#idk how i feel about this. i kinda like it though

[lovieku]

TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

���Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

[jk-kiwi]

Snowbound

Snowbound (18+)

Characters - bf JK x gf reader (woman) 

Genre - first love troupe, romance, fluff, smut, angst and jealousy, drama, first vacation away, THIS is fiction!

Summary - The emotional journey of a couple who face growing tensions in their relationship during their first winter vacation.

Warnings - jealousy, big arguments, kinda possessive JK, both are 18, first time away from parents, JK snowboarding (is this really a warning? After ‘Are you sure?’ probably yes), implied that reader is shorter than Jungkook, reader is kinda temperamental, fictional characters that might get on your nerves, misunderstandings and mixed feeling, the end might be a little rushed idk.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - both are pretty inexperienced!, first time, kissing/making out, use of protection!, description of male and female body parts, premature ejaculation, they are pretty clumsy, fingering and oral (f rec), brief bj (like 1 sec), some cockblocking, hickeys.

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - Pushed matchmaker pt2 away for this one, Christmas is here after all. Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy!

Word count - 10.2k

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Warm clothes, checked. Toiletries, checked. Some good games to play with your boyfriend, also checked! “Hm, this should be everything!” you say, neatly wrapping the last few items you need, as well as your boyfriend's present, before zipping up your suitcase. “Darling! Are you ready, Jungkook is here!” your mom screams from downstairs making excitement bubble inside you. “Coming!” you exhale relieved looking at your baggage, a small smile drawn on your lips. It’s finally time. Your first vacation alone, only you and your boyfriend.

You grab your suitcase, dragging it behind as you go down the stairs. In front of your door, your mom and Jungkook casually chit chat. He looks up as you appear, his face lighting up, his hands immediately come in help as he picks up your suitcase with ease. “There you go. Are you sure you got everything?” he asks, knowing how clumsy you can be, especially while being so excited about this trip. 

You nod enthusiastically, though a part of you can’t help mentally double-checking. “I think I got everything.” you say with a grin.

“Don’t whine later if you can find your socks, I won’t share.” your mom chuckles at you two, looking with so much love in her eyes. “My kids are all grown up. I still remember that one time you snuck out the window just to see your boy.” “Mom!” you whine while her and Jungkook just laugh. “It’s been four years already, you are 18 now, close to finishing highschool and taking a big step in your lives.” she says in a nostalgic but sad tone, adoringly admiring you two. “And now you are big enough to go somewhere alone.” You sigh slightly, taking your mom into a warm embrace. “It’s not like we will be gone forever, it’s just a 5 day getaway.” Your mom chuckles, her warmth lingering as you pull away. “Still, don’t forget to call everyday!” “And no funny business, understood!” she says with a stern voice, turning to face Jungkook who’s ears grow slightly red. “We will be good kids, don’t worry!” you say while urging the boy out the door. “Alright, go on, have fun! And send pictures!” she yells, her expression softening as she watches the two of you step outside. “When did they grow so much?” she mumbles from the doorway. The car is already warmed up, and you can see Jungkook’s snowboard strapped securely to the roof. “Got your board, huh?” “Well, I’m planning to impress a girl, how else should I do it?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a show off.” He laughs too, before opening the passenger door for you to enter, with quick steps he gets on the other side, entering the driver’s seat. “Alright, let’s go!” he says while taking over the road. The atmosphere was cozy, the radio played Christmas carols while you enjoyed how beautiful the snow was settling onto the ground. You look to your left, admiring Jungkook’s features. The way his voice softly hums along the songs, while focused eyes never break contact with the road ahead. Jungkook glances over at you briefly, catching your gaze for a moment. "What?" he asks with a small, teasing smile. “Nothing, just admiring you.” you laugh, a little embarrassed by being caught so fast.

"It’s perfect, isn’t it? Finally some time away, just the two of us.” The way he says it, so softly, makes your heart flutter a little. You nod, settling back into your seat. “It feels like a dream, to be honest. Never thought our parents would let us go like this.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his fingers moving to gently rub your thigh. “I know, right? It feels like we’re breaking some rules.” he snickers. “Well, they probably expected this to happen sooner or later, we’ve been together for four years now. They can’t keep us apart anyway.” "But I guess they’ve been waiting for us to grow up too." you tone down your voice and Jungkook nods thoughtfully, his thumb gently brushing against your leg as he keeps his eyes on the road. “I think they trust us enough now.” he says quietly. The atmosphere around you two gets silent. You feel all grown up in a way. It kinda scares you, all these changes. You glance out the window, watching the snowflakes melt onto the glass. It feels like it’s been just yesterday, the day you fell in love with Jungkook. You were both young and stupid, not exactly knowing what love was about, but your friends started experimenting and you felt big enough to enter that path as well. You had rough patches, with ugly crying and fights, but somehow, you both always found a way back to each other. Sweet and memorable moments being much better remembered. Now, as you sit beside him, you realize how far you’ve come. How the kids who once thought that they had love came to the realisation that the meaning itself it’s much deeper. You’re no longer those two teenagers who snuck up every time they got just to share some secret kisses, or the naive couple that got so embarrassed when their parents caught them cuddling way too close on the couch. Now, you’re standing on the edge of adulthood, rushing to enter the last slope of school, and ready to take on what life has to further offer. “Have you got back any response?” “Huh?” you break out of your ‘down the memory lane’ haze, looking at Jungkook, who’s glancing at you with a curious expression. “The early college application?” “Oh, right…no, no answer yet.” you shut down the topic quickly. There’s a pause for a moment as you bite your lip in guilt. Both you and Jungkook were excellent students, because of this you decided to early apply for colleges. He got his response last week, his dream of going to one of the top universities in Korea coming true. He’s got into Yonsei. You, however…had a little secret. And you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. You had received a response for Yonsei as well, a day after his. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be accepted, the problem was that you both promised to go to the same uni, so it will be easy to move out and to look after eachother, and you were looking forward to that…until. You received a letter the day you were supposed to let your lover know about the thrilling news. One of your projects got recognition. Not just any recognition, but an offer to study abroad on a scholarship…at Harvard. 

You were thrilled when the coordinating teacher pulled you into his office to give you the good news. It was an opportunity that could shape your entire future, the kind of chance people only dream of.

The excitement was overwhelming, but the timing was bad. So you got stuck with two options, either taking your way in life, an opportunity of a lifetime, but the price you had to pay put you away from family, friends and Jungkook, or being close to your lover, but possibly, regretting not taking the chance of something so big when you had to. So, you resumed not telling Jungkook, until now…when the place needs to be confirmed and the guilt of wanting to go to Harvard instead, taking over. You took a deep breath as the car bumps along the snowy road. Jungkook glanced over at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood. “What’s wrong, love? We are almost there, do you want to make a stop? Are you not feeling good?” the boy asks, concerned.

You felt bad, you didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to feel betrayed or confused, and for sure you wanted this vacation to be perfect and memorable. 

You shake your head softly, giving him a small smile. "No, it's nothing, might be just from the excitement.” You hope the lie sounds convincing, but deep down, you know it’s the last thing you should be doing, you’ve kept this secret and lied enough. It seemed to have worked though, he shrugged and continued on the road, taking a last turn before the view of the cabin in which you will remain for the next few days began to take shape. 

The car pulls into the driveway and you eagerly jump out once the engine is silent. The crunch of the snow beneath your feet and the dancing snowflakes that were falling around you made the place seem magical. “I’ll get the bags!” Jungkook says as he lets you enjoy winter just a little more. He grins, clearly happy to see you so excited. It felt freeing, being away from everything, forgetting responsibilities for a brief second.

You get lost in the view, wandering around while your man carries everything inside. The place was beautiful, a lot of snow, and the trees were so tall you would think their peak could scrape the sky above. 

The air felt fresh and crisp, your eyes taking in the beauty of the quiet wilderness when suddenly, your foot catches on something. “Oh!” you stumble forward, arms flailing to regain balance as you fall face down into the snow. “Omg, are you okay?” you hear a voice from behind, big hands wrapping around your arms to lift you back and onto the ground. You blink, still a bit flustered, the snow melting with the warmth of your face. The boy crouches down to pick your hat, shaking the remaining frozen fluff off.

“Uh, thank you…” you shyly whisper when his hands offer back the piece of clothing. “No problem.” he laughs lightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I guess this place can be a bit tricky with all the snow and hidden rocks.”

“One minute you're admiring the view, next thing you know you’re stumbling over something. You should be more careful.” the boy beams a breathtaking smile your way making you blush in embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you softly respond trying to get away from such awkward situation. “I’m Yohan, by the way.” You nod, taking in the casual, confident vibe he gives off. “I’m Y/N.” You glance up at him, he was good looking, not better than your Jungkook, but still eye- catching. His hair was a chocolate brown color, a little messy, with bangs almost covering his eyes, and even though he was taller than your lover, his body was not as shaped. Yohan nods “Nice meeting you Y/N.” he smiles once more “If you need any tips about the area, feel free to ask. I come here at least three times a year, I know the area like the back of my hand.” You give him a polite smile before letting him lead the way back to the cabins. Once there you wave before rushing inside, your head coming in contact with Jungkook’s firm chest right before entering.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his gaze a little more focused than usual. Your cheeks burn up, but you can’t hide the fact that you are wet, cold and still full of snow. Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he looks over your frame, taking in Yohan’s back as he fades in the distance. “Did that guy do something to you?” You quickly shake your head, trying to brush off the uncomfortable tension that builds in the air. "No, no! I stumbled and fell, he only helped me up and back to this place.” you explain, forcing a smile. "That's all."

Jungkook's gaze lingers on you for a moment before pulling your frame into the house, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around you. He unzips his suitcase, putting out the first towel he sees and wrapping you in it. “You need to change, you’ll catch a cold at this rate.” You look at him throughout your lashes, looking like a wet puppy that follows his owner’s instructions after they get scolded.

"Thanks." you mutter, touched by the way he’s looking after you. You make your way toward the small bathroom to change and wash up. Jungkook watches you for a moment, still concerned over what happened. 

“Take your time love, I’ll start the fire in the meantime!” he calls out as you close the bathroom door. You breathe in deeply before getting rid of your cold clothes and stepping inside the steamy shower. 

As you step out of the bathroom, fully dressed in warm attire, you see Jungkook kneeling by the fireplace, his hands warming up in front of it. You come closer, keeling and wrapping your arms around him, from behind. Your head rests on his back while his fingers gently caress yours. 

"Feel better?" he asks without turning, making you hum, nuzzling your nose on the nape of his neck. "Much better," you reply while raising up, walking over to sit on the couch, curling your feet underneath you.

The boy watches you, before rising to his feet, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow on his features. He walks over and sits beside you, pulling you into his lap. You comply and sit in his warm arms. 

You smile when he rubs his cheek on the side of your head, his muscles flexing tighter around you. “It’s getting late.” You glance at the clock on the wall, noticing that the evening has settled in.

