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awrkive · 7 months ago

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THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball.

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?”

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt smut #svt x reader #bts x reader #fic: tlp #awrkive

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yeonzzzn · 1 year ago

Note

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”

“Can I have the police report?”

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.

Meaning he wasn’t home.

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”

You raised your brow, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”

You swallowed, “Everything.”

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#yeonzzzn asks #— 🔪 anon #jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #sim jaeyun #sim jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #ghostface au #enhypen hard hours #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake

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happysparklingshadows · 27 days ago

Text

A Certain Hunger (6/?)

Chapter 5 ✿ Chapter 7

Summary: Passion and fear go hand in hand. You find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place; you might as well enjoy yourself while you're here. Playing games and playing with fingers distract you from the looming dread that everyone and everything is falling apart. Your adult self is slipping back into old habits and fears, rediscovering how she used to listen through the trees.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut (18+), Angst, loss of virginity, the reader has sex against a tree after her weird trippy episode in the last chapter, Natalie finally puts the moves on the reader, Lowkey period sex but its chill, Natalie is a messy toxic 90s bisexual who is still figuring it out, Mentions of menstrual cycle, Mentions of stalking, the 90s setting with the views of the time, internalized homophobia, Mentions of body and body weight, the occult, and possession.

Word count: 18k (the longest so far and I am sorry if that is a turn off!)

Notes: Happy Season 3 premiere!! The title of the French chapter, "Friends on the Other Side," is for anyone who is wondering! All French will have translations at the bottom of the chapter. Happy to use my one year of college French for good use! I also have put this series on wattpad and Ao3, and made a playlist for this story if you wanted to check it out.

❀ A03 ❀ wattpad ❀ spotify playlist ❀

‘96

🎵 This is how we do it 🎵

“One, two, one, two, three, four!” Mari yells out with her fingers matching her words over the music. Everyone around you starts to jump and dance to the music, appreciating the little music you have heard in the last few months.

🎵 This is how we do it 🎵

“Running Man, Running Man!” You all say as you wave your hands above your head to dance to the song from the MTV video.

“Bart Simpson, Bart Simpson!” You stepped back as some of the girls stepped forward, smiles and giggles dancing around the air as you joyfully sang to Montell Jordan. You barely even notice the pinch in your neck as you giggle. Your eyes met with Misty, who meekly stood in the doorway and swayed to the music, too scared to join in but watched on. You all step back to the wall, bump into Laura Lee, and giggle, grabbing her hand that was reaching for yours with a shared laugh.

“And Javi! Javi!” Mari giggles as she pulls the thirteen-year-old into the center to dance for everyone. You whistled to him with the others, encouraging him to dance. Seeing the shy kid come out of his shell a bit was sweet. This is the most you have seen him interact with the group, and it made your smile grow on your cheeks.

“Designated driver, take the keys to my truck.” All of you sing and whip your hands outstretched in front of yourselves, like you were driving a car. “Hit the shore ‘cause I’m faded.” you all continued as you ran a hand over your eyes to cover them, turning to someone side yourselves. “Honey’s in the street say, “Monty, yo, we made it.”

You gave up singing along as everyone took to their own rhythm and moved their bodies freely, your arms flailing above your head as you swayed your hips around. “It feels so good in my hood tonight. The summertime skirts and the guys in kani, All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by-”

The music weakly tries to continue but dies pathetically in the middle of the song. Everyone stilled in disappointment as Van walked to the walkman with a grumbled damn it.

The room filled with panting of the girls, yours being one of them, as you felt your chest heave, breathe in like a suffocating person, “What happened?” Jackie asked Van from beside you.

“I don’t know,” Van grumbles again, frustrated about the death of her beloved Walkman as she slaps the box. “Oh, no. Has hitting something ever fixed it?”

“M-Maybe try blowing on it?” Mari says, coming closer to the girls and circling the box.

Creak. Creaaakk.

“The fuck is that?” Mari asks the group.

“Hey, you heard it too?” Lottie asks the group quietly as she looks around the room,

“It was probably just a branch.” Taissa reasoned, unimpressed, with her hands on her hips, stoic as ever.

“Inside, on the floor?” Mari asked her with wide eyes. She was floored by any explanation other than a ghost. “What if it’s... him?”

“What, the dead guy?” Shauna asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Um, yeah,” Mari grumbled.

“You know what it probably was? The dead guy’s missing fingers trying to crawl their way home.” Natalie smirked as she spoke, trying to scare everyone mischievously. Akilah slaps Natalie’s chest at the joke. Everyone jeers on at Natalie and some tell her to shut up for even joking. You laughed at her joke even though you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help it.

“You really have to encourage them?” Taissa sighs.

“You got to admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof.” Akilah says to Taissa with a worried wrinkle on her brow.

Jackie reasoned, “Fine, then it was a rat, or a raccoon, or something. I don’t know, it-.”

“Shh!” Lottie interrupted, looking up to the ceiling, trying to listen in on whatever was up in the attic.

“Oh my god.” Taissa completely deflates her arms and turns to her makeshift bed shoved into the corner

“Shh. Listen, " Lottie says, focusing on what she hears.

You all wait for something to happen, but nothing does.

“Well, I don’t hear it now.” Mari broke the silence.

“See?’ Taissa jeered with a smirk, she laid her blanket on the ground.

“Alright. Alright. You know what I think it was? I think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep. And we should probably do the same, yeah?” Coach Ben reasons.

Everyone whined and booed at Coach Ben, but everyone started to lay out their beds on the floor. Some were whispering in the corner of the room like Misty and Krystal about the ghost upstairs, but the cabin's ground floor came to a lull and was peacefu when everyone fell asleep.

You lay down, sandwiched between Jackie and Shauna, staring up at the ceiling.

Your period was heavy this month for some reason. Your cycle has been all messed up since the crash, and it was beginning to become normal again. Your first month in the woods, you were so anxious for when your period would start, only for it never to come as the others all started around you. You and Shauna both snickered at the blessing of not having your periods before getting rescued. The next one was surprisingly light and quick, only lasting three days, it was a dark pink and watery red spotting, but as you lay in your makeshift bed, you were on the fifth day of heavy, deep red. It was your first real period in the woods, and your body made sure you paid the price for having some peace in your womb by giving you extremely painful cramps and nausea that would sneak up on you in the hot August sun. You used 6 of the makeshift pads yesterday and felt embarrassed, especially because you had to make a new one almost every time you needed a new one. The makeshift pads were made from shirts and stuffing from one of Travis’s orange puffer jackets, which he packed and offered up instead of Laura Lee’s bear. When everyone was having a discussion, and the girls talked about how they were going to make the pads, everyone looked over to the brown bear lying on Laura’s blanket. Travis offered his coat, saying his mom made him pack the stupid coat that he never wore and might be best used for stuffing our pads. It shocked you. You didn’t realize he had the ability to have empath after all his assholey comments, but it was making you see the guy in a better light slowly. But after he offered it, he demanded never to be informed about our periods again and stormed out of the cabin while Ben chuckled and Javi was mortified. Thankfully, it seemed to mellow out within the last day, and you were hoping your period would completely calm down before tomorrow.

The cabin's ceiling had dust stains and caked-on cobwebs that had been built upon themselves for years stare back down at your tiredness. Your legs twitched under your blanket, you felt your heart pounding in your chest somehow. Your mind was numb and thoughtless as you felt the fuzzy fabric of your mother's handmade blanket caress your legs. The hours went by with no sleep in sight for you. You sat up quietly and looked around at the others to see if anyone was still awake. You couldn’t find anyone as you tried to stand up without a sound, you crept to the door and to the pile of shoes everyone had left. You slipped on your shoes and hugged your blanket around your shoulders.

You open the door a little to sliver so it won’t groan, and so you won’t wake the others. After you slip through the crack, you close it behind you. The cold summer air hits you first as you start walking aimlessly.

It was dangerous. It was dark, and you got confused last time.

At least, that's what you like to believe and what others think as well. They believed you were dehydrated and got confused, and they decided it was no longer okay for you to go out on your own because they believed that your weight loss could be the main reason. You wanted to fight back against them, but you were two sizes smaller than before the crash almost four months ago, and it concerned Jackie and Shauna the most. But, something within you couldn’t fully believe it was just because of you. You are the smartest student at your school, scored the highest on the ACT, and were supposed to go to NYU in September. And somehow, the others look to you for guidance in the wilderness like a leader. You knew you were of sound mind, and you wouldn’t have imagined a tree creature watching you, or not noticing a significant amount of hours passing. It was something else.

You didn’t want to think about the tree woman again, you didn’t want to think that day even happened. You made sure to skip that day in your journal. As you have for most days after that scary one, except to log your period and take notes of the food everyone got in the day. You felt depressed as your period came with an almost bored feeling lording over your head all day.

You continue to walk on, you decide to turn left at the fork in the path towards the poop bucket cliff, and you hear the tree whistle beside you. It was calming you down. You didn’t feel the fear of the forest anymore because you hadn’t seen the creature yet, and you hadn’t felt the energy that you had that day either since.

It became your escape once again. Away from the others momentarily and to feel your feelings away from your friends' prying eyes. You loved your friends, the first- and second-year students, and their coach over the time you have been out here, but they can be overwhelming with their questions and concerns. You knew they couldn’t help that they didn’t have wilderness survival drilled into their heads since they were kids, and they couldn’t help being nervous about the things they didn’t understand. But you wanted to sometimes scream at their immaturity and recklessness.

The chill in the air woke you up as you came closer to the bluff cliff of the mountain, and looked up to the sky. You look down at your feet anxiously, thinking you might fall over even though you stood 6 feet away from the drop-off, and you sit down on a smooth rock you had become fond of when you had poop duty. The rock was at the base of a tree and was big enough to be a seat.

You look up at the clear night sky, littered with stars and a full moon lighting up the night. You take a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, a breeze from the top of the mountain. You can hear the whole forest where you sit, and it makes you feel so peaceful and safe. The water from the lake, the feet of small animals crawling up the trees, the berries and leaves dancing in the bushes, and the branches breathing beside you.

You couldn’t help but grasp the fuzzy blanket closer as the thought of your mom came to mind. Your lip pursed, but no tears came to your eyes. “I hope Mom is looking at this moon. She would love how bright it is, " you thought as you relaxed more on the cold rock. “Dad would love the view… Dad would be proud of me, I think. I have gone good so far.”

A smile came to your lips as you knew what you thought was right. You have done well as a group so far, and it was all thanks to your father. You knew that you would be thanking him so much if you were saved.

If you were saved.

It grossed you out to even think about the possibility you all wouldn’t be found in time. The cold breezes of the summer make you think of the colder and harsher months ahead when food will become rare. What if you all starve to death, get the flu and die from lack of vitamins, or fall asleep without a fire in the fireplace on accident? You had to push those thoughts to the back of your mind for later days, as for now, you try to relax on your rock. Hoping that maybe tonight was the night a plane or helicopter would fly by.

You look up to the clear sky at the stars that shine for what seems like only for you. The moon was almost half the sky from your angle on the mountain. It was like looking at the proof of a god because nothing could just be that beautiful and serene.

Snap!

You turn your head to the side and see Taissa standing there with a blank expression, which startles you.

“Oh! Taiss-”

“Find her,” Taissa rasped, her eyes staring past yours. Her voice didn’t seem like her own as she stepped closer. Under the moonlight, her eyes almost looked red.

“What?” You asked as you stood up from the rock, a little scared at how quickly she approached you.

“Find her,” she repeated as a smile started to curl on the corners of her lips

“Taissa? What are you saying? Why are you here?” You sternly said as you stepped back out of confusion, why was she here? How did she know you were here?

“Uh—” Taissa blinks, and slowly, her face becomes hers again. She rubs her eyes. “I don’t—sorry, I am half asleep. I saw you weren’t in the cabin and got worried.”

“Oh—” you say as you look over her in concern. It doesn’t make sense why she would know you were here. “Oh, okay! It’s okay! I couldn’t sleep.”

“Sorry, I don’t know. I fell asleep while I was looking for you! That was crazy!” Taissa chuckled, pulling her hand out to lead you back to the cabin. “Let’s go back to bed. It’s cold out here,” she added. There was dirt caked underneath her fingernails and her cuticles, it made you pause before you took her hand. But you took it so as not to cause a scene, just wanting to leave the situation and get back to your bed.

“Okay, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted,” you sigh as you look at Taissa. You can’t help but ask, “How did you know I was here?”

“I hear you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know. I heard you breathing,” Taissa said as she looked down at her shoes, not even knowing her answer and how she knew you were there.

You didn’t notice the symbol carved on the back of the tree, on the opposite side of where you were leaning your back, dripped sap onto the ground as you walked past it.

You woke up later than normal today as the sunlight shined right into your eyes. The others must have given you a break. You give yourself a moment of peace as you stare at the ceiling. Your body felt achy and unwell, your inner thighs sticky and wet with sweat, and you softly became aware of the dull pain coming from deep in your stomach. When you finally pulled yourself from the ground and stood up, you noticed the only other person still lying down was Jackie. People would have tried to wake her up, but she had lied back down. “Lazy Jackie,” you think to yourself as you loom over Jackie’s lying body on the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, softly lift your leg, and shake her shoulder with your foot.

“Jackie.” You say to her like a lure, only to have Jackie groan in response and not move. “Come on, wake up.”

Jackie cuddles her blanket to her shoulders and groans, “I’m so cold.”

You look down at her with an unimpressed purse of your lips, and she rolls onto her back with a grimace of pain, “I have cramps.”

“No, duh, Jackie. We’re all cramping; we’re all synced up, and Mari has Endo, so you don’t have any excuses, princess.” You say as you kick her shoulder again, and she groans loudly again. But she reluctantly sits up as you watch her. She yawns. You pat her shoulder and smile, “Shouldn’t be too much work today, just keeping up.”

You and Jackie get dressed for the day, and she comments on how the two of you should match, to which you agree wholeheartedly. Jackie and you were as close as you used to be in the wilderness. Jackie would always find her way back to you in the forest fishing to sit and talk.

Despite the circumstances, you were so relieved to know Jackie still sees you as her sandbox friend as you did, and even more so now than ever have the two of you relied on each other with Shauna.

Your overpacking for the trip was such a blessing in disguise, and your body insecurity, making you have many changes of clothes, benefited you by having almost a new pair of clothes every day. But it always bit you in the ass when it was your time to do laundry, and you had to carry all your weight clothes on an incline—multiple times.

“Hey, do you want to wear your blue shirt? Match with me?” Jackie says as she starts to button up her blue and white-striped button-up. She looks at the blue shirt you wore yesterday, lying on top of your luggage or, lately, your dresser, and then over to you as you pull your pajamas over your head.

“I can’t. It’s dirty. I only have my butterfly shirt and my cardigan clean, " you replied, shaking your head softly. Then, you pulled your shorts off your legs.

“Why are you wearing a cardigan? It’s like 100 degrees outside.” Jackie snickered as she struggled with a button, looking at you humorously.

You felt a small wave of insecurity come over you. You had a habit of wearing long sleeves to hide your arms. You didn’t like the idea that someone could see your chubby arm jiggle when you simply grabbed something, but you were sweating like a pig because it was 100 degrees outside. “I don’t like my arms, " you answered your best friend as you looked at your feet for a second out of embarrassment. You continue to pull up your jean shorts from your ankles as you wrap the belt around your waist.

Jackie didn’t say anything for a moment as she looked you over softly with her buggy brown eyes, and she always hated when you put yourself down for being fat but she wasn’t going to disagree when it was about your feelings about your body. She was always mindful about that.

“I don’t see why you have to overheat; you have limps on the side of your body like everyone else. But the sweater is cute, so I will let off easy this one time for not matching with me this one time, okay.”

You just shake your head jokingly and narrow your eyes, “Other people have arms too?”

She rolls her eyes at you as she finally finishes her shirt. “Oh, haha. You know what I was trying to say.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You giggle as you nudge Jackie’s shoulder, and she returns the giggle with you as you both leave the cabin.

You were stopped by Alilah making a makeshift pad. She sits infront of the fire with the hunting knife in her hands, two of your big pots hang from their hooks on the fireplace crane.

“Hey!” Alilah says with a smile sent both of your ways, pointing the knife to the two pots, one an orangeish brown and the other a deep red, “Bloody Soldiers on the left and breakfast on the right, okay! Don’t mess them up, like Travis did.” Aliliah finished by turning her head to the boy behind her eating his breakfast.

“Okay, you guys are disgusting. I’m-” Travis cringed, getting up from his tree trunk.

“Shut up,” Aliliah replied softly with a chuckling shake of her head.

“Yeah, shut up, dork. You’re the one who wanted to eat the red one, " you say to Travis with a soft eye roll. You were growing to not hate the guy, but he somehow still got on your nerves.

“Whatever.” Travis says as he storms off to the cabin, passing by you. You felt the wind swirl from his movements away from your standing body.

You smile at Alilah and the other girls; Mari stops Jackie beside you, thrusting a bucket in her hands. “How about getting some more water? Breakfast isn’t going anywhere.”

Jackie stood stunned by Mari and looked on with an open mouth. She looked over to you for an answer. You felt satisfied that Jackie had finally been called out for not helping out, but you didn’t like the feeling of her sad brown eyes looking at you.

“Okay, a little bitchy Mari, but yeah, Jackie, go get some water and your morning walk in.” You say it with a smile, sending Mari a sharp look but a smile to Jackie. “You can help Laura Lee with laundry today and get your feet in the water.” You offered Jackie with a soft voice to lure her into trying it out.

“Okay,” Jackie grumbled, a pout on her lips as she walked away towards the lake.

You felt yourself pause at the fact that Jackie wasn’t pulling her own weight, as she hasn’t your whole friendship, and that she is becoming increasingly lazy as the days drag on. You didn’t want to act like you were doing favoritism and make the others jealous, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold Jackie, at least on your own. You look down to see Shauna staring off where Jackie walked away from, and her eyes slowly traveling to yours. Your eyes communicated the same thing; something needed to be said before it became a bigger problem.

“Here,” Shauna mumbled as she handed you her mug of water. You took a big gulp of it without question. The summer heat was getting to you already this early in the day, and you panted softly as you took the mug from your lips.

“Thank you, Shauna.” You cheer down to her with a smile, then turn to the others around the cabin doing odd jobs like cutting the firewood, eating, or hanging clothes on the clothing line.

“Hey Guys! Good Morning!” You say out to everyone with a big wave of your hand. You look over to everyone, giving you their complete attention. Misty is already raising her hand to ask a question. “Cleaners and Cooks, you are off the hook today! Um, if you have any time, try to find some mud or clay to patch up the crack in the window! And cooks, keep smoking out the jerky; it needs to be completely dry before we can eat it!”

“(Y/n)?” Misty asks politely as she lightly lowers her hand as your eyes meet hers.

“Yes, Misty?”

“I was hoping I could go out and forage today to find some more medicine for our periods, and Ben-”

There was loud snickering in the corner of Mari, Alilah, and Marlissa, and you looked at them with a sharp eye for a moment.

