#if you’re reading the tags here’s some drama for you

[wakasaswifee]

BET? | Michael Kaiser

Advantage - Daniel Di Angelo

“I’ll spend all my money on you ‘cause you’re worth it”

Synopsis: You never planned on ending up at an illegal street race, yet here you are, dragged along by your best friend, who’s determined to hook up with some hot guy. Meanwhile, all you wanted was a quiet night in, binging Netflix and avoiding drama. But as the engines roar and the crowd buzzes with excitement, your stomach sinks—your eyes land on someone in the crowd of people; one of the racers, and it’s none other than your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Michael Kaiser

TAGS & TWs- AGED UP CHARACTERS, AFAB reader, street racer!kaiser, sadist kaiser, face riding, car fucking, racer!au, racer kaiser, kaiser smokes, kaiser has a tongue piercing, car sex, p in v, ex’s best friend, mentions of a non related character, use of yn (once), kaiser calls you ‘engel’ ‘mein schatz’ ‘prinzessin’ ‘baby’, kaiser smokes weed, use of weed, car sex, cunilingus, tit play?, ex boyfriend’s bsf, creampie, porn no plot?mentions of pregnancy?, intimate, kaiser is an asshole, he’s a playboy, size diff/if you squint, face sitting, NOT EDITED, more shit that i forgot to add, unprotected sex, slight fluff, teasing,grammatical errors, lack of vocabulary 

Characters- yn (reader), kaiser,

Fandom- blue lock

Words -5.1k 

A/N-READ WARNINGS!!!  Kaiser birthday story, Christmas and new years, 3 in 1 😈. first time writing smut, kinda nervous 😓.YALL TS IS NOT EDITED SO DON'T COME FOR ME. idk where this idea came from, this is kinda ooc kaiser so idk. Also the reader isn’t cheating, she broke up with her bf. Btw this is soo long but it’s so worth it, trust. Idk what i’m talking about, just read it, it’ll be worth your time! Once again, i can’t write smut so idk, I'm bad at endings

“Mia, I seriously hate you.” you grumbled as your childhood best friend dragged you across the asphalt, past the large groups of people and finally to your destination. You both stood in front of what seemed like a 100 or more cars with twice as many people surrounding the area. 

“You don’t hate me, babe—you love me," she teased with a mischievous grin, looping her arms around your waist before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

"While you’re busy pouting under your storm cloud of despair, I’m off to find myself a sexy man who knows how to handle me." Her laughter echoed behind her as she sauntered away, tossing you a playful air kiss over her shoulder.

Wow, really? She drags me here and leaves me? 

You thought to yourself. But she was right, you’re already out of the house so you can’t just sit around with a pissy face. 

Deciding to look around the place, you sashayed down the tarmac, heels clicking and skirt swaying with the cool spring night breeze chilling your mostly exposed leg. 

Despiste your unwillingness to go out, you still put effort into your outfit. A mini, low rise black cargo skirt, with a white g-string thong resting on your hip bones. As for the top, a black and white cropped bomber jacket with “ferrari” in bold letters written on it. It was zipped up but you were wearing a cute white lace bra underneath, matching the thong. 

You swayed your hips, looking at the unique cars. Until something caught your eye, it wasn't a car but definitely something you could look at all night. 

Micheal kaiser. Your ex’s best friend— ex’s ex best friend? You heard they got into a fight over something but weren’t sure if they were still friends or not— almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he tilted his head in your direction and it felt like every ounce of oxygen was sucked clean from your lungs. 

You didn’t break eye contact though. Fuck no, you weren’t no pussy. No lie, he looked sexy, leaning against his detailed car, arms crossed, his eyes undressing you. His outfit, oddly similar to yours. Black baggy cargos paired with a grey-ish shirt and a red and black bomber jacket with random sponsors on the front and ferrari written on the back with the logo. 

His blond and blue hair grazed his neck and complimented his dark fit. 

His expression was blank but his eyes.. His eyes glaring at you with lust. Maybe he was making you a little nervous. Running a tongue across your bottom lip, you looked away from him but his gaze never left you. Watching your torso move with every step you took, the way your thighs were on display, looking like a full 5 star meal. 

He pushed himself off his car, stalking your way. 

A large arm came from behind, wrapping around your waist and pulling you against a hard chest. You flinched, eyes shot up to crash with piercing blue ones. 

“Looks like we have an unexpected guest here” Kaiser smirked. Maybe you were imagining things but you could swear you felt his hand move lower down your exposed waist. 

“Kaiser, what’re you doing” your voice coming out more hushed than expected. He still heard you, over the blaring radio music and the chattering of people. 

“Whaddya think i'm doing, engel?” he swiftly turned you around, pulling you in closer till your chest was squished against his hard muscles. 

“That's not answering my question.” biting back but that only seemed to add to his amusement. 

“Oh, i'm sorry, beautiful. Want me to spell it our for you?” you rolled your eyes, looking away.

“I wanna fuck you; you look breath taking, Engel. Wanna see what you’re hiding under these sexy clothes.” of course he did. Average player, walking up to good looking girls and saying they wanna fuck without shame. his lips brushed against your ears and even after knowing that… fucking god, those words went straight to your core.

“Have you no shame? You're asking your best friend's ex if she wants to be fucked by you.”

“So you think you can have me so easily?” 

“Hm, I can't?”  he pouted like you actually hurt him, making you scoff

“Boy, please. I know my worth, especially after that good for nothing friend of yours.” 

“You should, Engel because I only go after things that are priceless.” 

“And that fucker ain’t a friend no more” 

You let out a small laugh, looking up at him, feeling his hand move lower, tracing the curve of your ass, to the back of your exposed thigh. Giving it a tight squeeze.

“Kai-”

“Shh.. so, is that a yes?”

“Are you gonna race?” you questioned, trying to ignore the intruding presence of Kaiser's hand. 

“Yeah, why?” he tilted his head, confused. 

“Because. If you win.. I'm all yours, handsome” deciding to play along. your hand clutched the collar of his jacket, pulling him down until your lips were mere inches from his. 

His eyes narrowed on yours, lips tilting up into a mischievous smirk. 

“Just wait, Prinzessin. You’ll be mine before the end of the night and i’ll have that tight pussy of yours swallowing my cock whole in the back of my car till sunrise” he licked your bottom lip and if he couldn’t get any hotter, you caught a glimpse of the little silver ball on his tongue making your breath get stuck in your throat. 

You swallowed sharply, making him chuckle, landing a harsh slap on the back of your thigh making you yelp. Heat covered your face but also your pussy that was already soaked. 

You pushed away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Go win first, you player” 

He chuckled at your reaction, walking past you but he stopped turning his head back

“I want you ready for my cock before I come back. I’ll show you what fucking means, that good for nothing ex of yours won’t compare, Engel” 

His face more serious, jaw clenched, before landing a light slap on your ass and walking away. 

You rolled your eyes, whispering under your breath about how he’s so full of himself that he’ll win. 

What if he did win? 

Not being able to help yourself, you bit your bottom lip. Adjusting your skirt, you sauntered over to the large line up of people that were screaming their lungs off. 

fuck, why am I nervous now.. I already agreed on.. No, i initiated this bet.

You let out a breath, your gaze landing on Kaser's sleek Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, its black body accented with striking crimson red stripes. The car came to a smooth stop just shy of the white starting line, both the driver and passenger windows rolled down. One hand rested casually on the wheel, the other draped over the window's edge. His entire demeanor radiated ease—relaxed, almost effortlessly confident.

A few, maybe 6 or 7 cars parked beside him. A lexus RC f, mclaren, porsche and a handful more of cars which you couldn’t name. He craned his neck, those endless blue eyes clashing with yours. 

It’s like this fucker always knows where i am.

He can spot you with such ease, it was scary. He revved his engine, not breaking eye contact. He seemed to be chewing something, gum perhaps?  

His lips were set in a firm, unyielding line, but the slightest curve hinted at something deeper—desire held in check.

A chill ran down your spine, making you break eye contact. 

Looking around at the scenery, bright lights from the cars partially lit up the dark night in the middle of tokyo. The light reflected off the shiny clothes and glitter that some girls were wearing. It was quite beautiful, you couldn’t lie. 

Kaiser’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, relaxing back into his seat. His free hand reached down and adjusted his aching cock. Staring down at his tatted hand, he flexed his knuckles, looking back up at the road. 

The air was thick with the scent of rubber and gasoline, the faint hum of the other cars vibrating the ground beneath his feet. He barely glanced at the others, all lined up in their brightly modified machines.

The feeling of competition, of raw power, surged through him as he shifted into position.

In the distance, a girl with blonde shoulder length hair, tiny ripped jean shorts and a cropped F1 shirt stood at the front of the line, her silhouette framed by the glaring headlights of the surrounding cars. She wasn’t here for the race, but to make sure it went off without a hitch. The flag in her hand fluttered slightly in the wind, the only sign of calm before the storm.

You felt a little uneasy, with how she was eyeing everyone, especially Kaiser and he was looking back, but not with the same lustful expression he looked at you with. 

She made eye contact with Kaser as she raised the flag high above her head, signaling the racers. His heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear—it was anticipation. The entire world seemed to slow as the flag slowly dipped, her movements precise, measured.

The signal came.

The moment the flag dropped, Kaser’s foot slammed down on the gas pedal, the car shooting forward with explosive force. Tires screeched on the asphalt as he zipped past the other racers, the sound of roaring engines filling his ears. He didn’t look back. The road ahead was all that mattered.

You gulped, watching closely at the speed Kaiser took off. Your stomach jumped and flipped with nervousness. 

This wasn’t exactly your first time watching a race but it was your first time watching someone you knew race. 

The road was blocked off, and the course was clear, stretching in front of him like a ribbon of opportunity. He and the other six or seven drivers raced down the long, winding stretch of asphalt, their cars growling, tires gripping the ground as they hit the curves with precision. The streetlights above flickered in the distance, casting fleeting shadows as the cars tore through the empty streets.

You clutched the sleeves of your bomber jacket. 

You’ll be mine before the end of the night

His words tainted your mind like stubborn dye. 

if he wins.. I’m his 

The first turn was sharp, a quick swerve to the left, but Kaser was already in the lead. His car slid just inches away from the corner, his experience guiding him, his mind focused only on the road. Behind him, the sound of tires screeching echoed—someone was catching up.

A green car with decals neared Kaiser's, challenging him without words. Kaiser wasn’t someone who said no to a challenge, ever. 

You calmed yourself down, tugging at your jackets. The wind was only getting chiller but you felt hot, you were burning on the inside. 

He was ahead, barely, but the green car with decals plastered across its hood and doors was closing in fast. Its engine snarled as it surged alongside him, inches away from his driver-side door.

The green car edged closer, forcing Kaiser to cut tighter into the turn. The tires screeched in protest, the Mustang hugging the curve with precision, but the green car matched him move for move. He risked a glance through his side mirror and caught a glimpse of the driver—a shadowy figure with a determined glint in their eyes. The bastard was pushing him to his limits.

Kaiser gritted his teeth, shifting gears to squeeze every ounce of power from the Mustang’s engine. The green car's front bumper inched closer, almost aligning with his. He could feel the heat of the rival engine, the vibrations from their near-collision rattling through his bones.

The finish line loomed ahead, a glowing strip marked by cheering crowds. The green car made its move, veering slightly toward Kaiser, trying to force him off his line. For a split second, the Mustang wobbled, a rare falter from its unshakable steadiness.

Kaiser eyed you near the start but also the finish line of the race. A menacing smirk grew across his lips. 

He knew what he wanted and he would get it. 

At the last possible moment, he tapped the brakes—a fraction of a second adjustment that let the green car overcommit to its attack. The rival swerved wide, losing its trajectory just enough.

Kaiser floored it, the Mustang roaring like a beast unleashed. The finish line surged closer, the crowd's shouts growing louder. The green car clawed back, its engine screaming in defiance, but Kaiser held his line.

With mere inches to spare, his Mustang’s nose crossed the finish line ahead of the green car. The crowd erupted as Kaiser eased off the gas, his breathing heavy but even. He threw a glance into the rearview mirror, catching the flash of frustration on his rival's face before smirking to himself.

Close, but not close enough.

He stepped out of the vehicle like the winner he was. Confidence surrounding him, and that cocky smirk back on his face. 

A large group of guys and half naked girls ran up to him, surrounding him, while the other racers dapped him up. 

The crowd swarmed him, a wave of cheers and congratulations filling the air, but none of it seemed to matter to him. His ocean-blue eyes cut through the noise and chaos, finding you effortlessly.

Running a tattooed hand through his silky styled hair, which brushed just past the nape of his neck, he moved toward you. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through your veins.

Instinctively, you stepped back, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. With a sharp tug, he pulled you into his chest, the sudden closeness stealing the breath from your lungs.

“No congrats for me, Engel?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the crown tattooed on his hand. “Why would you need a ‘congrats’ from your prize?” you replied with a sly hum, the playful edge in your voice challenging him.

His eyes darkened slightly, narrowing as he placed both hands on your thighs with practiced ease. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. Instinct took over, and your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring yourself as you gasped in surprise.

“Kaiser! What the hell!” you exclaimed, gripping his shoulders for balance. Your freshly done nails pressed into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Shh, quiet, pretty,” he whispered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Now, arms around my neck.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed, the intimacy of the moment leaving you speechless.

His hand moved higher from your thigh to your ass, gripping it tightly. 

Red painted your face, hiding yourself in the crook of kaiser’s neck. 

“People are staring..” you mumbled against his cologne scented skin. It was hard not to breathe him in, especially when he smelled like addiction. 

“Let them stare. I won you fair and square. No one’s gonna stop me from enjoying my prize, right?” you could hear the devilish smirk in his tone. Some of his highlighted blue hair grazed your cheek. 

“Fuck baby, are you sure you’re wearing something under your skirt and those strings aren’t just decoration?” he whispered against your ear, making you squirm in his hold. Slapping his back.

“Don’t say such perverted things out loud, mihya’” the words only got a laugh out of him.

“If you think what i’m saying now is perverted, just wait ‘till i have my way with you” 

Finally he started walking, pushing past the endless groups of people, his rough hands still on your ass like he owned it.