Jungkook gently runs his fingers through your hair, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. "Do you want to go to bed, or stay up for a bit longer?" he asks in a low tone, arms loosened up to rest on your thighs. 

You close your eyes, leaning back onto him, enjoying the slight intimacy you share. “How about we stay up a little longer.” you say once his fingers start to play with the hem of your pants. “And what do you plan on doing?” he asks, lips curving into a small grin against your neck. One of his hands slowly makes its way inside your pants, playing over the wet patch you developed on your underwear. You halt in his lap when his middle finger starts to rub little circles over your clothed clit. “Jungkook…” you whimper, making the boy shush you with a slow and tangy kiss. His two fingers dragging your wet underwear to the side to play with your slick folds. He manages to break a gasp from you when one of his digits rubs at your entrance. He slowly enters with one, ripping a loud moan from you. “Is this okay?” he manages to ask, sweat building on his forehead and the tent in his pants growing. “Y-yeah.” you manage to mutter between your moans. And as his second starts to make its way in, he knows he’s got you exactly where he wanted. 

His lips move back to your neck to suck a small, purple spot, marking what’s his. “You’re so hot, baby.” his fingers start moving faster and faster, his other hands pulling your pants down enough to access with ease. In a blink, his other fingers begin to gently rub your bundle of nerves, making you lose yourself to the feeling. Your vision clouds and a bunch of pretty stars start to appear as you let yourself go on your lover’s fingers. He drags them through your orgasm before stopping, letting you catch your breath in bliss. “You did so good, my love.” he coos, kissing your lips gently before taking his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to taste you. “Eww, Jungkook!” you both laugh as you get up from his lap, putting your underwear in place and your pants back on. You look towards your boy, his eyes praying over your figure, hard on sitting neatly on the side of his leg, the outline very visible. It’s not the first time you two do stuff like this, toying with each other. In four years you experimented when you got the chance and as puberty was also taking a toll on your hormones, you started to go even deeper down the path. From boring days at his place, when his parents were away, ending with him sloppily eating you out on the couch, to the late nights when you snuck up for a ride, after he’s got his license, just to messily blow his mind away in the back seat.

You were getting good at these things, and well, fingering, this was a newer one. Starting with him just slowly rubbing your sweet pussy to bring you to orgasm and advancing to plucking a finger or two into your tight wetness. The two of you were no strangers to intimacy, but somehow you still haven’t taken that big, big, step. You never had real sex. And deep down the both of you wanted to change that, wanting to feel the connections brew and tie you closer. You kneel down in front of him, taking the opportunity to maybe, just maybe take things a notch further. The boy licks his lips looking down at you with clouded eyes. You look up as well, asking for permission which you gladly get.

“Go on, baby.” his raspy voice makes your downstairs throb further, especially when he’s manspreading so deliciously to give you access.  

Your fingers untie the strings of his sweatpants, hand breaking in to pull out his hot cock. Tip red and leaking with fluid. You gulp stroking him a little, smearing his precum for some better lubrication. You lick your lips and bring yourself closer to his aching tip, but before you can wrap your mouth around him, a loud knock interrupts. You turn around, looking towards the door, silence. You huff thinking it was just some random noise. But when you turn back you only manage to touch his manhood with your lips before another knock, louder than the one before, stops you. You rise from the ground whining in annoyance alongside your boy. “Is this serious?! I’ll go and get it.”. Tucking a few strands of hair you make your way towards the door, while Jungkook goes to the bathroom to quickly solve his problem. “Yes?” you ask while only creaking the door slightly. You find Yohan and a random stranger at your door. “Hello, we are…oh Y/N!” his eyes sparkle when he takes a hold of your frame. “Yohan, what are you doing here? Especially this late?” you ask concerned, fully opening the door, glancing at the other man from time to time. “Well I told you I come here often. I work as a ranger, and we got notice of a blizzard so we came to announce and give supplies.”  

“The blizzard might be worse than we expect.” the ranger hops on the conversation, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not safe to be out, especially at night, and since we don’t know how long it will last, we need to be prepared.” “We’ll be fine, right?” you ask quietly. Yohan gives you a reassuring smile. “For sure, worst case you’ll have to stay in tomorrow, but other than that it’s not a major threat.” His hand comes closer to pat you on your shoulder in reassurance, but before he can reach you he stops. 

You look behind, finally taking in your boyfriend’s presence, chest puffing up and down, cheeks flustered and his hair messy wet. He looks over at you while wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay?” “Yeah, the rangers brought supplies just in case, there will be a blizzard tonight. You might not snowboard tomorrow.” His expression hardens slightly, his eyes flicking outside to see the wind blowing quicker and quicker. “There are your supplies.” Yohan abruptly interrupts, his face cold all of a sudden. He lands Jungkook an emergency bag. “Thanks, Yohan.” you say softly, making the man smile brightly at you. “Of course. Just wanted to make sure you’re prepared!” his voice is professional, but the way he was absolutely trying to ignore your boyfriend was not. 

Jungkook must have noticed too, the way his arm brings you behind him, trying to guard you. “We’ll be fine, thank you for your service.” he harshly says before shutting the door in their face. 

He exhales annoyed, his jaw tightening. “Is that the guy who helped you earlier?” His voice is steady, but there’s something behind his tone that tells you he’s not entirely fine with how things went down.

“You mean Yohan, yes, he helped me...” You take a step toward him, latching your arm on his biceps, feeling how he relaxes under your touch. “I don’t like him. The way he was looking at you was weird.” You sigh, safe to say your man was jealous and pretty possessive over things that are ‘his’, you being at the top of the list.

You stare at him before rolling his eyes. “He was just being polite…” you mumble, making the man shake his head in disapproval “Just stay away from him.”

Frustration bubbles under your skin, but you keep quiet. This is supposed to be a nice and calm vacation, arguments and jealousies should be put aside. Not wanting to pick up a fight, you just sigh and head for the bed. After a few moments of silence, you hear Jungkook’s footsteps come into the room, his body crawling next to yours. “Tell me if you feel cold, we can notch up the fire.” you hum nesting your body into his arms. 

“Tomorrow.” Jungkook starts, his head resting gently on yours, “We’ll forget about all of this and just have fun, okay? This is our vacation.” he gently kisses your head before closing his eyes, you following right after.

The next day came in quite with a halt, waking up with your man behind the sheets and between your legs. Easy to say, he knew how to make you forget about the jealousy he had the other day, having you wrapped around his finger, a little too good. 

And after a quick shower and the very blissful morning you had, you felt ready to take on the day, finding out from the radio post that the blizzard got ‘postponed’ since the weather ‘magically’ got better overnight. Jungkook had already packed up his board, his enthusiasm contagious as he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Are you that happy to go snowboarding?” you teasingly ask, making the man nod vigorously. You chuckle at his cuteness, grabbing his hand and going towards the slopes. Gearing you up as well since you didn’t have neither the equipment nor the experience in snowboarding. “I can’t wait to get up there!” Jungkook exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes, waiting for the lift to ascend up the mountain. “It’s going to be so much fun!” he says, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. On the other hand, you felt worried. The idea of heading up the mountain with Jungkook, who was so confident and pretty skilled, only made your nerves worse. 

Lost in your thought you almost don’t feel the warm glove that wraps around yours. “I’m going to help you, so don’t be nervous on me, pretty.” His words made you feel a little better, he always knows how to comfort you. Once on the lift and up the mountain you actually started to feel really scared. All the confidence he gave you peeling away at instant. “Take a deep breath, and slowly go down, I will catch you if anything happens.” And you do, the speed taking over making you fall on your bum. Jungkook urged you to get up and try again, and again…and again…until you got really bored and upset about not catching up to at least 10% of his skills. But the man was unstoppable, the energy he was putting into this could be far more effective in other places. Taking your helmet on, blowing the few strands that got stuck to your forehead you are finally at the bottom of the trail, exhausted and sweaty. 

Your boy pulls next to you with a little show, stopping so abruptly the snow flies in the air. “Up for another round?” hell no! It took you more than two hours to go down this damn slope once, all while Jungkook did at least seven runs. “Don’t even think about it, I’d rather get hot cocoa than spend another two hours breaking my bones.” he laughs loudly, coming over to pat you on the head. “I will ride some more then, stay close so I can at least keep an eye if something happens.” he pecks your red nose taking over to the lift. You shake your head in disapproval, unbuckling from the board and moving towards the nice cafe situated over so conveniently in front of the trail.

You push open the door, instantly greeted by the warmth and the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and hot pastries. It’s cozy, with wooden beams lining the ceiling and a roaring fire crackling in the corner. “One hot cocoa please!” grabbing the warm drink, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows you go outside to sit on one of the beanbags. You glance upward to spot Jungkook gliding down the slope with effortless ease, his movements fluid like water. “Enjoying the view?” a familiar voice pulls you from admiring your boyfriend. “Yohan?!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?” “Just grabbing a quick coffee before heading out to check the trails. Everything’s looking good after last night’s false blizzard alarm.” he laughs heartily, shaking his head at how ridiculous it must have been to announce a blizzard that never came. 

“Mind if I join you for a second?” he asks, his grin still in place. Before you can respond, he pulls the beanbag from across you and sits down. “So, no snowboarding for you today?” Yohan asks, signaling toward your boots, clearly unbuckled from the board. You smile softly, sipping from the hot drink. “I tried, but I’m nowhere as good as Jungkook, he’s the expert.” “Ah, I saw him earlier, the guy in full black. He’s good.” Yohan leans back, his eyes on you now. “Is he your man?” You pause mid-sip, his direct question catching you off guard. “Yes, he is.” “Seems like a real thrill seeker. How can you handle all that?” You bite your lip, unsure how to answer. "How can I handle all that?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "It's not really about handling it. I just let him be himself." You shrug, hoping to sound nonchalant. Was he only making conversation or was he trying to pick at your boyfriend? 

"Looks like he's having fun." Yohan observes, his gaze following the boy. "Yeah." you say, bothered by the way his subject was Jungkook "He's good at what he does." you whisper under your breath. “I wish I could go like that too, but being a ranger takes way too much of my time.”

“Plus it’s hard to get in touch with people, this is a resort so everyone just comes and goes, maybe once in a while I see familiar faces.”  He shrugs, slight disappointment leaching on his voice. "It must be tough, having to be away from family…” you stop for a second “and friends.” bitterness erupts in your chest, speaking so carefree about how hard it is to be away from everyone when you are about to do the same to the people you love. "Yeah, it can be. Sometimes I just wish I had a moment to kick back, you know?” He pauses, glancing over at you with a small smile. “But it’s also fun to meet the ones that come once in a lifetime.” You look at him with wide eyes, some blush creeping on your cheeks. You try to gather yourself, clearing your throat before taking a big gulp from your cup. "Sometimes it's the people you don’t expect that end up being the most memorable." he says looking over the slopes once again, seeing Jungkook rush down at full speed. “I think it’s time to go, your boyfriend is coming. Nice speaking with you, hope to see you later!” he says with a light grin and a wave, his eyes flicking to Jungkook, who’s now near the bottom of the hill. 