“Have something to add, Mari?”

Mari looks at you with wide eyes for a moment in shock. You would call her out for the second time this morning: “No, but Misty is trying to make a love potion or something!”

“I am not!” Misty flushes with a deep red on her cheeks, her voice laced with shame and embarrassment. It wasn’t the first time Misty was shut down for her requests or mocked for simply standing around, you have grown tired of the bullying Misty has been put through out here.

“Okay, so, you're going to make fun of her for trying to find some pain relief while we are all on our periods, Mari?”

“Well-”

“You’re going to be real happy when Misty finds something that can smooth out your endometriosis, but you just fine making fun of her in the meantime?” You lecture as you talk with your hands and slap them to your sides as you add, “It’s pointless, why say that?”

“(Y/n), I wasn’t trying to say anything like that-”

“Mari. We are all in the same boat. Misty is here with us, and I am happy she is here because all she does is try to help out, as much as anyone else, and she cares. She is the reason some of us are even still alive.” You say to Mari with almost a stoic brow that you felt you had authority over the girls and needed to use it for the team's betterment. Infighting will only cause more unneeded tension. You turn your face from the almost crying Mari, ashamed underclassmen around her, then to Misty.

Misty looks on at you in awe, a creeping smile on her face, awkward, and pushes her glasses closer to her face. The flush on her cheeks didn’t go away with time.

“Misty, do whatever you think is necessary. " You turn your head back to the group, now looking to the ground. “You all will go with her for safety and to build empathy. It seems to be the wilderness skill you all lack.”

“But-” Mari stammered with a soft pout of disgust on her lips.

“What?” You ask her softly, you're eyebrow-raising without your control. You could hear a snickering behind you; you knew Van and Shauna were watching you control the underclassmen with amusement. They always remembered you as someone who was too nice, and seeing you talk sternly yet sweetly to the younger girls made them want to laugh. You didn’t stop the snickering from behind you as a smirk softly tried to come to your lips. It was Mari’s own karma.

“Nothing. Fine.” Mari says as she looks to the ground.

“Okay, great, happy to get that sorted.” You say with a sigh, your hands on your hips, and you look behind yourself to Shauna and Van, trying not to laugh when your eyes meet their amused ones. “Alright, Natalie and I will go mapping until noon. Then, Natalie will go hunting with Travis. Javi, I want you to go wood cutting with Taissa, and Taissa, I want you to look out for any tracks.”

Taissa nods her head at you with a smile when your eyes meet. She sits across from Van now as she eats her breakfast gruel.

Laura Lee raises her hand softly, “May I speak?”

“Of course.”

“Is anyone going to look at the plane? You know, see if it could work. Or use the radio to communicate with someone to rescue us.”

You pale slightly at the thought of returning to the old passenger plane. You said, “I don’t know if it’s safe, but if you felt like you needed to check, go for it. Please don’t try to start it or go inside of it too much. Read the book if you want.”

Laura Lee smiled and nodded her head, “Already on it.”

You smile back, “Okay, just don’t hurt yourself.”

“God willing.” Laura Lee agreed with an earnestness that made you smile more.

“Okay. Alright, is there anything else? Except mending clothes and cleaning our rags?” You ask the group as Jackie struggles behind you with the bucket full of water. No one had anything else to add so the morning announcement ending unceremoniously.

“Fuck.” Jackie gasped from behind you as she leaned over the bucket. Van and Taissa share sharp looks of annoyance at Jackie’s panting, just proving their thoughts about Jackie being lazy. It made you feel bad as you didn’t know what to do. You sent her to do her chores, and she could barely do them. Everyone looked to you to correct her, but you didn’t even know how to confront those thoughts.

Shauna stands up, notices the looks, and comes to Jackie’s on a mission: “Hey, do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jackie sighed. “I got it.”

Jackie flexed her aching wrist as you approached the conversation with your best friends, “Why are you so chipper? Don’t you have a blood sacrifice between your legs like the rest of us?” Jackie asked Shauna with a soft concern in her eyes as she rubbed her wrist. You turn your head to Shauna with your head tilted a little, and the memory of her not having a period with you the first month comes to mind.

“Um, I’m late this month,” Shauna replied quickly. “Uh, we were in a plane crash. It’s probably just stress.”

You nod your head beside Jackie as you accept her response. “I didn’t even have a period our first month, but it came back, it’s kicking my ass now.”

“Yeah, lucky you’re a virgin or we’d really have to worry.’ Jackie chuckles as she smiles at Shauna and yourself, leaning down to get the bucket. “Anyways, enjoy it while it lasts, I guess. This rag situation is a fucking horror show.”

“I know! I had to make myself 6 two days ago because I couldn’t stop bleeding. I wanted to die!” You joke to Jackie as she walks to the cabin to put up the water, Jackie laughs with a snort as she struggles away. You turn your head to Shauna to see if she thought it was funny too only to see her staring blankly at Jackie’s back.

“Hey, you okay, Shauna?” You ask her with your hand coming to her shoulder.

She tried to smile as pushed your hand away, “Yeah. I just have to get some water.”

She walks away as Van approaches you. You don’t even get to move an inch as Van comes over to you and says, “Hey, can I help you go fishing today? I wanted to give it a try on the pole.”

You laugh softly, “What? But, yeah okay! You can come whenever you want you don’t have to ask, Van!”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you wanted to hang out with me for a while.”

“Of course, Van, you're my friend.” You smile and touch her arm softly, and you can see Taissa looking at the two of you talking. “I can tell you all my secrets now.”

“Oh, (Y/n), has secrets? I didn’t think you could keep a secret.”

“What do you even mean by that?” You question with a smile on your lips and a chuckle in your voice.

“I don’t know, how about when we were smoking in the back of the cabin, and you told everyone you have little stories about Vampires.”

You blush in embarrassment, “Oh my god, Shut up, please!”

Van laughs as Taissa walks by you two with five cut logs for firewood. As she passes, she says, “Hey, I just beat your record.”

“What?”

“I carried more than four logs of wood!” Taissa stuck her tongue out to you as she snickered. She’s mentioning the logs you were carrying when you found them kissing.

“Oh, what the fuck ever!” You laugh at everyone and turn your back to walk away to go to the bathroom.

‘21

You: Callie is home now. But yeah, she slept over my house because she was having some friend drama. Shauna: Did she tell you what it was about? You: Not really, and to be honest its very petty stuff. You: Some girl is talking about how Callie is being fake for being nice to her even though she is friends with her boyfriends ex Shauna: Okay, that makes me feel better but I wished you had called me You: Callie came into the house screaming and upset, and we talked for hours and by time I could call you I knocked out You: I’m old now Shauna: We’re the same age! You: We’r so old Shauna: *We’re You: fuck you Shauna: whatever loser You: Callie picked out my outfit for the romance convention You: and the reunion You: She found my New York clothes Shauna: Oh she found the good stuff Shauna: You’re going to the reunion? You: Are you? You: I don’t know if I can go if you don’t. I don’t want to be the only one there, you know. Shauna: Are you going to brunch?

You pause as you read your text. God, it’s almost Jackie’s 43rd birthday.

You put your phone down on your lap as you sit in the driver's seat of your car. You wanted to text Shauna when you dropped off Callie. You were getting ready to leave after making Callie lunch when you got a call from Misty. You couldn’t help but sigh a little when you saw her call you again, making it about 10 times since you left the car with her—after impulsivity, eating her out in her driver’s seat. You knew she meant well, and she was lonely. She couldn’t help how creepy she came off as.

She told you to meet up with her at Natalie's hotel, which you told her you couldn’t go to because of how tense it was between you two last time.

Misty asked again, promising it was only to figure out what had happened to Travis. The guilt in your stomach didn’t let you disagree that you owed Travis this, even if you knew there was no killer deep down. It was himself. He couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t blame him. You remember how much you hated him at first, and how he grew to be a friend out there in the woods. You remember a lot about him you wish to forget, but some you hold dear. He was gentle when it counted.

So, You turn towards Natalies, and with your luck, you got there before Misty. You knew you needed to face Natalie again and be honest about how you were far too brutal with her the last time you spoke.

You kiss your teeth, reapply lip gloss, and slap your mirror shut. You hated it when you were in drama with them.

You knock on her door politely as you have your emotions under control.

Natalie opens the door with narrow eyes and sharply asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Misty told me we needed to meet for something related to Travis.” You pause and try to smile at her. Then you ask, “How are you holding up?”

“Why are you here?”

You tilt your head and feel confused yourself, “I guess because I want to get answers to what you were right about. And also, because I didn’t like how we last spoke.”

Natalie leaned on her door and looked deeply at you. She knew you were being honest, "Like it always does.”

You shrug as her words bring back many memories—before the crash, in the woods, and after—good moments and bad. “Well, I will always love you even if I can’t be there for you. I am here now. I want to support you and Travis, " you say to her and smile again. This one came from something deeper in you than just this moment.

She gives you a smile back. Maybe the cycle you shared with her wasn’t healthy, but none of your relationships were. She opens the door to let you in, and you take a seat on her bed without question.

She just stands there and looks at you with pursed lips like Natalie is trying to find words for you. “I hope you know I get why you did go with Misty. I just didn’t know how to respond to it all.”

“It’s okay, I was just really testy that day for some reason. I saw my dad and it just- yeah, I’m sorry for being so hurtful but someone was lurking to get you to spill.”

“You know I can handle myself.”

“I know. But, I didn’t know if she would be asking about Travis, not the wilderness.” You say to her as you look at your lap and play with your fingers to soothe the small shake. “I didn’t know if you could talk about him with someone looking for answers. I wanted to protect you.”

“Protect my feelings?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrow mockingly. “You know where that led you before, (y/n). Be careful.”

You chuckle darkly with a shake of your head. Fucking bitch.

“Okay, will do, my queen.” You smirked with your mock back to her. You didn’t need Natalie of all people, to tell you about your habit of overweighing others over yourself.

There was a knock at the door. It was in Morse code.

“ I told you we didn’t need a code.” Natalie spat as she opened the hotel door for Misty.

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Misty cheers as she hands Natalie a pink present with green tissue on the top. Walking inside of the room.

“Which one is this?”

“No, open it,” Misty says. She turns in the motel room, smiles as she sees you sitting on the bed, and waves to you. You think she is excited to be inside Natalie’s room finally. You smile back and wave, telling her you and Natalie are alright now. “It’s an Aroma Diffuser. Ylang-ylang with a hint of gardenia, subtropical florals are very, very uplifting.”

Natalie opens the box as Misty speaks. She looks over the owl diffuser and then at you as you watch the women walk around the room. Misty is indifferent to Natalie opening the present and looks around the room curiously. She opens a little file to see what is inside. “Good to know. What’s the bad news?”

“Well, uh, my contact can access the files, but he’s a bit of a D-bag.”

“Who is this person, exactly?” Natalie asked as she looked over Misty’s body.

“We only know each other by our Citizen Detective chat handles. He’s mad at me because I didn’t tell him it was a police file,” She paused to push up her glasses, “so now he wants to meet in public to ‘discuss’ the terms of the exchange.”

Natalie looks at you quickly, the two of you share a look for a millisecond as you both process the information. “Oh, we’ll meet all right.” Natalie chuckles.

“Is that going to work, Nat?” You ask as you loom over Natalie’s crouching figure; she is siphoning gas from a car outside the chinese restaurant. Misty anxiously standing beside you as the both of you try to hide Natalie’s body from onlookers.

“I mean, most restaurants won’t let you bring in drinks or food or anything." Misty adds as she hands Natalie the mobile coffee cup. As she inserts the tube to fill it, Natalie spits the little that got into her mouth.

“I don’t know, you tell me, guys.” Natalie says to both of you as she fulls up the cup. “I’ve still got that rifle in the truck.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’d get that into the restaurant,” Misty asks, disappointed that she hasn't figured out why the gun should be used instead. You pale at the thought of the gun. Natalie sighs.

The three of you walk into the restaurant with a swayer you haven’t felt in years, maybe since you were a young woman clubbing in New York. The restaurant was lit in red and held tiny lanterns on the ceiling of the place, divers between every table. You find a single man sitting alone at a table.

You smile as you approach the table and sit beside the man with the cup in your hands. You say in your best sexy voice to the man with a ponytail, “Stallion99?”

“African Gray?” He asks you back as he looks at the two other women across the table.

“Yeah, that's her.” You point to him carelessly to Misty as you smile wider, his eyes lock into yours and back to Misty, then back to yours and a glance down to your breasts.

“I’m African gray, " Misty said as she looked at the two of you. You let your hand snake on his shoulder with a soft squeeze.

“I…” He looked flustered at you, then glanced back at Misty and said, “I didn’t authorize anyone else to come to this meeting.” He whispered to Misty, leaning over the table slightly so she could hear him. Your hand ran to the back of his neck, and you saw the touch-starved goosebumps on his skin prickle.

“Well, cool out. I can vouch for them.” Misty whispered hissed back to him as she tried to look cool in front of Natalie and yourself.

“Oh my god. Just tell us what you want.” Natalie sighs as she stares the man down.

“I want in.”

You laugh out loud, out of control, looking at him with raised eyebrows and a mocking smirk. It unsettled the man, and the other people in the restaurant, but the two other women looked just as amused. Who, in their right mind, would want to be with the yellowjackets?

“On what?”

“You operation. The stiff in this file, I looked him up, and he doesn’t exist.”

“No shit, ‘cause he’s dead. And he’s none of your goddamn business. So you should just give us the file to look after it.” Natalie slowly spoke. You knew her threat was deep as you looked over at the man. He’s not taking it seriously. Your finger playfully unscrews the cap of the coffee mug.

“What’s it worth to you?”

“You have no idea.” You giggle a little when you slowly pour out the gas onto his crouch, wetting his pants. He reacts quickly, trying to stop the pouring with a grunt, “What the hell?”

“If the question is, “Is me lighting your dick on fire and going to jail worth me getting my hands on that file’” Natalie says as she pulls out her lighter and lights it without hesitation. She stares him down from across the table with her sharp blue eyes.

“You guys are fucking crazy! Here!” he pulls a flash drive out of his breast pocket and gives it to Natalie, you pull away from him in the booth. Natalie and Misty quickly get up and start to leave. You do the say and send the man a quick, “Sorry, it’s really important!” as you rush behind the girls—a small giggle in your throat.

“You should ask that guy out. You two have so much in common,” Natalie chuckles jokingly to Misty. Her eyes find you quickly as you laugh a little with the two women. Misty scoffs beside you two with a shake of her head, and you can’t help but giggle a little at her face.

‘96

You walk peacefully beside Natalie through the greenery, looking up at the leaves above you. Natalie looks down at her shoes as she adjusts the rifle strap. She looks around for tracks, but she is still learning them.

“Natalie?” you ask as you look at the blonde bottle. You have felt nervous whenever you have been around her lately. You felt your heart beat hard against your chest, and you could feel a little lump form in your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever gone camping before all this?”

Natalie chuckled and shook her head, amused. “With my big happy family, we always go camping at national parks every summer.” She darkly jokes with a rasp you only heard when she was trying to be tough. You felt like she was mocking you a little bit as you felt your eyebrow furrow and realized she was technically talking about you and your family before you could speak. “Shit, sorry, I wasn’t making fun of you, I was trying to joke about my own fucked up family.”

“I didn’t think you meant it.” You reassure her as you look at her with round eyes, trying not to have her hurt feelings. You felt so better and not offended after seeing Natalie try to fix her fuck up.

“You don’t have to lie for my sake.” Natalie stops walking and looks at you with hurt eyes. Her blue eyes, looking into yours, melting your heart.

“I’m not, I just give you the benefit of the doubt, I know you wouldn’t hurt my feelings on purpose. You were just being sarcastic.” You smile again and touch her arm to reassure her that her comment didn’t hurt your feelings deeply.

Natalie looked over your face slowly, as if she couldn’t trust your response. “Why are you so nice? I know I didn’t mean it, but it sounded like I was talking shit about you. You know you can be a bitch to me, right?”

You chuckle, and a smile grows as you shrug, “Natalie, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know! Just don’t let me walk all over you, it pisses me off.” She says with a raised eyebrow, she just looks over at you in a judgemental way.

You raise your eyebrow at the energy of her getting cagey with you being kind to her, you let your lips purse as you say to her, “I’m not letting you walk all over me. I am just being a good friend. I know you, Natalie, so you weren’t trying to put me down. Just drop it if you are going to be weird.”

“You know what? Let's be honest since we’re stuck out here and have all the time in the world. What's the game?” Natalie asked you with narrowed eyes, resting her hand on her hip. She was studying you, and she didn’t trust what she saw.

“What game?” you ask, offended. “Why are you giving me the fifth degree for asking if you ever went camping?”

“I’m not. I just don’t know how you can be so nice when there isn’t any reason for it. I don’t trust it.”

“What the fuck, Natalie?!” You yelled as your eyes widened in shock. You take a step back from her and look her over. What happened to the girl you would flirt with? “I can’t be myself without you acting like I am pretending! I don’t understand-”

“It’s not normal for people to be this kind without getting something it. For, like, the first year of our friendship, I thought you were being fake.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach and your throat dry up. You wanted to cry but you were so overwhelmed with how Natalie was talking to you, “I don’t-”

“I’m not trying to be mean, I’m being honest. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m the messed up one for not knowing people could be so nice.” Natalie says, her voice softer as she continues to speak. Her eyes were looking straight into yours, and you wanted to explode with all the emotions going through your body. “I never went camping, by the way. I have slept outside before because my parents locked the doors. I slept outside in my trailer’s shed.”

You paused as you looked at her in sadness. “I didn’t mean to bring up something sad for you.”

“Almost everything about me is sad compared to you,” Natalie replied, looking at your face softly. You couldn’t describe the air around you two at this moment.

“I don’t think so.” You mumble out as you take a step back, and your back hits a tree. You keep your eyes locked onto Natalie’s for a moment as you try to think. “I think you’re one of the coolest person here.”

Natalie smirked softly as she took a step forward. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you’re the prettiest. And the sweetest.”

You blush at those words and shy away as if trying to understand why she would say that.

Before you can react, Natalie’s hand cups your cheek to face her again, and she leans down to kiss you against the tree. Her other hand planted against the tree's bark and caged you into the kiss.

You couldn’t help but let your body answer for you as your hand came to the back of her bottle blonde hair, pushing her closer to your body.

Your body arches against the tree, and when Natalie lays a hand on your cheek and onto your left breast, a soft moan comes out of your throat out of excitement. Your body delights in her caresses as you let her tongue enter your mouth.

Her hands softly rub against the fabric of your shirt and bra, and your nipple hardens under her touch. Her fingers knowingly pinch the tent made under her touch as she raspily chuckles, “You like me touching you like this?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as you pull her into another kiss. The hot summer sun made your skin sticky as you touched each other but it didn’t stop your lust from taking over your mind. “I’ve thought about this a million times.” You say in between kisses as you feel Natalie slide her hand down from your breast over your plush stomach, to your pants button.