He placed you in the passenger seat, and he settled in the driver’s seat. 

Barely a second passed before someone yelled a warning about the police. The crowd erupted into chaos, scattering like water to hot oil.

ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ

40 minutes. Kaiser sped away from the cops, 15 minutes ago. He drove you both somewhere far and quiet. Serene and peaceful.

For the past 15 minutes, you were straddling his lap in the driver's seat of his Ford. 

Slowly grinding down on him every few moments. His seat was pushed back, just enough. Those perfect lips of his wrapped around a blunt, he blew the smoke out in your face, watching you inhale it like a good girl. 

His tatted hand rested on your side, upper thigh, your hip. His fingers gently caressed the skin, snapping the band of your thong whenever he wanted to pull you out of your daze. 

The bulge in his cargos pressing up into your ass. 

His head tilted back, eyes open just a slit, almost bloodshot red, a lazy grin plastered over his lips. 

“Kaiser” you whined. Rubbing your wet pussy over his protruding bulge. 

He slapped the side of your thigh, leaving a large red imprint of his hand. 

Making you gasp, dropping your head down on his shoulder 

“Please..” you begged, your voice breaking as you bit down on his inked skin. 

“Please what, Engel? Use your words, I know you can do it” he cooed, rubbing the abused area. 

He took a hit from the joint, holding the smoke in his mouth. He put out the joint, throwing it in the empty cup holder. 

Kaiser pulled you back with your hair, cupping your jaw. He pulled you in, his lips a breath away from yours. 

The car smelt like weed. The smoke that he held in his mouth was blown out into your parted lips. 

He grinned as you moved your hips again. 

You licked his bottom lip, tasting the remains of your cherry lip gloss on his lips. 

From when he pulled you onto his lap and crashed his lips on you and sucked your oxygen out your lungs and bit your lip until you bled like a wild animal. 

“I wanna ride your tongue.” You mumbled against his lips.

His eyes thinned, letting out a cruel chuckle. 

“Tell me, first..” 

“Hm?”

“Am I better than that sorry excuse of a man” 

His face fell into a serious one. You knew exactly who he was referring to. 

“So much better.. In every way possible” mumbling against his lips. 

ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ

Tears streaked down your cheeks as your palms pressed firmly against the headrest.

Kaiser lounged in the fully reclined driver's seat, his broad frame at ease against the leather. His large hands rested on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh with a firm yet deliberate touch. 

You moved your hips sensually, the little cold silver ball on his tongue pressing up against your clit. He thrusted his middle and ring finger inside your clenching hole. 

Advantage by Daniel Di Angelo played in the background, the music was only background noise because none of the lyrics reached your ears, only the sound of your moans and the sounds of him slurping and drinking you up.

“Kaiser! O-oh fuck..” You rolled your hips onto his tongue wanting more and more, making him chuckle. A harsh slap landed on your ass making you whimper. 

“You’re fucking dripping down my hand, Prinzessin.” you stared down at him in a daze. Cheeks flushed red, lips swollen from being kissed too hard, knuckles turning white from the grip on the seat. 

He moved his tongue back and forth. The tip of his tongue rolling against your clit and his fingers expertly working on your insides. 

The slurping sounds nearly echoed in the car, he ate you out like a starved man. A man who hasn’t been fed in weeks. 

He teased your entrance with his tongue.

“Look at you, you’re pussy’s sucking my fingers in and now it’s asking for my tongue” you could hear the grin that was plastered across his face. His voice was a little muffled so you thought you were suffocating him, trying to shift your weight but that only made him grip the back of your thighs harder, pulling you in closer.

“Don’t.” was all he said before your ex’s best friend went back to tonging you down. You let out a small moan, your mouth hanging open.

He had such a dirty fucking mouth and it turned you on more than anything.

You’ve always known Kaiser for being good at everything but who would’ve thought he was just as good with his tongue and fingers as he was with his words. 

“Kaiser! Wan’na cum” You pleaded, looking down at his face half covered with your pelvis. 

“Cum but don’t whine about being overstimulated when i'm fucking you” 

Throwing your head back. You dug your nails into the car seat, finishing all over his mouth and fingers with a muffled scream. 

The sadist under you just grinned, sucking up all your juices, fucking his tongue inside your pussy as his finger’s were doing. 

Your legs were shaking, thighs pressing either side of his head. He didn’t stop, no. He only went faster, laughing at your reaction. 

He wrapped both his hands around your thighs. Lifting you up and placing you on his lap. Sitting up and fixing the seat with him. 

“Get in the back seat” he didn’t need to say more, you were already climbing off his lap and into the back seats, your back hitting the car door. 

Kaiser followed after. He unbuttoned his jeans, unzipping and palming his raging erection through his black boxers. 

On instinct you spread your legs open. Taking your jacket off, your shirt and skirt soon followed. You ran your fingers through Kaiser's hair, down his neck and pulling his bomber jacket off. Tugging at his shirt for him to remove that as well. 

His hand traced down your stomach, around your waist, tracing up your spine and unclasping your bra single handedly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours, nibbling your bottom lip, his lips were soft like silk and sweet like cherries. 

You squirmed under his body, trying to shimmy out of your panties but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

“They stay on.” he kissed his teeth, the moonlight hit his side, defining the curves and ridges of his well crafted face.

He pulled on the damp part of your thong, watching it snap against your clit

You whined out, arching your back. He smirked at your reaction, doing it a few more times 

“So sensitive for me” 

Your legs already felt like jelly due to your recent orgasm that you rode out on Kaiser's face.

“How badly do you want it?” The asshole in front Of you hummed, latching himself onto your neck, leaving even more dark hickies and bite marks. 

You whimpered, pulling at his silky strands.

“Kaiser, i fucking hate you, i want it so bad, you’re so much better than my other man, please, please make me feel good” You rambled on not even noticing he had pulled his leaking cock out his boxers and lined it up against your entrance. 

Before you could even utter another word, his entire length was inside of you in one quick thrust. 

He groaned, saying something about how tight you were. 

Your pupils rolled to the back of your head, tugging at the blonde hair on his scalp. He hissed probably due to pain but never told you to stop. 

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the car, the car violently shook at his animalistic pace. 

His small groans and your loud screams added to the mix of both his and your bodies stuck onto each other. 

Kaiser’s hand massaged your soft body, from your thighs, hips to your waist. His eyes bloodshots and pupils dilated like he’s under a hex.

“So fucking tight for me, engel even after all that tongue fucking” he wrapped both his hands around your waist, digging his thumbs into your stomach which had you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his lower back. 

“You might end up pregnant if you do that shit” he smirked, nibbling on your jaw making you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, i'm on birth control” 

“So, can I cum inside?” 

You bit the sides of your cheek, looking up at him, it was hard to see his face as it got darker but you knew he was looking back.

A small nod and a hum of agreement was all he needed before he pulled back and thrusted into you with no remorse, kaiser’s pelvis flush against your skin. His pace was rough and fast with long thrusts. 

The sound of his cock fucking you silly filled the idle but shaking car. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, while you cried out for him. 

“Mihya!! Fuck! Fuck! More, please” you begged for him as if he wasn’t already inside of you. 

“Do you hear that, baby?” he referred to the sound your soaking pussy was making as it swallowed his cock.

“So wet f’me.. Imagine if your ex saw you like this. Taking every inch of his best friend’s cock. He’d freak.”

He laughed like a menace, biting down on your collar bone. Your throat going dry from crying out and screaming Michael's name. It’s like all the water from your body was emptied out, you felt thirsty but not for water. 

Kaiser’s forehead glistened with sweat, his hands moved from your waist to your plump thighs, pushing them up to your chest, practically folding you in half. 

Your pussy throbbed around his length. 

“Doing so fuckin’ good for me, engel. You take it like such a good girl” 

He cooed, his voice raspy, you gripped the sides of the car seat, leaning up to sloppily kiss him.

“Kaiser! D-don’t stop-p” the words coming out broken, like a sob. Tears rolled down your face as he thrusted inside you at an animalistic pace. 

He put your legs on his shoulders, before moving down to take your nipples in his mouth and the other in his large hands. Rolling the tight bud between his fingers and the other has his teeth around it. 

“You’re a slut for my cock, baby. Look at how your going cross eyed and your tongue is hanging out.” 

“Makes me wanna ruin you, rearrange your inside, do everything no other man could do.” 

He growled against your skin. His words made your pussy spasm, tightening around his cock. 

“Kais- kai ‘m close.. So cl-close” throwing your arms around his neck, your nails scratching down his back. 

He hissed, biting down on the nipple until a metallic taste exploded in his mouth. You whimpered, but he couldn’t care less. He left hickies down your chest. 

“He could never fuck you like this, look at how you suck my cock inside, you’re fucking swallowing it whole, you dirty slut. I'm gonna cum so deep inside you.”

He groaned, his voice coming out muffled as he buried it in your neck.

“Cum for me, engel” 

Kissing your neck, you cried out, tightening your grip around his neck, your pussy choked his cock which was all he needed to empty his load inside of you. A mere two or three thrusts had you painting his cock white. 

A cruel smirk grew on his lip. He pressed his hand down on your stomach. 

“Can you feel my cum inside you, y/n” kissing the side of your lips, you let out a shaky breath, coming down from your high. Legs shaking as they dropped from his shoulders. 

“You’ve gone silent.” he mumbled, his large body collapsing on top of you, making you groan. 

“I'm recovering from the shock of how good your dick is” your voice coming out slightly hoarse. “Jesus, how bad was your man in bed?” he laughed, genuinely laughed at what you said.

“Fucking horrible. I had to get off by myself every time. He would cum in 2 minutes and fall asleep. And he had a small dick” 

“Figures, i'm not surprised, he had a woman like you and fumbled so hard, he couldn’t recover from this even 4 generations down the line.”

You giggled at how serious kaiser sounded, his head rested on your chest, his cock gone soft now but it was still inside you. As if to stop his cum from leaking out. 

Wrapping both your arms around his neck, running a soft hand through his hair. 

“You’re sweaty”

“So are you, mihya” he smiled against your skin. Kissing your chest. The car fell silent and you swore the only thing that could be heard was your heartbeat.

“I can hear it.”

“Hear what?” you mumbled, eyes feeling heavy

“Your heartbeat, it's fast”

“Thank god, i might’ve been dead without it”

“pfft- really? That’s crazy”

Once again it was silent. But it wasn’t awkward. It felt… intimate.. More intimate than the sex. The way your fingers soothingly ran through his blond hair, his head resting on top of you, relaxing to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

“Hey, mihya..”

“Hmm?”

“Happy new years”

It's like a spell was broken, kaiser got up, looking at you confused. Get sat up on his knees, between your thighs. Reaching over to the glove box and grabbing his phone to see the date and time. 

00:10 (12:10A.M) Jan 1st, 2025

“Fuck, how’d i not know today was new years eve” 

“What the fuck” you deadpanned 

“How can you not know the date” 

He looked down at you, leaning in to kiss you, gently. Which caught you off guard but you kissed back, he licked your bottom lip, his piercing running along your skin. You trembled as he moved back.

“Happy new years, mein schatz”

“What’s with all these nicknames, huh?” 

“Someone as perfect as you needs all of them, not only one” laughing under your breath, you glanced up at him. The moment soon died when he pulled out of you, his cum dripped out your pussy which had you gasping at the loss of warmth.

“Fucking hell- kaiser!” 

“‘M sorry, engel, i had to pull out eventually” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Running 2 fingers along your folds, he shoved some of his cum back inside. Your eyes narrowed on him, only for him to laugh it off. 

“Take me back to your place”

Kaiser leaned in, smirking against your ear.

“So we can go for round 3?”

“NO, You animal!”  

©2025 wakasasawifee do not copy, modify or translate my work

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.2k DON'T FORGET TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter< next chapter

“You’re not serious.”

“Himari, please let’s not fight. I said I’d spend the 26th with you.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

She huffs, watching her boyfriend get his shower ready to go out and spend the day with another woman. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, anger threatening to be released if she wasn’t digging her nails into her palms. “You’re spending Christmas with some random bitch and a snot-nosed kid. How do you think that makes me fe—”

“Be quiet.” Satoru says, turning around to face her with a firm frown set in place. “I’ll tolerate you insulting me but don’t disrespect them, especially Koji.”

Himari freezes, her words catching in her throat as she registers the sharpness in Satoru’s voice. His usual laidback tone is gone, replaced with a seriousness that sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.  “Disrespect them?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re choosing them over me, Satoru. On Christmas. What am I supposed to think?”  

“You’re supposed to understand,” he replies, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Koji is my son. I’ve already missed enough of his life—I’m not going to miss any more.”  

“And what about me? What about us?” Himari snaps, stepping closer to him. “We’ve been together for almost two years, and I’ve only just now found out about all this shit. How do you think that makes me feel? Like an afterthought? Like you don’t trust me?”  

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows she has a point, but he also knows this argument isn’t going anywhere productive. “Himari, this isn’t about trust. It’s about priorities. Koji needs me, and I’m not going to let him down. Not ever. I just need you to understand that, that’s all.”  

“And what about my needs?” she presses, her voice breaking slightly. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to decide when I’m important enough to make time for?”  

“You’re important to me,” Satoru says, his gaze meeting hers. “But Koji will always come first. That’s not going to change, Himari. If you can’t accept that…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.  

Himari’s jaw tightens, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You waltz into my life with all your charm and promises, and now you’re telling me I have to share you with some other family? What kind of relationship is this supposed to be? I did not sign up to be a fucking step-mother.”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softening slightly. “It’s the kind where I’m trying to do right by my son while still being with you. But I can’t do this if you’re going to make me choose.”  

She stares at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Maybe you already have,” she whispers before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.  

Satoru watches her leave, a heaviness settling in his chest. He doesn’t chase after her, instead turning back to the shower and letting the water run. For a moment, he just stands there, the steam fogging the mirror and blurring his reflection.  

He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t regret it. But he knows the fallout isn’t over yet. He sighs as he steps in, closing the glass door. She’ll come around in a few hours when she’s all settled down, that’s how it always is—so he won’t dwell over it. Besides, he has more pressing matters to take into account. 

