’s how you choose to treat them that heals you.

and though your way of healing is by tearing a piece of yourself over and over again until you grow a new, steeler part that doesn’t mean you loathe the parts you’ve chosen to cut off. 

as such, you don’t hate jeongguk - you still want him to live life to his fullest potential. you still want him to thrive like a wilting flower after a rainstorm.

you just didn’t want to - can’t be part of that life.

“my father used to say, ‘if you find yourself in a dry spell of ideas’, take a break,” jimin’s voice is laced with a sort of playfulness as his eyes disappear behind crescent moons, “particularly in mauritius.”

“you did not book a plane to one of the most beautiful islands in world,” you can feel your cheeks hurting from the growing smile that creeps up your face, “did you?” 

“our flight scheduled to leave at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow,” he sweeps you up into his arms like you weight nothing at all.

“jimin!” a yelp escapes your lips in between him twirling around and the background moving too fast whilst your arms find their way to his shoulder, “you know i can’t hide a whole ass romantic getaway from my mother! what am i going to tell her when her unemployed, supposedly single daughter starts missing our daily calls because i was too busy vacaying?”

“a month,” jimin adds, head bopping against yours - you’re not quite sure when he stopped twirling, “we’re staying there for a whole month.”

“oh my god,” at first, excitement flashes across your face, then worry follows a second later, “what about your schedule? it’s gonna get pushed back - the phone calls wendy’ll have to make!”

“lisa’s in charge of the phone calls,” he means the new addition to his line of secretaries.

“doesn’t make it okay to give her all the work!” you say, not quite as passionate about someone you’ve never met as he gently lowers you, arms still banded around your waist whilst your foreheads touch.

“after we come back, i’ll make arrangements so your parents could come here - so i could meet them,” he steals a kiss from your half-open mouth.

“you’re kidding, you’re gonna meet my parents?” you echo, halfway into believing that you’re hearing things if not for the way his recently dyed hair bounces as he nods.

“i need their blessings first, don’t i?” he says, chuckling.

“after banging their daughter into the bed every single night, you’re gonna need a whole lot of those,” you pat his hair, in a ‘good luck’ kind of manner - your father isn’t the most welcoming and your mother won’t be as pleased to hear the out-of-the-ordinary ways you fell in love.

a bout of chuckles later, he’s swiping you up in his arms again as he carries you towards the familiar hallway where your shared bedroom lies while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“but daddy, it’s still morning,” you giggle.

“didn’t stop you from begging for my dick yesterday, did it?” the corner of his lips curve into a smirk.

x

note. story time (a short post where i talk about the background of the fic eg. why i decided to write it, the overall message of the fic etc.) is already up (queued along w the fic)!

i’m aware that armani is a brand and polyester is a clothing material so it technically can’t be compared together but in a deeper sense, armani’s material is more comfortable than polyester so it works (pls make it work) ahahahahahaha