Your mind went blind in confusion and passion. You didn’t understand why you two were dry-humping against a tree; nothing you had discussed before made the events happen. Nothing this morning hinted at this possibility.

You moan loudly as Natalie pushes her hand down your pants and pushes your underwear under her fingers, her fingers gently rubbing in circles on your clit. You groan as you instinctually roll your hips against her touch.

Natalie shushes you quietly in your ear, her hand gently goes down until her two fingers enter your greedy cunt. She thrust her fingers into you recklessly and viciously. “That’s right, good girl, take it from me.” She whispers darkly into your ear as you try to bite your lip to hold in your screams.

Ah. Ah. Ah~

You couldn’t help yourself as you let your sexual frustrations completely melt away with each delicious thrust, you felt your shirt pulled up to your neck and Natalie’s needy hands recklessly grabbing your bra away from your breast. Her lips attached themselves hungrily to your hardened nipple as she owned it as she harshly sucked onto the tender flesh.

You let out a muffled scream into your hands as you trembled under her touch, as an orgasm rips through you. Your eyes close tight as your thighs shake violently when Natalie doesn’t relent her thrusting fingers, Natalie chuckles softly as she looks up at your pleasureful face, “Good, good girl, cum on me, that’s right.” She whispers as she rubs her free hand on your thigh, touching the bare flesh in reverence.

You pant as you slowly look down at her, and you pull her into another kiss. This one felt romantic and blissful, like you had always imagined with Natalie.

You let your hand caress down her shoulder to her chest, until you got to her pants button. You wanted to do to her what she did to you. But as your finger starts to pull her shirt from under her jean shorts, however, her hand softly pushes yours away.

As you pull away with a smile on your lips, you notice the slight drop in Natalies.

It made your heart drop.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you caress Natalie’s cheek. You leaned against the tree for a moment to support your almost jelly-like legs.

“I, uh,” Natalie stumbles as she took a step back. She wipes her hand of you, a clear slick with a pink tint to it, on her shorts and looks at the unbuttoned fly of your pants. There was an almost panic in her eyes, “I like Travis.” she blurted out to you. Your high instantly sobering up.

The air got sucked out of the forest. You felt like you were stabbed in the heart. You wanted to cry.

You smile, hiding your disappointment and heartbreak as best you can in the moment, you blink slowly as you think, “I-I, uh, I know. I saw you give Travis heart eyes last time you got a deer. Don’t-” You say as you quickly try to button yourself up. “Don’t worry about it! We just got wild, it’s okay. I’m sure guys like Travis like this type of thing!”

You wanted to vomit. This was wrong. She was supposed to like you. She just fucked you. She took your virginity, and you couldn’t help yourself from getting upset inside. You try to keep your eyes off of her so she doesn’t see how hurt you are. How much this meant to you.

It broke your heart knowing this was just a hook-up for Natalie. A moment in the woods to forget about: she was just playing with you this whole time.

“(y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Natalie tries to say as she comes closer to you but hesitates.

“I’m okay! It’s all good-” you try to say without your voice breaking, but it fails as you get to the end. You wanted to sob. “I get it! You are straight and like Travis, and I am your gay friend. I’m okay with that.”

“(y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just have gotten feelings for Travis since we started hunting and-”

You couldn’t hear another word without wanting to sob. You put on your mask as best you could.

You straighten out your shirt and tell her with a smile, “It’s okay. I get it. Go to Travis.” You say with as much kindness as you could find. “It was just a little moment between me and you, and he doesn’t have to know. Just go hunting. It’s past noon.” You say as you try to find a way to run away from all of this. You blink a lot, and no tears appear in your dry eyes.

You knew this was going to happen.

You knew no one really wanted you.

“Okay…” Natalie said as she started to take a step back. She looked hurt and confused, a mix of emotions that she had caused. “I’ll be back later. See you then.”

“See you then.” You quickly say as you immediately turn around to walk away. You felt your face twist and your body shake softly as you tried to hold back your cries. You refuse to cry anymore out here.

It doesn’t take long for your legs to take you back to the cabin, and you feel like something is sitting on your shoulder again. Now, another is attached to your chest.

You look over at the fire and the two pots. Akilah is cleaning the cooking pot of all the morning's soup, and you see that the period pad pot is unchanged from this morning. As you walk to the camp, a metallic, musky, Ammonia-like odor comes from the pot.

You wanted to act like nothing had changed, like you were still the same as you were a few hours ago, “Hey, Akilah, we need to clean this pot. It’s fucking gross.” You say as you poke a stick into the pot to pick out the washing pads. You scrunched up your nose. You try to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Sorry, it was so much more heavier than this one,” Akilah says quickly as she comes over to you without a question. The underclassmen were always willing to do what you asked them to do, and you thought it had to be with how you treated them sweetly and comforted them when they cried. You felt like their older sister.

“It’s okay; take the other end, " you say as you point to the handle on the other end. You lift the hot pot from the fireplace, panting a little as you walk towards a berry bush by the cabin.

You both placed the pot over the bush and poured the red water onto the leaves. The dirt below it was wet, drinking up every drop you poured.

“Why do we even pour this on the bushes? It just seems like extra work.” Akilah whined and panted as the two of you let the pot down for a moment.

“It helps the berries. The iron helps it-” You pant as you start to pick it back up again, “There will be more berries because of the iron in the blood.”

As you walk back up to the cabin, holding onto the big pot with Akiliah and looking down at your shoes in almost numbness from everything that happened, you hear Mari screaming from within the cabin. Jackie and Shauna sit at the fireplace, and Laura hangs laundry. They all turn to see the commotion. You and Akilah put the pot off to the side of the fireplace.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off!” Mari panics as she runs out the front door. She shakes her shirt so that something can fall out of it.

You rush over to her with all the other girls circling her. “Hey! Hang on! Hey! What's wrong!” you say to her as you help her pull up her shirt. A memory of lifting Natalie’s shirt comes to mind as you try to push it aside, ashamed, pulling out Mari’s tucked-in shirt.

“I don’t know!” Mari groans as she still twitches and writhes in spot. Akilah comes to the both of you, as does Shauna, as everyone starts to fuss over Mari. “I-I was standing under the trapdoor. But something crawled down my shirt!”

“I don’t see anything!” You say to Mari as everyone except the hunters starts to circle in on the situation.

“It’s fine. There’s nothing there, Mari!” Shauna tried to reassure her, with a hand on Mari’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing there,” Akilah added to it.

Mari slowly calms down as she stares at Shauna in disbelief, “But-”

“Must have been the ghost.” Taissa dryly stated on the porch, arms crossed and a smirk growing on her lips.

Mari turns her head sharply at Taissa with fear on her face. You try to rub her shoulder to soothe the fear, but you look over at Taissa with sharp eyes. “Don’t say that!” Mari demanded softly, she was afraid. You know that Mari comes from a superstitious family and believes full-heartedly that the house has a spirit.

“Wh- You guys!” Jackie comes in with a smile, an eureka face plastered on Jackie’s. She gasps as she jumps into the inner circle, “Okay, you guys, I just had a brainstorm. We should have a Seance.”

You felt your head unconsciously shake, you didn’t want a seance. You didn’t want to feed the fears of the others and make things harder for you all, someone was already having mental health episodes daily, and you didn’t want them to get worse. But you looked up quickly to see how proud Jackie was of her idea and having a job she could do for everyone, you stopped it before anyone could see. Fuck. You thought. I’ll just do whatever Jackie wants.

Taissa and Van laugh at first, then look at Jackie in disbelief. “That’s a terrible idea. Also, we’re not in middle school.”

“But remember how fun this shit used to be?” Jackie offered, raising her eyebrows, because she really wanted to do the seance. “Besides, maybe if we can laugh about this, then it would help,” Jackie added.

“The occult is no laughing matter.” Laura Lee bluntly stated, disapproving of the entire idea.

“It’s not the occult, Laura Lee. It’s a game. Come on, Shauna, (y/n), tell them. It’ll be fun.” Jackie replies, now insisting that everyone goes along. She looks at both of you as backup, and you both crumble to the pressure of her eyes.

“Um…” Shauna looks over at everyone and says, “Well, I mean, it’s not like we have anything better to do. And maybe this dead guy can give us some life advice.” She says as she looks over to Van and Tai. Both laugh and nod their head, “Okay.” Van relented.

“So, it’s settled. Tonight, the attic.” She says as she points to everyone, now amused by the situation. “We make contact.”

Everyone giggles softly except Laura Lee who looks down angrily. You rub her shoulder and say, “Can you pray for us downstairs while we do it? To protect us if that's what you believe.”

“I will be praying for everyone’s soul,” Laura Lee says seriously as she walks away in a huff, her hands in surrender. You chuckle softly at her, and the others giggle a little harder at the seriousness of the situation.

‘21

Shauna: You’re never going to believe this Shauna: it’s so messed up. Shauna: I’m a bad mom. You: Omg what happened? Shauna: I went to the club with Adam. You: Why are you still talking to him? Shauna: I DON’T KNOW Shauna: I went out with him because Jeff was gone again and we ran into Callie You: NO You: NO YOU DIDNT Shauna: yep Shauna: She was wearing Jackie’s uniform as a costume. You: WHAT THE FUCK!! SHAUNA!! You: I AM GOING TO GIVE HER HELL NEXT TIME I SEE HER Shauna: She was on Molly, too. Shauna: I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s out of control, but so am I. I am just so messed up from her wearing that uniform and brunch tomorrow. You: I can Imagine.

You sit on the toilet in Natalie’s hotel room, and you quickly throw away your tampon into the trash can before you flush the toilet. You wash your hands and quickly rejoin the others as they look over the folders worth of papers you had to print at Misty’s house.

You didn’t have much of a stomach to look at the autopsy photos. You wanted to cry when you read that Rosa Martinez picked up his ashes as soon as she could. His mother survived him, and there was no one to survive her. You could only think of her pain of losing everyone in her family, surviving only by memories 25 years ago. You wondered if she ever moved on; if she lived a new life after you all came back.

“Hey guys, I am ordering Chinese food. Do you want some?” you ask as you leave the bathroom, pulling up the number on your phone.

“Really? Right now?” Natalie asked you with a look of disbelief, she was looking at his autopsy photos.

“Yeah, I’m starving. Misty?”

“Steak fried rice and wonton soup, please.” Misty asked with a smile as she read over the coroner's report. His death was ruled a suicide by asphyxiation with construction equipment. The police of his country didn’t have to look too hard to see that he had changed his name, he was once a part of the yellowjacket plane crash and said that was the reason for his suicide. It was cut and dry. It was honest in your opinion.

“Okay, Natalie, you're getting the same. Are you okay with that?” You ask as you start to diel the chinese place down the road.

“Yeah, sure.” Natalie dismissively says.

“Well, You can save it for late when you're hungry then.”

“Okay, mom.” Natalie sassed as she continued to look at the photos.

You rolled your eyes as you cheerfully answered the phone. Then, you ordered everyone their food and yourself, adding egg rolls to everyone’s order.

You smile and sit back on the bed, looking over the papers. You see, there were still more photos and reports on him in the folder. He went to a rehab clinic about 3 years ago, and he went to the hospital the past year for acute bronchitis. You decided to look at the crime scene photos instead, the ones without his body in them.

You noticed something that raised your eyebrow. A little black smudge was on every single photo. You couldn’t turn your face away from it. It was in all of them.

“Guys?” You say out loud as you lay out one of the photos for the two other women to see. “What’s that thing? It’s in all of them.”

You put another photo out that was connected to the other one.

“What, that smudge?”

“And here,” Misty whispers beside you, looming over your body a little to look over, her finger pointing to another. “Does that look like wax?” Misty asked.

Then, Misty pulls the photos from your hands and starts to look over the landscape of the photos. She started to line them up perfectly and continued placing the images down one by one. She pulls out a sharpie and starts to connect the smudges.

Natalie and you stand behind her just watching as Misty work her magic, and she intensely focuses as she lines the marks together.

First, there is the circle, then a triangle, with two arms off to the side, one short on the left and the other all the way through the triangle, and then the hook at the bottom.

You wanted to vomit.

“This is bad.” Natalie says anxiously beside you, swaying, arms crossed. “This is so wrong. Travis didn’t believe in any of this shit.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. You didn’t want to correct Natalie.

“Then why is it in the place where he died?” Misty asked back blankly.

“I don’t know, but I promise you, he did not put it there.”

You wanted to laugh, and you knew he did. You knew Travis very well—not in your later years, but out there. You remembered his prayers and devotion, which made you want to vomit more.

Knock! Knock!

You felt a cold wave come over you as the knocks startled your overwhelmed body. You quickly grabbed the money in your pocket and opened the door, trying desperately not to cry, you didn’t want to see that symbol. “Thank you, keep the change.” You say as evenly as you can, but it failed, you close the door before you feel your eyes damn over.

You turned back to Misty and said, “Sorry, I am still not ready to see that thing sometimes—uah—you know.” Your breathe gaves out as you led your hand over your racing heart.

Your heart felt excited and terrified.

Misty comes over to you with wide eyes, taking the food out of your hands, “Are you alright? You’re crying?”

You didn’t realize your eyes were just rivering tears without you blinking. You haven’t felt this kind of dread since the wilderness. Unconsciously crying, your face stayed the same. Embarrassment comes over you as a rush of darkness curls in your stomach. “I-I-I don’t un-understand-” You studdered out as your breath panicked and tightened at your throat. Natalie then approaches you with a hand on your shoulder, concerned. The two of them have seen you like this before.

A cold sweat comes over you, and your breathing is shortens more as you heave your chest; an unpleasant tingling engulfs your entire body as you tremble in the corner of the room. Your eyes were blurry from your tears as you were coughing out apologies for crying and acting crazy.

Misty goes to her purse as you slide down the wall. You hold your chest, and Natalie stays beside you, holding your shoulder and breathing deeply into your face. Your eyes lock together as she tells you through the mental fog, “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You breathe slowly as you look deeply into her eyes. Misty comes back with a paper lunch bag, and you are so grateful Misty was there. You start breathing in the bag and watching the bag expand with your air, calming you down slowly.

Scrrrrappppeee! Scrrrapppeee!!

You screamed as the trees outside of Natalie's hotel room scratched the window. You push the two women away and shout. You feel hot tears burning your crazed eyes, “Stop! Stop! I don’t want to hear it!”

Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.

You wail as you hear the voice through the leaves. You have forgotten how to hear the voices in the leaves since you have been back, you knew they were in your head.

“(Y/n)-” Natalie cupped your cheeks, trying to calm you down as you sob violently, weakening and pushing her off of you.

“It’s talking to me! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!” You sob helplessly into Natalie’s hands as you fall to the floor, pressing your forehead to the ground. “I had a brain tumor- I had enough! There is nothing outside! There is nothing outside! There is nothing outside! It is not here. (y/n) stop, please-” You whisper to yourself as you pathetically cry to the ground, trying to stop the panic attack.

Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.

The two women standing over you, both have tears from their eyes as they see you age regress. They've seen you panic like this before. They see you wail as you are now. It wasn’t pleasant to see you now as a stable, the most stable in their eyes, adult crying like a child.

The leaves outside whistle in the wind as the tree knocks on the window. You fearfully sob in your hands on the ground. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t mean to-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Natalie says behind you as she kneels down and rubs your back. She knows how much the wilderness took from you and how much all of this would weigh on you, but she doesn’t see past it. She knows you will keep pushing on even after this, but she cannot help but pity you now. She pulls you up and hugs you, and Misty quickly jumps in as well. You sob into Natalie’s neck.

“The leaves won’t stop talking-”

“They are just leaves. They're not saying anything.” Natalie stated that she was trying to kill the idea before it came closer to her adult life. “We’re home, and we are safe. It is going to storm, and the trees aren’t talking to you.” She sincerely says, knowing that what you experienced in the woods felt real to you. You couldn’t help but believe what you saw and heard from the others, your brain was vulnerable. It still was.

You tremble as you hug her close, and Misty pets your hair. Misty says, “You’re safe and healthy, the trees are just moving in the wind. I promise, you're safe.”

You wanted to vomit as you saw the tree in the window sway to the heavy wind like it was waving at you and smiling.

‘96

Jackie, Shauna, and you all worked on decorating the unused attic to prepare for the seance. Although you didn’t want to help, you knew this meant a lot to Jackie, so you stayed by her side and helped, as you always have in your life.

“No, no, no. Not like that.” Jackie waved her hand over to Shauna as she was placing down candles. “Put them on the marks that are already here. This symbol thing is totally seance-y.” She says as she places a candle on the mark with a little thud for dramatic effect.

You chuckle as you shake your head, you pull up a blanket over the mirror in the back of the room. You giggle a little as you pull out some crystals your mom put in your carry-o for good luck. Your mom was really into nature and natural gems, decorating your house with them and putting them in your bags and her own. Your dad had a tigers’ eye necklace just because your mom told him to. Funny enough, you didn’t have a crystal for safe travel, but you did have one for protection so that was fair enough. You placed it in the middle of the circle.

“Laura Lee will have a seizure if she sees this.” You joke as you look around the room, and Shauna starts to place the candles on the carved marks.

“Isn’t this kind of, like, a waste of candles?” Shauna says to Jackie, ignoring you. You roll your eyes at the familiar feeling crawling up your back.

“Not if we’re getting rid of a ghost.” Jackie scoffs, as she shrugs her shoulders.

You jokingly roll your eyes, “Yeah. Shauna.” You mock as you put up little homemade charms the others made tonight to hang from the ceiling.

Shauna softly laughs, looking down. “Yeah, whatever.” She does as Jackie says, circling the candles in the places where the craved symbol is on the floor.

As the two finish up, you pause momentarily and ask Jackie, “Isn’t it a little creepy that we will be in the middle where the mummy was?”

“Yeah, but it just adds to the ambiance. Come on, you guys can’t seriously believe there is a ghost in here?” Jackie asked as she stood up, dusting off her hands. “If there was a ghost in here, he’s long gone. He died in here a long time ago, he would have gotten bored of the cabin.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I am scared. I don’t like messing with this stuff you know.”

“What? Because one time, the Ouija board spelled out your mom’s name.”

“Yeah, and 4 months later she got cancer!” you defended and you pointed to Jackie. You then look up jokingly to add, “Well, she had cancer a long time before that so it doesn’t matter! The board is creepy!”

Jackie rolled her eyes and said to you sarcastically, “Can you just call people up here to do the damn thing.”

You chuckle and nod, heading to the door. You call down the attic steps that it is about to begin if anyone wants to talk to the dead guy. Laura Lee bitterly states that she will be reading her Bible downstairs, and if anyone wants to read with her, it only makes more people come up the stairs, except Taissa and Javi.

Almost everyone comes upstairs, smiling at you as you greet them at the door. Even Natalie eventually comes up. When she comes up the steps, you smile at her with a blush coming to your cheeks.

When your smile meets her eyes, she looks away sharply. Then, she moves away from the stairs, you, as quickly as possible.

You felt a dagger stabbed you in the heart again.

You shouldn’t have told her your feelings.

You shouldn’t have let her hand down your pants.