Hearing the shower run in the bathroom, Himari has stomped over to the bedroom. Hands fishing the sheets in order to feel for his phone. After some seconds, she finds it. Already knowing the password, she angrily unlocks it and begins swiping and surfing through every app of his. “If you’re cheating on me, Satoru. I swear to god.” She mutters to herself, scowling down at the screen. 

She doesn’t see anything, but she does click on his message with you. It all consists of just talks of the kid. 

Himari scrolls through the thread of messages, her scowl deepening as she reads. The exchanges are polite, straightforward, and almost entirely about your son—pickup times, school updates, doctor appointments. Nothing incriminating, nothing emotional. Just... parental coordination.  

But it still stings.  

Her grip tightens on the phone as her eyes skim over a message from a few days ago, the last message between you two:  

Y/N: 

Thank you for picking him up and the food.  

Satoru:

Of course, he’s my son. Just let me know if you need anything else.

Himari scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed with a frustrated huff. “Let me know if you need anything else.” she repeats mockingly under her breath. "He’s bending over backward for her, and I’m just supposed to sit here like nothing’s wrong? Yeah fucking right.”  

She paces the room, her mind racing. No matter how innocent the texts look, she can’t shake the feeling of being replaced. It doesn’t matter that Satoru insists he’s doing this for his son—his attention is divided, and she’s no longer at the center of his world.  Her pacing comes to a halt as she glances back at the phone. A new idea begins to form, one she knows is petty but feels justified in her growing anger.  

"If he won’t make me a priority," she mutters, picking up the phone again, "then I’ll remind him of what he stands to lose."  

She opens the camera app and snaps a picture of herself, deliberately angling it to show her figure in the soft light of the bedroom. Attaching it to a blank text, she hovers over the send button.  But something stops her. A hesitation, a flicker of doubt. She’s never had to fight for Satoru’s attention before—he’s always made her feel like she was the only one that mattered.  

Until now.  

With a frustrated growl, she deletes the photo and tosses the phone back onto the bed. Crossing her arms, she glares at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower still running behind it.  

"If you want to play the perfect dad, fine," she mutters. "But don’t expect me to sit around and wait while you pretend I don’t exist." 

Sitting down onto the bed, another form of thought pops in her head. Yanking the phone back into her hands, she presses his photo album. There must be something in here. And so, she scours and scours, zooming in on every picture in fear you’ll be in the background. However, she doesn’t find anything. Only pictures of that little brat who looks like his mirrored version. “Because of you…” she grits, hand tightening around the phone. 

Continuing to scroll higher, she can tell she’s reaching earlier years. Still, the insecurity and fear plaguing her chest causes her to not stop—not until she gets to the very first photo in his album. Then she’ll for sure know he’s still hers. She’s in the year 2015, before she met Satoru. He looks younger, more boyish. She pushes down the endearing feelings she holds towards his younger self and scrolls up. 

Until, she comes across a video. 

The start of it has your face in it and she’s clicking. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor in some Christmas jammies, a Santa hat on your head with a big Christmas tree behind you. She can assume Satoru’s sitting across from you, hearing his voice say, “Okay, go!”

The entirety of the video is her holding back throwing his phone across the room. Seeing you two open each other's gifts, seeing you smile at her man, and seeing her man look at you holding the camera in such a soft way—a way she’s almost never experienced before. 

She’s getting nauseous. 

She almost throws up when she catches a glimpse of you two kissing, saying the words I love you so softly. She quickly clicks out and shuts the phone off when the sounds of low moaning fill the speakers. 

Why does he even still have this? Does he look back on this?

She wants to claw her eyes and ears out of her body. Feeling utterly infuriated at her boyfriend for keeping practically a sextape of his ex even after all these years. You fucking assume, Satoru! Himari sits on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her mind is a storm of thoughts—jealousy, anger, and a pang of something else she refuses to name. Satoru’s insistence on prioritizing Koji and you feels like a betrayal, even if she knows deep down it’s not the same as him being unfaithful.  

Still, she can’t shake the bitterness creeping into her heart.  

She glances at his phone again, her jaw tightening. What does she have that I don’t? The question gnaws at her, even as she tries to shove it aside.  

When the sound of the shower cuts off, Himari straightens her posture, her eyes narrowing. A brewing begins to form—not a vengeful one, but one that will force Satoru to confront the rift growing between them.  Moments later, Satoru steps out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, his damp hair tousled and messy. He pauses when he sees her sitting there, her gaze piercing through him. “What’s with the look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She doesn’t answer right away, instead standing up and taking a slow step toward him. “Satoru,” she starts, her voice low but steady, “do you even realize how this feels for me? Watching you drop everything for her and that kid?”  

He sighs, already bracing himself for another argument. “Himari, we’ve been over this. Koji is my son. I have responsibilities—”  

“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she snaps, cutting him off. “I’m your girlfriend. I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve supported you, loved you, stood by you. But lately, it feels like I don’t even exist to you.”  

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration etched into his features. “This isn’t about us, Himari. It’s about Koji. He’s my son. I missed years of his life because I didn’t even know he existed. I’m not going to waste more time by pretending he doesn’t matter.”  

“And I don’t matter?” she fires back, her voice rising. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That I come second to some kid you barely even know?”  

Satoru’s patience finally snaps. “He’s not some kid, Himari! He’s my blood, my responsibility. And if you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in my life after all.”  

The words hang in the air like a slap. Himari stares at him, stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to process what he just said. Satoru doesn’t wait for her response. He grabs his phone from the bed, slipping it into his pocket, and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” he says flatly. “Don’t wait up.”  

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Himari alone in the room, her anger boiling over into tears she refuses to let fall. In the silence, one thought echoes louder than the rest: 

I won’t let her win. You wanted me to teach you, right? Then I’ll teach you.

Satoru’s already not having a good day. He could put most of the blame on his girlfriend, the other on his parents for questioning why he’s spending the holiday with you instead, and also the fact that there’s traffic. 

Of course there’s traffic. 

It’s a good thing, almost. It gives him some time to himself. It lets him calm his annoyance, the last thing he wants to do is ruin the day for his son. He’s also a little nervous to see you. He hasn’t seen or texted you since your small argument last time, and while he does feel bad, the other part of him still believes that what he did wasn’t wrong. Hopefully—maybe today or another day—he can settle that issue with you truly. There’s a lot of things he needs to settle with you, actually. 

But just like they say one day at a time, one problem at a time. 

His finger taps absentmindedly against his steering wheel as he surges his car forward before stopping again. Sighing, he checks the time. Cutting it a little close. He turns the music up and leans back, sighing heavily. 

But the song on the radio is something upbeat, and it only serves to grate on his nerves. Satoru switches it off with a sharp jab of his finger. The silence that follows isn’t much better, though—it leaves too much room for his thoughts to wander again. 

He wonders if you’ll bring up the argument as soon as he arrives. You’re not one to let things fester, not when Koji’s around, but he knows you’ve probably been stewing on it, the way you always do when it involves him. The guilt creeps in again, and he brushes it off like a pesky fly. He’s good at that—pushing things aside until they’re too big to ignore. That’s why you two are in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

Well, it’s surely part of it. 

The honk of a car behind him jolts him out of his thoughts. The traffic’s moving again, and Satoru presses on the gas, muttering a curse under his breath. He’s cutting it close, all right.

By the time he pulls up outside your place, his nerves are just frayed enough that he almost considers texting you to say he’s here instead of going to the door. But that feels… cowardly. He’s Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud. He can face you.

He steps out of the car, walking into the complex and up to your apartment. When he knocks on the door, it takes a moment before he hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, and there you are, looking… tired. But not unhappy to see him, which is something. Adorned in an apron too, how cute. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer than he expected.

“Hey,” he replies, trying for a smile that doesn’t feel forced. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of your home envelops him immediately, and the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room eases some of the tension in his chest.

“How’s he doing?” Satoru asks, his voice low as he glances toward the sound.

“He’s excited. Been asking about you all morning,” you say, crossing your arms but not looking at him directly.

Satoru shifts on his feet, his fingers tightening around the handle of the gift bag. “Yeah, well… I’m here now.”

You look at him then, your expression unreadable. “Yeah. You are.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Koji comes barreling into the room, his face lighting up when he sees his dad. “Papa!”

Satoru smiles, scooping up his son with ease as he walks into the living room, settling down onto the couch. The smell of delicious food fills his senses, eyes closing momentarily with a heavenly sigh. “Smells good, what’s your mother making?”

Koji grins, his arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s neck. “She’s making roast chicken and cookies!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement. “And I helped with the cookies. But Mama said I ate too much of the dough.”  

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sounds about right. You’ve got a sweet tooth like your old man.”  

Koji’s giggle is infectious, and Satoru can’t help but feel a swell of warmth as he holds his son close. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of clinking dishes and soft humming filters through. For a moment, the tension from the past few days fades, replaced by the simple comfort of being here with his family.  

“You’re late,” your voice cuts through the air, light but pointed. You step into the living room, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at him. He notices the small smudge of flour on your cheek, but there’s a softness in your expression that Satoru clings to.  His eyes move down your figure, ignoring the fluttering in his heart because you just look so damn cute in an apron. It feels domestic. 

You’re wearing a comfortable dress underneath, hair down with gold jewelry. Satoru physically gulps and tears his eyes away when they linger too long on your smooth legs. “Like I said, traffic.” He replies effortlessly, flashing you a sheepish grin. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

You inhale deeply, lips thinning but you concede with a simple nod. “Food’s almost ready. Koji, go wash your hands. And don’t forget to use soap this time.”  

Koji pouts but hops off Satoru’s lap, darting toward the bathroom. The moment he’s out of earshot, the room grows quiet, the weight of unspoken words settling between you and Satoru.  He leans back on the couch, watching you as you cross your arms and lean against the doorway. “You didn’t have to go all out today, you know,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “I could’ve helped you cook—”

You shrug, looking away for a moment as you cut him off. “It’s Christmas,” you reply. “I wanted it to be nice. For Koji.”  

He nods, understanding what you’re not saying. “For Koji,” he echoes. There’s a pause before he adds, “And for you, too. You deserve something nice, Y/N.”  

Your eyes flicker to his, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you find is that familiar look—the one that’s both infuriating and disarming at the same time. “You can’t just say things like that and expect everything to be okay, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.  

“I know,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m trying, okay? I know I’ve been pushing boundaries, and I’m sorry. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I don’t want to miss any more of this. Of him. Of you.”  

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You hate when he says confusing things like this because it messes with your head, fooling yourself into thinking there’s something else there. Clearing your throat, you straighten out your light pink apron. “Don’t say things like that.”

The firmness in your tone causes Satoru to purse his lips. Standing up and walking over to you. “I don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“You may not think that, but other people have different opinions.”

“Are you still mad at me from before?”

That always ticks you off—asking such obvious questions with such an innocent face. You think he’s joking, just trying to poke at the bear. But his concerned eyes, brows lifted up—it tells a whole other story. You open your mouth to respond, but Koji’s cheerful shout from the bathroom interrupts.  

“Mama! Papa! I’m ready!”  

You glance toward the bathroom, then back at Satoru. The moment is gone, but the tension lingers. “Dinner’s in ten,” you say simply, turning on your heel to head back to the kitchen.  

Satoru watches you go, a bittersweet mien playing on his godly face. He knows he’s got a long way to go—but for now, he’ll take whatever moments he can get. It’s Christmas, he wants to make the most out of it. And if that means faking it til he makes it, then so be it. 

He’s not the only one faking. 

You three are seated at the circular table in your kitchen. the warmth of the meal and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the windows creating a cozy atmosphere. Koji chatters excitedly about his favorite Christmas movies as he eagerly digs into his plate, his small hands occasionally reaching for a cookie from the platter in the center. If Koji knew any better, he’d ask why his parents weren’t really talking to one another. 

And unfortunately, he does know better. 

“Mama? Papa? Why are you so quiet?”

Damn kids’ continent, but uncomfortable questions. 

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth, glancing at Satoru across the table. His eyes briefly meet yours before flicking back to Koji, his usual confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the question. “Quiet? We’re not quiet, bud,” Satoru says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I’m just too busy stuffing my face to talk. This food is so good.”

Koji tilts his head, unconvinced. “But you always talk a lot, Papa. And Mama, you’re not smiling. I thought today was a happy day.”

Your grip on the fork tightens, the weight of Koji’s words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. You force a small smile, though it feels paper-thin. “It is a happy day, sweetie. Mama’s just tired from all the cooking, that’s all.”  

Koji frowns, his big, curious eyes shifting between you and Satoru. He’s far too perceptive for his age, and it’s moments like this that make it clear just how much he picks up on. Satoru clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, how about this? After dinner, we’ll all watch a Christmas movie together. You can pick, Koji. And then, we can open the presents.”  

Koji’s face lights up at the suggestion, but he’s not completely distracted. “Okay! But only if Mama picks, too. We all have to pick one!”  

You manage a soft chuckle, finally taking a bite of your food to avoid answering immediately. Satoru’s gaze lingers on you, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both. “That sounds like a deal,” you say after swallowing. “But only if you promise to eat all your vegetables first.”  

Koji scrunches his nose but nods. “Deal!”  

The rest of the meal is filled with Koji’s chatter, and though you and Satoru exchange a few words here and there, the tension remains. It’s not lost on either of you that Koji’s cheerful energy is doing the heavy lifting to make this feel like the family dinner it should be.  When the plates are cleared and Koji races to the couch to pick out the first movie, Satoru hesitates in the kitchen. He grabs a dish towel and starts drying the plates you’ve already washed, a small gesture that feels too intentional to be casual.  

“You don’t have to help,” you murmur, not looking at him. “I got it.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. There’s a pause before he adds, “I would’ve helped cook too, sorry I came later.”  

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression softer than you expected. “It’s okay,” you admit quietly. “It’s just dinner and opening gifts, I didn’t ask you to.”  

His hand stills on the plate he’s holding. “I know,” he says, his voice low. “But it’s still an obligation of mine, you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here now, remember?”  

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard. The truth to his words cause you to bite your lips, guilt sinking into your bones. It didn’t feel like one of those snide comments, but it had practically the same effect. And you know that he’s here, so he can handle some of your weight. However, it’s nonetheless hard to trust him with it, fearing it’ll be too heavy for him too. Before you can respond, Koji’s voice echoes from the living room.  