As Yohan walks away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away, and focus on the sight of your boyfriend, taking off his goggles and helmet, looking seemingly pissed.

Jungkook stops just a few feet away, his gaze sharp, looking the way Yohan left. "Was that Yohan?" he asks, the words coming out in a low tone that sends unease through your spine. You blink, surprised at how quick he catches on. "Yeah, we were just chatting over some drinks.” His tongue pushes the inside of his cheek, and his hands drag furiously through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Jungkook, it’s nothing." you say in defence, trying to reassure him, seeing the jealousy spark up within, once again. "We were just talking, that’s all." He avoids your glance and exhales sharply. “I told you to stay away from that prick, he’s no good.” You have enough of his behavior. Pushing your feet on the ground you rise from your seat. “You’re just really jealous. He’s not doing anything to me other than chatting every now and then.” Sensing your anger Jungkook tones down "I don’t like it when other guys get too close to you." he admits through gritted teeth “Especially since I’m not around.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the drink you had long forgotten into the snow. “Forget it, it’s not like it will ever get through your thick skull.” you whisper the last part out of anger and frustration, but your actions only fire up the boy even more. “What did you say? Tell that to my face if you feel so bold.” His tone is low, dangerous, as he steps toward you. Tall frame towering over your much smaller one. 

“I said it’s never going to get through to you.” you snap back, refusing to back down. You were temperamental, such an attitude and behaviour leading to many hurts along the way. “I’m not some helpless girl who needs to be guarded from every guy I talk to, Jungkook!” the boy flinches at your words, clearly taken aback from you being so forward and mean. You can tell he’s hurt, but the anger in him isn’t entirely gone either. “I’m not saying you’re helpless.” he huffs ”I care about you, I care about what’s mine an…” but you take it further, cutting his sentence without a care. “Yours? Me? Do I look like some possession to you?” It felt surreal, the way he can easily talk about you like you were some kind of object he owned. 

Jungkook freezes, his expression dropping, the anger in his eyes faltering as well. His lips part, but no words come out at first, he must have realised the way his sentence came out. 

“Wait.” he starts, his voice rushed, panic setting in. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that.” You take a step back, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “How can you say such absurd stuff?” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly fighting to say the right stuff. Silence takes over you two, you had nothing left to say while he had so much but didn’t know how to piece it together without starting a disaster. 

In the end you sigh, wiping away a few tears that drop before turning your back saying “Do whatever you want.” and leaving.

Jungkook doesn’t call out, doesn’t try to stop you, fueled by so many emotions, he only kicks his board away in anger before collecting himself for a few more runs down the trail, he needs to take his mind away.

And there he goes, once more and once more, until the sun goes down and the only lights are the ones from the post lamps. He was exhausted, burning his body throughout the day as never before. “This is the last one.” he says to himself, ready to take over the much quiet and deserted trail. The events from today playing over and over in his head, not letting him enjoy one second of his time. In a way he thought this was the only way of punishing himself over how he reacted and acted towards you. He loves you dearly, years of getting to know each other and build trust making him never forget to cherish and desire you. But he also has his flaws, the jealousy his body conserves makes him petty, only wanting you for himself, sick to his stomach when he sees other men pray over your pretty figure. So he does stupid stuff, hurts you and then hurts himself so he can be selfish once again and drag you back with pity. The boy sighs, not wanting to go down knowing in the end he will have to face you. He can already picture your worried face and the way you start to cry and beat him over the fact that he’s let himself push the limits so hard. And then he will drag you into his arms and cuddle you close, reminding you that you’re everything he needs and no other thing, not even air, is necessary for him to survive. Your presence and worry blooming pride into his soul. With clouded thoughts he goes down the snowy terrain, the adrenaline rushing into his body when the picture of you, waiting in front of the door for him, runs in his mind. He’s so lost in the delusion that he barely takes hold of the person in front of him. Panic sets when he finally notices, he tries to turn himself or, at least, get slower, but in vain. With a grunt he runs over the person, falling on top. He scrambles to push himself off. “Are you really that blind? Or are you just dumb!” an irritated feminine voice breaks down from underneath. He quickly rolls over, detaching the board from his feet. “I, u-uh” the boy stammers when his eyes meet the fierce ones of a woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run you over.” “What were you even doing, playing a game of human bowling?!” her words were piercing through him, making the heat rise to his cheeks. The man quickly apologizes once again, his hand extending to help the young girl out.

She huffs, getting up herself and dusting her clothes to get rid of the snow. “Such an idiot.” “I said I’m sorry, okay! Are you hurt, though?” The woman’s gaze softens slightly at his question, but she crosses her arms. “No, I’m fine. Just...maybe watch where you’re going next time.” she mutters, the silence taking over for a brief second before both of them begin to chuckle. “It was stupid of me to do this, I should’ve gone down earlier, I don’t think my body can handle another slope. Not my brightest moment.” Jungkook takes off his helmet as the tension melts away. The woman adjusts her jacket and laughs lightly. “I saw you today, you are pretty good.” “You think?” she quickly fixes her goggles before rolling her eyes at his cocky tone. “Yeah, I didn't think you’d run into someone the moment it turns dark. At least you owned up to it and apologised.” “How can I not, you were ready to chew me out.” the boy admits with a stupid grin and a teasing tone. “Very good one, I’m Naeun.” she adds, extending her hand. “Jungkook.” he clasps her hand, shaking it. “Should we go down together? It’s only a few meters and we are at the bottom.” Naeun questions, raising her brows while looking at Jungkook. “Sure, but only if you have some good tips for my next rides.” she laughs at his boldness. “I work here as a trainer, you could say I’m a pro rider.” she winks playfully, setting Jungkook’s body on fire, leaving him speechless. “Pro rider, huh?” he manages to say, clearing his throat, looking away in embarrassment. “You’ve got the speed, but your technique could use some work. I can teach you some tricks tomorrow, I’m free in the afternoon since the kids only come in the morning.” “I’ll give it a shot.” he confidently responds, the girl only hums. “Think you can handle taking lessons from me though? Pretty boy.” Jungkook chokes on his saliva, coughing as the girl bursts into laughter.

“See you tomorrow, pretty boy. Don’t run into others until we meet, it would not work to snowboard with a broken leg.” Naeun teases before waving her arm, her figure disappearing in the distance. Jungkook watches her walk away before muttering an “wow” in disbelief. His worries dissipate and reappear when he gets inside, and instead of facing you with a furious face, ready to strike him down, he meets silence. 

“Y/N.” he quietly calls while looking for you. Not in the living room, bathroom or kitchen. So you must be in bed by now. Jungkook jumps over the stairs entering the room with quiet steps. Sighing when he sees you wrapped around in the blanket like a burrito. He gets closer to your face, looking at how puffy and tired your closed eyes were, guilt getting into him knowing he let you here cry instead of manning up, sorting things out. His chest tightens but as he leans closer, brushing some hairs out of your face. “I’m such an idiot.” he mutters under his breath when he gets into the bed, next to you. Even in your sleep, you seem to instinctively lean into his warmth, your body moving to stick to his side. Jungkook smiles, turning his body to hold you before drifting off to sleep. The morning air feels cold on his skin. He rustles around searching for your body heat, just to be met with emptiness.

His brows furrowed as he sat up, looking around for any trace of you. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face before waddling out of the bedroom, the cabin met with silence. 

He lazily gets dressed, his body aching from every spot after yesterday’s push over. Determined to make things right, he grabs his jacket and steps outside, eyes scrunching in displeasure when the white of the snow blinds him. The steps he takes feel heavy, legs unknowingly taking him somewhere through the thick fluff. Jungkook’s gaze darts around, scanning the territory for any sign of you, the heartfelt laughter of your voice being heard in the distance catching his attention.

He quickened his pace, body drawn to see you. As he rounds a small cluster of pine trees his gaze bores on your figure, small body trying to push a big ball of snow around.

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his breath clouding the air as he watches you, a mixture of amusement and relief on his features. He’s ready to take one step towards you, when Yohan erupts from behind a tree, his arms carrying another boulder of snow. Your laughter echoes again when your eyes meet him, surprise written all over when the man sets down the big globe. 

“Perfect, right?” Yohan asks, dusting off his gloves and stepping back to admire his work, a triumphant smile on his face. “Don’t you think it’a a little too big? How will we lift this?” You beam at him, cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. “Teamwork.” Yohan says with a wink, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Jungkook only looks from afar, his heart burning worse than his body when he acknowledges how easy can Yohan make you smile with joy. He knows he should walk over and maybe beat him up real good, roll him into all the snow your little hands collected and make him the snowman instead. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns around with a shaky breath and tears blazing his eyes. “Hey! Pretty boy, whatcha doing there?” Naeun's voice beams from afar, her body agitating to make her presence noticed. Jungkook quickly wipes at his eyes trying to fight back the smile Naeun just put on his face. He walks over to her just to see a hoard of kids going down in a line. “Your students?” he raises a brow flashing her a smile. “Yea, good kids. Smart too.”  she replies, a proud glint in her eyes. “They’ve been asking me for tips all day. Pretty sure I’ll have them doing jumps by the end of the week.” “I need to get my jumps sorted as well, I’ve only been falling until now.” the boy says, lighting up his mood, taking his head away from all the drama in his love life. “Don't worry, I'll whip you into shape soon.” she chuckles to herself “I’m done for today so if you want, grab your board and let’s hop on.” "Alright, let's do this," he says, his competitive side itching for the chance to show off, the frustration he had when he saw you with Yohan dissipating away in a blink. He grabs his gears and dresses up, and after 20 minutes he meets Naeun for the start of his training. And they have fun for like two hours on the slopes. Jungkook managed to land even some of the harder jumps, as well as actually teach Naeun a trick or two himself. “Man, you’re really good. A quick learner, I’m impressed.” the girl says breathless, letting her body fall into a pile of snow. Jungkook laughs trying to catch his breath as well. “You’re not bad yourself.” He says with tired but sparkling eyes. Naeun stares at him, her cheeks getting brighter and probably not from the cold or exercising. She opens her mouth to say something, but it’s interrupted by the loud growl of her stomach.

Now visibly flustered she dismounts from the boards, looking away embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to eat today, the kids came earlier than expected.” “I’m kinda hungry too, didn’t have breakfast either and it’s launch time already.” he motions to his belly, rubbing it. "How about we grab something to eat together? I think we’ve earned it after all that snowboarding." Naeun hesitates for a second before asking, afraid she’s going to get turned down. "You know what, I think that sounds great." Jungkook replies without a care, making her face light up with relief. "Really? Great!" she grabs his arm, dragging him to the nearby restaurant. "I could eat a whole mountain of food after today." Jungkook says with a chuckle, setting his snowboard beside him as he settles into the seat. Naeun rolls her eyes but grins. "I’m pretty sure I could too. Ramen? Or some Tteokbokki?” She flips through the menu, clearly eager for something hot.