“You didn’t have anything better to do. And it felt good.“ you thought as you sat down next to Lottie and behind the standing Shauna. You saw Natalie from across the way next to Travis and bitterly thought, “If I’m nothing to you, you’re nothing to me either, asshole.”

Lottie looks at you with a serious face and softly touches your arm. “It’s going to be okay. We might be able to ask him to leave.”

“What?” You snap your head back at Lottie. Then, everyone starts to sit down in a circle.

“You look nervous? Your scared about the ghosts?” Lottie questions as she rubs her hand on your thigh comfortingly.

A memory of Natalie caressing your thigh comes to you as you put your hand on hers to stop it. You hold Lottie's hand for a moment and joke, “If I jump, catch me okay.”

“Okay.” Lottie chuckles as she looks at your hand, holding hers for a moment before letting go of each other. Jackie starts the seance.

“O keeper of this wild and hidden place…” Jackie chants as she swirls her finger in the reddish brown paste and puts her finger on Shauna's forehead. Shauna stood still with a blindfold over her eyes and the butcher knife tied to a long shoelace to act as a pendulum. “We anoint ourselves with blood and earth,” Jackie added, putting a small cross on Shauna's forehead.

She walked away to hand the small bowl to Travis, “Here.”

He doesn’t take it for a second as he stares at her nonchalantly, you roll your eyes deeply at his presence. You were in competition with him?

“It’s just dirt and deer blood. Classic witch recipe. Relax.”

She smiled as he took it, sitting next to him with a big smile. She raised her arms to the ceiling and said, “O spirit, we offer our sister as your instrument. Come to us and speak your peace.”

“It is I,” Shauna states, in a mocking deeper voice, “Jacques.”

Everyone fell into a stifled giggle at her voice. Shauna clears her voice and repeats, “Jacque.” Everyone laughs harder this time to Jackie dropping her arms defected, “Ask your questions. The pendulum will answer them.”

“Okay,” Van says and she hands you the bowl. You look down at the tiny bowl with a small grimace as you dip your finger in it and put a cross on your forehead, passing it to Lottie. Van clears her throat and says, “Dear dead hunter guy… did O.J. do it?”

You laugh as everyone around you giggles as well, Jackie sighs across the circle and says, “Come on, guys, real questions.”

“The veil is thin between our two planes. Ask what is in your heart.”

“I’ll go.” Mari smiles across the way, she holds her hands on her knees as she leans forward, “Is Principal Berzonsky screwing Ms. Dewine?”

You giggle again, feeling in good spirits again and forgetting about the whole Natalie situation, you look forward to the pendulum, and you see it lean towards yes, with Van letting out a little oh.

“It is certain.” Shauna snickers, holding on to the deep voice. Everyone giggles loudly as we hear the amazing gossip.

“Okay! Hunter guy, if we hadn’t crashed, would we have won nationals?” Alilah asks, excited with a smile on her lips, your eyes look back to the pendulum with a smile. It leans towards no, and everyone's boos and giggles come from your throat.

“I don’t believe that!” you bravely stated as you asked, “Now, is our math teacher Mr. Mattz really a pervert for marrying his young wife?”

The pendulum moves quickly and sharply towards yes to your question, it made you shake back with a laugh everyone did as you continued, “So is it true she was once his student!”

It moves back to the center and back to yes sharply again. Everyone erupted in laughter, and you felt yourself fall back onto Lottie a little bit, with tears coming to your eyes. “Of course he is!” You cackle, and everyone continues with the laughs.

“Is Frenchie Deveto’s boobs fake?” Marlissa asks with a big blushing giggling grin.

Natalie chuckled and shook her head. You felt a lull in your happiness while she spoke. “They’re obviously fake. Do you really need a ghost to tell you that?” Natalie asked Marlissa as Javi came up the steps.

You looked away from Natalie to smile at him, which he bashfully shared. Javi sat down next to Natalie and Travis. He was a sweet kid who didn’t talk much, and you always tried to be sweet to him.

“You think?” Mari agreed from across the way. “But who would’ve paid for them? Her parents?”

“I think they got divorced recently. It could have been guilt money.”

“Well, that’s just creepy.” Mari looked at Van in disbelief, and you and Lottie shared a look of humor.

“Your mom and I are splitting up, but don’t worry,” Van mocks a man's voice as she cups her breasts for effect, “‘cause your tits are gonna look amazing!”

Everyone giggles as Van jokes. The pendulum does not move, and it hasn’t since everyone has been joking. Taissa comes up to the attic as Jackie waves her hands around to say, “Guys, guys, okay, focus. Next question.”

Misty raises her hand, and Jackie smiles at her. You smile softly, and Misty politely and shyly wants to participate. “Misty?” Jackie asks.

Misty nervously chuckles and pushes her glasses up. " Um...” She takes a deep breath to calm down. “Dear spirit, I need to know the truth.” Her brown eyes look at you once before nervously shooting back to the ground. “Does the person I like like me back?”

There was a silence caused by pursed lips and trying not to laugh at her, and you couldn’t help but feel pity for Misty. Coach Ben will never like her, and it is clear that she lusts over his every move. It was sad. Jakie rests her chin on her fist and says, “Awh.”

You wanted to laugh loudly at her little comment but bit your lip. You see Taissa sitting in the chair in the corner, the mummy’s chair, and you take a little longer look at her. Her eyes seem lost for a moment as she clunches the arms of the chair tightly.

The pendulum moves towards yes, and Van looks down at it unimpressed, “Okay.”

Travis whistles for Misty, and Natalie slaps his chest in response with a smile on her lips. You wanted to scream. Everyone giggles softly as Misty excitedly takes in the news. “Yes, Misty!” Mari cheers for Misty with a smile, and everyone seems to be actually happy for her a little bit.

“Okay, next question.” Jackie says softly with a smile.

Javi raises his hand with a sad look, and you feel something coming. Jackie’s nods and says, “yeah?”

“Are we all going to die out here?” He asks gloomly. He was dead serious.

The lightness in the room was sucked with that question. You look over at him with concerned eyes, “Why ask that, Javi? We’re doing okay, that is too dark.” You say quickly as you see the pendulum move a little bit. You felt like a mom hiding the grim reality from their kids. You didn’t want the answer to that. You ask loudly before anyone else can speak, “The better question is, Is anyone looking for us?”

The pendulum sharply points towards yes. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but as we started to look at Javi again for asking such a depressing question, it started to move towards no, then back to yes, as if in a trance, quickly going back and forth. It was shape like an 8.

You feel pressure at the back of your head, and you look behind you quickly towards the window. Nothing was there. You were getting paranoid.

“Okay, an eight? What’s that supposed to mean?” Van asks grumbly, as she hugs her knees towards her chest. She was also getting scared.

“It’s not an eight; it’s an infinity.” Lottie corrected as she looked down at the knife. She looked behind herself too as she also felt the pressure like you just felt, you turn your head, too, on instinct.

“Yeah, okay, Aristotle.” Van snipped back to her best friend, frustration building from fear.

There was nothing but the trees outside. You were about to turn your head back as Lottie let out a bloodcurdling scream.

BOOM!

The window flings open from the outside, slamming against the wall of the attic, blowing out every single candle at once. You scream in response as Shauna drops to the floor in fear, she pulls her blindfold off, as you step back into her, “What the hell!” You scream as everyone in the room yelps and screams in terror.

“Who has the matches?” Jackie panickingly asked the group as she crawled forward. Lottie continues to scream at the top of her lungs. Everyone started to yelp in fear.

Taissa had run cover to close the window behind the two of you.

You come over to Lottie and say shakingly, “It’s okay, there was nothing out there!”

Lottie hyperventilates in your arms as she stares down at the ground in an intense trance. Spit is dripping from her open, panting mouth as her palms press against the wooden floor.

“It’s okay!” You try again and rub Lottie back. Van comes over to you two as she also rubs Lottie’s back, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Guys, something’s really wrong with her.”

Lottie sobs violently as she grabs the side of her head, she doesn’t blink as she cries, her mouth curling with primal groans.

“I-I don’t think she-” Akilah comes over to look at Lottie and tries to calm her down.

“It wants… It wants…” Lottie sobs as she starts to curl her lip like an animal.

“Misty, what do we do?” Van sternly asks the blonde in the corner, wanting answers on how to fix this.

You stare at Lottie blankly as you don’t know what to do. You just listen to her, “What does it want?”

“IT WANTS!” Lottie yells back as her body starts to tremble under your touch, a layer of sweat lining her face.

“Lottie, I swear to god, if you are fucking with us!” Mari cries as she slowly crawls away. She is horrified. Marlissa and Gen stare beside her in fear. You wanted to rush over to the underclassmen and hug them, make them stop crying. Lottie’s thrashing and screaming made you look back to her.

Her once brown eyes stare into your in a reddish crazed haze. Something like a giggle and sob comes out of her throat as she stares at your face. A pained smile spreading on her pink lips.

“I think she’s, like, possessed,” Akilah says as she tries to hold Lottie's face to see if she is biting her tongue.

“Listen, Lottie, Lottie, Sweetie-” Shauna tries to lure Lottie back to reality, kneeling in front of the girl. “What’s going on? What is ‘it’?” Shauna asks her with her face right next to Lotties.

Lottie groans in pain as her tears rush down. She shakes more as Shauna presses, “More like, what does 'it' want?”

“Hungry.” Lottie sobbed as she stared down to the ground. You followed her eyes, and she was staring at a symbol. “Hungry,” she whispers. She seems to tire for a moment, but she starts to giggle. You freeze at this moment, locked in your own fear. You knew it. This wasn’t fake. Lottie’s eyes looked a little red in the moonlight, like Taissa’s the night before. Lottie shushes the air, as she grabs ahold of your arm. She slowly looks up at your body until her brown eyes into yours, “it’s in you already.” She says as her neck cranes back to Shauna, like she was answering Shauna and not you.

You shake in fear as you look into her eyes.

Something is in her.

Something wasn’t right here.

“Lottie, Knock it off. This isn’t a game.” Taissa hissed, not believing in what was happening.

Lotties eyes look back up to Taissa’s as she whispers, “Il voulait du sang. Il veut toujours du sang, Il veut plus de sang.”

“Is that French?” Marlissa asks the group, pale.

Lottie would have failed French without your notes. You don’t understand. You had the best grade in class, yet you couldn’t speak French like she could in this moment.

This wasn’t right.

“Il voulait du sang. Il veut toujours du sang, Il veut plus de sang.”

“Since when has Lottie ever spoke French?” Natalie asks the group as she stays away from the situation.

“Jackie-(y/n), W-wasn’t she in your class?” Shauna asks both of you, her head snapping from you back to Jackie.

Jackie panics, her arms out in surrender, “Yeah, but she sucks at French.”

“Well, what is she saying?!” Mari asks with a hiss to Jackie.

“It wants blood, always wants blood. It wants more blood.” You try to translate as you try to single out all the other voices besides Lottie chanting one. You just let Lottie’s hand squeeze your one so hard your bones were touching more than they should.

“Il veut plus de sang. Il voulait plus de sang. Le sang coule ici. Ici, ici, il faut…"

“Always wants blood. Something flows. It must… here? Here?” You say with your eyebrows furrowing together tightly in confusion.

“Il voulait plus de sang. Le sang coule ici. Ici, ici, il faut… ”

“Blood flows free here? Here, here, it must—" You tried to understand what she was saying as she abruptly stood up, circling her spot until she saw the window.

She approached the window with a mission: “Ici, ici, il faut… ” Lottie whispered as she gently touched the cold glass.

“There’s blood where Lottie?” Van asks, she follows Lottie closely behind.

“You really have to be encouraging her, Van?” Taissa asks from across the way, deadpan.

Van points a finger at Taissa to shut her up, snapping her head back to Lottie, “Blood here, or out there?”

“le sang féminin nourrit les baies et les nourrit.offrez-lui ce qu'il veut et il se nourrira. tous se nourriront. Ici, ici, il faut!” She whispers as she presses her sweaty palm on the glass.

You can’t bring yourself to say it to the others. You don’t believe what Lottie was saying. The idea you all have been giving offering to some spirit for weeks without knowing disturbed you. “Here. In here.” You say and pause in disgust—your periods.

Lottie turns her head slowly towards you, making eye contact, her eyes wild and complete detached from Lottie, “Laissez les ténèbres vous libérer. Laissez le sang couler et il ne vous décevra jamais. Il a seulement faim comme nous, laissez-le vous consumer. Oui, Oui!” She whispers softly as her eyes twist in contern, she shushes the air as she comes back to the window. “Écouter… Écouter…” she lets the tips of her fingers touch the window.

You ask her, your lip trembling and your eyes filling with tears, everyone watching on with terror, “I am listening. What darkness are you talking about? You don’t make sense! What’s hungry!? The woods?”

Her breath rasps as she looks into the glass, focusing on the wild outside, she whimpers, “You must spill blood. Or else…”

“Or else what, Lottie?” Jackie asks still frozen to the ground. Lottie only pants louder as she doesn’t move from her spot, looking out the window. “Lottie, what are you-”

“Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.” Lottie whispers as she suddenly slams her head into the thin glass with a disgusting crack. Van, Akilah, and yourself coming up behind her quickly. Blood trickles down Lottie's forehead as she wails out to the girls, almost like a child to its mother. Lottie touches her bleed forehead in confusion as she falls to the floor taking the other girls with her.

A roaring thumping up the stairs could be heard as Laura Lee stormed inside the attic. Her face was stoic and serious, and she held her Bible. She was over whatever the hell happened tonight.

“The power of Christ compels you! Begone, Satan!” Laura Lee desperately yells as she holds up her bible to the groaning Lottie. “The power of Christ compels you!”

Lottie countries to wail and groan on the ground demonically as Laura Lee’s eyes panic, “Lottie! Lottie, stop!” She demands that she throw the heavy leather-bound bible onto Lottie’s lap.

Lottie yelps as her eyes widen in shock. Her face regains color within seconds, and she takes a few breaths. “Ow!” She whines as she looks up at Laura Lee in shock and confusion, blood dripping down her cheek dramatically. “What the hell, Laura Lee?”

Everyone stared at the girl in the center. The only sound was people panting, and a relief was washing over everyone.

“Seriously?” Mari demanded Lottie, angry and starting to believe it was all made up. “What the motherfuck just happened?”

Laura Lee doesn’t move as she watches Lottie, completely amazed by her abilities and believing god worked his magic through her as a vessel. Lottie’s face twists in confusion as she lifts her finger to feel the dripping sensation from her nose, she panics a little at the sight of blood.

You wanted to vomit.

“Lottie, do you even remember what just happened? Are you okay?” You ask as you come over to the girl with soft eyes.

You completely believe her just from her eyes. She really thought something had come over her. There was no way she could speak French like that. There was no way Lottie would shove her face into the glass.

“No- I- Why am I bleeding?” Lottie asked, confused as she continued to touch her nose. You look over to the others to silently say to them something you couldn’t figure out. Lottie has gone too far into her delusions.

You hug her shoulder and say as you rub her arms, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up, you hurt yourself. Let's get you to bed.”

You anxiously lay down in your makeshift bed sandwiched between Shauna and Jackie. You felt your eyes stare at the ceiling unnerved to even close your eyes, you held your blanket up to your chin as she listened in on the conversation in the corner. You knew everyone was too scared to go to sleep.

“Do we think it’s still up there?” Akilah nervously asks the group, and she plays with her fingers as she looks down.

Taissa, who was lying just off your left, sprang up and hissed, annoyed, “You all need to stop. There is nothing up there. Lottie has been acting weird for weeks.”

Everyone was silent as you looked around. Then, you saw Van nervously watching over Lottie, her best friend, and Akilah nervously sitting up doing the same. Lottie was deep asleep on her pillow, curled up, with a small wrap around her head from her head wound. Everyone nervously lay down in her bed and tried to act like they weren’t listening.

“Fine!” Taissa says, standing to her feet and taking her pillow and blanket with her. She grabbed her backpack and slung it behind her shoulder, “I’ll prove it.”

“You’re going to sleep up there?” Akilah asks Taissa in disbelief.

“That’s right. Who’s with me?” Taissa states that she turns back to see that no one is following suit with her. Everyone was still scared from earlier.

Laura Lee started whispering a prayer louder in her bed. She was praying for all our souls and for protection from darkness in these woods. Van shakes her head quietly and looks down as she continues to watch over Lottie.

“Fine. More room for me, then.” Taissa sassed as she walked through the floor littered with bodies in their bed. She walked to the cabinet with the ladder to the attic.

No one moved for a moment as she left the room. No one had the courage to come with her; no one was as fearless as Taissa. You felt a pang of guilt come over you as you felt you were partly to blame for everyone's freakout.

Shauna sat up and looked towards the ladder. She whispered to the two of you, “We should go up there with her.”

“In the attic? No frickin’ way!” Jackie says with no hesitation. She shakes her head as she lies on her pillows.

“Well, she shouldn’t be up there alone. I mean if it weren’t for us-”

“Shauna, whatever happened tonight was not because of our dumb seance.”

“But everyone is so freaked out because we wanted to do it.” You added as you played with your cuticles and started to pick them. Your stomach growls.

“Okay but-”

“If you want to sleep up there, fine, be my guest. I’m staying down here.” Jackie stated that she had finished the conversation with the three of you and that you all would stay with her. You felt so much guilt for staying, and now you didn’t want to upset Jackie.

Jackie then huffily turns to her side away from both you and Shauna. You stay still for a moment as Shauna lays back down.

You both just lay down in the shared bed for another 10 minutes before you turn your head to look at Shauna. She was already looking at you and when your eyes met, you decided you would leave at that moment.

You stand up and say to Jackie, “I can’t leave her up there, I don’t want to make anyone worry. I promise I will come back down here tomorrow, but I can’t leave Taissa up there.” You say as you grab your pillow, Shauna is already leaving the maze of beds to the attic. You follow behind as best you can until you climb up the ladder. You see Taissa curled up in her pillow with her blanket up to her chin in fear. She sits up when she sees the two of you.

“We were just going to keep you company,” Shauana says to the two of you as you both stand in the doorway. “If that's okay?”

“We couldn’t let you sleep alone up here.” You add as you walk closer to the laying girl.

Taissa stays quiet for a moment as he puts your thick foam, taken from a plane seat next to hers. You smile at her softly as you lay down a blanket and pillow. You start to lie down with your fuzzy blanket dragged over your legs. Shauna follows suit and puts hers next to yours.

Everyone sits down momentarily and takes a breath, taking in the situation in the dark attic. You are only lying 5 feet away from the man who took his life. It wasn’t a good feeling up these stairs, but you didn’t care.

“How far along are you?” Taissa whispers into the air, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. You felt your eyebrow raise as you turned your head to look at the two other girls, you knew she wasn’t talking to you but what was she even saying? Shauna’s eyes widen just a little as she slowly turns her head to Taissa, and your heart drops to your stomach.

Oh, no.

The two look at each other for a moment as you watch on. You realize quickly that Shauna and Taissa’s conversation, but you have no context, was happening because they trusted you with this information as much as each other. You were the moderator. You keep quiet as you nervously look over Shauna's body. “You are pregnant, right?” Taissa asks again gently, looking over Shauna.