“Mama! Papa! Hurry up, the movie’s starting!”  

You sigh, drying your hands on a towel. “Let’s go before he starts it without us.” Satoru follows you to the couch, where Koji has already made a nest of blankets. As the movie begins, Koji snuggles between the two of you, his small hands clutching the remote.  He giggles, snuggling closer to you both, dropping the remote to the table. 

 It’s not perfect, but for tonight, it’s enough. It has to be, it’s Christmas. Although you’re not doing too much this holiday, not that you ever do, it still means a lot to Koji. Because he finally has his dad to spend it with. 

As the movie begins, Koji seems to have other plans. He grabs both of your hands—Satoru’s right and your left— bringing them in front of him and making them mash together. Immediately you tense up, just the slightest graze of Satoru’s long fingers having more of an effect on you than you anticipated. 

You pull away, Satoru’s hand lingers before he soon gets the hint. 

Koji frowns, head swiveling between his two parents. “Mama, Papa, you’re supposed to hold hands! That’s what families do,” Koji says, his little brows furrowing in frustration. His pout deepens, clearly displeased with your reaction.  

You give him a soft smile, hoping to smooth things over. “We are a family, Koji. We don’t need to hold hands to prove that,” you say gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  

“But it’s Christmas!” he protests, his small hands still clutching yours and Satoru’s as if he could force them together by sheer will. “Santa says families should be happy and together on Christmas! That’s what they do in the movies.”  

Satoru chuckles lightly, though there’s a hint of something conflicted in his expression as he looks at Koji. “Santa sounds like a pretty smart guy,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly flicking to you before resting on Koji again. “But sometimes families have their own way of being happy, bud. It doesn’t always look the same.”  

Koji seems to consider this, his lips pursed in thought. “Okay… but can we all hold hands just for the movie?” His tone is pleading, his wide eyes impossible to say no to.  

You hesitate, feeling the weight of Satoru’s gaze on you, before finally relenting with a quiet sigh. “I….Alright, just for the movie,” you say, letting Koji place your hand back in Satoru’s.  

Satoru’s fingers brush against yours again, warm and steady, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The contact feels heavier than it should, but Koji’s delighted giggle pulls your focus back to him.  

“See? Now it’s perfect!” he exclaims, snuggling back into the blankets with a satisfied grin. He holds your conjoined hands. 

Satoru hums softly, unintentionally giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to the screen. The movie plays on, Koji’s laughter filling the room. And while the air between you and Satoru remains thick with unspoken words, for this moment, you let yourself stay in the quiet warmth of your son’s happiness.  

The warmth of Koji’s small hands on top of yours is grounding, even as the tension between you and Satoru buzzes just beneath the surface. You glance at him briefly, finding his expression softer than usual. He’s watching Koji, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but when he catches your gaze, something knowing lingers in his eyes.

You look back at the screen, ignoring the familiarity Satoru’s large hand brings you. It’s familiar but different at the same time. It feels a bit more calloused, proof of his own events he’s faced in his life during the time you were separated. 

And to him, your hand feels just as it always did. Warm, soft, and so perfectly fitting. It’s like two puzzle pieces, or a key to a lock. For a second, he compares how it feels to Himari before mentally chastising himself. That’s probably a fucked up thing to do. But he’s already done a lot of that in his life. His thumb runs smoothly across your knuckles, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You want to pull away, but your son is a reminder to keep up the act. 

The movie plays on, filling the silence with cheerful music and laughter, but you can hardly focus. Satoru’s hand is still resting lightly against yours, his thumb brushing against your rugged muscle every so often, whether intentionally or not. It sends a twinge of something—nostalgia, maybe?—through your chest. You shift slightly, trying to focus on the screen, but Koji’s contented sigh draws your attention back to him. He’s nestled between the two of you, his little face illuminated by the glow of the TV, looking completely at peace.

“Are you happy, Koji?” you ask softly, the words slipping out before you can think them through.

Koji nods emphatically, his grin widening. “Yeah! This is the best Christmas ever!”

Satoru chuckles, his voice low and warm. “That’s a pretty big claim, Koji. We haven’t even opened the presents yet. What makes it the best?”

“Because I have Mama and Papa,” Koji says simply, looking between the two of you with wide, earnest eyes. “I don’t need presents or anything. Just you two.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel Satoru’s hand tighten a bit around yours. You don’t pull twitch away this time, letting the moment settle over you like the soft glow of the fairy lights. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been emotional this entire week already, or the fact that Koji is just so happy, but you’re feeling yourself choke up. 

For a brief second, the weight of everything—the arguments, the hurt, the uncertainty—fades into the background. It’s just the three of you, here and now, and maybe that’s enough. “Merry Christmas, Koji,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Hiding a trembling lip against his white tresses. Your eyes close, forcing your tears to stay exactly put where they are. 

“Merry Christmas,” Satoru echoes, his voice unusually tender. He peers over at you from the corner of his eye, a guy-wrenching twisting at his stomach when he sees your expression. He wants to wipe away the crinkle between your eyebrows with his free hand, but he decides against it—probably not the best thing to do right now. He can only offer you a firmer hand on top of yours, cradling it like it’s a diamond. It’s like a warm quilt, it feels oddly comforting. 

Again, you’re getting nostalgic. Maybe that’s another reason why you feel like crying right now—knowing you only have this fleeting moment. Koji’s smile widens, his hands squeezing one last time before settling back into his blanket cocoon.

The hours pass, having watched multiple movies already. Koji’s on the edge of falling asleep before you carefully wake him up that it’s midnight. He practically jumps right back into action, all former sleepiness gone and relaxes with utter excitement. “Presents! We can open the presents!” He scrambles to the tree, already beginning to pick at the ones he wants to open. 

You smile softly, watching Koji bounce around with excitement, the energy from the day still shining brightly in his eyes. He’s so full of joy, so eager to unwrap the surprises you and Satoru managed to get for him. The sight warms your heart, even as a quiet tension lingers in the room.

Satoru, still leaning back against the couch, watches Koji with a mix of amusement and something more—something heavier. His lips twitch, as if trying to hold back a smile, but the look in his eyes when he glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Alright, baby,” you say softly, standing up from your spot. “Let’s open them, but remember, one at a time.”

Koji nods, his little hands already tearing into the first present like a whirlwind. He pulls out a small toy car and holds it up triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It’s just like the one I saw at the store!”

Satoru chuckles and ruffles his hair. “That’s a good one, Koji. I’m jealous. What else ya got?”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange, even as you reach down to grab the next present for Koji. But something still nags at you. The way Satoru looks at Koji, it’s so…heartwarming. It’s a look given only to his child, one a father could only give out. You feel both touched and warm at the same time. 

Tonight is about Koji, about making sure he feels loved and special. And while you and Satoru are at odds, you both are doing one hell of a job of making sure that it comes true. 

As Koji continues to unwrap gifts, the room fills with laughter and the sound of crinkling wrapping paper. Your heart swells watching him, but in the back of your mind, the remnants of the earlier tension refuse to fully fade. The space between you and Satoru feels both distant and strangely intimate all at once.

After maybe an hour, after admiring each gift right after opening it, Koji finishes opening his presents. You both settle back into the couch, Koji nestled between you, holding onto his new toys. There’s figurines—mainly Spider-Man or Avengers based—toy cars or motorcycles, a little rocket ship, hot wheels, a Nerf Gun, new clothes, he really got it all this year. Of course, most of the contribution was from Satoru. The silence stretches, but it feels softer now. The tension, although still there, feels more like a quiet hum in the background, overshadowed by Koji’s happiness.

“Thank you, Mama,” Koji says sleepily, his little voice thick with the exhaustion of the day. “And thank you, Papa.”

Satoru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Koji’s head. “You’re welcome, bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles, watching his son begin to put his Spider-Man on top of the motorcycle, sparing a glance back at the tree. It’s then his smile falters. 

“Oh, you forgot two, Koji.”

“Hm?” His son looks up, seeing the two gifts all the way at the back of the tree. Getting so distracted with all his other gifts, he must’ve forgotten about those two. He sets his toys to the side and crawls back onto the floor to reach for the gift bags. Reading the tags, he looks over at you. “Oh, Mama. These are from your friend.” 

When Koji stands up and hands you one of the presents, you’re suddenly reminded. Oh. In a way, you did also forget that Suguru got you and Koji something—just so wrapped up in watching Koji rip apart each of his gifts. You smile faintly, thumbs running over the intricate snowflake patterns. 

“Friend?” Satoru asks, his voice bringing you back to reality. 

Head turning over, you realize that his face has contorted—scrunched up slightly when he holds onto Koji’s gift, reading the name of the receiver. “Suguru?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a tint of disapproval. “When did he get you two something?”

You almost lie, feeling a random burst of gultuness hit you. But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Because Satoru’s voice sounds curlis in a sense, but also suspicious. It makes you feel a little irritated, holding back a light scoff. So what Suguru got you and Koji something? “He came over to drop it off.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best answer to give. Now Satoru’s body has faced you fully, eyebrow raising like he’s trying to put two and two together. But there’s nothing to put together. “And when was this?”

“A few days ago,” you reply back, firming your intonation. 

Satoru’s gaze narrows ever so slightly, and you can feel the shift in the air between you both. The tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface all evening suddenly intensifies. “A few days ago…” Satoru repeats, his tone now more deliberate.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, mirroring his reaction. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, very obviously holding back on something for the sake of his son and the holiday. Shaking his head and giving Koji’s gift back to him. “Nope, no problem.”

You can’t help yourself as you huff under your breath, focusing back on your son as he opens the gift. He gasps, yanking the tissue paper out and revealing a bright, shiny new Spider-Man action figure. His eyes widen with delight as he holds it up to you and Satoru, showing off the intricate details of the toy. "Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It's just like the new one I saw on TV!" He beams, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the room. “It talks and makes noises and lights up!”

You chuckle softly, finding his excitement endearing. "It's perfect, Koji. You’re going to have so much fun with that."

Satoru, however, seems distracted. He’s still watching you closely, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint edge to his demeanor. You can tell he's trying to keep his composure, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

Koji has almost entirely disregarded his previous gifts to play with his new gift, his attention fully focused on the toy in his hands. 

Satoru clears his throat, the subtle sound pulling you back from your thoughts. "So, Suguru came by to drop off gifts...?" His voice carries a tone that’s almost too casual, but you don’t miss the hint of something more in his eyes.

You hold his gaze, the irritation bubbling up again. "Yes, he did. He’s been kind to us." You can’t help the defensiveness that creeps into your voice. "Is that a problem?"

Satoru doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he glances over at Koji, who’s happily occupied with his toy. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes again. "No, I didn’t say that. I just... I just didn’t know he was so involved."

You feel a knot form in your stomach. The subtle way he’s questioning you, the way his posture tenses every time Suguru’s name comes up—he’s feeling something, and you’re not sure how to read it. Before you can respond, Koji looks up from his toys, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Is something wrong, Papa? Mama?”

You both turn your attention to him, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. You force a smile, trying to keep things light. "No, Koji. Everything’s fine." You reach over to ruffle his hair. "Are you enjoying your presents?"

Koji nods enthusiastically, his smile wide. "Best Christmas ever!" he exclaims. He looks down at your gift. “Open yours, Mama. I wanna see what your friend got you.”

You hesitate, still trying to steady your emotions after the tension with Satoru. “Alright, sweetheart,” you say, holding your gift upright in your lap. Gently peeling away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. The delicate craftsmanship catches your attention immediately. 

Koji’s eyes widen in anticipation. “What’s inside, Mama? What is it?”

You open the box, revealing a small silver pendant shaped like a star, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It’s beautiful—elegant and simple, a perfect fit for you. You trace your fingers over the smooth edges, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you smile at the thoughtful gesture. It comes with a thin silver chain, a small note underneath it. When you pull it out, it reads: 

“For the one who shines the brightest, even in the darkest of times.”

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words. It’s simple, yet so deeply personal. You trace the note with your fingertips, a mixture of warmth and something else stirring in your chest. You always mocked Suguru in the past for being so corny with his words, you never expected to be on the receiving end of them. And you never expected to blush from it either. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Mama?” Koji asks, his voice filled with genuine excitement. “I think it’s sparkly like the stars!”

You nod. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll look lovely on me,” You slide the pendant into your hand, clutching it for a moment longer before carefully setting it back inside. But, despite your best efforts to keep things together, you can feel the tension building again. Satoru’s look that he fails to hide is getting more on your nerves by the second. He’s acting like he has some right to be upset if his friend is giving you something. He’s acting like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is.

“Are you gonna wear it?” Koji asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Papa, won’t Mama look pretty with it?”

You peer over. “Of course, Mama will look pretty with it,” he says with a half-smile that’s forced. “She’s always beautiful, no matter what she wears.”

You scoff this time. What a load of shit. 

Koji squeals, clearly pleased with the answer. “Right, Mama? You’re the prettiest!”

You smile back, feeling warmth in your chest, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, sweetheart,” you mutter softly, trying to keep things light. 

It’s extremely late now. Koji has passed out in his room with the figurine Suguru got him. Satoru and you have cleaned up in complete silence, the awkward tension intensifying even more now that Koji isn’t here to mend that. There’s only the sound of the soft hum of the dishwasher as it runs. You wipe down the counter, your movements mechanical, each action making the silence stretch longer and longer between you. Satoru stands by the sink, wiping down the wet surface around it with a towel, his back to you. But you can feel his presence in the room like a weight pressing down on the air.

Neither of you says anything, the unspoken words piling up between you both. You can feel the tension crawling beneath your skin, just like before, but now there’s no Koji to distract you, no innocent question to break the silence. Just you and Satoru, both avoiding the inevitable conversation that looms in the background. Until he finally has the balls to do something. “He didn’t tell me he was getting you guys something.”

You pause, staring down at the clean surface. “Why would he have to tell you? It’s just a present.” Your hand moves again, moving onto the corner of the granite. 

Satoru bites his tongue, willing himself not to snark back. He turns his body around, eyes digging holes into the back of your head. “I mean, it’s a little strange.”