"Definitely ramen for me." Jungkook responds quickly, his mind already set on it. The two of them sat in their order, chatting away happily, enjoying each other's presence.

On the other side, you recharge your battery after yesterday’s fight with some snowman building alongside Yohan. “It was really fun, I hope it will never melt away.” Yohan chuckles ruffling your hair. You two grew pretty close this morning. Apparently he is 22 years old, and only an assistant ranger. He comes from far away to spend his time around these places since he enjoys nature. You two were not similar, but your personalities did match pretty well, his presence being one big breath of fresh air. And after exhausting yourselves all morning with collecting and rolling snow, you two decided to walk back to the cabins and get back to your daily lives, actually wanting to set things right with your boyfriend.

As the cabins come into view, Yohan suddenly slows his pace, his gaze shifting toward the restaurant nearby. “Hey…” he says cautiously, pointing his finger toward the large glass windows. “Isn’t that Jungkook?” Following his finger you look towards the restaurant, your heart halting in your chest when you notice him smiling and listening with so much attention to the girl from across. “That’s him, right?” Yohan asks again, showing mild concern when your face drops. 

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, your hands tightening around your gloves. Yohan studies your face some more, feeling sorry seeing you like this. “Who even is that girl?” you mutter. “Naeun.” the boy responds hesitantly. “She’s a worker here, teaching kids how to snowboard.”

You can’t help but have jealousy bloom inside of you, the way her bob sways when she laughs a little too much at whatever your boyfriend was saying, or how she offers a bite of her food for him to try with shimmering eyes. They looked at a real couple. 

“You okay?” Yohan’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you were not okay, you were fuming.

So that’s what he’s been doing all along while you were consuming yourself in the cabin, flirting so carefree with other girls. “I’m going there.” you say through gritted teeth, your fingers suffocating the gloves with your clench. Yohan’s eyes widen and alarmed he tries to stop you from making a scene. But you’re too far gone, already half a meter away from him. 

The door swings open with a soft jingle as you step inside and you don’t hesitate as you stride to their table, making your presence noticed in an instant. Your boyfriend jumps in his seat when he sees you cross your arms, glance throwing daggers his and Naeun’s way. “So this is your way of making up?” you ask repulsed. He only leans back, clicking with his tongue. “Ask yourself, or are you too caught up with Yohan?” Your jaw tightens at the mention of Yohan, anger flaring in your chest. “You’re just, absolutely the worst, trying to turn this shit on me when the only problem is you.” he raises from his seat, gaining the attention of the people around. “Hey, let’s not make a scene.” Naeun intervenes only to be immediately shut down. “I’m the problem now? Not you who’s been basically drooling over that Yohan guy.” you clench your fist on your sides, your body shaking with the anger he makes you feel. You bite your lips, wiping away your tears “I don’t even know what to do anymore.” you say in front of him. Jungkook’s expression softens in an instant, his heart skipping a beat. His own hands starting to shake thinking the worst all of a sudden. But you just shake your head, leaving him there in guilt and sorrow. For the next day you avoid each other, him sleeping on the couch while you drain yourself of tears in the bedroom. What a beautiful vacation.

The two of you took different paths all of a sudden, Jungkook spending his days on the hill with Naeun while you helped Yohan with everything you could. It was the recipe of a disaster, and it was clearly affecting your relationship. With now only 2 days to spare and a relationship that is about to collapse. It’s clear that something needs to change, but neither of you knows how to start fixing it.

As the snow began to gradually fall, Jungkook’s heavy steps could be heard. Another day on the slope for the snowboarder, now almost ending.

His body was a wreck, broken from a mixture of exhaustion, the leakage of your relationship and probably the discomfort of the couch, all piling up. He does not know if he can keep this up till the end of the getaway. His body might actually give up if he keeps this further. 

With a sigh, he pushes himself forward again, carving through the snow, until he’s met with the body of another guy. “Are you planning on dying tonight?” the sarcastic voice of Yohan ruptures through Jungkook’s ears. “Only if you go first.” he responds with the same token. “I genuinely feel pity when I look at you.” the older male starts. The younger one just rolls his eyes, bumping him with his shoulder in order to continue on his road. “I genuinely don’t know what she sees in you.” “I don’t know either.” Jungkook mutters, more to himself than to Yohan. “No, Y/N deserves so much better than an idiot like you, but she’s crazy blind when it comes to you.” he starts, finally letting his own thoughts out. “I don’t need a lecture from you.” Jungkook bites, his back still turned to Yohan. “You do, because you have her, and if you don’t want me to steal her away, then maybe you can start fixing things and actually appreciating her.” “You know, Y/N is an amazing girl, she’s kind and very loyal to an idiot like you.” his hands raise to grab the bridge of his nose in frustration, not believing that instead of taking the chance he gives it back to the very undeserving owner. “And she likes to build snowmans, and drink hot cocoa. She’s also super smart, knows more about the forest than I do, and she’s about to go to Harvard for human’s sake. She’s absolutely perfect, why do you waste her time!” he shouts in anger, eyes almost popping off from rage. “She’s not going to Harvard, she’s going to Yonsei.” a very confused Jungkook turns around and says. “Oh.” it’s the only thing Yohan can spit out, he’s messed up…big time. “Why do you say she’s going to Harvard, we promised we will go to the same uni.” Yohan lets out a slow breath, realizing how serious and delicaye this is. “I guess she didn’t tell you then…” ashamed he bites his lips. Jungkook turns back and makes a run towards the cabin, dropping his board and other gear in the process. He shoves the door open, taking you by surprise. You just got out of the shower and ready for a cozy night in bed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he questions failing to stop the tears falling from his eyes. “What?” you ask in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Harvard!” he sobs. You freeze, the towel around your shoulders slipping and falling on the ground. “I-I can explain, it's not what you think.”

“This is selfish even for you, Y/N. You promised…” 

You can’t mutter another word, tears burning into your eyes just as well and all you do is stay and stare at the man who’s going through the worst time of his life. “So this is really the end?” he asks, pleading for an answer, the raw pain in his eyes ripping your heart apart. His breath comes out shaky, his lips quivering. 

Jungkook stands there for a long moment, his chest rising and falling, and without another word, he walks away from you and back outside, shutting the door close after him. 

For him reality hits, a reality in which he couldn’t keep you close, managing to only push you away further and further. You also bite down on your feelings, mixed emotions running free in your body and head. He didn’t deserve all of this either. And your jealousies and misunderstandings only made you grow apart. Letting your body crumble on the ground sitting there for countless minutes, with tears running down your face, you look towards the door in hopes of his head peeking inside, and instead of the sorrowful eyes, a big and comforting smile to appear on his face.  Suddenly, the sound of the wind howling outside cuts through the room, making your eyes avert to the window. It’s already dark outside and the snow starts thickening. You stand up slowly, grabbing your phone to text Yohan, but just as the thought crosses your mind, you receive a message from him. “Be careful. It’s turning into a blizzard out there. Stay inside, both you and Jungkook.” A big lump fills your throat, your body moving before your mind has a chance to fully process anything. You slip on your boots, grabbing your jacket as you rush out the door.

The wind hits you like a wall, your eyes scrunching in pain. You can barely see anything through the thick snow, but you push forward, your heart pounding in your chest, you need to find Jungkook. This has escalated to unimaginable proportions. The storm outside perfectly mirroring the way you both consumed yourself for the last few days. It doesn’t take long for you to find him. His body collapsed in the snow. “Jungkook!” you shout, but the wind nearly swallows your voice. You rush and kneel next to his body, shaking him in desperation. “You idiot!” you cry, pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around, trying to warm him up. With all the power you have, you pull him onto your back, dragging him back to the cabin. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, you make it to the door. You can barely catch your breath as you kick it open, throwing both your bodies inside. 

With all your remaining strength, your lungs burning from inside out, you strip him of his wet clothes, placing your head over his chest. His heart was beating. A rush of peace washes over you, with shaky arms you grab him close, cuddling him close to your warmth. “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be fine.” you keep whispering while gently stroking his hair, holding him like your life depends on it. After good minutes you let go when you feel him starting to stir and cough. His eyes barely opening. “Am I in heaven?” “Only if you still think I’m an angel.” you reply thick with emotion. He raises his hand, placing it on your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were falling. “The prettiest angel I’ve ever seen.” You sigh relieved, sticking your forehead onto his. Both of you lay there for some good minutes, before managing to drag him to the room and changing into comforting clothes you hold him close as he sleeps, promising yourself to never do this again. Morning comes slowly, the raging blizzard still ongoing. You wake up first, feeling the weight of your man on top of you, his chest coming slowly up and down. You stare at the ceiling for a few moments, processing how close you were to losing him. “Morning.” he says softly, his voice rough making you look back at him. “My body aches.” he whispers with a smile. “I’m sure it does, you also burned yourself these days.” his hands cup your cheek, lips sweetly coming closer to peck yours. “We are dumb, and we made a mess out of something that was supposed to be memorable.”  Jungkook's thumb brushes over the exposed skin on your chest, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m sorry for everything, baby.”  “You don’t need to apologize. It’s also my fault. so sorry as well.” you whisper back to him. “Harvard huh?” he raises a brow questioning you with a tease. You laugh and shake your head. “Yonsei.” The boy rises from your chest, surprised eyes looking at you. “Are you serious?” “Yes, I already confirmed.” you shyly admit.

He laughs softly, throwing his back on his pillow and pulling you on top of him instead. “Why? This was a crazy life opportunity.”  “True, but…I realised after all this that no school or opportunity can make me go away from you. Yonsei is still top tier, I won’t lose that much, I won’t lose you.” Jungkook looks at you with stars in his eyes. “I love you.” he says in a heartbeat, you smile coming closer to him. “I love you too.” His lips slowly mold onto yours, moving slightly to kiss you so good. You gently bite his lip making him whine in the process, his moves growing eager. With a swing he pushes your body under him, lips attacking yours even more. “Fuck, I love you so much.” he whispers onto them, his fingers latching onto the first buttons of your pajama, taking them down. “I love you, and I love you, I can’t live without you, you drive me crazy Y/N.” “Then don’t.” you say softly once his lips start sucking on your neck. “Make me yours forever, Jungkook.” A low growl erupts from his chest at the thought. Claiming you as his, him being your first man and you being his only woman. His brain was fogging with desire. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he mumbles on your breast making you whimper. “Yes, please.” “You can’t back down on your words, just so you know.” he trails his lips lower, stopping at the hem of your pants, looking up for approval. You bite your lips half lidded, nodding simply as he complies. Jungkook takes a deep stare at your glistening pussy. “All mine.” is the only thing he says before he lowers his head to lick a long stripe through your folds. You moan loud, latching your fingers into his soft hair, pulling him closer to your warm core. “Mmm, my pretty girl, tasting so good.” he mumbles over your clit. The bliss becoming way too much to handle once the tip of his tongue starts moving rapidly at your entrance. “I’m coming, fuck!” you warn him, but he does not care, dragging his tongue through and out your orgasm. With shimmering lips he emerges from between your legs. His face just as fucked up as yours. “Should I stop?” he questions without the desire to actually do so. You shake your head, dragging his pants by the front. “No, I want you all.” you mewl, making the man lower his head whining. He turns around for a second, getting out to search through his suitcase. Coming back he throws an unopened pack of condoms next to your body. “You, oh my God.” you manage to say in disbelief. “Were you planning this all along?” you question, still not over your blowing height. “Maybe…” he manages to cockily say, slipping back between your legs, pantless. You reach out, grabbing his already throbbing cock, slowly moving to kiss him while stroking up and down. “Such a menace.” Sitting back down and spreading wider under him, you look at how he slightly struggles to unwrap the condom, his focused gaze and red hot cock, standing so proud and waiting ready, making you drool. “Need help, baby?” it’s not like you’ll be better, but maybe you can figure it out together, however his answer is a straight “No”. Once he gets it on, he leads his covered tip at your entrance. You hold your breath in anticipation and slight worry. “Tell me if it hurts, we can always stop.” he smiles and grabs one of your hands for some extra emotional support. You close your eyes expectant, feeling him slowly push inside and past the first ring of your walls before stopping. He stays still for a second before letting a small grunt pass out, making you open your eyes in worry. “Everything okay?” you ask concerned, staring at how his chest tries to even up, his breath rages as he shamefully admits “I came.”