Shauna blinks slowly as if she is finally accepting the fact, she whispers, “You guys won’t tell anyone… Will you?”

Taissa shakes her head immediately with a quick, “No. I won’t.”

You reach your hand over Taissa's body to touch Shauna’s shoulder, “Nothing for us to tell. That’s only if you're okay with it.” You reassure her in a whisper. You rub her shoulder as you feel your eyes sprinkle with tears. A mix of emotions was coming over you for your childhood best friend. You were excited to see her baby and to be an aunt as you always dreamed of becoming for her kids and her to your own one day, but you felt dread at the thought of a baby growing inside of her. You were hungry tonight, and you were sure Shauna was too.

Taissa whispers as she looks at you, and your eyes meet quickly to exchange worry and stress about the situation. “But if we’re stuck out here long enough, I have a feeling it’ll come out one way or another.”

You felt yourself nod a little at her words, agreeing all the way. But you couldn’t shake the want to comfort Shauna at this moment with her eyes fearful and nervous at Taissa’s words, “That’s not for tonight.” You say softly to Taissa as you rub your hand on Shauna’s shoulder, “She’s not showing now, and a lot can change in time. People are looking for us, and I am sure Shauna will get to a hospital before anything happens.” You try to reassure her.

You look at Shauna fully now. Tears well in her eyes, and she is worried, and you feel like you are a mirror to her. But at this moment, you want to give her some peace.

“You’re having a baby?!” You excitedly whisper to Shauna with a smile, a tear rolls down your cheek, and a chuckle comes to your throat. You didn’t even know Shauna wasn’t a virgin anymore, you didn’t know who the father was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that. At this moment, you assume that this was something you missed while taking care of your mom, and you will get more details on who the father was later. For now, all you could care about was Shauna and their baby.

Shauna’s worry falls away for a moment at someone reacting positively to the pregnancy, the only one to have it, and she tries to smile back. A chuckle comes out of her mouth as she wipes a fat tear from her eye. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“That’s amazing!” You say with a wide grin, tears falling. You giggle again, uncontrolled. Taissa, below you, chuckles, too, feeling the excitement that you are holding. “That is great news, maybe not out here, but Jesus Shipmen, we’re having a baby!” You whisper as you run your arm down Shauna’s arm to her hand, holding her hand tightly.

Shauna starts to cry as you congratulate her fully. You know she wasn’t happy, and this wasn’t what she wanted, but she needed support. You hold her hand, and Taissa puts a hand on Shauna’s head. “We’ll be here for you no matter what. We’ll keep it a secret. We’ll do whatever we can for you and the baby, Shauna!" you add to the attic's darkness.

The three of you hug on the attic floor as Shauna softly cries into both of your chests, you and Taissa try to calm her down until the three of you fall asleep, exhausted from the day you had.

‘21

You try to forget about the night you had last night as you read over more editors' notes for the 10th chapter of your novel. It was slow work to comb through every paragraph, every sentence, every word to make sure it all made sense. It had foreshadowing but was not too oblivious. It had depth without being melodramatic. It was tiring, but you kept going. There were another 22 chapters in your novel to go through, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that it was grueling.

You needed to have this sent and done for printing by the end of August for it to be realized by October, and you needed to look normal and mentally prepare for a press conference. You needed to promote the book before it came out for presales. They need you to talk about the smut and the angst that will excite the long-time readers.

You’ve done this circus before. Nothing was new. You knew what questions were going to be sent your way. You used a pen name as your name, and you have aged 25 years since the crash, so most people don’t talk about that anymore. Most don’t even know you were a part of the yellowjackets. They just thought you were a hermit romance author who doesn’t do a lot of interviews. But, you remember at your first convention where someone asked if you had eaten people and if you used your experience to write your vampire series. They were taken out by security, you saved face every well by tearing up, and the questions were sent away from you. It’s been years since then and now you mostly get lonely people asking questions about your characters like they were real people. You happily indulge because it's the reason you became a writer.

Your phone vibrates, and it is Natalie. Your heart skipped a beat.

You answer, “Hey, what's up? Before you say anything, I just want to say sorry-”

“You’re sorry about last night?” Natalie interrupted you with a chuckle. No, don’t be. Please come over. We have something important going on, and I trust you the most.”

Your eyes widen, “You do? Thank you, okay, what's wrong?”

“You have to come over, I called Shauna over too. It’s an emergency.”

You pale a little bit at the thought of your friends contacting each other without using you as the messenger. “Okay, coming as soon as I can.”

“Can’t wait.” Natalie snarky replies as she hangs up the phone.

You click save on your document and get out of your chair. You had no more meetings today or any reports to look over for your story, you just have to edit. You grab your purse and fling it over your shoulder as you anxiously leave your house.

When you got to Natalie’s hotel, you noticed that Misty's white minivan wasn’t there but another expensive white Tesla beside Natalie’s black Porsche. It made your eyebrow raise as you didn’t know anyone who would have such an expensive car, but you were happy to get there before Shauna did to ask if Natalie could downplay how much you have been in contact. You know Shauan will be wrathful upon knowing you were hanging out with other people, especially Natalie and Misty, behind her back.

You knock softly on the door and hear Natalie talking to someone. You smile when she opens the door. Natalie lets you into the room and acts like the night before never happened. You feel grateful until you turn to look at Taissa standing in the kitchenette.

You stood still as you looked at her. You haven’t seen her since 2006. Your phone, which you had been using to call the other girls, was in your purse because of her. You didn’t know what to think.

“Hey.”

“Hi, (y/n). You look nice.” Taissa smiled, then looked at you nervously. She knew she wasn’t who you wanted to see. Your history with her was a little too personal after the rescue, and it didn’t end pretty. You bit your tongue as you looked at her expensive outfit.

“Thank you, you too. You look like you’re already a senator.” You say back, with a smile of your own back at her. Trying to keep it short and sweet with her. Your eyes look down gently to the table where the photos from last night were tapped together to keep the written symbol in one piece. “Oh, god, why is it still here?”

“You know about this?” Taissa asked as she looked down at the table. “Did you get a text from the blackmailer?”

You snap your head in shock towards Taissa with wide eyes, “Blackmailer? What are you talking about?”

Taissa showed you her phone and the top text was “Gather 50k cash and await further instructions. Do NOT discuss this with your teammates - I WILL KNOW.” and an emoji version of the symbol.

You felt pale as you stared at the screen.

How could someone know anything and blackmail you?

The only people to know what happened out there were you guys or dead.

“Did you get the same text?” Natalie asked as she came from behind.

“No.” You confess as you hand Taissa her phone again, your hands go to open your purse, “Did you call Misty?”

“That conniving, poodle-haired, little fucking freak doesn’t need to know anything. Keep Misty out of it, okay.” Natalie said as she pointed a finger at you. You pulled out your cigarette bag and pulled out a cigarette. “She told Shauna Travis died! She didn’t even tell Taissa or tell us she told Shauna.”

You roll your eyes as you place a cigarette in your mouth, You look over to the women and say, “Okay, fine, do you guys want a cigarette? I need a fucking cigarette.”

Taissa comes to you with her hand out. You hand her one stick, light your end off, look at Tai, and then light hers.

“Hope you know, you’re getting a cleaning bill after your stay here Natalie.” You say as you blow the smoke out the window beside the table. You knew this was a no-smoking hotel, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room.

“I don’t fucking care. Where the fuck is Shauna?” Natalie stressed as she peeks out the window beside you.

Translation for Amis de l'autre côté

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic @gayandfairycore @modernvenuss @livil589

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hivemuthur · 28 days ago

Text

A Deer and a Man - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit)

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: This fic has some special hold on me, it made me sit down by the piano this week. Also, I've committed a playlist, you can check it out on Spotify. Super thanks as usual to @mithrava for consulting on regency historical accuracy and to @rennethen who beta reads!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You hate to admit it, but you do anticipate. The last time you had awaited something with such feeling was when your mother departed to tend to your ailing aunt—or rather, to command her staff when she could no longer do so—and you and your sisters had run barefoot through the house, singing The Unfortunate Rake at the top of your lungs, much to your father’s amusement.

Now, dressed and polished from head to toe by your ever-diligent Peggy—though not without a spirited debate regarding the appropriate amount of rouge upon your cheeks—you allow yourself to drift into thought, chin propped upon your hand as you gaze wistfully at the passing landscape through the carriage window.

"Why do you look as though you are being led to the gallows?" comes the voice of your sister—the middle one. You glance up to find her brows lifted almost to her hairline and your mother wearing a look of mild reproach. "Should you not be overjoyed?"

"I am quite overjoyed, Kitty, but I thank you for your concern," you reply flatly, rolling your eyes.

Kitty is, in every way, the daughter your mother wishes you to be. Her sole ambition in life is to marry well and raise a brood of children. You find it all terribly dull, though you suspect something within her will change when she encounters her first true disappointment.

Tess, the youngest, is far more like you. She has never betrayed your confidences to Mother. She sneaks you sweetmeats from the kitchen at bedtime, insists you look lovelier with your hair unpinned, and entrusts you with her dearest secrets, knowing they are safe in your keeping. It is for this very reason that she remained behind today, occupied with the practice of her calligraphy under her lady’s maid’s supervision.

"It would not pain you to smile, my dear," your mother remarks, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. A deception, you suspect.

Nevertheless, you indulge her. You summon your most winsome smile and compose yourself in your seat, all the while wondering—anticipating—what it is that Viktor wishes to say to you in private.

When the carriage draws to a halt, he is already there. Viktor stands waiting with his weight shifted to one side, the tip of his cane pressed lightly against the ground. The early afternoon light casts a warm glow over him, accentuating the deep brown of his coat—a fine, if somewhat modest piece, its cut more practical than fashionable. A dark waistcoat lies beneath, fitted neatly over his frame, with a cravat tied in a manner that suggests efficiency rather than vanity. His hair resists perfect order, a few loose strands falling across his forehead despite his apparent effort to tame them.

There is something almost careless about his appearance, yet not in a way that suggests a lack of pride. Rather, it is as if he simply does not concern himself with the rigid expectations of refinement. His gloves are well-worn, the leather of his cane handle bears the mark of frequent use, and yet—despite all this—he cuts a striking figure. Perhaps it is the way he carries himself, or the sharp focus of his gaze as he watches your approach. Handsome, undeniably so, but with a presence that unsettles as much as it intrigues.

And you find yourself grateful for the abhorrent amount of blush Peggy has pressed into your cheeks—at least you can blame the warmth rising there on that. Even more so when he grants you a fleeting glance and smiles to himself before turning to your mother.

“My Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he says, bowing his head with practiced grace.

She responds with a measured nod, her expression unreadable. “Mister Viktor.”

Next, he turns to Kitty, who is already smiling prettily, her hands clasped before her. “Miss Catherine,” he greets, offering a slight bow.

Kitty dips into a shallow curtsey, her tone light. “Mister Viktor, I trust you are well?”

“As well as one can be, Miss,” he replies smoothly before his gaze finally lands on you. It is fleeting—just a moment longer than propriety demands—yet enough to send a thrill through you.

“Miss,” he murmurs at last, bowing once more.

You respond with a curtsy, keeping your chin high despite the quickened beat of your pulse. Acutely aware of how desperately the two halves of you claw at each other within your chest you clench your jaw and force yourself to blink.

Your mother clears her throat. “Shall we proceed?”

Viktor is silent for a moment, his gaze flickers between you and the path ahead, considering something. Then, with measured care, he speaks. “Ladies, might I request a moment alone with my future wife? I should like the opportunity to better acquaint myself with her.”

Your mother’s expression does not shift at once. Instead, she regards him with a pensive air, weighing the request. Then, just as swiftly, her features settle into the familiar, practiced smile of social grace.

“I see no objection, sir.” She turns to you, levelling you with an unreadable look. “I trust you will conduct yourself with decorum.”

You incline your head. “Of course, Maman.”

Viktor nods in gratitude before turning his attention back to you. With an ease that seems entirely natural to him—but utterly foreign to you—he extends his arm. You hesitate only for a heartbeat before slipping your hand through, the warmth of his sleeve pressing against your palm.

At once, your mind replays the moment in the music room—the ghost of his touch at your forearms as he steadied you when you stumbled. The surprise of it. The quiet strength in his grasp. The way you had looked at one another for a long time before pulling away.

Now, as your fingers rest against his sleeve, you are keenly aware of the space between you, and the fact that—however slight—he has just closed it once more.

You march forward leisurely and even though you can’t see your mother and sister trotting behind you, you wait for a long moment before coming up with something to say. You wait for so long, in fact, that Viktor beats you to it.

“How have you been?” he asks softly, your name following the question with an intimacy that startles you.

Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your glove, and you glance at him sidelong. “Well enough,” you reply, though your voice is not as steady as you wish it to be.

“Any new rebellious music you have come across?”

“Ah, that,” you chuckle, though you scowl inwardly at how flustered the sound is. “Sadly, I have had no opportunity to evade my mother’s hound-like hearing abilities. So, only little dancing tunes for my sisters—nothing of true note.”

“A pity,” he muses. “I quite enjoyed the Sonata.” His tone is contemplative, but there is in intention hidden not that too well underneath it. “And yet,” he continues after a beat, “it is for that very reason I asked to meet you.”

You arch a brow, affecting nonchalance despite the way your heartbeat betrays you. “Oh? Are you also a great admirer of music deemed unsuitable for proper ladies?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, the humour in his tone fleeting. “But I do have another, more pressing motive—if you do not mind me speaking plainly.”

“By all means,” you say, tilting your head towards him. “Do tell, Viktor.”

He gestures with his cane, the subtle drawing your attention to the promenade before you. Couples walk in neat little pairs, each shadowed by their requisite chaperone, the ritual of courtship unfolding before you like a well-rehearsed performance.

“The endless hunt,” he murmurs. “Men trailing after their prey under the pretence of romance.”

You huff a small laugh. “Why do you presume it is only men who do the hunting? Perhaps you are the deer, and simply unaware of it.”

Viktor glances at you then, his lips curving in an intrigued smile. “An interesting proposition.” His gaze lingers, thoughtful, before flickering back ahead. “I am, however, quite aware that this—” he inclines his head towards the scene before you—“is not the future I would have chosen for myself.”

His fingers tighten briefly on the handle of his cane. “Which is why I come to you with an offer of compromise.”

Your brows lift. “A compromise?”

“A contract,” he corrects. “Between us, and no one else.”

Your stomach tightens, though with what, you are uncertain. “And what, pray, would this contract entail?”

“Freedom,” he answers simply. “As much as may be found within the gilded cage we are about to share—for better or for worse.”

You glance up at him, studying the sharp lines of his profile, but say nothing.

Viktor exhales through his nose, as if steeling himself. “I would not ask you to be anything other than what you are. You may conduct yourself as you wish—the clothes you wear, the music you play, the company you keep…” He pauses, and you feel, rather than see, his eyes on you. “So long as I am afforded the same courtesy.”

A curious sensation unfurls within you, slow and uncertain. A flutter—a fervour, almost—on one hand. Yet on the other, something sinks deep and remains suspended in an inertia for which you cannot place the cause.

Your fingers, still lightly curled around his arm, shift almost imperceptibly, your gloved fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his wrist where his cuff has shifted ever so slightly.

Viktor stills.

His step does not falter, nor does he pull away, but for the smallest fraction of a moment, you feel it—a sharp, fleeting pause, as though you have startled him.

You tilt your chin slightly, affecting an air of curiosity. “And why,” you murmur, voice quieter now, “would you offer such a thing to me?”

He hums, the sound low. “You play your part very well,” he admits. “Colour me impressed. But I see that you are not wholly content, and I do not wish to make you miserable.”

His eyes flick once more to the couples ahead, his expression unreadable. “This,” he says, his voice measured, “has never been my desire. And I suspect it has never been yours.”

“You did not jest about speaking plainly,” you remark, though there is a note of something in your voice—something faintly wistful coming from an unknown place you are not certain you wish to explore.

You suppose you ought to be offended—particularly by such a frank allowance for debauchery (and the expectation of reciprocation on his part). Yet what strikes you most is not the proposition itself, but rather his own unwillingness to partake in this experiment, despite claiming the title of a man of science.

He turns to you at once, his brow drawing together. “Forgive me. Have I offended? That was not my intent.”

You shake your head, exhaling softly before tilting your gaze up at him. Unable to give him the answer just yet. Unable to lock that part away. “Which one are you?” you ask, fixing your gaze on promenading couples.

Viktor only looks at you, his head tilts slightly in your direction and you can feel his breath ghosting around your temple.

“A deer,” you continue, “or a man?”

His lips curve, though his expression remains thoughtful. “A man, undoubtedly,” he says. “But my deer is not a woman to be conquered, nor wealth to be obtained. Progress only—science.”

You consider that for a moment before asking, “And which one do you think I am?”

Viktor studies you then, a searching sort of scrutiny in his gaze. “I think,” he begins, then pauses, as if weighing his words. “A man, as well. You simply do not yet know what it is you are hunting.”

You swallow and let your face display honesty for a flicker of a second. A tremendous feeling of being watched and seen by someone who barely knows you makes you both grow and shrink—one part of you laps at it, eager and hungry, the other, shy and defeated, steps back cradling her heart in her hands.

A pause, then—

“I accept your offer, Viktor.”

***

Days pass as you mull over the new terms of your arrangement, the weight of it settling upon you like an ill-fitted gown. The household is abuzz with the nonsensical pressures of wedding preparations—your mother and sisters significantly more enthused than you.

You find yourself torn between the promise of freedom and the threat of imprisonment, for what Viktor has proposed holds both in equal measure—a double-edged sword poised to cut you both.

Each of his conditions is something you never dared to dream of, having long resigned yourself to the certainty that you would never marry, certainly not for love. That naïve conviction held firm until your mother—ever pragmatic—brought you back to earth. In time, you had learned to accept your fate, to dream, however cautiously, of a husband who might tolerate your eccentricities, just as your father does. And perhaps, if fortune were kind, one who might even grow to love you, as your father so clearly loves your mother.

But with Viktor’s proposition, such hopes dwindle by the day. The reality that awaits you is one in which you must learn to be content with the love you can provide for yourself.

He comes and goes, paying you little visits, bringing flowers for your mother and, on occasion, Jayce for your father. And once, Jayce brings his mother, and the meeting nearly rends you in two—to witness what mothers can be. How gentle they can be, how kind. Even to a child not their own. Ximena Talis holds only love for Viktor in her heart; it seeps through her eyes, through the tenderness of her hands when she pats his back and smooths his cheek, telling him how proud she is.

A fraction of this kindness reaches you when she takes your hand and tells you what a good boy he is. How sensitive and clever. And it wounds you deeply to see how enraptured she is by the idea of Viktor finding someone who will love him as she and Jayce do—blissfully unaware of the pusillanimous little mercy he has devised to ensure the success of your sham.