“How?”

“Because Koji is my son, you’re my ex.”

“So that suddenly means I’m incapable of receiving presents from other men now?” You whirl around, hands on your hips. “What did you say again? Oh, right. ‘Stop getting mad at little things’.” 

Satoru flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, not expecting you to snap back so quickly. But he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice is low, tight, as if he’s trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t like how...how weird that feels.”

You roll your eyes. “Right, weird, huh?”

“I’m not trying to argue, okay?”

“I’m not arguing either,” you quip back. “But you have no right to act like this is ‘weird’ when it’s not. You have no right to be even curious about who’s giving Koji and I gifts.”

“No right?” He huffs back at you, lip curling up. “I think I have all the right, Y/N. First off, he’s my son. Second off, we used to date. And third off, that’s my best friend. What kind of best friend—”

“Then maybe you should take that up with him.” You cut him off, chin tilting up. It’s getting harder by the second to keep things calm and composed. But Satoru shoving his fat nose into something that doesn’t involve him is testing every bit of patience you have. “I can get a gift from whoever I want, that’s none of your concern.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as you speak, his grip on the towel tightening, the vein in his neck twitching with barely restrained frustration. “None of my concern, huh?” His voice lowers, the words coming out sharp. “That’s funny, because it seems like everything I do, say, or feel ends up being your concern, whether you want it to be or not.”

You step closer, your heart racing as the anger rises in your chest, pushing against the barriers you’ve built. “Satoru, I’m done pretending like everything we do is some sort of tangled mess that you have the right to control. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, and Koji isn’t the reason I have to explain every little thing to you.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

“Then just shut the hell up about it already.”

Silence follows. 

The room feels colder now, the weight of your words settling heavily in the space between you. Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s weighing the next words carefully. He’s frustrated, no doubt, but something else lingers beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of you has dared to address.

You stand there, both of you frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It feels as though time has stopped, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Satoru takes a breath and places the towel down on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice much softer now, but still tinged with frustration. “I get it. It’s not my place anymore.”

Your lips purse, feeling slightly caught off guard by his quick reluctance to further escalate things. But that’s a good thing, right? Swallowing down anything else, you nod stiffly. Eyes moving down to focus on anything else but him. Your hands awkwardly fiddle together. 

But he never looks away from you. Mind reeling about what to say or do next, fearing that he did in fact make a big deal out of nothing. It’s just presents, that’s it. But the quiet voice in his head nags at him more and more. But why didn’t Suguru say anything? Isn’t it at least some common courtesy to tell your best friend you’re getting his son and ex a gift? Even a simple text would have sufficed. 

But he didn’t do any of that. So Satoru’s brain feels like he tried to hide it—for a reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe he forgot? Still, he doesn’t like the knot that forms in his gut. 

A calming breath is taken to reset his system, shaking his head. Not tonight, not tonight. His fingers reach into the pocket of his coat, feeling a small, square box. He waits for a few seconds, unsure if he should continue on. Nonetheless, he does. Pulling out the little thing, presenting it in front of him. 

He clears his throat, you look back over at him. Head tilting slightly at the sight of the wrapped box with a tiny red bow. “…what is that?”

“My gift to you.” He murmurs out, holding it to you. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting. No words come out, feeling a multitude of varying emotions. It all ends with you reaching out for the box, shaking it a little. You hear a small clanking. Asking a stupid question like what is it will just keep your wary feelings alive. So, you carefully remove the light wrapping, slowly like you’re scared as to why you’ll see inside. 

You’re not scared. Just more confused. 

“A key?” You question, holding up the gold key in front of your face. It dangles as your vision focuses back on the man in front of you. “What is this for?”

Satoru watches you, his eyes a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something more vulnerable. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for your reaction. “To your new place.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. A new place? Your mind struggles to catch up, trying to make sense of the statement. “My new place?” you repeat, still not sure if you heard him correctly.

Satoru nods slowly, his eyes now focused on the key in your hand. “I’ve been looking for something for you. For Koji. A place where you both can be… comfortable. It’s. A nice neighborhood, enough room. There’s a school next by and there’s open spots left.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tinge of something vulnerable in the way he says it—like he’s giving you space to decide, but also hoping for something more.

A rush of conflicting emotions hits you. You look down at the key again, your fingers curling around it as you try to process what he’s saying. “You… got me a place?” You repeat, still in shock over the fact that he went out of his way to do so. 

He shifts his weight, eyes still on the key. “Not just you. A place for you, Koji… and maybe even me, too. When I come to visit sometimes, there’s four bedrooms, one of them can be used as a spare.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Satoru has always been unpredictable, but this—this is different. It feels like he’s offering something more than just a space. It’s a possibility. A chance. But it also feels like an unspoken question, one that you’re not sure how to answer. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, looking at the key again. “Why now?”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “Because… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I know I’ve messed things up too for us, and I’m not asking for anything. Just… I thought it might be a good way to start fresh. For you and Koji. And you guys mean a lot to me, I want you to live in a nice space. Not…not somewhere like this. The people look shady.”

You stand there, the weight of his words sinking in. The offer is unexpected, yet strangely comforting. It’s not just about the apartment or the key—it’s about something deeper, something that might hold the possibility of fixing whatever things were broken.

But then, a quiet part of you wonders: Do I want this?

You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key tighter in your hand now. You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key in your hand now. The smooth, cold metal feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding all the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings between you and Satoru. You glance up at him, his expression open yet guarded, as though he’s trying to brace himself for any answer you might give.

“Satoru...” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, though there’s an uneasy tension in his posture. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just...I wanted to give you something. Something that’s yours.” His gaze flickers to the key in your hand. “No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe. If you don’t want it, I’ll still keep it around if you someday change your mind.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within you, but it also makes your heart ache. You swallow hard, your emotions swirling. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” you ask, your tone softer now, though still tinged with confusion.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured or think it was about me trying to fix everything all at once. It’s not like that. I just... I care about you. And about Koji. And besides, it’s Christmas.” He ends with a small smile, his right dimple peeking out. 

His words hang in the air, filling the silence between you. For a small instant, you don’t respond, your mind racing. This gesture—it’s thoughtful, maybe even selfless—but it’s also overwhelming. You hold the key closer, feeling its edges press into your palm, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. Finally, you exhale, your voice steady but quiet. “I need some time to think about this. It’s... a lot.”

Satoru nods, his blue eyes softening. “Take all the time you need. It’s yours, no matter what you decide.” He pauses, glancing toward the door. “Well, I should probably get going.”

Adjusting his coat, he takes one step out the kitchen before you stop him with a hand to his arm. A ring of fire burns up his arm and to his ears, slowly making its way to his cheeks when he looks back down at you. “I…I got you something…too.”

His eyebrows raise, not having expected you to give him something in return. Letting go of his arm, you walk to a small cupboard, reaching in and pulling out a square shaped gift. It’s wrapped in light blue wrapping with a red bow. You hand it to him and he takes it, feeling around. He already has an idea of what it is. 

“Open it when you get back.” You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He stares quietly for a small time, a hint of a smile almost making its way onto his face again. It’s cute how shy you look right now. Some things never change, do they? He nods, murmuring back. “Okay, thank you.”

With one final hum from you, he heads back to the door. His stomach feeling lighter. You hesitate, watching him turn toward the hallway. “Satoru.”

He stops, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, even if you’re still unsure about everything. “For thinking about us.”

A faint grin tugs at his lips, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Always,” he says softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with the key in your hand and your thoughts spinning.

You remain rooted in place, the key dangling lightly in your grip as the door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows feels deafening. The warmth of the holiday lights around the room does little to ease the cold weight settling in your chest. You sit down at the edge of the couch, staring at the key, your mind replaying Satoru’s words. No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe.

It’s a generous gift, undeniably thoughtful, but it feels complicated—like every other thing in your relationship with Satoru. You know he means well, but the history between you makes it impossible to separate the gesture from the lingering emotions that bind you both. Your gaze shifts to the Christmas tree, now surrounded by Koji’s new toys. You can still picture his bright smile, hear his laughter from earlier in the evening. The thought of giving him a stable home, something truly yours, tugs at your heart. But then there’s the nagging voice in your head, reminding you of the tension tonight—the unspoken conflicts, the unresolved feelings, and the fragile line you and Satoru walk every time you see each other.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the key resting in your palm. Your eyes drift to the small silver pendant Suguru gave you earlier. It still sits on the coffee table, catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Another kind gesture. Another layer to the mess.

The soft patter of small feet interrupts your thoughts. Koji appears in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his Spider-Man toy clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Mama?” he mumbles, his voice groggy. “Why are you still up?”

You quickly set the key on the table, forcing a smile. “Just cleaning up, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

He nods, yawning as he climbs onto your lap, resting his head against your chest. “Yes.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best Christmas ever.”

You hold him close, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead. “That’s all that matters,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. But even as you say it, your thoughts drift back to the key—and everything it represents.

Satoru has been staring at the gift—stil wrapped—for about fifteen minutes now. He’s conflicted. Unsure if he wants to know what you got him, or if it’ll bring on something unwanted. The gift sits untouched on the table before him, the wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand tangled in his hair as he stares at it. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, his thoughts spiraling in circles.

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s been sitting here, debating whether to open it.

He knows it’s just a gift. A simple, kind gesture. But with everything that’s happened tonight—the tension, the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—this small box feels heavier than it should. What if it’s something that reminds him of how things used to be? Or worse, what if it’s just a polite, distant gift, a reminder of how far apart you’ve drifted?

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “It’s just a damn gift, Satoru,” he mutters to himself. Yet he doesn’t move, his blue eyes fixed on the box as if it might spring to life and deliver answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. 

He huffs a reluctant laugh, his hand finally reaching for the gift. His fingers trace the edges of the paper before he carefully begins to unwrap it, the sound of tearing paper filling the quiet room. Beneath the wrapping is a small black box, simple and unassuming. He lifts the top up and it drops to the side. 

His hands still in place, almost beginning to tremble. His breathing shallows, heart thumping quicker than before. Carefully—very carefully—he reaches in. Handling the object with utmost care, bringing it closer to his face. 

Two faces stare back at him. 

His son—undeniably younger, maybe around one year old. He’s being held in your lap, arms secure around his waist. He looks chubbier, cuter. Wearing a cute Christmas get up. Baby Santa. And when his eyes glaze over to you, he gulps. 

You’re wearing an equally festive outfit. A bright red sweater adorned with little snowflakes and reindeer, a simple black skirt to go with it. Your face is glowing with a smile so genuine, it knocks the breath out of him. Your hair is a little messier, your cheeks flushed with warmth, probably from laughing too much. Koji’s tiny hand clutches at your sweater, and your other hand is raised in a peace sign as you lean closer to him for the photo. 

Satoru’s fingers brush the surface of the photograph, his chest tightening as the memory pulls him under. It looks like a professional photo done, you must’ve gone all out that Christmas. Now, holding it in his hands, it feels like a physical snapshot of a life he had no chance of living in. 

His thumb grazes the edge of the picture frame it’s nestled in. It’s a simple wooden frame, painted white, with the words Our First Christmas Together etched across the top in tiny gold letters.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his vision blurring slightly. He blinks rapidly, trying to push back the emotions clawing at his throat. It’s not just the photograph—it’s what it represents. A time when things were simpler. When the two of you were a family, before everything unraveled. When it was just you and Koji—no room for him. 

The weight of the night presses on him again, harder this time. He feels foolish for hesitating to open the gift, for overthinking it, when you’d given him something so pure. Something so full of love. He pulls the frame in, swallowing hard as he leans back on the couch. He holds it close to his chest. His other hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly as he tries to steady himself. “Why’d you have to go and do this?” he whispers to no one, his voice breaking. He outwardly chuckles—bitter but affectionate. Warm tears sliding down his cheeks and resting atop the wooden frame. His lips press a small kiss to his baby son, and to you. 

Because now, more than ever, he realizes how much he still misses you. And how much he regrets letting it all slip away when he was too young and stupid to think clearly. 

That night when he heads to bed, he sleeps with the picture of his family next to him. Tucked in like it’s a physical being, and in a way, it is. 

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CV section: dissertation defense cakes

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (08) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 17.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you again for all your love and appreciation for this story. Srsly, I'm perpetually blown away 🥰 But like I've mentioned, updates will take longer after this as I return to uni, so I hope for your patience as we get closer to the end.

This chapter also contains triggering topics such as sexual harassment and attempted assault. There's a discussion on what happens after something traumatizing like that, so pls be cautious and know that what's depicted here is just another way of dealing with such experience.

On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The end-of-autumn chilly air pierces through your skin, lingering even as you settle inside the plant store that gives the warmth that you need. You sigh in relief, and Soomin and Jimin giggle at you because they know how you are. It’s why during moments like this, their affection shows, hugging you from each side as you look up at the shelf for another rubber tree you want to add to your collection.

“What are you two on about?” You ask, nonchalantly releasing your arm to get your chosen glossy plant. 

“Nothing, just showing our love,” Soomin says, resting her chin on your shoulder. “We know you love the cold even if you easily get cold. You don’t like hugs either but you can’t do anything about us.”

“It’s true that I can’t do anything about the both of you,” you hum. “But you also know it’s not that I don’t like hugs. It’s just not my preferred form of affection.”

“Even after all the years that we’ve been giving it to you?” Jimin asks, as he pulls away from you to place the plant in your cart.

“Yeah. I mean, if I only give or receive it every few weeks, then it wouldn’t be,” you respond. “But I also wouldn’t really know. Other than you guys, there’s not much affection I feel towards other people.”

It’s a reality you’ve long accepted. You’re away from your family and friends, and the only other form of affection you receive is through sex with the few men you’ve been interested in - pleasurable at best, shallow at worst. Perhaps it’s the reason why you do, you think now. They’re still good substitutes. Being alone doesn’t feel so lonely when you’re intimate with people you don’t exactly share moments of intimacy with. You’ve learned these last few years that there’s a difference. 

Your friends just hum in agreement, choosing now to point out that your home is transforming into some zen garden with the amount of plants you’ve bought just this last month. 

“Should I just be a gardener or a plant store worker?” You look at them. “Or study to become a landscape designer?”