You stare, blinking a few times, trying to process what he’s just told you, finally realising when he pulls out, the condom filled with white cream.

“Don’t laugh!” he whines seeing you hide your face into the pillow. You didn’t want to embarrass or make him insecure, potentially ruin his view on sex, but the way he was so cute and flustered, desperately trying to change the condom, made you grin in adoration.

“Let me help this time.” you say, pushing your body up, grabbing another foil from the box. You gently roll it over his member, while the man whimpers from sensitivity, his cock still hard as a rock even though he only came a few moments ago.

Once ready to try again, you lay back down and with a big gulp of air he pushes in, this time easing himself more and more, until his pelvis touches yours.

You can only grunt in pain and mild pleasure, but his reassuring touches and slow pace makes it somewhat enjoyable.

He slowly drags his member through your walls, until only his tip sits inside, gasping every time you clench around him, feeling like your tightness can rip him every second.

It sadly only takes a few minutes for you two to reach bliss, your nails clawing at his back and him deliciously and much easier stretching you out. Both of you come down your height with a big and loud moan.

Jungkook pulls out, looking proudly at his spill, sitting warm under the protection, while you try to catch your breath with happiness flowing through your veins.

“Is this forever?” he looks at you with love in his eyes.

“Forever.” you whisper back with just as much sentiment, sealing your love with a heartfelt kiss.

In the end, you realized that the world outside may change you, and challenges may come, but it’s these moments, with his eyes on yours and both of your hearts beating for each other, that really matter.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER SEVEN

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 5.5k notes: she master on my list til i chapter seven (im sorry i dont know what this is anymore) ummm im apologizing in advance for this chapter, it's pretty crucial but the first half is kinda buns and also i wish tess kennedy was real because she'd would stream the fuck out of crybaby by sza like thats her song. last chapter of angst but next chapter is tournaments and march madness and shit and we all know what happened so idk if its angst ? i just work here man. merry christmas eve btw, expect something later tonight to make up for this chapter 🎅 as always i hope we enjoy 🫶

‘Home for the Holidays’

November and December are hailed as the happiest times of the year. In November, families from all over reunite for Thanksgiving and toast to good times. December is home to Christmas and New Year’s Eve, where families bond over gift-giving and their shared hope for a successful year ahead. These two months are the most festive times of the year, but basketball fans are celebrating the holidays with new reasons to be thankful and joyous – Tess Kennedy and Paige Bueckers.

If you have been following us for a while, you may remember their long-awaited hard launch in June of 2023. They had a quiet few months between July and November, although those were incredibly busy times for the student athletes. Between summer practices, traveling, the start of the fall semester, and the start of the new basketball season, social media candids were far and between, although Bueckers and Kennedy certainly spoiled us during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s.

Per their social medias, Kennedy spent Thanksgiving with the extended Bueckers family in Minnesota. She was only there for a few days, but the content was limitless – Bueckers’s sister, Lauren Fuller, shared a photo of Bueckers and Kennedy cuddled up in an armchair on Thanksgiving Day; similarly, Bueckers herself shared a family photo (which included Kennedy) where the entire family wore traditional, festive sweaters. Her caption was simple, only reading “Thankful 🙏”.

Throughout December, fans speculated if Bueckers and Kennedy would spend Christmas together. While it appears they spent Christmas Day separately with their families, Bueckers flew out to New York to spend the last three days of the year with Kennedy. They shared photos of their gifts – a sentimental bracelet charm for Kennedy and a rose thumb ring for Bueckers – then spent New Year’s Eve in New York City to watch the Times Square Ball Drop. A fan who was present in Times Square at the moment wrote to us and shared that Bueckers and Kennedy were each other’s New Year’s Kiss, although they disappeared shortly after midnight.

As the Gamecocks gear up to host the Huskies in early February, fans are eagerly awaiting the clash of the dynasties. Kennedy has not yet been cleared for play, but many supporters feel as though this matchup is a house divided. Critics question how Bueckers and Kennedy will be able to handle the pressure of competing against one another now that they are together, though a greater majority argue that they are mature enough to not let their relationship interfere with the game. Marriage politics aside, we are eagerly awaiting this thrilling match up between South Carolina and Connecticut, and cannot wait to see what February 11th has in store for us.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

FEBRUARY 2024

To no one’s surprise at all, Tess and Paige don’t talk about New Year’s.

Tess knows how she feels about Paige. She’s not concerned about her feelings suddenly changing for Paige overnight, not after how nice New York was in general. It was the first time they’d truly spent romantic, alone time out in public without regard for the press. New York was crowded – they walked down the streets late at night and many didn’t care to bother them. They had sat in a secluded spot during dinner where they flirted all night, toeing the line between pretend and for real. When they watched the ball drop, they were in a pretty secluded place, too, and most of the crowd was full of a bunch of inebriated party-goers. Tess had an amazing time in New York, and if anything, her feelings for Paige only got worse and harder to hide.

The issue is Paige doesn’t mention anything. At all. It’s like it didn’t even happen. If Tess didn’t spend almost every minute of every day thinking about it, thinking about how Paige kissed her fucking scar and said she was beautiful, then she’d worry that she just imagined it all. It’s agonizing because she knows where she stands but she just can’t figure out how to ask Paige about it. She can’t just call her up and say something like, hey, remember how you fucked me within an inch of my life on New Year’s? Did that mean anything to you? That was not happening. So, here they are – back at square one.

Things are fine the first week of January. They text where they can. Coach Staley is slowly working Tess back into practice. Her past few months of PT have been full of insurmountable growth and Tess feels better than she has in ages. She’s so close to getting back on the court, and when she’s not stressing about her situation with Paige (which she stresses about pretty often), all she can think about is how quickly March is approaching and how soon she’ll be back playing. A new basketball redshirting rule had been finalized – an athlete would be able to play up to five games after suffering an early injury (whether it be offseason, preseason, or early in the regular season) that forces them to miss most of the season and still hold on to an extra year of eligibility if they healed completely before the end of the season. It seemed situational on paper, but Tess passed the board consideration with ease after she demonstrated that she was in good health and her doctor confirmed that she’d be fully healed and safe to play by March.

So with Tess getting busier, and knowing that Paige is incredibly busy, too, she doesn’t think too much of it when they text once or twice a day. A good morning here, a how’s practice? there. Things aren’t bad. They’re just…okay, which is strange. It’s like they don’t know how to act around each other. Tess is sure she knows why. She shouldn’t have been so sure that her relationship with Paige would stay the same after they had sex, because why would it? They could argue they were blurring the lines when they’d nap together and kiss, but now, the line isn’t even there and everything is just so confusing. 

Tess microdoses a crash out the entirety of January. She can tell that something is wrong but nothing is wrong at the same time. Paige pretends like nothing has changed. Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe this is what happens when you let yourself fall in love with someone you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship with. This is what happens when you agree to casual and then you can’t keep it casual. She let her feelings for Paige get out of hand and now she’s facing the repercussions of that. The worst part is that the only person Tess can actually be mad at is herself. It’s not Paige’s fault that she’s funny and kind and charming and beautiful and sarcastic and gentle and intense and magnetic and literally everything Tess didn’t even know she wanted in a partner until she allowed herself to yearn for something more. Bree and Kamilla warned her – they told her she needed to focus on recovery, not Paige; they told her she couldn’t get caught up in her, and against her better judgement, she did. Now, everything is messy, and the only person at fault is Tess.

Then February comes around. South Carolina was set to host Connecticut on the 11th. Maybe she and Paige would be able to talk after the game and finally get their minds straight.

Or so Tess hoped.

FEBRUARY 11, 2024

Tess spends the entirety of warm-ups nervous as hell. Her shot is off, her handles weak. She’s thankful she’s not playing in this game because at the rate she’s bricking, she’d lose the game for South Carolina by the second quarter. Eventually, she gives up on shooting and decides to rebound for Raven and Bree. That doesn’t go well either. Standing under the basket puts Paige directly in her line of vision, and tearing her eyes off of her is a task easier said than done. The last time they saw each other in person was at the airport on New Year’s Day. Tess knows she’s standing only a court away from the same Paige who’d carried her into the bathroom when her legs didn’t work, though part of her wonders what happened in the month they were gone that would make her doubt that. Her hair is up in the same game day style that Tess knows so well by now, her face impassive, the gleam of sweat shining under the arena lights. Tess can’t look away. Part of her wants Paige to look at her, to give her something to work with, but Raven draws her out of her thoughts with an impatient ball to the ass.

“Ouch!” Tess exclaims, rubbing her cheek, although it didn’t really hurt. She watches Raven bend down to grab the ball with a smirk on her face.

“I know you ain’t playing, but some of us are, and we’d appreciate it if you stopped making bedroom eyes at your girl,” Raven sasses. She shoots the ball from the free throw line and it swishes in seamlessly. Tess catches it as it falls and passes it back her way.

“I am not making bedroom eyes,” Tess grumbles. Raven huffs out something akin to laughter, backing up to shoot the ball from the top of the key. It clangs off the rim and Tess smiles at her. “Karma,” she says as she passes it back. “That’s why we be nice to Tess Kennedy.”

“Tess Kennedy needs to be nice to us and lock the fuck in,” Raven states, shooting again. It goes in and Tess passes it back. “Y’all been together, what – eight months now, nine? This long and y’all actin’ like a middle school couple?”

Tess rolls her eyes, blushing, but she doesn’t entertain the conversation anymore. “I’m not playing. I don’t need to lock in. You need to worry about getting the ball through the net and not my love life.”