Yet you do find excitement, somewhere within you. At the thought of the music you will play freely, at the great fire you will make to burn the tighter half of your short stays (you must keep some for when your mother visits), at the hairpins that will go conveniently missing on the way to your new house, and the books you will read lying in the grass. It is not all so miserable.

It comes and fades, just as Viktor drifts in and out of your thoughts, lingering in the late evening hours when your night-bound self cannot cease conjuring visions of what your life will be in mere days. After many nights spent ruminating, you resolve at last that such sentiments are not worth troubling your heart over. You must stand by your acceptance of Viktor’s offer.

So you endure the dress fittings, the flower selections, and the cake tastings that your mother drags you to, a sad smile fixed upon your face, telling yourself it will all be over soon. And indeed, when the day of your imprisonment— which is also the day of your release—arrives, you find the skin of your face intolerably tight with powder and a smile affixed there, despite the wetness lingering beneath your eyelids.

You regard yourself in the mirror, refusing to let nerves take hold of you. It is only last-minute jitters, you tell yourself, even as the ultimate version of your daylight self stares back—her hands clasped into fists, her hair arranged into the most meticulous bun you have ever seen, her breasts bound by the most vile short stay you have ever had the misfortune to wear. All of it wrapped in a blue dress, a fabric of your choosing—the only compromise your mother allowed in the preparations.

Your mother has left the room to inform your father that you will soon depart for the church, while your sisters flit about you, giggling and teasing about how you will step before the altar a child and leave a woman grown. The words tighten your chest, and you wave them off with a sharp breath.

"Please, it is hard enough to breathe without all of you crowding me."

"Are you going to bring shame upon Maman now? See, Tess? We should have placed our wager while there was still time," Kitty jests, but you find no laughter within you. Tess only frowns, visibly troubled, as a child might be when confronted with emotions beyond her understanding—or perhaps because she understands them all too well.

"I will fetch Maman," she says, watching the colour drain from your face despite the rouge upon your cheeks.

"No—" you snap, grasping her shoulder firmly. "I need Peggy. Tess, I beg of you."

Tess nods solemnly, throwing Kitty a warning look as severe as a seven-year-old can muster. Kitty huffs but follows her out, leaving you alone with your trembling hands and a heart that pounds so furiously it makes your chest feel even tighter. Before you can give in to the swooning sensation creeping up your spine, the door creaks open once more, and Peggy peeks inside, brow furrowed in concern.

"Everything all right, Miss?"

"No. Peggy, no," you cry, barely managing to keep your voice from breaking. Your eyes burn, but you force them wide, desperate to keep the tears from spilling and ruining the painstaking work of rouge and powder. "Why do I feel so wretched? It is as though something inside me has died."

Peggy steps further in, hands hovering uncertainly at her sides. "Oh, Miss, whatever has happened?"

You shake your head, pressing your fingers to your temples as if you might will away the frantic mess of thoughts swarming inside it. "I am such a fool. I was so certain I could go through with this, and I know there is no undoing it, but—" A shuddering breath, a helpless glance at your reflection. "I was ready to simply be a wife, to accept my place, but then he came along, and I, like a simpleton, began to hope. I let myself want."

Peggy's face softens, though hesitation lingers in her posture. "Oh, my dear child… but you shall be a wife, and I daresay you shall be happy."

You let out a brittle laugh, one that holds no mirth. "I shall not. I shall not be loved, nor truly known. I shall live in a grand house beside a husband who has no wish to understand me. I shall grow old in loneliness, without affection, without companionship."

Peggy presses her lips together, as if choosing her words with great care. "And how, pray, can you be so certain?"

You inhale sharply, fingers curling into the folds of your skirts. "Because he told me so. He offered me terms, a bargain. I—foolishly proud—accepted." The confession tumbles from your lips in a rush, bitter and breathless. "A life in which I may do as I please, so long as he is granted the same. No expectations, no obligations. Not in our conduct, nor our company, nor even the way we dress. And you—" Your voice falters, the words lodging in your throat. "You will not even be there to comfort me."

For a moment, Peggy says nothing, only watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, gently, she reaches for your hands, pressing them between her own. When she speaks again, it is not with formality, but with quiet insistence. She speaks your name.

"He would be a fool not to see you for what you are. And trust me when I say this—" She squeezes your hands, warmth and certainty in her grasp. "To fall in love with you takes mere seconds."

"It has already been seconds since we met," you mutter helplessly, sniffing as your brows furrow.

"People make strange decisions when they are afraid," she says with a soft, knowing smile. "And in my experience, men are the easiest creatures to spook."

A tear escapes the prison of your lashes, and before Peggy can react, you startle her with an embrace. She hesitates for only a moment before wrapping her arms around you, and you cannot remember the last time you were held with such tenderness.

Then, with gentle hands, she tilts your chin up and says, "Come now, let us put you back to rights before your lady mother starts to sulk, hmm?"

Peggy sets to work with quiet efficiency, dabbing away stray tears with the gentlest touch, mindful not to smudge the careful artistry upon your face. She smooths her thumbs over your cheeks, fixing the powdered rouge, then reaches for a fresh handkerchief to blot any lingering dampness. With delicate hands, she adjusts the loosened strands of your hair, tucking them back into place with a precision that belies her station. The soft murmurs of reassurance she offers are meant to soothe, yet they do little to quell the tight knot in your chest. You watch her through the mirror, unblinking, as she works—fast, methodical—restoring you to the poised young lady your mother expects to see walk down the aisle. When she finally steps back, her eyes sweep over you with a quiet sort of pride, as if she has mended something far greater than a few ruined curls and a streak of moisture on your cheek.

The remainder of the time slips past in a haze, your body moving through each step as though it belongs to someone else. Your sisters return, chattering brightly, their excitement so stark against the hush in your own mind that it feels almost deafening. Your mother arrives moments later, beaming, and claps her hands together at the sight of you, exclaiming over your appearance without noticing the effort it took to make you look so flawless. You offer her a small, obedient smile, a perfect replica of the one you have worn for weeks now and allow yourself to be ushered out the door. The carriage ride is a blur of voices and silk rustling around you, the weight of expectation pressing against your skin like the stay laced too tightly around your ribs. By the time you arrive at the church, you are exactly as you ought to be—composed, lovely, and utterly unreadable.

The heavy church doors are pulled open before you, and a hush falls over the gathered assembly. The murmur of conversation, the rustle of clothing, even the faintest shifting of feet upon stone—everything stills as you step into the dim, vaulted space. The scent of aged wood and melting wax mingles with the perfume of fresh flowers lining the pews, a sickly-sweet contrast to the sharp awareness tightening your chest.

Light filters through the tall, stained-glass windows, dappling the aisle in shifting colours as you take your first step forward. Your father’s arm is steady beneath your fingertips, a firm anchor, but it does little to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. Your gaze lifts, drawn forward, past the unfamiliar sea of faces, past the faint blur of expectation, to the one person who matters in this moment.

Viktor stands at the altar, rigid as a statue, his hands clasped before him. He is dressed finely—your mother’s doing, no doubt—but the cut of his coat, the carefully pressed folds of his cravat, feel like a costume rather than something truly belonging to him. His face is unreadable at first, his expression schooled into an impassive mask, but then—then his eyes meet yours.

Something flickers there. A hesitation, barely perceptible. The faintest parting of his lips, as if he might speak if the weight of the room did not demand silence. His gaze drags over you, slow and searching, taking in the meticulous artistry of your appearance, the delicate lace framing your face, the blue silk wrapped about you like a second skin. You expect nothing from him, and yet—his fingers twitch at his side, as if resisting some impulse even he does not understand.

And then, just as quickly, it is gone. He schools his features once more, his posture remains stiff, and whatever moment had passed between you vanishes into the hush of the church.

The priest turns to Viktor first.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

A silence, brief yet all-encompassing, stretches across the nave. Viktor’s gaze remains steady, locked upon yours as he answers, his voice even, assured and the words strike you with reverence you did not suspect him to have.

“I will.”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” The priest turns to you.

You part your lips, but for a moment, no sound emerges. It is not hesitation, not truly—it is the finality of it, the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down upon your ribcage. You feel Viktor’s gaze on you, unwavering and waiting.

Your fingers tighten at your sides, nails digging into your palm.

“I will.”

The words leave you quieter than intended, but they are spoken. A shift of movement behind you—a sigh, perhaps your mother’s—reaches your ears, but it is distant, inconsequential now.

The priest nods, satisfied, and gestures for your hand.

Viktor steps forward, extending his hand to you, palm open. Your fingers feel unsteady as you place them in his, the warmth of his skin seeping through your glove into the coldness of your skin. He holds your hand with gentle firmness, neither possessive nor hesitant—simply assured.

He speaks first, his voice steady, the words carried by the hush of the chapel.

“I, Viktor, take thee to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a fleeting motion, barely noticeable.

It is your turn. You inhale, the breath unsteady, and repeat the vow, your voice carrying a note of quiet conviction.

“I,” you start, then speak your name quietly, “take thee, Viktor, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

As the final words leave your lips, Viktor’s grip remains unwavering and warm. The rector nods and Jayce steps forward, placing a golden band into Viktor’s open palm, while his eyes remain fixed strictly on yours.

He slides it onto your finger slowly, its weight featherlight and yet impossibly heavy. There is finality in it, a truth that cannot be undone, and when you lift your gaze, Viktor is still watching you, his lids hooded. His mouth parts, and he speaks the finals words softly, almost intimately and for a moment you feel like it’s only you and him, holding hands in this vast, echoing space.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship,” he recites between breaths, the honesty beneath it rips through your chest. You wonder if it’s at all possible for this man to be so rehearsed that he can proclaim his worship to you in such a tone, while feeling none of it. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Before you can breathe, the priest proclaims, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

And so it is, final and done, when your heart hammers in your ears as you sign yet another contract—the Register—to bind you not only in the holy matrimony, but also in the legal one. The rest is a blur, as people outside the church whistle and clap upon your emergence and the carriage takes you all back to your house for the reception.

And you brace through it as your day self—bright, charming, and polite. Thanking your guests and being the picture-perfect bride, making your mother and father proud. You smile until your cheeks ache, laugh when it is expected, and accept well-wishes with a gracious nod.

Ximena Talis is among the many to take your hands in hers, her warmth enveloping you like the motherly embrace you once yearned for. “My dear, you are radiant,” she says, pressing your fingers gently. “Viktor is fortunate beyond measure. I have always known he would find someone exceptional.”

The words settle in your chest like lead. You murmur a soft “Thank you, my lady,” but the sentiment stings. Fortunate? Perhaps, but not in the way she imagines. You wish you could believe in the same happiness she does.

Across the room, Viktor lingers at the edge of the gathering, ever the observer. His gaze flickers towards you, assessing. He sees the perfect illusion—the grace, the charm—but does he notice the way your hands tighten in your lap when no one is watching? The way your laughter sounds hollow?

At last, he steps close enough that only you can hear him. “You do not seem out of place,” he remarks idly, reaching for a cup of tea.

You do not look at him as you reply. “Neither do you.”

He hums, tilting cup as if he were looking for an answer within it. “I expected you to be more resistant.”

“I have learnt when resistance is futile,” you answer smoothly, placing your empty cup on a passing tray. “And you?”

He glances at you, just once, before bringing his glass to his lips. “I have always known how to adapt.”

A small smile curls at the edge of your mouth, just enough to be seen by those watching, just enough to be mistaken for joy. “Then we are well-matched indeed.”

His lips quirk, as if in amusement. But he says nothing more. Instead, he lingers close enough so that the heat of his body transmits to yours, and unlike you, Viktor cannot blame his reddened cheeks on powder blush.

You try to read anything within his expression, but the only thing that gives him away is the almost imperceptible tightness of his jaw.

Before you decide what to make of it, you are pulled back to your bridal duties—an obligatory dance with your father comes first.

He observes you all the way through it, as if trying to decipher how unhappy you are. “Know, that I have never been more proud of you,” he says, holding your hands firmly.

“And why is that? I have achieved nothing today, Papa, I merely got married,” you jest, but your father sees right through you. He breaks the rhythm of the dance to pull you into an embrace and whispers into your ear, “It’s not that you got married. It’s how you’ve done it. Of that I am proud.”

You gasp quietly and let yourself be held. It helps you to get through the rest of the rituals—dancing with uncles and other relatives, until a brief reprieve comes in a shape of Jayce. He grins down at you with a lopsided ease. “Look at you,” he teases, his voice light despite the tension that flickers beneath. “The perfect bride, the perfect wedding. You’ve even got the perfect brother-in-law.”

You let out a quiet huff, only half amused. “Are you fishing for a compliment, Jayce?”

“Wouldn’t need to if you’d just admit I’m your favourite already.”

You move through the dance with ease, though his hand tightens slightly on yours as he lowers his voice. “You’re all right?”

A pause. You should lie, as you have been all morning, but Jayce is not so easily fooled. “I will be,” you answer, quiet but honest. It is the best you can offer.

He nods once, accepting that for what it is. “If he ever gives you trouble, you know where to find me.”

It is an unnecessary promise—Viktor is not cruel—but you do not dismiss it.

As the dance concludes, you step away, your role in the festivities almost complete. Before the hour grows too late, you press a ribbon into Kitty’s palm, her eyes lighting with delight as she fastens it to her wrist. Tess is more reserved when you pull her aside, brows knit in deep thought before you even place the pearl in her hand.

“You’ll be back soon, won’t you?” she asks. Her fingers curl around the gift, her frown pressing deeper.

You smooth back a stray lock of her hair, forcing a smile. “Of course.” Even you are not certain how much truth sits in those words.

At last, it is time to take your leave. The final goodbyes begin, your family gathering around, and just as you think the moment has passed without incident, your uncle—already too deep in his indulgences—lifts his glass with a booming voice.

“Well then! Since they will not dance together, they must at least seal the night with a kiss!”

Laughter ripples through the guests, some echoing their agreement, others clapping their hands in delight. A glance at your mother tells you she will not intervene—this is not so improper a request that it can be denied. Your father only sighs, while Jayce grins at Viktor, clearly entertained.

There is no way out of this. You glance at Viktor, only to find him already watching you.

He does not speak, but his gaze is searching, flicking over your expression with unreadable intent. A flicker of hesitation—barely a breath—before he shifts closer.

The moment stretches unbearably thin.

Then, Viktor leans in.

The kiss is light, brief, barely more than the press of his lips against yours. It is proper in every sense, exactly what is expected. And yet—something in it snags deep within you. The warmth of him, the feather-light brush, the way his breath lingers against your skin a second too long.

Then, so soft only you can hear, Viktor murmurs against your lips—

"It’s all right."

You do not know why the words unsettle you so.

By the time you pull apart, the guests are clapping, laughing, toasting the moment as if it were nothing at all. You school your expression back into place, accept the briefest of bows from Viktor before he steps aside, and let yourself be guided forward, toward the carriage that will take you away.

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carmenized-onions · 9 months ago

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Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him.

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck.

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all. “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee.

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink.

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups.

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where.

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy.

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off.

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence.

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed.

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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asinnergore · 2 months ago

Text

cw : dried blood (on paper idk［ronin sketch］

probably my new favourite piece, made all this whilst binging on my ronin playlist on spotify 😛 i've actually been desperately tryna draw something over the blood but I couldn't find ANY inspiration but ya figured it out in the end

im hella hungry but i finished, took forever. i think it's cause I blew dry the blood — i scraped off the colour n stuff accidentally, but i've FINALLY finished, the sketch was so simple it's just the blood they gave me the hardest time lawrd. also alotta messed up details cause i failed to check my draft sketch clearly 👅 (he's in a hoodie because it's either that or he woulda been naked

#ronin beaufort #killer chat #killer chat ronin #killer chat art #Spotify

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dwaekkicidal · 9 months ago

Note

Hii 🫶🏻

First off: I have to tell you your Han series has me in a chokehold I CAN NOT get over it! 😍😍 it just hit all the right spots 😍😫

I don’t know if your request are open but if they are could I request with Han and female reader where Han is jealous/possessive of his girlfriend? Maybe because she is still in the same friend group with her ex or if you prefer give it any other motivation. It can be either swf or nswf, do as you prefer really (but if it is nswf could you make the reader to have a big breast and Han with a 🍒fixation maybe?)

Anyway I love you blog! Have a nice day! 🫶🏻😘

me when i get to self insert myself into a fic cause i have big boobies😼 ALSO TY ASDHJKASDJK i kept feeling really insecure about that series but its getting so much love :''))) im happy you are enjoying it as well as my blog <3

Cherries

˚ʚHan Jisung x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.8k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, reader has big boobs but no other physical features described, ex has they/them pronouns, kinda out of character ji?, exhibitionism, nipple play, brief mentions of p in v

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han’s eyes were narrowed, so sharp that you could cut diamonds with it. He watched intently as you conversed casually with your friend group. It’s not something he thought he would ever see himself getting genuinely mad over, but the familiar face in the crowd made his blood boil. Had this exact situation taken place more than a year ago, Jisung would have been an anxious mess. Probably would be fiddling with his jacket’s sleeves and restlessly bouncing his leg while his mind went to the worst places possible. But now, after dating you for over 2 years, he was more confident in himself.

Don’t be fooled! He still gets jealous easily. Very easily… but it doesn’t make him as angsty as it used to. Nowadays all he feels is anger. The only thoughts that fill his mind are ones along the lines of “How dare that person talk to my girlfriend like that. Who do they think they are?” while strangers blatantly flirted with you, and he would make fun of them with words like “Did you see their face when you rejected them?? Fucking loser lol” when you would make a face and deny them before running back into his arms.

But those were with strangers. Not with your stupid ex. The same ex who made you hesitant going into this relationship with Han in the first place. And the same ex that managed to snake their way back into your friend group. While his thoughts were about the same, Han wasn’t very keen on taking his eyes off of them. The trust was still there with you, but he knew better than to trust your ex. The slimy, sugar-coated lies they told the group wouldn’t work on him.

A hand being placed on his shoulder cut him from his thoughts. He was in full fight mode and completely missed the way you walked up to where he was on the couch. The game room the group had rented out for a few hours was filled with their booming voices and a random playlist off of somebody's Spotify. Some people were playing pool while the others stood nearby to watch and instigate mini brawls here and there. He was the only one who idly sat on the couch, drink in hand.

You knew he was in guard dog mode because of your ex’s presence so you made sure to break your attention from the group regularly to check up on him. Only this time he accidentally ignored you, so you made your way towards him. “You okay, Ji?” You smiled sideways and tilted your head, stealing a sip from his soda and settling yourself between his legs. Immediately all the anger drained from his body and he smiled up at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and he sat up, pulling you closer as he nodded.

“Yeah... Sorry haha.” You smiled sweetly and placed his cup on the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his neck once the cup was safely set down. “It’s okay, I know the situation is a little uncomfortable.” You whisper and tighten your hold around him, squeezing him lovingly and giggling to yourself when he rests his cheek against your chest. He grins like an idiot at his personal pillow and shoves his face harder until you eventually get red in the face and push him back. “Hey now… We’re still in public.”