“Honey, tending to low-maintenance plants is a different thing,” Soomin chuckles. “That’s a start, though. But kidding aside, so a career change is what you’re going for?”

“Hmm, just a thought,” you shrug. “What if moving companies isn’t just what I need? What if it’s doing something completely different? Like being out of an office or answering to someone or something?”

“That’s true. Sometimes we find what we’re looking for in unfamiliar environments,” Jimin chimes in. “Are you thinking about doing it soon?”

“Maybe not,” you say. “I’ve become quite invested in the Arts Center and I really wanna see it through. Maybe after it’s opened, then that’s when I’ll finally step away.”

“Well, you have been doing a lot of work for it,” Soomin agrees. “But… are you sure it’s the only thing holding you back? And not someone specific? A boss, maybe?”

“The Arts Center isn’t holding me back, Soo. And neither is Jungkook,” you state. “After all the years I spent in the company, I don’t wanna let anything or anyone keep me from doing what’s best for me. I don’t… I don’t wanna get stuck there. I don’t wanna keep feeling indebted. That’s what’s held me back this whole time.”

“Oh, hun,” Soomin sighs. “You don’t owe anyone anything. And if you did, you’ve paid your dues, all eight years of them.”

As Jimin heads out to get his car, she entangles her arm around yours and asks again if your decision to wait to resign has something to do with Jungkook.

“Why are you so insistent?” You frown at her. 

“Just… wondering. You haven’t expressed disdain for him in so long. Even the weekly ugh work drives me nuts messages have stopped, and that says a lot. I was just thinking that maybe he’s gone soft on you, and that you’ve gone soft on him, too. I just wanna make sure I’m ready when you drop the bomb on us or something. I mean, you two have so much tension, who knows what’ll happen?”

“Okay, what if I’ve just developed better coping mechanisms now and can manage without complaining about it? That’s a possibility. And, even if I’ve been busy with organizing events and stuff, I actually enjoy that,” you explain. 

“Okay. So what about Jungkook?”

You look away, knowing that any acknowledgment of the comfort you’ve started to feel around him may start to mean something else once you say it. Admitting even the tiniest bit of attraction is even more of a no-no, so you just play it off, the same way you did when you got home from the gala and you dodged all questions about him, choosing instead to talk about the delicious food and the weird people you met. 

“We’ve found a way to move on from how we started and learned that we actually work really well together. We have to be professional and all that.”

Right, you scoff to yourself. Thinking about your boss’ smile as you fall asleep is anything but professional.

“Fine, whatever you say,” she gives in as the car comes into view. “Just know that I’m here, okay? Jimin’s a bit protective and still hasn’t gotten over how that man treated you so you can talk to me in case anything else changes.” 

“I will,” you say, giving her hand a squeeze. 

You spend the rest of that weekend watching movies and singing your hearts out at a karaoke and stuffing your faces with good food. Before you know it, you’re back in your bed on a Sunday, all alone, but you don’t feel so lonely, nor do you feel so terrible at having to start another week. If anything, you’re wondering how Jungkook spent these last two days. At a club, maybe. He did say there’s always a party he’s invited to. 

You stop yourself from thinking of what happens after that. He’s got women at his beck and call after all, even when he’s in Singapore, as Lucas had told you during your call two months ago. But it doesn’t really matter - Jungkook is Jungkook and you’re you. And that’s not yet even considering the glaring reality of him being your boss. 

Ever since the gala, you can say that there’s been a change in how you’ve been with him. There’s a lot more attention, you’d say. There’s more admiration, too, when it comes to him doing his work, making decisions, and drawing up plans and designs. 

You understand the distance and the detachment somehow. You suppose that whatever he experienced made him that way, so you’d make an effort into making him smile, teasing him a little more than usual so there’s a bit more joy in his day. You can say he’s gotten used to it. Even Mr. Ri would laugh and join in. 

And that’s the thing - you anticipate it. You look forward to the curl of his lips and the dip on his lower cheek and the softness in his eyes and the way he turns away or bows his head to hide it. Even the way he’d play it off is quite endearing, a term you never thought you’d use to describe him. It makes you wonder if people had tried to get to know him, maybe knock on the door and wait around to see if he’d come out and let them in. 

But all that has brought you to right now - Sunday night as you think about seeing him the next morning. You think back to all the times that you’d entered his penthouse and saw him in his gym attire post-workout, the seconds you’d spent so close to him as you adjusted his necktie, and the breakfasts and car rides you’d shared. You recall the nods of acknowledgement after serving him his coffee, the times he’d agreed with your recommendations, and the instances he’d turned to you for support and his look of thanks after you’ve given it. 

Then there’s the grazing of your fingertips, the brushing of arms, the interlocking of eyes.

And your heart, beating a little too fast then.

You groan to yourself. You really have to find a way for this to stop.

You try to keep your distance from Jungkook for the next few days. 

You do your usual - fix his outfit, eat with him the breakfast you prepared, go through schedules, and join him in meetings. You do away with the eye contact, you skip the teasing, and you don’t share about your evening like you’ve been doing. And that’s only because doing so just gives you moments to remember, like his gazes lingering or the sound of his laughter. Even more, it messes with your mind thinking that just like you, he spends most of his weeknights alone. 

You act unbothered, although him catching you looking at him from your office seat and then you, quickly looking away doesn’t really help your case. 

It’s on Wednesday when he passes by your desk to put back some files and you return to your task after giving him a small smile when he asks if you’re okay.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Just a little tired but aren’t we all?” You respond, your eyes flitting from him to your desktop screen. 

“Yes, but most of us take breaks. You don’t,” he counters.

“Neither do you,” you turn to him with an arched brow. 

It’s become a habit of yours to remind him to rest but just like you, he’s pretty stubborn. 

“Ah, there you are,” he chuckles. “I was almost convinced you’re not really my assistant if you didn’t point that out but alas, it’s you.”

“Are you testing me, sir?” You frown at him. 

A mistake, really, since he gives you that teasing smirk of his that you’re learning is your weakness. 

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself all week and I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. You can take a leave tomorrow, if that’s what you need.”

“It’s okay, sir. And I’m fine,” you assure him, realizing that there’s not much that could keep you away from him. “Plus, we have that dinner with the media festival organizers tomorrow evening and it’s the only time they’re free.”

“I know,” he sighs. “As long as you’re sure. It’s selfish but I do need you there.”

Of course he does, you think to yourself. You’re there to make his life easier, after all. It’s the only reason why he’d ever need you or want you around. 

You confirm that you’ll go to work tomorrow and sigh in relief when he doesn’t say anything more. You decide to go home, wanting to get to the weekend so you can find some distraction, in whatever way that may be. 

Thursday comes and you spend your day divided between working with the support team for the upcoming VP events and coordinating with the Arts Center marketing team for the deliverables they need signed off. 

It’s busy enough that you don’t see much of Jungkook but that only really lasts until you have to accompany him to that welcome dinner with the organizers of the international media festival that Jungkook wanted to collaborate with for the Arts Center promotions. It’s happening in August of next year and while the partnership has been established,  he wants to work on his relationship with them so that the plans could firm up quickly. 

You head to Jungkook’s restaurant of choice in Itaewon, a fancy place that serves Korean dishes in a modern, artistic way. You’ve heard about it before; the food looks like something you could put at an art gallery. Korea’s exceptional ability to merge traditional and modern elements is reflected in this restaurant’s menu. It’s why he wanted to bring them here, he tells you. 

You settle in your seat, excited for the dishes that are about to come out, and that’s when you see him, the man you dated before Hajoon, and someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. He continued to reach out months after you ended things with him. It seemed harmless then, and it was only two years ago when he finally stopped. 

Chi-won recognizes you first, having come in to serve the first set of dishes. He stares as he sets the plate in front of you, his gaze lingering even as he moves on to one of the organizers to your right. He looks different, which is why it took you another look for his face to register. He’s lost weight and cut his hair; his features look somehow harder, too. 

There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He was pretty laid-back, a reason why you both clicked that first time. He’d have his moments of frustration, letting them out in his own ways like in the bedroom, but he always seemed to get over them quickly.

Things were always casual and you made sure he knew that. He didn’t seem to mind at first but he started to want more and with your new role with Hoseok then, you were always tired and busy. The nights with Chi-won stopped being your relief, and when you told him you couldn’t see him anymore, he seemed to accept it. The messages shortly after were just about asking how you were doing and after answering twice, you stopped replying and then changed your number. You haven’t heard from him since, and you assumed he’d just accepted things and moved on.

But tonight you feel the tension, and so when he stands close to you when he serves the succeeding plates and when he waits around your table to watch you eat, you start to feel uncomfortable. 

You try to be present in the conversation happening around you, as the organizers seem to be enjoying the meal while also pitching in some ideas for the launch. You try to focus on Jungkook’s voice this time to distract you. But the pair of eyes that seems to watch your every move starts to become too much, and the anxiety builds as each second ticks by.

It’s while you wait for the dessert when you take the opportunity to step out. Jungkook mentions the invitation drafts so you say that they’re saved in your iPad that you’ll retrieve from the car parked on the other street. He agrees that it would be good to show them, so you excuse yourself and get some much needed fresh air, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder just by not being in the same space as Chi-won. 

That is, until you hear a familiar voice call your name. 

You stiffen for only a moment then continue to walk, fumbling for your phone as you try to dial Mr. Ri’s number. But you don’t get to, as the man following you pulls your wrist to get you to face him. You jerk in response, dropping your phone on the ground, and the fear fills you immediately.

“Don’t touch me,” you seeth, cradling your arm as you pick up your phone. 

You try to stay calm, even as his smug face gives you chills, and you try to remember the man who liked to laugh and joke around those years ago, seeing now that he’s nothing like him.

“Funny you say that when that’s all you wanted me to do before,” he mocks, inching closer to you. “I know you remember, ___. Those nights were amazing, weren’t they? Your body and your moans told me so, so I don’t know why you wanted them to stop.”

You want to stay silent and not give him anything, but there’s desperation in his eyes, and you’re afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t even acknowledge him, so you give the same explanation you did before.

“I told you. I didn’t want anything serious,” you say, making sure you keep your distance from him. 

“That’s not what you’d say whenever you’re drunk,” he counters. “You’d go on about not wanting to be alone, about wanting to be taken care of and being with someone who made you feel loved.”

“I never said I wanted it to be you,” you respond, too quickly for his liking it seems, as you see his look turn into anger. 

“So what was I for?” He demands. “Just the guy you fucked for the sake of it?”

“I was stressed with work and you hated yours,” you remind him. “That’s all we needed each other for.”

“But things changed for me,” he says, his voice softening again, the fluctuation of his tone scaring you even more. “I wanted to be with you. And seeing you now, I know I still do.”

“But I don’t,” you state. “I didn’t then and I don’t even now.”

“But you wanted that restaurant owner, didn’t you?” He demands, worrying you that he knows about Hajoon. 

“No, that didn’t mean anything. We were never together.”

“Bullshit, ___. I’d see you at the clubs around here with his arm on your waist, just like I used to do. That clearly meant something.”

The thought that Chi-won kept tabs on you even after you ended things makes you angry. Perhaps it’s because he works around the area you frequented during those times but even then, the fact that he even knows what Hajoon does for a living is crossing the line, and in your frustration, you hit Chi-won where it hurts the most.

“Clearly it didn’t mean enough because I’m not seeing him anymore. And I was never serious with him, just like I wasn’t with you.”

He visibly groans. He walks closer to you again, prompting you to walk backwards. With you turned back and walking on your heels on the uneven pavement, you’re worried you’ll hurt yourself. Even more, a part of you is scared that he’ll hurt you. It’s still early on a Thursday night and you’re in the quieter part of town so there aren’t many people walking on the streets; those who are are too far for you to catch their attention. So you continue your steps until you’re backed up against the wall and with nowhere to go, you start to panic, feeling the fear slowly overtake you. 

“You know, I came out here because I wanted to talk to you just to see how you were doing since you know, I actually cared about you like you wanted,” he rolls his eyes. “But seeing you act like none of what we shared mattered just makes me so angry. Why do you get to go on and treat me like shit? I’m just gonna have to do the same, then.”

At this, he cages you, his face too close to yours that you freeze in fear. The smirk makes you nauseous, but somehow you find the strength to push him away but he comes back right after, closer each time.

“I said, don’t touch me!” You yell, giving him another shove. “Just stay away from me!”

Chi-won grabs your wrist once more, holding you tightly so he can show you that he has control and that he can do whatever he wants.

“Let me go!” You plead, but he doesn’t budge. 

“I don’t want to, not when I get to have you all alone after so long,” he hums, licking his lips and dragging his eyes all over your body. “I always liked it when you came over wearing that skirt of yours.”

You know this is what he wants. He wants you to be scared, he wants to haunt your dreams and not make you forget him because he knows that you obviously already had. You’re terrified but you try to gather whatever courage you have within you to fight back.

But it’s then that you hear footsteps, and a shadow appears behind Chi-won.

“She said to let her go.”

Jungkook’s voice is hard, tense, angry. But there’s control, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back. He comes into view, the mix of worry and anger on his face helping to relieve your fear. 

But it doesn’t affect Chi-won, as he continues to hold onto your wrist. Your strained face lets Jungkook know that you’re still in the man’s hold, prompting him to walk closer and repeat his words.

“I said to let her go,” he demands. “Do it. Because we both know there are so many things I can do to you and smashing your face is just one of them.”

Jungkook rolls up his sleeves and clenches his fists. He doesn’t think it’s enough to scare the man who’s holding you hostage but he thinks it’s enough to show that he’s indeed willing to throw a punch if he has to. He’d pull the man away but he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He’d beat the daylights out of this asshole but he doesn’t want you to witness that. You’re terrified already as it is; anything more might just break you further. 

So Jungkook keeps his gaze on the man, hoping the threat would work somehow.

It does, as the man lets you go then raises his arms mockingly, as if to surrender. You step away immediately, finding your way towards Jungkook. Chi-won looks at the man next to you from head-to-toe, his attempt at intimidation. 

“The boss, I assume?” Chi-won scoffs. “That’s cheap, even for you.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Jungkook fumes, trying his hardest to keep himself together and not make this worse. 