“Damn,” Raven says, kissing her teeth. “I get it now. You need to get laid.”

“Do you want a rebounder or not?”

Raven, blessedly, shuts up, but Tess casts one last glance across the court. Paige is sitting on the Huskies’ bench, her pant leg rolled up while a shorter woman kneels in front of her and prods at her knee. Tess almost thinks nothing of it until she watches a smile spread across Paige’s face, the way the woman’s hand lingers on her leg as she looks up, a beaming expression of her own on her face. Oh, Tess thinks. Okay.

Bree has been right about every single thing she’s ever said to Tess and Tess was stupid enough to sit there and think that Bree was overreacting. The humiliation burns low in her gut, but combined with anger, a deep sadness, and a thick terror, Tess feels like she’s going to be sick.

She barely pays attention to the game once it starts. She locks in for the first few possessions – South Carolina wins the tip-off, Te-Hina scores, then Paige scores, then Te-Hina with a three-pointer. South Carolina ends the first quarter in the lead, 19-11. It should make her happy, it’s her team, but the sudden tension between her and Paige makes her queasy. By halftime, South Carolina still holds a healthy lead, 44-30. Tess follows her team and her coach into the locker room, glancing once more at Paige as she regroups with her team, and she can’t help but feel like something’s wrong.

Tess doesn’t listen to anything Coach says while they’re in the locker room, lost in nervous thought. Halftime passes, then she’s back on the bench for the third quarter, her knee bouncing up and down. The quarter passes. 69-44 South Carolina. The fourth quarter starts. It ends. 83-65 South Carolina. When the final buzzer and her team celebrates, Tess can’t find it in herself to be happy about it. Bree and Raven jostle her, cheering, but her eyes are firmly locked on Paige, who stands from the bench to receive her teammates.

They line up for handshakes. When Tess and Paige reach each other, Paige doesn’t even glance at her, half-heartedly saying, “Good game,” and Tess scoffs loudly. That finally gathers Paige’s attention, whose head snaps back to look at Tess indignantly, but Tess is over it. She moves on, annoyance and fear simmering beneath her skin. If that’s the game that Paige wants to play, then Tess will play.

She gathers her belongings from the locker room in record time, telling Bree to not wait up for her as she walks through the halls briskly. Her phone has been blowing up ever since the pressers ended. Knowing that the countless text messages and missed calls are from Paige, she pays it no mind as she silences her phone so she can return to her apartment in peace. Paige had a month to suddenly remember she cared about her. She had the entirety of the afternoon – yes, they were opponents, and Tess would be content to leave it at that if she knew there wasn’t something else going on. She wasn’t born yesterday despite the fact that Paige seems to think so.

When Tess finally makes it back to her apartment, she leaves her duffle bag in her room as she makes her way into the kitchen to make some coffee. The caffeine will undoubtedly make sleep difficult, but Tess can’t find it within herself to care. She’s nearly shaking from rage because what the fuck is even going on? Things were weird – she made her peace with that, but this cold shoulder bullshit is getting old, fast, and Tess doesn’t even know where they went wrong.

The coffee trickles out of the Keurig and Tess stares at it numbly. It finishes, then she dumps sugar and creamer inside and stirs. It burns her tongue when she drinks it, but Paige has her so pissed off she barely registers it. She needs food, or a hot shower, or maybe a couple episodes of TV to get her mind off of the last few weeks of bullshit. Before she can sit down, there’s a few impatient knocks at the front door.

Tess sighs, thinking Bree had forgotten her keys, but when she opens it, she wishes she’d checked the peephole first. Paige stands outside with an obviously annoyed expression, and Tess is honestly tempted to shut the door on her. Paige beats her to the chase. “Let me in,” she says, her tone not indicative of a request. “I’m not havin’ this conversation out here.”

Tess laughs again, mostly in disbelief, but lets Paige inside and shuts the door. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to do a whole lot of talking earlier,” she points out.

Paige rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Is that really what you’re pissed about? I didn’t talk to you before the game?”

“Okay, this is what we’re doing?” Tess demands. “Don’t act so fucking naive. You sat there and pretended like I didn’t exist. The media is going to eat that shit up, Paige. They’re going to say that we’re fighting, or breaking up, or–”

“The media’s gonna eat it up anyway, Tess, that’s what they do!” Paige exclaims, exasperated. “They’re vultures. If I showed up and acted like I was in love with you or some shit, the media’s gonna say I’m too worried about you and not worried enough about my game. They’re going to say that I’m throwing the game to make you feel better about not playing. They’re already saying we’re not mature enough to compete against each other!”

“Are we?” Tess asks. “You act weird for a month, like I don’t even fucking matter to you, and you barge into my apartment like you suddenly care about me again?”

“I wasn’t acting weird,” Paige defends, though her entire demeanor shifts.

Tess scoffs. “You weren’t? God, Paige, I know you were busy, but you changed. Something changed, we changed, and you’re pretending like nothing happened. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I know something is wrong with us and you’re not giving me anything to work with! And then, you can’t even fucking look at me, but you can smile at that woman and you let her touch you?”

Paige blinks once before her gaze hardens. “You mean the trainer? If you have sum’ to say, then say it with your chest, Tess.”

Tess doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears burn her cheeks on the way down. She gestures wildly with her hands as she explains. “The only reason why your manager placed you with me was because you slept around and people started noticing.” Paige recoils, as if struck, like she immediately understands where Tess is going with this. “So what am I supposed to think? Fuck, you barely talk to me, you can’t even look at me, and another girl’s touching on you like that? When I told Bree about us, she said it looked like I was just your new flavor. She told me I’d end up being just another notch on your bedpost. She was right. I spent months defending you and looking like a fucking idiot because you told me it wasn’t true, and I believed you?” Tess hiccups, her chest constricting. “When you said you could do casual, I didn’t know that included cruel, too.”

Paige is silent for a moment before huffing. “You caught feelings, didn’t you?” she asks, suddenly looking terrified, and Tess feels her blood run cold.

“What?”

“You caught feelings,” Paige says, like it all makes sense. Her eyes are wide and panicked as they water. “You caught feelings and, what, you thought that changed things?” Paige’s voice cracks. Tess flinches. “We agreed we couldn’t let this get out of hand. You agreed. You couldn’t separate your feelings from the job we had to do and you’re pissed at me about that?”

Tess is breathing heavily by the time Paige finishes. Her nails are likely drawing blood from how hard they’re digging into her palms. She doesn’t care. She’s sure she could deny, deny, deny, but what good could it do either of them? Tess is fucking over it. Her reputation wasn’t worth it. She would give up all of her brand deals and her public image if only it’d hurt less.

“You know what?” Tess cries. “I did catch feelings for you! I’m in love with you, you asshole, is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, I broke our rules, but you broke them first when you kissed me in that fucking hotel room and told me that I didn’t have to be scared with you. Did that mean anything to you? Did it mean anything to you when you told me that we ‘didn’t have to label it’ and we could ‘just be us?’ You told me I didn’t have to be scared and I gave you everything, Paige, literally every-fucking-thing. I gave you my heart, my first kiss, my fucking virginity on New Year’s, and you just pretended like none of that happened. You pretended like you didn’t even care about me or what we did. And maybe I was just stupid enough to think that would have mattered to you.”

The apartment is agonizingly silent for a moment as Paige stares in near disbelief, looking as though Tess just pulled the rug out from under her. She looks shell-shocked, like she wasn’t expecting Tess to admit that she was in love with her, like she wasn’t expecting Tess to blame her for all of this. Then, in a weak voice, she says, “I was your first?”

The laugh that rips from Tess’s throat is watery, surprised despite herself. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Tess–”

She raises her hands, backing away, her fingers shaking with rage. “No, you know what? I shouldn’t even be surprised.” Paige takes a cautionary step towards her, but Tess takes two more away from her, her gaze disappointed and somber. “God, you are such an asshole.” She opens the door, stepping out, but meets Paige’s eyes. “Lock my fucking door before you leave,” she says, then slams it shut behind her. Paige doesn’t chase after her. She’s not sure if that relieves her or distresses her.

Tess doesn’t even know where she’s going, but her legs do. She buries her hands in her hoodie pocket, the chill of the weather freezing the tears to her face. She doesn’t bother wiping them as she makes her way down the sidewalk, down to Senate street, and before she knows it, she’s walking into the Tin Roof, the bar she used to haunt before sobriety.

She knows she should leave. She’s surrounded by people of varying levels of drunkenness, and the stench of alcohol makes her nose wrinkle. She’s ten months sober – that’s a lot of progress down the drain, but she’s hardly thinking as she slides into a seat at the bar.

“Rough day?” the bartender asks kindly, wiping the inside of a glass.

Tess snorts, finally wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You have no idea,” she jokes, and the bartender’s laugh makes her feel a little better about herself.

“What’ll it be?”

Tess pauses for a while, taking a deep breath. What is she doing? She doesn’t know the answer to that, but she just doesn’t want to hurt. Her knee, her mind, Paige. But she knows it’ll just hurt even more if she goes down that path again, so she says, “Can I just get a sprite, please? And like, a small cup of cherries, if that’s possible? I’ll pay.”

The bartender nods, already reaching for a clean glass and using the soda gun to fill it with sprite. “No worries, okay? On the house.” Tess opens her mouth to argue, but she figures she’s had enough of arguing today, so she just quietly thanks the bartender as she fills a small serving bowl with maraschino cherries. She slides both the drink and the cherries her way with a smile. Then she’s off to help someone at the other end of the bar.

Tess pops a cherry in her mouth, feeling a little more regulated, and takes a sip of her sprite. The TV in front of her is playing the Stanford-Washington State game. Cameron Brink is an incredible player. Tess might like to play with her someday.

They go into a media timeout when Tess feels someone slide into the stool next to her. She doesn’t have to look up from her sprite to know it’s Paige, the scent of her perfume filling her nose. Neither of them say anything for a while as Tess eats her cherries and drinks her sprite, but Paige finally breaks the silence when she says simply, “I’m sorry.”

Tess hardly reacts. “How’d you know I was here?”

“You still share your location with me,” Paige admits. “I’m sorry.”

Tess laughs humorlessly. “Yeah. I heard you the first time.”

“I mean it.”

Tess finally glances at Paige. She’s drawn into herself, her lips pursed, eyes guilty. Tess knows her well enough by now. She truly does mean it, and maybe that’s the worst part. She knew Paige better than she knew herself and still didn’t expect Paige to break her heart like this.

“I’m sorry for what I said. For ignorin’ you at the game today, for actin’ indifferent after New Year’s.” Paige swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for making you doubt how much I care about you. I’m sorry about the trainer situation – that did look weird as hell.” That makes Tess laugh quietly. “I’m sorry for accusing you of catching feelings. I was a dick.”

“Wasn’t an accusation,” Tess says. “It was the truth.”

“It was an accusation ‘cause I acted like I was blameless,” Paige clarifies, which confuses Tess. She’s silent for a beat, drumming her fingers on the bar. “Do you regret New Year’s?”