“That can change. Let’s go home right now and I’ll show you a good time?” He smirks and pulls you closer. His chin rests against the top of your chest and he looks up at you with puppy eyes and his signature pout. “C’monn… I’ve been good all day.” His hands drop down to your hips, digging his fingers into them as his voice drops an octave, “‘Promise to show you a good time. You know Hannie always takes care of his baby-”

Your name gets called and the both of you jump. You chuckle and turn in his grasp, now standing sideways to respond to the person. He let his eyes return to your group, simply curious about who you interrupted his begging but was made even angrier by the expression that painted your ex’s face. They were frowning deeply behind their drink and glaring at the two of you, obviously wired up about his hands that were wrapped around you. Han stared back with the same fire, knowing all too well what the other person wanted. But then he smiled to himself.

As you casually chatted with your friend, Han let his hand fall down to your waist. He did it at an angle that only showed it off to your ex, making them watch as his hand slipped under your shirt. The fabric bulged out as he grabbed a handful of your tits, kneading the flesh there as they held eye contact. Eye contact that was held as he leaned in, hiding his face from everybody else as he wrapped his lips around your clothed nipple. He made a show of even sticking his tongue out and licking your nipple over your shirt while his other hand continued to squeeze the other boob from, what seemed like, the inside of your bra

Han’s ego inflated to the size of the sun as he watched your ex’s jaw drop. Their eyes went up to your face and, besides the blush that covered it, there wasn’t a single reaction. You were so used to it that the obscene action didn’t even make you flinch. Which only pissed your ex off more. They huffed and shook their head, walking to the door and mumbling something along the lines of ‘Fuck this.’ While everybody’s attention turned to the first person to leave the function, you turned to your boyfriend and shook your head at him. “Really? All that about behaving too.”

“Not my fault their edgy ass didn't like it. I licked it so it’s mine.” You laughed and parted from your boyfriend, returning back to the pool table. After that, it didn’t take long for everybody to separate. The people who didn’t have the balls to be the first to leave shortly made their way out after your ex did. Your boyfriend was one of them as well and quickly made it obvious to you that he genuinely wanted to leave soon, so you both bid your farewells and made your way outside.

The second your food hit the concrete, Jisung dragged you to the nearest empty alleyway. One that, if the sun wasn’t already set, would have been very easy to look down and see the two of you. Alas, your boyfriend did not have a single care about that. If anything, the thought of somebody seeing you only egged him on.

Han shoves you into the brick wall, slamming his lips against yours and running his hands all over your body. They started at your thighs, where he squeezed the flesh of your thighs before sliding up to your hips and doing the same. Then his hands rested at your hips for a moment. He was too distracted pushing his tongue past your lips to continue on with his expedition. Once you both found a comfortable rhythm and your hands ran up his arms, he started moving again.

This time he slowly ghosted his hands up your stomach and stopped at your chest where he squeezed your boobs tightly. Then he pulls away from your lips, smirking at you and pecking your cheek before dipping his head down. You feel his lips against your neck and you moan quietly before rolling your neck to the side, giving him more space to work with. He doesn't linger there for long though. As much as your boyfriend loves marking you up, he only leaves a single one to your neck before he dips even lower.

He leaves a trail of kisses on his way to your boobs and, before you have the chance to react or push him away, his hands tug your shirt up to your neck. “Ji- Wait until we get home, baby. We shouldn’t do this he-” He cuts you off by nibbling your right nipple through your bra. His other hand slides under the bottom hem of your bra, grabbing a handful of your boob and rubbing that nipple between his middle knuckles. You moan loudly and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging it in hopes that he would pull away but also stop and just take you to do this at home.

He moans against your clothed nipple and licks it seductively through the fabric, looking up at you with those brown boba eyes. Despite his lack of words, you already know what those pretty eyes want. You bite your lip and nervously look towards the entrance of the alley, watching as cars dart back and forth. But no people. “F-Fuck. Fine. But make it quick!” He smiles widely against you and nods.

His head pulls away from you for a moment, only to allow him to reach around and undo your bra. He doesn’t even bother taking it off of you, he just pushes it up with your shirt and dives back in. “Mine.” A loud moan leaves your lips as he suddenly bites the side of your tit, then he apologetically licks over his teeth marks. “Yours.” He smiles and grabs both of your boobs, fondling them as he alternates his attention to each nipple.

“God. I fucking love your tits, Jagi. And they’re all mine, right?” You nod and throw your head back as you moan, gripping his strands even tighter than before. He moans and bucks his hips into the air. “Answer me.” One of his hands moves down to your thighs and slides up under your skirt. It dips deeper, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties before wrapping around behind you and grabbing a handful of your ass cheek. “Jagiya… Say. It. A-gain.” He lands a sloppy slap to your ass with each word, smiling into your boob when your legs clench together.

“‘M yours, Ji! Please, babyy~” He wastes no time after that, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to poke out. The hand that was on your ass pumps his dick a few times as his other pushes your leg up, holding it up and giving him space to fuck into you. His mouth finally releases your nipple in favor of poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he pushes in. Both of you moan at the feeling and lock eyes for a moment before he leans in and pushes his lips against yours.

He pulls away and leans down again, wrapping his lips around your neglected nipple. Then he tests the water with slow thrusts. Ones that speed up rather fast once he realizes how deep he can go in this position. The grip he has on your hips is bruising as he starts to slam his hips into yours.

“Mine. All fucking mine.”

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader smut #skz x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung imagines #han smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han imagines

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cobaltperun · 4 months ago

Text

Eternal Flame (8) - City Lights

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 8.1k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

You managed to dry your hair a lot easier and quicker than you thought you would, but you still remained in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves down. This was it. You were at Jenna's house, you've sort of met her family, or at least a part of it, and you made things a bit awkward. Which was not what you wanted to do, and the last thing you wished for right now was to make things even more awkward. Your wishes meant nothing, however, because the way you would be meeting them now would be doing exactly that. It would be bizarre, absolutely ridiculous, because you wouldn't be coming in from the outside, you would be coming from upstairs, where just to make it even more awkward, their bedrooms were, down to the living room.

If you weren't so nervous it probably would have crossed your mind that it looked like Jenna had brought her lover over to her home in the middle of the night. And now that lover was coming down to meet her family after a long night together.

Damn rain.

Embarrassment and awkward meetings aside, the pain was also getting a bit uncomfortable, so you reached into your bag and downed two pills to help you with the pain. “OK, I can do this,” you whispered, and took several deep breaths, just to buy yourself a bit more time. Finally, you plucked up the courage and went back to Jenna's room to see her hastily folding her shirts. She was chewing on her lower lip, and you figured she was even more embarrassed than you. You weren't lying to her, you really did find this endearing and it really wasn't as messy as she thought it was.

Jenna looked up when she heard the doors closing, you probably should have knocked, but in your defense she left the doors opened. She looked you over, pretty much checking you out as you wore the light gray shirt that belonged to her father. It was a bit big for you, since as strong as you were you had more of a lean build than a bulky one, but it would do.

“You look nervous,” she pointed out and walked up to you, but there was no denying that both of you were feeling like that.

You just shrugged, hoping to play it cool, more for your own sake than any other reason. “I'm not really used to meeting the family,” you admitted, having no troubles in expressing how you felt about this. You wanted to meet them, you were eager to do so, but there definitely was some sort of nervousness about the entire ordeal. After all, you did have feelings for Jenna.

Jenna smiled and slowly, rather gently, caressed your cheek. “They’ll love you, just like-“ and she paused, catching herself before she could finish that sentence but you could see it in the startled expression on her face and the way her hand froze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened, but you were overcome with feelings and in that moment you just pulled her in holding her tightly and actually lifting her up. Jenna, though for a moment startled by the display affection, quickly hugged you back, squeezing you tightly around your shoulders and neck. She took a deep breath as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “-like I do,” she finished that sentence and kissed your cheek. “And I really, really do love you a lot,” she whispered her voice shaky, the tone of it trembling and betraying the slight insecurity she felt.

“I love you too. Jenna, you mean so much to me,” you couldn't even begin to describe everything she meant to you. Even if you found the words that could describe your feelings, you couldn't tell her without telling her about the fights. And at that moment, as you felt both the warmth of her presence, and the pain from the bruises, you came to a startling realization. You trembled for a moment, almost overcome by the sense of clarity that you suddenly got. You were almost ready to just give it all up, to push through and quit fighting, to end the cycle and find a way, any way you could, to actually feel worthy of loving her.

“Y/N,” your name fell from her lips, and you were fairly certain no one had ever nor will anyone ever speak your name as sweetly as she did.

“Jenna what's taking so long? Oh shit, sorry,” the two of you were suddenly interrupted by Jenna’s younger sister, Aliyah, coming in and you quickly separated.

Jenna cleared her throat as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart down and gestured toward Aliyah. “This is my younger sister, Aliyah,” she then gestured at you while slightly glaring at her sister. “Aliyah, this is Y/N,” she introduced the two of you each other since you were already in the same room. Might as well get one introduction out of the way.

You quickly offered Aliyah your hands and she shook. “It's nice to meet you,” you said and she nodded, an amused smile spreading on her face as she looked from you to Jenna.

“Guess I don't get a hug, do I?” she teased, and with the way Jenna looked down and slapped her forehead you just knew this wasn’t going to be the only teasing you and Jenna were going to get. “Reeree, I told you to warn me if you needed a room to yourself,” oh, this was the absolute disaster, she was even more direct about it than Enrique. She might even be able to give Barbara a run for her money, and she was what? Sixteen? You shivered at the thought of all the teasing you and Jenna might have to endure when she gets older, or in the even worst case scenario, she ends up teaming up with Barbara.

“That’s not what was going on!” Jenna cried out and just as Aliyah was about to open her mouth again Jenna grabbed your hand and pulled you out. “Not a single word, we are going down so Y/N can meet everyone else!” Jenna put a stop to whatever Aliyah was going to say and you let Jenna pull you along as Aliyah laughed behind the two of you.

Yeah, this was happening, you were about to meet the family.

~X~

Fire. That's exactly how Jenna would describe what was going on between the two of you. Even now, though she could no longer feel your hands around her, she still felt like her skin was burning, yearning for the same sensation she got when you held her. The same sensation she was trying to invoke by holding your hand right now, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted that warmth to be surrounding her again, to feel it consuming her from the inside. It was both a physical and an emotional need, and they were both fulfilled at the same time when she felt your touch. And it felt so damn good, so addictive.

She glanced back at you, noticing the way your eyes were focusing on your hands, locked together as you walked just a bit behind her, and she wondered what you were thinking. You felt this too, didn’t you? Jenna found herself wondered if the two of you would have kissed if only you were given a few extra minutes, because she certainly felt like she was ready for that step.

You lifted her up so easily. And the way you held her, she couldn't even describe it properly. The closest description she could come up with was that you held her like you had nothing more precious in your life than her. And it almost frightened her with how intense and raw it was, how genuine and vulnerable you could be. Not to mention how you responded to her own vulnerability not by making her feel ashamed for acting like that but by supporting her through it and letting her see that you were perfectly fine with her being vulnerable.

And she wanted it almost desperately. She wanted to feel all of that with you, to feel all of those emotions, only unrestrained by this friendship, because as raw and intense as it was there was this restraint put on it all by the label you both put on your relationship. And she could no longer avoid accepting that she wanted that restraint gone.

Jenna knew, she one hundred percent knew, that if circumstances were any different, if you were alone, at her place in LA or at your place, and if that happened there that she wouldn’t just kiss you. No, she would have done so much more, letting you do whatever you wanted to do to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her mind out of the gutter.

And to try and keep those thoughts at bay, because she wouldn’t be a hormonal teenager right now, she went and looked back at you. Because of course that would help push those thoughts away.

As she led you down the stairs, she caught you taking her childhood home in, looking at the photos her parents hung on the walls. There were many of them, after all they were a big family, and the photos showed that. There were photos of her, her siblings and her parents, as well as her nephews and even some of her extended family. Her mom loved keeping the memories through the photos and Jenna wished she could get into that habit as well. Every special occasion was accompanied with the photo, and she wondered how your own parents house was. Were there photos of you while you were filming Logan or maybe when you finished high school or maybe other things like that? Or maybe your parents were more of a ‘keeping things in memory’ kind of couple, instead of hanging everything on the walls and keeping the physical reminders of those times.

Jenna wanted to meet them. To see for herself the kind of people that raised you and made you the way you were right now. With how loving you were they must have done something right. In a way, and perhaps she just noticed it today, you treated every moment with people you loved like it could be the last one. And not in the negative way. It was just that when you cared for someone and could also relax all of your attention was on that someone.

And that realization brought those desires right back to the front of her mind. How deeply and passionately would you love someone if you treated friends like that? Jenna wondered what you were thinking right now, she wondered if you wanted her as much as she wanted you. Somehow a thought crossed your mind that you wanted her even more. And it made that warmth from the spreading through her like a flame that would never extinguished.

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back into the living room, she saw the table was set, with her dad already sitting there at the head of the table, while her mom and Markus were watching a football game. It was like her family was creating a sort of a bubble around them, hoping to have a moment of normalcy before your presence sort of shattered it into pieces. After all, they all probably saw right through her and by now knew this wasn't just her inviting friends over.

Jenna cleared her throat and the bubble the family was happily in burst as they all turned to look at you and Jenna.

“Uh, hello, again” you said and raised your hand to wave slightly. That nervous grin on your face was honestly more than a little endearing to Jenna. She found this a bit more shy and reserved side of you to be a surprise, if she was honest. You've always had this air of confidence and ‘I can do anything’ kind of attitude, but here you were, meeting her family and acting a bit like a dork, which was something she could definitely enjoy seeing more often.

Jenna’s mom was the first to get up, seeing as she met you briefly. It was clear all of you were trying to ignore that you came back from upstairs and how it looked. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she came up to you and surprisingly pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, but Jenna could see you were genuinely surprised by this greeting.

“Jenna can’t shut up about you,” Jenna’s sister, Aliyah, chimed in behind you. Oh, right, she came downstairs with the two of you, and now she was going to turn Jenna's day from very, very pleasurable to potentially ‘The Teasing from Hell - Part 2: The Return of Enrique’s Disciple’.

It was one hell of a miracle that he wasn’t here as well, since he promised he’d be here to watch the show and tease her. Not that it mattered. Aliyah was here to fill in for him. Why couldn’t Aliyah be her natural shy self instead of relishing in the opportunity to tease her?

“I can!” Jenna quickly retorted and turned away from you. She did not deny that she was talking about you though, she just couldn’t deny it, or, honestly, shut up about you. She's been talking about you meeting her family ever since she plucked up the courage to tell then you were coming, and she would be the first to admit it was a bit annoying.

“Sure you can, Jenna,” Markus teased her and just like that her younger brother came up to you and greeted you, and all that was left was her dad.

The man came out of the dining room and looked you over, studying you, And Jenna herself got nervous imagining how you must have felt under his gaze. He was a cop, after all, and worst of all Jenna wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. She just noticed he focused on your hand, and not the left hand she was holding, but rather on your right hand, and your knuckles in particular. Jenna couldn't quite figure it out, but he frowned for a moment. “You do lots of martial arts, don't you?” he asked, and Jenna couldn’t figure out how looking at your fist told him that, and sure, he heard about it from Jenna, but it looked like he would have figured it out from looking at your fist.

“Yes, I've been practicing different martial arts for several years now. Since I was roughly thirteen,” you replied casually, and her dad nodded. Frankly, she wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

“Welcome, Y/N, nice to meet you,” after what felt like eternity he went and offered his hand to you, and you accepted it.

“It’s nice meeting you all,” you said, now sounding a lot more confident than before and she breathed out a small sigh of relief because this was more along the lines of what she expected from you.

“Come on you two, let’s eat,” her mom told the two of you, and while still holding hands Jenna and you followed the rest of her family to the table. Just like before you went and pulled the chair out for her, now feeling a lot more in your element, as you pretty much, and very likely now that she thought about it, ignored the stares of her family and just focused on doing what you did the best. Making Jenna feel seen, cared for, and accepted.

“Thanks,” this time she had to hold from tugging you down so you could hug her again and instead just patted you on the back of your hand as you pushed her chair in.

“Anytime,” you said and sat down on the chair to her left.

~X~

The lunch was, in one word, amazing. Natalie was an incredible cook, both when it came to variety and the taste, making a wide array of Mexican food as well as several other dishes. You honestly weren’t even sure where to start as Jenna put the food on your plate. Natalie and Aliyah were sitting on the other side of the table, while Markus sat to your left and Edward sat at the head of the table, on Jenna’s right side.

“Thanks, Jen,” you thanked her before you all started eating, you missed the smile on Natalie’s face at the nickname you kept using.

“Could you pass me the hot sauce?” she asked pointing at the sauce close to you. By the looks of it, you both slipped right back into the old habits from the set of Scream.

“Sure,” you handed it to her, and then put it back where it was when she poured it over her tacos. She definitely loved spicy food, and you were still amazed with how well she could handle hot food.

“The food is amazing, Natalie,” you complimented as you swallowed the first bite of your own taco. It was good that Jenna told you in advance her mom was the one who prepared the food.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Natalie nodded and smiled at the compliment.

“Told you, you have competition,” Jenna pointed out. “Too bad I couldn’t save a single piece of that cake for you.”

“I don’t know, this is a tough act to follow,” and you were being honest, you could cook, but this was truly something. “But, challenge accepted, I need to have all of you over for a dinner sooner or later,” and you would actually put extra effort into that dinner. Cooking wouldn’t be an issue, the main trouble would be how you could handle finding enough space for all of them, because your apartment definitely wasn't fit for a huge family. Well, you would figure something out when the time comes.

“Count me in, I need to see if Jenna was exaggerating,” Aliyah promised you and you grinned a bit when Jenna groaned and lowered her head. “I'm telling you, she just keeps yapping on and on about you! I wasn't kidding when I said I told her to tell me if she needed the room to herself,” you shrunk a bit in your seat because of Aliyah’s words. Both the fact that Jenna talked about you so much and the implications of the second part making you feel more than a bit embarrassed.

“I don't need the room to myself!” Jenna exclaimed, blushing like crazy when she said that, and you closed your eyes. Yet, even with your eyes closed you could see it coming from a mile away, that was just the interlude into the real tease.

“Considering what I caught the two of you doing, I'm not so sure,” there. There it was. And the silence that followed those words was deafening, and you could feel Jenna's parents looking right at you.

“You should probably run,” Jenna’s brother, Markus told you and your eyes widened as you looked at him and he just nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he wasn’t even joking! Jenna had dry humor, but this guy was just being serious!

“We were just hugging!” Jenna cried out, hoping to prevent the potential harm that could fall upon you and you nodded as quickly as you could. Now that you were thinking about it, well that wasn't really going in your favor either, because you spent hours with Jenna alone and somehow you were still hugging. Could it have been nothing? Absolutely! It could have been just a friendly display of affection between friends. Yet the circumstances weren't in your favor, and you found yourself staring blankly at Aliyah.

“What have I ever done to you?” you mouthed and she just shrugged. You were met with us sorry not sorry look in her eyes.