“Women who are that lonely and that desperate for sex would do anything and use anyone to get what they want and feel better about themselves,” Chi-won shrugs. “I’m just saying I’m not surprised.”

The insult is unfounded. You know at this point, he’s just trying to say anything to provoke Jungkook and put you down in the process. Somehow you’ve learned how to deal with men like this.

“Yeah, I was so desperate that I ended up settling for a low-life like you,” you scoff, hoping the brave facade holds up. “You weren’t even that good. I could only fake it for so long.”

And this is what does it for him, as Chi-won’s face distorts in anger, and while you know your words provoked him, you wanted to show that you could regain your control, and he’s the one who now breaks because of it.

“Fucking slut,” he yells, charging towards you.

But Jungkook charges back, pushing Chi-won towards the wall and making sure he stays there. The anger on Jungkook’s face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, yet despite this side of him that you’re now witnessing, you can’t help but feel emotional at his presence. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t know what would’ve happened; you don’t know where you’d pull the strength to stand up for yourself.

“You say anything else and I swear, getting fired is gonna be the least of your worries,” Jungkook huffs. “Because this boss knows your manager. This boss knows the police chief at the station not far away. You hurt her and you’re gonna pay for this. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Chi-won slowly realizes that those aren’t empty words, as he visibly starts to look worried. There’s not much he can do now. You doubt he can overpower Jungkook despite his size. You also know Chi-won doesn’t have much, and losing his job could make him lose everything. And that scares you, too.

“Jungkook, it’s okay. Just let him go,” you plead, tugging his arm to pull him away. You know how much worse it could get if anything else happens. You know that Jungkook is very much capable of inflicting physical pain, and you don’t want blood on his hands because of you. “Let’s just go back inside.”

Jungkook looks at you, the fear clearly still evident - your eyes are glassy and empty, your hand on his arm is shaking, and your voice is cracking. Whatever courage you had at answering back earlier is slowly dissipating, and all Jungkook wants is to get you away from all this. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. He’s just angry and I don’t blame him,” you insist. 

All lies, really. You wish the worst for Chi-won, but you know it won’t do you nor Jungkook any good if you both go down this path. 

Your eyes plead for him to take your lead this time and he sees it, he sees you, and you see his tiniest of nods before turning to Chi-won.

“Get out of here and call it a night before I do anything else to you.”

Chi-won, who’s clearly still furious, starts walking away. But in his effort to regain the control you took from him, he turns to you before heading back inside. 

“You’re really fucking good at that, you know?” He says to you. “Fuck the man you know wants you and then just drop him when you get bored or when you find the next guy who can pleasure you without the commitment you obviously desperately want. You’ll always be miserable whatever you do.”

You will the tears not to fall as the words hit you where it hurts. They’re things you’ve heard not long ago, just in a different variation, and by another man who had the same fate as Chi-won - left by you because you couldn’t give them what they wanted. Maybe you’re too honest when you’re drunk, maybe that’s when the yearning for something meaningful and more permanent comes out, and maybe that’s when they thought they could be what you wanted. 

But you’ve always known from the beginning that they couldn’t give you what you desired, and you always hoped you’d cut the cord before they started to want more. Turns out your timing is just as bad as your judgment. 

You let them have the final say, though. And then you let them walk away. You feel like it’s climactic for them, liberating even, to be able to tell the person who hurt them that she’s selfish and she doesn’t deserve happiness. You suppose it just proves that they didn’t really feel much; perhaps your read on people isn’t that terrible after all. 

You manage to rein all the emotions in and look at Jungkook who remains standing next to you. His fist is still clenched and you see the anger in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when Hajoon threatened him. This is the first time you thought he could really hurt someone, and he would’ve done it on your defense. 

“We should go back to dinner,” you finally say. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Jungkook turns to you, the fear still evident in your eyes but he can see you trying, he can see you try to be brave and bury all that pain in for his sake. 

“I’m not letting you go back in there,” he responds, his tone hard and firm. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that man again.”

You don’t insist this time. You don’t want to be anywhere near Chi-won, either. So you just nod and wait for Mr. Ri to arrive after he was called to come to you with the car. Jungkook is about to instruct the older man to go inside and send his apologies to the organizers but you tell Jungkook it should be him. You manage to convince him to properly send them off and pay the bill and while initially unwilling, he finally goes, giving Mr. Ri strict orders not to leave you alone.

Mr. Ri breaks at the pained look on your face - an uncommon sight for him, and one that hurts him. It’s not the first time though,  and that just makes it worse. 

“Stay strong, okay?” He says, despite not knowing what happened. “You have people around to protect you, to keep you safe. You know that.”

You nod in acknowledgement, as you’re unable to get any word out. But you see the pain in his eyes, too, and for all the years that you’ve known him, the comfort in them always comes. 

Jungkook returns and informs you that the organizers will be leaving soon. He asks you if it’s okay if he drives you home and you say that it is. Even if he’s just seen you be humiliated, somehow it’s him you want to be with you as you try to process what happened. You know it’ll ease his mind as well, and you don’t want him to worry any more than he already is. 

You both say goodbye to Mr. Ri and then enter the car, with you feeling a little odd to be sitting in the passenger seat with Jungkook next to you. But you settle in, your body moving on its own; it feels quite foreign to you, with your mind in a haze and your nails engraving their marks on your palms, as if by some miracle it could erase what happened tonight from your memory. 

But you doubt anything would.

“His shift ends soon and I don’t want to take you home right away, just in case he follows,” Jungkook says. 

You look at him questioningly and he immediately knows what you’re thinking. 

“I know the manager and I asked him,” he explains as he starts driving away. “But don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. And that bastard didn’t see me. He avoided me and stayed in the kitchen the whole time I was there, as if he wasn’t serving our table the whole evening. I should’ve picked up that he was trying to get near you. I… I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time.”

You still came for me, you want to say. It’s the thought that keeps swimming in your mind. You don’t know how long you were gone for but he could’ve called; he chose to go out and look for you instead. 

It’s as if he knows what you’re thinking, as he says that he noticed you were away longer than he expected. 

“It just felt odd. You would’ve messaged me if something was up,” he reasons. “I guess I noticed earlier that he kept coming to our table for no reason but I didn’t pay it any mind. But then another server brought the dessert. I asked where he was and the guy said he went outside without any explanation, and I just had a weird feeling. I should’ve come sooner, ___.”

You want to say that he doesn’t have to apologize, that things could’ve been worse if he hadn’t come, that you owe him your life that he did but you’re feeling too much to even manage a word out. 

At the stoplight, he turns to you and sees the half-moons embedded on your skin. He sees the glassy eyes and the trembling lips. He wants nothing more than to shield you from all this, to take you somewhere where you’re safe and where no one can hurt you. He didn’t think that seeing you like this would make him feel so powerless, because much as he can make that man’s life miserable if you let him, what he can’t do is take your pain away. What he doesn’t know how to do is comfort you.

“I’ll drive you around first, is that okay?” 

You nod, turning to your right to watch the city pass you by. It’s a breeze driving down the bridge as lights illuminate the Han River. The moon’s reflected on it, too, but you don’t feel any joy nor calmness. All you feel is this heavy burden of disgust and fear and shame and loneliness and anger. 

You quickly wipe the tear that falls, hoping that Jungkook doesn’t see. Your eyes remain glued outside, and you watch the buildings slowly disappear, replaced by little cafes and stores closing shop. It’s a familiar street, one you’ve passed by on some mornings, and you appreciate the familiarity. 

The car stops but you don’t look away from the window, afraid that seeing the worry on Jungkook’s face will make you break down. 

“We’re at a neighborhood park near your place,” he says. “I’ll just be outside, just in case you need time alone. You can put the radio on blast. You can honk if you need me, or you can come out if you want to. I’m just here.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He just exits the car and walks towards the bench that overlooks the playground. You put the music on loudly, and perhaps just as he expected you to do, you cry. And you cry hard. 

You shut your eyes from the pain. It forces you to relive that moment but you do your best to crumple it like paper and then burn it from your memory. You know the burned pieces and the smoke will stay - an alley will trigger you, the scent of cooking oil and cheap cologne will make you gag. It’s how it is with painful memories - they burn you but there’s not much you can do to put out the fire. And when it’s gone, it’s not over. The scars remind you it happened. And then they urge you to make sure it doesn’t happen again. 

You don’t know how long it takes for you to cry out all the tears. It feels like they won’t end - they’re the words you couldn’t say earlier, and the words that would haunt you for longer. But they eventually stop falling, and you’re exhausted by the time they do. You have new crescents on your palms, too, and those may go away but you know they’re the only things that will. Everything else will be invisible, and that makes it a harder burden to carry.

Outside, Jungkook glances at the car to make sure you’re still there. He doesn’t think there’s any danger now; he doubts that man got to follow you here, too. But with what happened earlier, there’s this perpetual worry about anything that harms you, and he doesn’t want for there to be even a single second where you’re afraid, where you’re looking over your shoulder in fear, and where you think you’re everything that man said you are. 

He can try to keep you safe. He can try to lift you up. But when it’s about trying to forget, trying to move on, he knows there’s not much he can do. He knows a bit about painful experiences and memories that won't leave him. He’s done his best to hide those away, kept in the deepest nooks of his being that’s caused him to conceal parts of himself as well. It’s not easy to do but he does it; all these years later, he doesn’t know how not to.

But then there’s you and somehow, those parts of him that he’s kept hidden come out. Maybe it’s those pieces that will help comfort you, that will help protect you, that will help keep you safe. He’s not sure but if they are, maybe it’s not such a bad thing for them to resurface, if it means you won’t be scared or hurt or alone. 

His gaze flits back to the playground. He glances at your direction every few minutes. He wants to respect your privacy, at least as much as what his car and the radio on blast could give. He hopes that all the crying could help ease your pain somehow. He also hopes he’s one person who could. 

Jungkook hears the door open and he turns to see you slowly get out. He remains in his seat and waits to see where you go. A minute later, you’re sitting on the bench next to him, your breathing slowed down now, and your hands are less shaky than earlier. Your eyes are still glassy, and he wishes he could wipe the tears away should they fall, but he knows it’s not something he can do.

Both of you sit in silence as you watch the moon dance over the field of grass. It’s peaceful here at this time of the night. It’s not a place you expected him to take you but you’re glad that he did. 

You didn’t grow up going to parks because your mother rarely had time to take you; no one could accompany you either. When you moved to Busan during your pre-teen years, you felt you’d outgrown it even if Jimin and Soomin would invite you. There were always so many kids around and you didn’t know how to talk to them or to play with them so you always stayed in your own spot, near the tree where you could watch them run about. 

“I didn’t know where to take you but, uh, I loved playing in the playground when I was a kid,” Jungkook bursts through your thoughts. “It somehow always made me feel safe.”

“Did you like going to parks, too?” You ask, finally finding your voice, visibly surprising him.

“Not really. I wasn’t exactly fond of people even as a child,” he softly chuckles, earning him a small smile. “And well, my older brother liked to tease me in front of his friends when we’d play so I would ask to go late in the afternoon once the kids have left. My father picked up on it so he built a playground just for me in our backyard. It was really nice. I’d spend all day there when I was younger.”

A little Jungkook coming down the slide, climbing up the rock wall, and playing in the seesaw looks so wholesome. You wonder if he squealed while on the swing like kids usually do. Maybe. It’s nice to imagine a version of him that’s joyful and free. You wonder when the last time he felt that way was.

You also wonder what has made him share something that feels so personal to him with you. You’re thinking maybe it’s to make you feel comfortable or to ease your nerves; maybe it’s to tell you that unlike Chi-won, he’s not there to threaten you. Maybe Jungkook wants to tell you that he’s someone you can trust, that despite what you are to each other, at this moment, he can be a friend.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you manage to say. “Thank you for coming to find me and keeping him away from me. He… he was someone I used to see and I ended things and I thought we were okay. I hadn’t seen him in a while and—”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he says softly. “I understand that it’s difficult and reliving it might just make you more scared and upset.“

“But I… I need to say it, at least just this once,” you stammer. “Just so it won’t stay in my head like some made-up reality until I’m convinced it didn’t really happen. Because it did.”

He turns to you, his eyes the most sympathetic you’ve seen them, and he nods.

So you tell him - how Chi-won kept staring at you as you ate, how he pulled you towards him and then caged you against the wall.

“He was too close and I could… smell him, as if he wanted me to remember his scent, and that he didn’t want me to ever forget it,” you say.

Your tears fall slowly this time. Your voice cracks and your nails dig into your skin again. It feels so heavy, that even as you try to expend the negative energy, it’s still there. As if the memory itself is tangible, like a sack of sand filling you from inside and it makes you unable to breathe. 

But the sight of Jungkook’s trembling hands catches your attention, and you turn to him - his jaws tight and his eyes, tense and deep.

“I’m so angry for you,” he heaves, his fists clenching now. He still wants to wipe your tears but he also wants to go back to the restaurant and finally punch that man’s face. “You should file a case. You have all the grounds for that. I can get him fired and he can lose everything.”

“The law and society in general don’t favor us, Jungkook. I don’t have bruises or anything; that’s what they look for. They think that all harm done only leaves visible marks,” you sigh, knowing that there’s not much you can do. “There’s no other witness but you and that itself… might not look good. If I do file a case, he’ll just bring up our past, my past, and taint my reputation. That’ll just ruin me and everything I worked hard for will be for nothing.”

“But you can’t just let him get away with this, ___,” he insists, feeling unusually emotional now. “He hurt you. And what if he does it again? Telling the police can keep him away. I’ll make sure of that.”

The urgency in his voice is something new to you. But you also know he’s right. Jungkook’s family has connections that run deep. He can very well seek revenge for you for all he wants but he wants your permission, he wants to know it’s what you want.

“I… I can’t risk it,” you say. “If by some miracle the case is successful, he’ll just spend a few months in jail or do community service then he’ll be out. He would lose more and I would be the cause of all that. And what if he tries to get revenge? How do I win?”

At his silence, you continue. “That’s right, I can’t.”

“But… don’t you want to fight?” He asks, almost desperately. His tone is low, as if he’s trying to convince himself that fighting back is the answer. “Don’t you want to make sure that he won’t do it again to you?”