“No,” Tess answers without hesitation. That makes Paige smile a little bit. “I don’t think I ever could. Not when it was with you.”

“Why did you never tell me it was your first?” Paige asks quietly.

“Would you have done it if you’d known?”

Paige smiles somberly at her. “I woulda done it nicer. More romantic and shit. I defiled you and then you went home to your parents. I should send them an apology card.” Tess can’t help her burst of laughter. She buries her head in her hands, shaking her head, knowing that her response was so wholly Paige that it was kind of sickening.

“It was…intimidating,” Tess says slowly, lifting her head. “I’m not experienced. At all. You were my first in so many ways and none of it was even real. That’s embarrassing to admit because you’re the complete opposite of that.”

Paige scratches the back of her neck. “Not really.”

“No?” Tess inquiries.

Paige inhales deeply. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I never…slept around. I slept with one girl before you and she was my first. We were together. Didn’t end well. I dated around for a bit and she spread the rumor that I was sleeping with them. Couldn’t really address the rumors, my brands were freaking the fuck out, my manager suggested a PR relationship… Rest is history.”

Tess suddenly feels like a complete idiot. She lays her head down on the bar as she groans, completely embarrassed. “You sat there and let me call you a whore?” she demands, her voice a silent hiss. “Oh my God. I’m literally such a jerk. Why did you never say anything?”

“Was embarrassing,” Paige says, shrugging a shoulder.

Tess huffs, quirking a smile. “Touche.”

“When did you realize?” Paige asks. “That you were in love with me.”

“In New York, when we were walking to Times Square,” Tess admits. Paige exhales sharply. “I’m sure I felt it for a while. I just couldn’t name it. But…we were walking, and you looked so pretty in the city lights, and I was thinking about when we first met, in Gampel. I wanted to get to know you then. Playing against you was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. But I missed my shot and it’s just…insane to think about the fact that almost three years after that, we’d be in New York together. And then you smiled at me and squeezed my hand and you were my New Year’s kiss. It was inevitable.”

Paige glances at her. “I realized I was in love with you after dinner, the day before.”

Tess can hear her heartbeat in her ears. She turns to stare at Paige, almost waiting for Paige to admit that it was just some sick joke, but the blonde is gazing at her fondly. “You what?”

“I realized I was in love with you after–”

“No, I heard you,” Tess says, laughing in disbelief. “There’s just no way you mean it. Not after you said ‘you caught feelings and thought that changed things.’”

Paige sinks into herself, looking guilty again. “I didn’t mean that,” she says. “I was scared. I know, stupid excuse, but it scares me, Tess. I’ve never loved anything or anyone like I love you. I’ve never really had anything permanent. My parents divorced when I was three. When I was old enough to realize what that meant, I felt like, I’on know, I wasn’t enough for them to stay together. I love my step-parents but… it was so easy for them to love someone else. It’s stupid–”

“It’s not stupid, Paige,” Tess interrupts, her heart hurting, suddenly understanding.

Paige’s smile is somber. “I dated around to find something that would last, but it never worked. It’s lonely being me. Nobody gets it – the pressure, the expectations, the sacrifice. I felt like I was searchin’ for something I couldn’t find until I got to know you and realized I was looking for someone like you. ...For you specifically.” Tess has no words for that, her pulse thrumming in her chest. Paige sighs. “When I said what I said to you, I thought I was protectin’ you. I’m not someone who lasts. I’ve never been good at long-term, but, fuck, Tess, I want long-term with you. I didn’t wanna hurt you. I was scared that I would, so I said all that ‘cause I thought you’d maybe move on from me and find someone you deserved. And I ended up hurting you, anyway.

“I realized I was in love with you after dinner,” Paige says again, undeterred. “You were wearin’ my sweater and you looked so fuckin’ beautiful. Then you fell asleep with me and I called Aubrey. I told her I thought I was in love with you – and you were layin’ there, jus’ soft, and happy, and I thought, ‘I can’t hurt her.’ But I’m selfish. I wanted to keep you. I meant it when I said you don’t gotta be afraid with me. And I only said we didn’t have to label anything ‘cause I didn’t want to lose you. I never thought we’d be here – never thought you’d love me, too, so I just wanted to enjoy it while nothin’ was wrong. It all mattered to me, Tess, everything mattered to me; every time you called me, when you trusted me, when you first held my hand, when you first kissed me, when you let me show you how much I loved you even though we didn’t have the words for it yet. It all mattered to me and I’m so fuckin’ sorry I acted like it didn’t.”

The two of them sit in contemplative silence for a while. Tess can hear – and feel – each and every one of her heartbeats. For a long time, this is all she’s wanted to hear from Paige, the apology, the explanation for the private parts of her she couldn’t ask about, the I’m in love with you, too. Now that she has it, she doesn’t want to fuck it up, but all of this is so scary. It was easy to deal with the emotions when they were in New York and nothing was wrong, when it was easy to pretend that they could have all of the love without the ugly parts. Now, they’re forced to see all of each other. They have so much more to lose now.

Tess has historically made a bad habit out of getting in her own way. She overthinks constantly. It’s Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong, it will go wrong. She scares herself out of opportunities. But when she just stops thinking and lets things happen, she builds rickety foundations in her relationships. All of the times she thought she was saving herself heartache by avoiding the difficult conversations just so she can keep Paige have backfired on her. It led to their argument on Thanksgiving, to their argument now. Had she been a little more honest to Paige, to herself, about how she felt, then perhaps she could have saved the both of them months of anguish.

So, Tess meets Paige’s hopeful eyes, and she says carefully, “We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

Paige exhales, not expecting that response, but she nods. “I know,” she agrees. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it – just… fuck, I don’t wanna get on that bus tonight and not be yours. For real. You’re all I want, Tess. I can’t let you slip away from me again.” Paige searches Tess’s expression, her eyes wide and yearning and pleading. Tess can’t help but soften. Haven’t they been through enough? Wondering what was real and what wasn’t, suffering through arguments when they could have easily fixed their problems with a conversation. Tess doesn’t want to go to sleep tonight and not be Paige’s, either. It’s all she’s wanted since June.

But Tess knows that they can’t pick up where they left off. They both have to heal, understand their relationship and its boundaries a little better, and for the love of God, get rid of those fucking rules (although the communicate one had some credence).

“I want to take this slow,” Tess says after a while. “We need to do this right.”

Paige relaxes, relief on her face as she nods in earnest. “I can do slow,” she promises. “Just want you.”

Tess cocks a smile, her gaze warm, and Paige’s expression is so full of love that it’s almost disarming. “Maybe we can start slow later?” she suggests, watching the gears turn in Paige brain.

Once it clicks, Paige doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, one hand cupping Tess’s cheek, her kiss softer than anything Tess has ever felt before. She tastes like a promise, like the vow that they’re going to do right by each other from now on. The knowledge that this is real, that there’s no catch or stipulation or some stupid fucking rule, makes their collide sweeter. They were inevitable, tied together by one strand of fate; it’s taken them a while to get here, but Tess is Paige’s and Paige’s is hers, and that’s all Tess can ask for right now.

They eventually have to break away – Paige can’t stop smiling, which makes it difficult to do much of anything. Tess shoves her back with a hand to her chest, grinning softly. “You’re so fucking annoying,” Tess says, hopelessly endeared.

Paige just smirks proudly. “Not annoying. Just in love.”

Tess rolls her eyes fondly, drawing Paige in to murmur against her lips, “Same difference,” and in the same bar Tess almost threw her life away in, she kisses the woman she’s in love with, the woman who reminded her of its importance, and she knows everything is exactly as it should be.

[mer-acle]

It's kind of difficult writing Greek mythology stuff sometimes. Like, you have these characters that have like books worth of lore attached to them, which you obviously can pick and choose from, but the way I usually do it is I find out who the character is and then think about how they would react to their myths if that makes sense.

Like for example, in the Hera and Athena AU, Hera wouldn't do a bunch of stuff she's known for, like the pursuit of Leto or going after Herakles and all that, it makes no sense for the character I made her for this. For this story, without going into too much detail, it would make sense for Leto to be pissed at Hera anyway, even though it's Zeus who wronged her. Still, because of the preestablished lore, it kinda feels like victim-blaming to write them this way, even though the thing that victimized Leto didn't happen in my story? idk if that makes sense.

Kinda got the same thing going on with Hephaestus and Athena, because no version of Hephaestus that I've written and intend to write would do anything "Erechtonius" but like... would I feel weird shipping them? Probably. (not that I want to anyway but yeah. There's something else in one of the AUs that I'm worried is just a tad controversial)

idk I'd be interested in other people's thoughts on this topic

[velvetvexations]

It's frustrating when any radical feminism is called out in trans circles, the whole thing is "well since I'm trans I can't be a TERF"!!! Like, transmisogyny is not the only thing TERFS and radical feminists preach?? Like if you're anti sex work, anti kink, anti bodily autonomy for any kind of transition or sex, think men (whoever the individual bigot defines as such) are genetically predisposed to evil, think women (whoever the individual bigot defines as such) are predisposed to good, and anti-ace/aro people, like one or two differences in opinion will not preclude you from radical feminism. Idk, out of the "trans inclusionary" radical feminists, I feel as though you either fall hard into transmisogyny or transandrophobia.

But a lot of the people who believe in all the same things as the normal strain of radical feminism but support trans women just,, only seem to think that transmisogyny is what TERFs preach?

Also like lowkey I never understood the Shinigami eyes extension because TERF dogwhistles are kinda easy to spot and easy to check. Like, overly judgmental of a random woman? Overly judgmental of a random man? Seems to think x kink is evil? Implying porn is disgusting and evil (without any actual criticisms of the industry, just talking about it inherently)? Weird about ace/aro people and their attraction or lack thereof? Wow! Probably a terf.

I think there is some issue with "OP is a TERF" that made shinigami eyes appealing for a lot of people. I once saw someone make a really good point about how a theater production that sexualizes nuns is not progressive for sexualizing women who don't want to be sexualized, but whoops, OP was a TERF. Often moral rationality is not an issue of logical reasoning as it is motivation. For instance, I also saw a tankie shitheel give a pretty good rundown of Chiquita's bullshit in Central and Southern America. In both cases, Bad Group A was opposed to Bad Group B, whether that be imperialism or the patriarchy, so they can call out legitimate issues when they want to before going right back to complete bullshit and supporting their own evil shit.

But absolutely no one actually knows what TERFs are anymore because they do think it's literally all just hating trans women and are incapable of connecting the dots between TERFs and second-wave feminism, and realizing that they have a whole suite of beliefs that goes beyond that. It's partly obscured nowadays for exactly the reason that they'll often be aimed at cis men, which TRFs simply don't count as evidence of them hating men because of course you should be against like, Cis Male Celebrity Getting #MeToo'd, as though the issue with TERFs isn't that they see that and trans people as being products of the same patriarchal system because their view of the entire world is warped.