“Right, that happened,” Natalie turned back to her plate hoping to lower the tensions and the blood pressure of her husband, and then she looked at you again. “So, Y/N, can you tell us a bit about your family?”

Someone please bring the teasing back.

You froze for a moment, nearly dropping the fork in your hand. “Sure, sure,” your voice cracked as you were suddenly put on a spot. “Yeah, of course. I am an only child,” you could feel Jenna’s eyes on you, you could feel everyone’s attention on you, even more so with that initial reaction, and you looked at Jenna, partly to calm down and in the process catching the genuinely surprised look in her eyes. She clearly didn't expect you to freeze like that, and you definitely didn't blame her. You didn't think she could even begin to imagine that your parents were no longer alive.

“And your parents? What do they do?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow but brushing the reaction off as just you being surprised.

“Mom was a pilot and dad worked in cybersecurity,” you replied, voice hoarse as you answered. Back when you were growing up both those jobs, and your parents as well, looked like heroes in your eyes. You looked up to them, always wanting to make them proud, they looked like they were flawless when you were a child. And they made sure you never noticed or suffered because of tension and problems in their marriage, they kept you as protected from those issues as they possibly could. Maybe that was part of the reason why you felt so inadequate and useless when they were gone and you couldn’t do anything, because they created this image of always having answers and solutions, and when it was your turn to do the same you failed.

The bite Jenna took of her salad went and got stuck in her throat and you quickly patted her on the back, which luckily helped. “Sorry. I should have… Fuck, I feel horrible now,” she lowered her head, ashamed and all you felt now was guilt over making her feel like this. She caught it, they all caught it, the fact that you spoke in past tense, combined with the fact that you never mentioned them to Jenna, and how you reacted to the question. There was no doubt about it in anyone’s mind.

“I'm sorry, let's not make this awkward. It was,” you paused, putting your emotions back under control, not letting a single hint of weakness slip through the cracks. “There was an accident and they,” you looked down, forcing those feelings further down, forcing the normality without this conversation back upon you all. “Yeah, it's been a while, I’m fine now,” you tried brushing it off, and fixing the situation. “Jenna told me you've been incredibly supportive of her ever since she was starting out and now of course. I've actually been really curious to know about it,” you tried to get her family to talk about something else and luckily given the nature of the topic that was just breached it looked like everyone was really eager to make things less awkward.

Jenna actually took your hand and squeezed it and she leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch and it was like the weight fell from your shoulders and you could once again breathe. No one said a single word about it, not the single teasing remark even though it was in plain sight and you appreciated it, smiling gently at her to show it to her.

~X~

The guilt was absolutely wrecking her from the inside, and she thought back to all of those times she wished she could meet your parents. And sure, you never told her your parents were dead, and there was no way she could have known but at the same time she also felt that she really should have figured out something wasn't completely right. And she noticed it, but she kept trying to come up with different explanation. You came back and only Barbara was in your apartment? You didn’t live with your parents. You forgot about Thanksgiving? Maybe you had a bad relationship with your parents, or they simply didn’t celebrate it. Yet it never crossed her mind that they were taken away from you in what you described as an accident.

How old were you? You said it’s been a while. Were you as old as she was now? Younger? She glanced at Aliyah and Markus, wondering how they would take losing their parents right now? Jenna herself knew she would fall apart if she suddenly lost them, and she probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces any time soon. And she’d still have her siblings left! You were an only child, suddenly left without parents!

You were completely honest when you said you didn't want to make things awkward and you did everything humanly possible to get the mood up again and make her family feel no guilt over bringing your parents up. And she barely held back her tears at that. As she realized that whether consciously or unconsciously you felt like there was something wrong with sharing this and still feeling hurt over it, and that you needed to fix it.

And in that single moment of realization Jenna understood she was helpless. For so many reasons, and she couldn’t even turn to her parents for help. After all, her family wasn't exactly the best with handling emotions, especially since you were basically a stranger they only heard about from her. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t help you either. She watched you falling apart on the inside, cracking and trying to pull all the pieces back together like someone just shattered you. All the while she couldn’t do anything and was only reminded of the time she had her panic attack.

You came in and helped her, calmed her down, saved her from those feelings and understood exactly what she needed. Now here she was, seeing you were in pain and completely unable to figure out a way to help you, to make you hurt less. And that feeling only got worse by the realization that you were putting the feelings of her and her family over your own, trying to reset things for their sake. Touching you like this wasn’t enough, this minimal contact did nothing but reveal to her how you were trembling, the slight tremors of your body barely noticeable to those watching you, but she felt it against her.

She had to do something. “Excuse us for a moment,” she quickly got up and you looked at her, startled, as she pulled you to the hall, figuring out it would give you more privacy than the living room that wasn’t even entirely separated from the dining room and the kitchen.

“Jenna,” you began, and she didn’t even need to hear you out, she knew you’d tell her you were fine, so, instead of letting you utter that lie she just pulled you down until your face was buried in her neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, only knowing that losing her loved ones was her greatest fear, but not having any idea how to take it that next step further and relate to such a heavy loss. “Don’t hide it from me, please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into your hair, her lips right next to your ear. “Please, Y/N,” she whispered, no longer even trying to hold her tears back.

And instead of opening up, instead of letting her help you, you brushed her tears away and hugged her. “I’m fine,” you told her, you lied, you weren’t ready to say it, but she could feel the tension in your body lessening just a bit. “I’m fine,” who exactly were you trying to convince? “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you were so close to telling her something, she could tell, but at the same time deep down she knew this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Yet you still fell to your knees, and Jenna followed you down, trying her best to hold you up, to keep you from crumbling. “I couldn’t. I had no other choice, I was desperate,” you gasped for air, and she found herself rubbing soft circles in your back, trying to mimic what you did to calm her down.

“I’m with you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb along your cheek, thinking she’d brush a tear off, yet there were no tears. “You have me,” and perhaps that lack of tears, the grief cocooned in some impenetrable armor, broke and hurt her the most. You wanted to fall apart in her arms, to let it all out, and you just didn’t know how. “Y/N,” she cried your name out and your breath hitched as you desperately held onto her.

“I can’t stop. Don’t deserve to stop,” you weren’t making sense, and she felt fear creeping into her heart. What couldn’t you stop? Why did she feel like she was losing you to whatever it was, to whatever you thought you didn’t deserve to stop? “Need it. I failed. Couldn’t continue, couldn’t- I- It’s not- I should have,” it wasn’t making sense.

“Please don’t, please just stop,” she pleaded, blurting those words out without realizing what they would mean to you, breaking with every word you spoke. Feeling a pain so visceral it was pushing her to her limits and it almost felt like she was physically hurting. She wanted you to stop, to take a breath and tell her everything properly, to open up and not just crack in random places. And you just shut your mouth. “Hey, hey wait, not like that,” she cried for you, only now realizing you thought she asked you to stop talking entirely. “Y/N, no, don’t. Talk to me,” it was too late, she lost the chance. The cracks sealed up and you just pushed it all down.

She felt you pulling away from her, and she pulled you back in, holding you there with all of her strength, almost clinging to you and keeping you in place with her entire weight. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean that,” but your breathing was once again steady and calm.

“Let’s just go back, your family is waiting,” you whispered, pulling her up to her feet and despite her efforts pulling away and smiling at her. “Thanks for trying,” you said and leaned back against the wall, and she shook her head, hugging you and burying her face in your chest, barely caring that her tears would be visible on the light gray shirt.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” she wanted to help you, yet she failed. She didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to reach you.

“I know,” you rubbed her back, calming her down when it was supposed to be the other way around. You were forcing yourself to be strong for her. Letting her cry her heart out for you.

“Please, I can’t lose you. Couldn’t take it and it felt like I was losing you,” she missed the way your eyes widened at those words. “Don’t want this with anyone else but you,” she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, she just felt it so deep inside her heart. “I want all of you, Y/N,” and she wanted to give you all of her.

“I’ll fix it,” she nearly missed the words you whispered, almost too quietly, despite how close Jenna was to you. She certainly missed the look of absolute resolve in your eyes. Either way, for one hopeful moment she thought you had started talking again, but you didn’t say a single word after that. No. You just let her silently cry until her tears ran out, until your touch filled her with warmth once more, and only then you separated, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” this time you were the one guiding her back to her family, putting on the mask of confidence and acting like what you went through didn’t come out.

So, Jenna would act like it as well, pretending in front of her family that pulling you away from them had a purpose, that it did something good for you, instead of just making you feel like you had to suppress your feelings around her. She would do it, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was to help her family and prevent them from feeling guilty, maybe there was some other reason, at this point it hardly mattered.

You all seemed to just pretend that single minute at the table never happened.

And Jenna wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or even more worried for you.

For now she could do nothing but look at you, observe you as you began talking to her family as if nothing happened, and bit by bit she began believing the illusion as well.

As the lunch ended Jenna watched you, almost mesmerized as you talked to her mom about the different foods and recipes. Her heart beat faster as she noticed how you focused on learning which food Jenna loved the most, picking up even more secrets and information that you didn't get to learn while you were on set together. This, you with her family, was something she could easily get used to. There was a slightly selfish part of her that hoped that's maybe one day would consider her family your own family and that it would at least slightly fill the void of loss you’ve been feeling for so long. Maybe that would be the thing to help you through the grief. Maybe she just wasn’t enough on her own.

"Are you kidding me?" your eyes widened, and you turned to Jenna. It was like the cracks never showed up, and you were perfectly fine. "You got apples three times?" you asked incredulously after her mom told you about the misfortune she had when she was doing ads. It wasn’t just your effort to cover up the cracks. It was her family as well, consciously making an effort not to help you with what you were feeling, but to cover it up, unsure what to do if it came up again.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, tears once again threatening to fall as this realization hit her as well. Her family couldn’t fill that void, not without a huge effort on both sides, and while she knew her family loved her and that they would love you, she knew they wouldn’t have the time to put that kind of effort in. And while you were doing your absolute best to reset things back to how they were before they all found out your parents were dead Jenna was once more struggling to do her part.

She was an actress, and right now she needed to play a role with you, to fake it until it turned to reality. So, so half blacked-out, pretending she was just acting. She frowned at the memory. She despised apples now. "Yeah, I think I'd rather starve than eat them ever again. I can't even look at them without feeling angry," she finished with a laugh, a bit forced but it worked, it did the job.

You joined her and leaned back a bit, your smile looking a lot lighter and easier than her own. "Good thing I never got the urge to make an apple pie," you may have said that, but Jenna could see you cataloguing her hatred toward apples for later. Somehow she also believed that you would make even an apple pie taste good.

"As long as you make it just make it spicy and vegetarian and Jenna will love it," Aliyah seemed to be dead set on embarrassing her. She even patted you on the back a few times as she went to put away her plate. This time Jenna let it slide because it genuinely made you smile, and that was all she cared about right now, that you were actually fine and not just forcing yourself to be happy.

"And you have to learn how to make guac," Markus just added fuel to the fire. And you just added another information to wherever you were filing the information you were getting. Even if she would much rather make guac for you herself. More than a few times, and preferably often, many, many times, just for the two of you.

"I need to make urnebes salad for you," you said directly to her. "Red bell peppers, chili peppers, cheese, it's a nice, spicy salad," that definitely sounded like something she would like, and she absolutely wanted you to make things for her. Wanted to experience so much with you, try new foods, try new things in general with you, and having you in her life as much as possible.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jenna told you and you just grinned.

“Okay, how about we all go outside and take a group selfie?” her mom suggested taking Jenna by surprise. You did what you intended, you got everything back on track, even when you were the one that the most affected by all of this. That should have made her relax but it just made her heart clench painfully at that thought.

So, she focused on what was going on instead of on what she was feeling. Her mom definitely loved taking photos, keeping the memories of good times lasting longer and documenting anything she deemed important or worthy of a photo. So, maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised, but it still felt a bit unexpected, and she hoped you didn’t mind. Looking at your face she didn’t notice any changes, or discomfort.

Granted, you just showed her you absolutely could mask any pain you felt in pretty much an instant. This seemed genuine though, this really seemed like you didn’t mind taking a photo with her family.

So, you followed after her into the backyard where the two of you and her family got ready for her mom to take the photo. What she didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mess up her hair just as her mom took the selfie.

Apparently, you were actually back to normal, and the grin on your face proved it to her.

“Oh my,” her mom chuckled, and Jenna saw her hair was covering most of her face on the photo.

“Y/N,” she spoke calmly, but you already began running, and fine, if that was how you were going to act, then she could play that game too. “It’s fine, I promise!” she exclaimed as she began chasing you, you were laughing and it truly was fine but as long as you were laughing then she was going to keep chasing after you. Just to listen to your laughter for a bit more, because after what happened in the hall, she needed this. She needed you to laugh with her, to tease her, to make her flustered and blush, and make her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

“Then why are you chasing me?” you laughed and Jenna found herself grinning as well, especially when she heard her family holding back their own laughs. This was what she wanted, seeing you like this, free from that tension from before.

She didn’t see this side of you on the set, the childish, silly side that somehow ended up relaxing her even more. “Because you’re running!” it made no sense, but she truly didn’t care. For some reason you got tired a bit quicker than she expected you would, and she smirked speeding up and catching you from behind, hugging you tightly. “Got you,” she laughed and leaned her forehead against your back as she caught her breath.

“Yeah, you got me,” you sounded so genuine, and she could have sworn there was a double meaning to those words. She just didn’t understand it yet.

She wanted to tell you more, but the words got stuck in her throat and despite spending over half an hour thinking about it she suddenly wasn't sure she even had the right words to say to you. “You have me,” she spoke, hoping against hope that those three worlds would convey everything she felt. That they would be enough for you to know that she was with you completely, no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. She needed you to know that you had her on your side and that you could turn to her at any moment for anything.

“You have me too,” you replied and relief flooded her heart. You understood and then you turned around and she was sure you would hug her back. Jenna looked you in the eyes, expecting a hug, only to be met by a mischievous look on your face as you went and booped her on the nose. “Let’s go back before your parents kill me,” you joked and she rolled her eyes, letting you go and walking slightly ahead of you.

“They wouldn’t,” she denied it as the two of you began heading back toward the house. Her family was already back inside, clearly giving the two of you a moment.

“You think? Your dad is a cop and in his eyes, I’m trying to seduce his baby girl,” you whisper shouted just loud enough for her to hear and she burst out laughing.

“Guess you'll have to set your sight on another girl then, won't you,” even as she joked back she had to admit there was a hint of jealousy in her voice at the mere thought of you with another girl.

Then, as if you sensed just how much power your touch had over her, you pulled her back and into your arms. And Jenna gasped as she felt your left hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed right against yours. And the look in your eyes? Jenna found herself melting at the intensity and raw emotion in your gaze. “I can’t,” you didn’t need to say another word. You made your message very, very clear.

“Good to know,” her voice cracked several times in those three words and she forced herself to just very slowly step away from you because her legs weren't exactly steady right now. It wasn’t a day of ups and downs with you today, it was a rollercoaster, and it was clear both of you were trying to bring things back to how they usually were by taking things up to eleven.

~X~

Two hours later you've gotten quite comfortable around Jenna's family, even though you could still see the somewhat scary that look Edward was giving you every time you and Jenna got particularly close to one another. Just another proof that the incident from lunch was mostly forgotten, and the way Jenna reacted to your admission that you couldn’t find another girl told you things between the two of you would be fine as well.

There seemed to be a silent conversation between Jenna and her mother until Jenna finally groaned and got up, leaving you on your own with her family from the looks of it.

“Can’t escape the dishes not even in a situation like this,” she half-jokingly complained to you and you automatically jumped to your feet. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as she pushed you slightly, though quite frankly you were barely feeling her efforts to get you back to sit down.

“Going to help you, of course,” you could see she was about to argue against it, and you quickly argued in favor of your plan before she do so. “I have a plane to catch very soon, let's do this one last thing together and then I can be on my way?” you tried to talk her into it and from the looks of it, it was working. Much like you, Jenna wanted to spend more time with you.

“Fine, but you only get to dry the dishes,” Jenna smiled softly as you pumped your fist in celebration. Granted, the reaction, while genuine, was a bit exaggerated, but you wanted to see her smiling, she didn’t smile that often since lunch. And you didn’t want to leave her like this, you wanted her happy, thinking back to this day fondly. You went into the kitchen where there were plenty of dishes from today's lunch. “Are you sure I can’t help you with more than just drying?” you asked and leaned on the counter next to her as she pulled out some cloth for you to dry the dishes with.

“Absolutely,” she began wiping any of the leftovers off the dishes and putting them back into the sink and you caught yourself just watching her. She was focused on the task and was actually even humming a bit. You didn't quite recognize the song but just listening to Jenna like this was more than enough for you. There was a very comfortable silence in the room, filled with occasional glances and chuckles, as if you were in on an inside joke that no one else knew about and you couldn’t even begin to describe how relieved you were because of that.

“You're staring,” she giggled and returned the favor as she booped your nose with a soap covered finger.

And you suddenly sneezed, barely getting enough time to cover your mouth. The soap kind of made you sneeze. “I was about to say you're beautiful, but I guess it won't work after this,” you rolled your eyes, silently cursing the timing of your sneeze.

“Goof,” Jenna rolled her eyes and you just chuckled at that, happy that everything was once more completely comfortable between you.

She finally handed you a plate to dry and 10 minutes later the two of you had finished washing the dishes and you were about to go and grab your bag. As much as you enjoyed this, you would have to leave in the next 10 to 15 minutes.

“So, this is it?” she said and you could see a question on the tip of her tongue.

“It was a good day,” you didn't even leave yet and you already felt this sense of longing for her. You couldn't tell when would be the next time you would see her, and right then and there, in what was possibly the worst moment, right in her parents’ kitchen, you nearly said it. You nearly told her what you were doing, because she deserved to know. You were both heading toward the point of no painless return. If this kept going even for a bit longer you would just end up hurting Jenna by keeping her in the dark. And you couldn’t have that. “I-“

But before you could say anything Natalie came up to the two of you. “Y/N,” she called out your name.

“Yes?” you weren't sure if you were relieved or not that you were interrupted like this.

“We've been thinking and it would really be a shame for you to go back to Denver today. You've been here for not even half a day and we have a free room,” she began and your eyes widened as you realized where this was going. “Aliyah can go and sleep in Mia's room, and Jenna can take Aliyah's bed so you can sleep in Jenna’s,” you glanced at Jenna and saw the look of pure happiness spreading on her face and that just took away all of your capability to argue against Natalie’s idea.

“I,” you still turned to Jenna with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want this?” you asked her. “It’s OK if you don't want it,” you assured Jenna, but her mom just chuckled, realizing much better than you just how ridiculous that idea was.

“And if I want you to stay?” Jenna asked a bit cheekily.

The answer was simple. “Then I'll stay,” and so the decision was made. You would be staying the night.

“I am betting my bed will remain empty tonight!” Aliyah yelled from the living room, embarrassing both you and Jenna.

Aliyah was absolutely wrong.

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