Especially funny is the claim that you can't call TRFs TRFs because they don't self-identify as TRFs. I mean, even putting aside Talia Bhatt's book, we have a very famous meme of Sonic the Hedgehog telling TERFs to fuck off for using that exact same "that's just a slur to silence me" argument. Like, no! You may not recognize what you're saying is nearly identical to everything TERFs say just because you add "trans" behind "women," but that's a you problem!

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

How did Trevor get the error thingy in his arm? How did it even appear or was he born with it?

Lore drop time, its a long one so ill put it under the break

If anyone already knew it, its slightly different now, bit more expanded on, inclusion of blair, all that good stuff.

Im also making a new tag, trevlore because its funny and also so i can specifically find whatever the hell i say sometimes

Trevor was not born with it, its more like a reflection of his rapidly deteriorating mental and physical health because of some sort of stupid bad illness

Ok i guess he actually was born with it, but it never showed its face until much much later, like a dormant disease

Anyway, he was fine, maybe a little bit weird as a kid, but once he got sick it was like different, like yea he got physically ill but it also really attacked his mental health (paranoia, hallucinations, all that good stuff)

It eventually led to him basically locking himself in his room for days on end because bruh was tweaking the eff out, then got so convinced something was under his skin (probably because there was) that he eventually decided to help along the ailment that was already essentially. Uh. Eating away at his skin on his right arm.

In other words his arm got itchy, he was like yea no bruh theres totally something there, then he fucking peels his arm like a banana 🍌

Then its the error symbol

Why the error symbol though? And why was be born with it?

Well the universe he resides in is, in a way, kind of like a computer. Trevor existence is normal, he looks normal and acts normal, but is like a corrupt file, in its inner code n stuff something fucked up.

Essentially, trevor isnt supposed to exist, but he does and because of that hes acting like a sort of virus of sorts to the universe

And god ok call me cringe, i feel liek a real hypocrite because normally i get annoyed my multiverse stories unless it was like spiderverse or rick and morty (be quiet) but yea this does kinda fall into a multiverse type of idea

Since trevor is fucking up his universe hes also acting as a wormhole of sorts, SOMETIMES like when he touches something with his error arm or just tweaks out because it gets worse, he can quite literally bring parts of other universes into his own

So sometimes he’s walkin by a computer, and itll either just bug the fuck out or act as like a sort of camera into some undecipherable thing (the disease acts electronically so it is technologically leaning i guess idk it doesnt make sense dont look into it)

Even thought it is like a sort of multiverse thing its not like trevor is gonna single handedly make one universe crash into another, feels excessive and over powerful to me, i think if worst comes to worse he just jumble his universe and when he eventually DIES for one reason or another its just left as a weird glitching mess, not worsening or on the verge of collapse

Anyway, the disease is part of why trevor puts up with blair, dont get me wrong they ARE friends but blair is kinda like. Really annoying and hard to confront on certain things, they have issues listening and following peoples boundaries at times. Trevor was actually planning to have a long talk with blair but then he got real sick and suddenly everything else seemed to matter a lot less. Blair does help him, she isnt diabolical damn, but on trevors end its also a lot of receiving a lot of unwanted things (platonic affection, hes not a very “loving” person, often times preferring to be left alone outside of conversations or specifically set aside times to hang out) he just doesnt care enough about because hes busy being paranoid n shit

Specifically about blair, trevor and blair met in college, at that time trevor was 18 and blair was 19, im not gonna lie i dont have specific ages for them currently but idk both in their 20s and 1 year apart. Anyway, blair (he/she/they) is the more talkative one, they partner up in one of their classes and hang out, enjoying each others company a lot. Blair grew up pretty well off, i wouldnt say RICH RICH but yknow. Nice place. Blair would always be planning things and wanting to do stuff with trevor, trevor was mostly just happy to have a friend that seemed to actually give a shit if he was there or not (haha lonely loser). Blair is a nice person, but they do tend to speak over people, and they also can a bit hard to explain boundaries to. They kinda just apply their own personal everythings to everyone else (they love hugs and wouldnt mind receiving a surprise one, that type of stuff). They grew up on a very different path of life from trevor, so it can obviously get a little bit weird on finer levels. Blair is very idealistic to the point they forget to ground themselves in reality, i.e “omg lets get a cat!” When they can barely afford rent as is

Trevor and blair room together in an apartment near their college, trevor did however drop out because he got sick, kept getting recommended therapy for yelling at nothing in class, and also because of that his tanking grades (kinda sad for him but ohhhhh wellllll)

I dont think blair dropped college, but i dont think they went a full 4 years so maybe she just was like “hey im taking a gap year its a gap year promise” and then just stopped taking classes? Or something?? Idk im coming up with this stuff as im writing

Uh ok fast decision time right now, blairs last name is atkin, Blair Atkin. Its pulled from atkinson which came up when i searched white people last names on google. His middle name will be uhhhhh alex, haha their initials are baa. Anyway this means BlairAtkin is the blair tag now

[they-call-me-youngermoney]

still experimenting with this colouring/art style and uhhhh i adore luther

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.

he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.

a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).

but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.

and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.

he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.

and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies

[roots-symphony]

do you think the reason agatha’s trial felt weird is because she was the only one who did not actually buy into the mythos of the road since she knew the truth? like that was why no perspective change and all the other reasons why people thought it was a fake trial

[ganondoodle]

i cant lie, im also beating myself up about not being able to get excited for the new game, or anything anymore it seems, while it can be fun to criticise things, some things you just dont like so badly that the frustration knowing it could be so much better but isnt and you not able to change it outweighs any fun- i dont like being a 'hater', i hate totk, but not bc i hate zelda but bc i LOVE it and want it to be better (though im starting to doubt my ability to do anything good with it too..)

and with the new game trailer (like, i still hope its better than im fearing rn) i feel similarly as when the next totk trailers dropped after the first one (which DID excite me), all of them gave me a sense of dread bc it seemed to go into a direction i wouldnt like, i tried to tone that voice down to enjoy the game, but then .. i was right

i dont want to be an annoying complainer about everything new, but maybe i am and i dont like that thought, i dont want to spoil anyones fun, i want to partake in it :(

[larabar]

👀

thought about it more here ya go 🤲 from the very beginning and the very end skdbfj

[teddybeartoji]

thank you everybody who crossed their fingers and toes bc aventurine AND acheron are now both safely at home:3333333333

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo.

Star has a point, idk what the four were ticked off about, there is like 99% chance everyone willingly participated in the trolley problem, based on what we've seen of his behavior thus far it's not like Starlo to be that big of a jerk/drag them by force/yell at them to do it. Ed's words:

he does it because Star asks NICELY

clearly jealous

It genuinely seemed like a fun time/fun roleplay, especially since every day is the same. Like, the five are supposed to be a rowdy and adventures bunch, what exactly did Starlo do wrong, I'm genuinely confused and curious. Except taking a big liking in Clover (his posse should know that this is a big moment for him, according to Blackjack they've known each other since high school and had the same liking for westerns. So they were basically a nerd gang.) Starlo was kind, patient and considerate towards Clover the whole time, even warned Mooch about them not being bandits, taught Clover gun safety, wanted to bring his posse along for a fun time, thanked Ace for telling him about getting Clover a new hat...

Sure, at first he only liked Clover for being a human, but as Ceroba says, that changed and he grew to genuinely care about them, plus I can't help but think Star saw himself in Clover and that's part of the reason he was so proud of them all the time even when they messed up (I'll talk more about this at some point)

What exactly made Ace want to leave the gang? He even said how he doesn't mind "getting run over by the fake train"

he's so nice. says sorry for forgetting the safety goggles even when he was scatterbrained due to his excitement. I love him so much

The only real "faults" (I'll call them temporary faults) I saw in Star during the Wild East section was that he was even more enthusiastic and more proud than usual. But how couldn't he be when he met a member of the species that he has admired for so long because they have real cowboys and sheriffs on the surface (who are seen as brave heroes who deliver justice, while Star canonically feels like a nobody farmer). His posse should have realized Clover wouldn't be there forever and just let their boss enjoy himself with his "deputy who'd have to leave sooner or later anyway"(or be more patient with him/ask him why he feels this strongly towards Clover/if there's a deeper reason for that). His friends including Ceroba just turn their back on him so quickly instead. The moment he's gotten the chance to feel valued for once and put himself first and not have to take care of this whole town and everyone in it and live his dream of meeting a real human, suddenly "his personality is damaged?"

Star's literally built this whole town, organised everything, he worries about everyone, Ceroba (plus was the one to give her emotional strength before and after Clover's sacrifice), Kanako, the monsters, his family, struggles with feelings of worthlessness yet never wipes that smile off his face, always does his best to be hopeful and optimistic and make others laugh, gave his posse a nap time so they don't become exhausted, gave Ceroba a free home, didn't act upon his feelings towards her and was a 110% supportive, caring friend instead. THAT'S who he is. He's the papa bear of this friend group, the glue holding everyone together.

He was just *really* excited. Y'all know he's insecure and just wishes to escape who he is and yet y'all blame him for liking Clover so much. Yeah, the four are very clearly jealous. But why won't the four of you control your feelings for a while? As mentioned, Clover WILL HAVE TO LEAVE EVENTUALLY. They won't be Star's "deputy" forever (the kid who's just as into westerns as he is, who values justice just as much, who also values doing the right thing. Someone he clearly felt understood in the presence of, whom he loved; just look at the way he talks about Clove during Showdown). Star seems genuinely confused of what he did wrong poor guy just wanted to live his fantasy for once and feel important:

Even at the beginning Moray's like "oh no Martlet is upset" Mooch replies "don't be a buzzkill nothing exciting ever happens around here" and Ray's like "Yeah you've got a point"

If you all agreed to have a little fun with a human who will very soon leave forever why is Starlo's enthusiasm such a big problem? If the posse weren't into this after all (unless they were simply too jealous which could have been solved with a honest talk and a little patience) why are you doing this "rowdy" job with Star in the first place? Do you want your boring routine day to day life so much back? Or just for Clover to leave (which they will soon enough)? You, western enthusiasts, literally met a real human, A HUMAN FROM WESTERNS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PASSIONATELY INTO (clearly not as passionate as Star but passionate ENOUGH to understand where he's coming from).

... okay.

[youling-the-ghost]

Since apparently sfth and Foil Arms and Hog are beefing now, I just want to point out that fa&h actually has their own canon fandom tag.

If they can have one, why can't we :(

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Those Beyond The Wall

sequel/companion to The Space Between Worlds, set a decade later

character-focused sci-fi set in an area divided in two, the rich protected city on one side and everyone else in the post-apocalyptic desert

follows a woman who works under the Emperor in Ashtown, keeping the peace

when mangled bodies start showing up with seemingly no murderer, she’s tasked with finding the cause, and finds out that it’s the result of corruption spanning both cities and multiple worlds

explores oppression and messy revolution, police violence and apartheid

bi & polyamorous MC