“I do, but what if I lose everything in the process, what then?” You counter. “I… I’m not strong enough for that, Jungkook. That’s not a battle I can fight, not when I’m alone here. Not when I’m also just trying to get by.”

You look back at his eyes, helpless and apologetic now, and at this time, this companionship is what you need. It’s as if he’s telling you with them that you may think you’re on your own but you aren’t. Even as you shiver from within, you don’t feel so alone with him next to you.

“I… I was seeing him for a year but things weren’t serious. He probably just wanted to scare me, to assert control because he lacks it in other aspects of his life. Cowards do that, I guess,” you shrug, trying to reason to yourself how someone you knew fairly well could do something like that to you. 

People change, you suppose. Or maybe he’s always been like that; it takes a while sometimes for the demons to come out. 

“But cowards don’t have a right to do that,” Jungkook reasons. “They don’t deserve to just walk away and not deal with the consequences.”

“They don’t. But I don’t deserve to suffer more,” you point out. “The things he said… that’s probably enough revenge on his end, I guess. If he wanted to hurt me, well then, he did.”

There’s an emptiness in your eyes that Jungkook sees. There’s a tinge of submission, as if you accept the pain even if you don’t think you deserve it. And maybe that’s why you’re choosing to fight this battle this way. We can’t do anything about how people hurt us, but we choose how much more we let them do it. 

“Prove him wrong, then,” Jungkook says. “He doesn’t get to tell you that you’ll be miserable your whole life. So chase what makes you happy. And let yourself be loved.”

It’s permission that he doesn’t have a right to grant, but he supposes that if there’s any way you can defeat that man’s voice in your head, it’s by searching for the things you want and fighting to keep them. 

“One day,” you manage to smile at him. “I’ll do those one day.”

It’s like a promise you’re making to him just as you make it to yourself. Jungkook can’t think right now what that would mean. Finding your happiness could lead you anywhere; it sure could lead you away from him. 

“So what happens now?” He asks, hoping there’s a way he could help you get through this.

“I continue living my life and not let this define me,” you shrug, half believing in the power of just pushing through it. “I’ll probably be anxious and paranoid for a while but this is what I can do for now. I’ll just be careful and… learn how to deal with all this one day at a time, I guess.”

“And I’ll have Mr. Ri drive you home every night, at least for these next few weeks. Do you need to move houses?”

“Chi-won doesn’t actually know where I live. I never let him come over. I don’t really like having people in my house.”

Jungkook hums to himself. He isn’t that different from you, it seems. But he takes your word for it, not wanting to impose. There are so many things he wants to do, like ruin that man’s life because things like that can’t go unpunished but he trusts you. At the end of the day, it’s your call, and he respects whatever you decide. He’ll just do what he can to protect you, even if he’ll be worried like hell from here on out, an emotion he’s slowly accepting, knowing what that implies. 

“I’m sorry you had to witness all that,” you say amidst the silence. “And that you have to deal with this now. I don’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m weak and that I don’t stand up for myself.”

“You know you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “And not fighting back doesn’t make you weak. I guess staying right where you are is a way of fighting, too.”

“I have people around… somehow,” you comfort yourself. “I’m gonna be fine. I have to believe I will.”

Jungkook nods and manages a smile. At this point, he thinks all he can give you is support and encouragement. He’ll continue to do what he can to keep you safe without disregarding your requests, but staying right where he is with you might just be another way to do that.

“Do you want to pass by somewhere before heading home?” He asks, knowing it’s getting quite late. “A restaurant to grab a drink or something? You didn’t get to have dessert so maybe a cafe?”

“A convenience store is fine,” you smile, knowing the treats that would make you feel better. 

Jungkook chuckles, as it’s a place he didn’t really expect you’d want to go to after an experience like the one you just had. But it’s you and he should be used to you surprising him, so he nods and gestures towards the car. 

It takes five minutes for you to get there and he looks around and asks what you want to have. 

“A cup noodle,” you answer, walking towards the aisle where they’re shelved. “Do you want some? I mean, you eat these things, right?”

“Of course I do,” he scowls at you, picking up one himself. “I just… don’t eat it at a convenience store.”

“Because you don’t go to one?”

“I do. I’m not a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how to do ordinary people things.”

“You mean commoner things,” you raise an eyebrow. “Or plebeian activities. Or non-heir stuff.”

“Whatever. I won’t even defend myself to you,” he huffs, giving in because seeing you amused is a welcome sight. 

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you,” you teasingly smile. “I’m just… laughing at you in my mind.”

You walk towards another aisle and leave him with a smile he’s glad to be making now. He follows and watches you pick up a few more things before you head to the counter where he manages to bring out his card first and pay.

“That's all I can do,” he shrugs after you thank him. 

“You’re doing so much for me already,” you assure him. “Taking me somewhere so I could cry, making sure I get home safe… staying with me.”

“That’s not even enough to—” 

“You don’t know how to accept gratitude, do you?” You ask as you blow on your noodles. “I notice how you brush it off when someone thanks you.”

“Not used to hearing it, I guess,” he shrugs, not thinking it was something you’d pick up, although there’s no lie. 

It’s always been hard for him to say things - that he’s sorry, that he’s thankful, that it’s okay. You, of all people, are the one pointing that out.

“You should be. Because I’ll say it again.” You turn to him and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Jungkook. I thought I’d just go through this alone but I’m not. And that’s… that’s something I’m not used to.”

“You should be,” he repeats your words. “There are some things you shouldn’t be going through on your own. So if there’s anything else you need, you let me know, okay?”

There’s sincerity in his voice as he speaks. You’re used to the low or stern or commanding tone, not this soft and worried one. But it’s the comfort you didn’t know you needed. After spending all that time earlier crying and feeling afraid, being with Jungkook in this bright-lit convenience store is the unexpected warmth that you’re glad you let him give you.

“I will,” you smile. “You know, this is the longest I’ve spoken informally to you. It feels a little weird.”

He laughs as he gets to the same realization. But for him, it almost feels natural.

“It would be weirder if you spoke formally after all that,” he says. “Like I said, if it isn’t about work then I don’t mind.”

You hum in response, not wanting to dwell on the implication. You’re with him after-hours, at a convenience store - that he personally drove you to - where you’re both having cup noodles and soda. This ironically feels more intimate than being in bed with some guy.

You decide to have your dessert, which is really just chocopie, and you mentally curse Chi-won for making you miss the sweet dishes from dinner. But still, you know this one could easily cheer you up. You give one to Jungkook, and his amused tone catches your attention.

“Oh wow, I haven’t had one of these in years,” he says, eating it one bite. “Mother used to give this to me all the time when I was a kid because her best friend owned the company that makes them. There was a time I’d have it as dessert after every meal.”

“Seriously?” You giggle. “That is so weird. This is my favorite. My mom would always buy this for me. When she worked at a school in Busan, she would give it as a treat while I waited for her at the library. That would just always make my day.”

“Hmm, it’s a good snack,” he says, smiling as he takes another piece that you offer and recalls how he used to have this everyday. “So she’d pick you up at the library? Was that your favorite place at school?”

“Hmm, not really, but it reminded me of the one I used to go to,” you reply. “When we lived in Seoul when I was young, there was this family-run library for children in the neighborhood. It was very cozy, with lots of soft chairs and reading nooks on the walls. There were these huge stuffed toys that you could lie on while reading so it felt like someone was hugging you. It had warm lights, not like those usual bright ones. There was this mural of the characters from the books they had,” you narrate, smiling as you remember the days you spent there. 

“Mom would pick me up from school during her lunch break then drop me off at the library where her friend volunteered at and I’d wait until she got off work. When we moved to Busan, I kept looking for it. The one at the school wasn’t the same so I didn’t enjoy it as much, but there was nowhere else to go. Eventually I just got used to it, but the chocopie always made the wait worth it.”

It’s the most you’ve ever told him about yourself and you’re surprised at how easy it was for you to do that. He did tell you a little bit about his childhood earlier though, and you’d like to think it’s your way of returning that kind of vulnerability; a story for a story, a piece of your childhood for a snapshot of his.

You look at him and the small smile on his face. Perhaps he’s thinking the same.

“So you like reading books, then?”

“Not really, actually,” you say, earning you a confused look. “I read all the picture books they had. Those are what I liked. And they had these coloring books and paper dolls and I’d spend hours just working on those. Being there made me feel safe, too; it was like my playground, you know?”

“It’s good you had that, then. Do you still visit that place? The one in your old neighborhood?”

“It shut down years ago, sometime before I returned to Seoul to work,” you sigh. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to it. The couple who ran it passed away and no one was interested in continuing it because it wasn’t profitable. But the community center nearby has a small library and I go there sometimes, when I’m really upset.”

“And read picture books?” He chuckles.

“Yes, actually,” you smile. “Memories are powerful and we need to let the good ones win. My childhood wasn’t the greatest but I felt like I was in a different world whenever I was in a library so being in one, even as a grown up, reminds me that there are still places where I’m welcome, where I can feel safe, you know? It reminds me that the world hasn’t completely turned dark. I’ve got to hold onto those to not lose myself.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I… I don’t think I’ve been to a playground in years before today. Other than the one that father built in the backyard at least. And I rarely even see it because I’m rarely there. I guess I just…. Let myself get lost.”

“Well, I hope going to one earlier somehow made you find yourself. Or at least reminded you of those good old days, the days when you felt free and safe and happy.”

Jungkook thinks about what he’d felt earlier, that much as being in a playground again brought him back in time, all he kept thinking about was you - alone in that car while you let all your emotions out. He wanted to comfort you but he didn’t know how, and he thinks that maybe it isn’t about finding himself but learning what he’s capable of, and that after all these years, maybe he’s still capable of caring for another person, and maybe that person is you.

“It did,” he hums, meeting your eyes. 

There’s more light in them this time and he wishes it would stay this way. He’d seen you cry months ago and it wasn’t a good feeling, especially because you’d done so because of him. This time, he feels powerless, and he doesn’t know which is worse.

He gets to be with you now though. Perhaps that’s the difference. 

You start cleaning up and it’s his signal for both of you to head out. 

It takes him ten minutes to drive to your place and a small part of you doesn’t want to leave. Even in the silence, you felt calm, something that you hadn’t expected to feel around him, considering his default tense disposition and usual detachment. But there’s something about his presence, about him just being there - he’s not trying too hard to comfort you, he’s not imposing, he’s also not invalidating your feelings. What matters is you’re not alone, and other than him making that effort, it’s also about you, allowing him to do that, something you don’t always do as well.

“Thank you again,” you say once the car has stopped. 

He nods in acknowledgment then turns to you. “It might be best if you take a leave tomorrow, and by that I mean staying home for safety reasons.”

A day to just process everything isn’t such a bad idea, so you agree. 

“If it’s not too much for your friends, maybe they could drive up here so they can be with you. Having people around you that you trust might help in making you feel better.”

“I’ll ask them. I don’t want them to worry but I do need them. So thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it.”

You exit the car and turn around to wave him goodbye. He smiles as you do, and it’s a sight that helps you sleep later that night - after the long bath and another crying session, after the phone call with your friends who promised to be here in the morning, after the time you spend just hugging your pillow, hoping that you’d stop being scared.

But thinking of Jungkook now makes you feel better and you realize the change again - thinking about him now makes you a little braver. 

You spend that weekend wrapped up in your best friends’ arms. They arrived on Friday morning with some pork bone soup and seafood that they cooked for lunch and dinner. In the middle of the day, Jungkook texted you and asked how you were doing, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face, which prompted a conversation about your little crush that you didn’t expect to get tense, with Jimin stating that while Jungkook did help you, being attracted to your boss is complicated and would lead to heartbreak. 

You insisted that it was harmless - a half lie, as you hadn’t thought much about it in that sense - and that it’s not something you plan on nurturing. You’re gonna leave the company one day anyway, and you won’t have to deal with him after.

The succeeding days were spent just at home, with you feeling lighter, until Sunday evening when they had to leave, and you felt a little lonely again. 

You try to let that feeling go once you enter Jungkook’s penthouse on Monday morning, knowing that with a day off, you’ll have a lot to make up for and you can’t let anything distract you from your tasks.

That includes the man himself, as he exits his home gym in sweatpants and a dri-fit shirt, the sweat sticking to his body that’s got his chest accentuated. His hair is damp and he’s panting; it’s not exactly the sight you wanted to be greeted with, considering all the thoughts in your head these past few days. You’re reminded that just last week, you’d tried to keep your distance and now, he’s making it incredibly hard for you to do that.

“Hey, how do you feel?” He asks as he takes the glass of water you set for him. “Did you get proper rest?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. 

“Hmm, we’re back to that again, huh?”

It takes you a while but you pick up that he’s referring to the formalities.

“I’m back on the clock, sir,” you point out. “You are my boss and I need to address you accordingly.”

It’s not a reminder he wanted, given how he’s been worried sick about you since Thursday night. Even an hour of boxing after he got home that evening couldn’t rid him of his anger. He wished he’d noticed how uncomfortable you were at the restaurant; he’s been paying attention to you anyway but he just got so caught up with impressing the festival organizers that he missed out on the signs. If he’d noticed, he would’ve gotten to you earlier and things wouldn’t have escalated. 

He had to control himself from punching that man’s face the moment he saw how close he was to you. Your plea of letting him go was the only thing that kept Jungkook from ruining that man’s life because he really could. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it - people like that need to be punished, but it’s people like you who remind him that fighting takes different forms, and you’re the only one who can define what that means. 

But it also doesn’t mean that he can’t get angry for you and he’ll probably feel that for a while. Knowing how you are, he knows you wouldn’t want him to pity you either, so he’ll be what he can be, and that’s someone whom you feel safe around. Regardless, maybe the reminder of your roles in each other’s lives is necessary; it’s what he needs to keep himself from doing more, or wanting to be more.

Jungkook finally acknowledges your statement with a nod and then heads to the bathroom for his shower. Shortly after, you walk towards his closet and prepare his outfits for the week. He meets you in the dining room once he’s dressed, and like clockwork, you fix his tie and his suit.

The effect is minimal but somehow, you’ve found comfort in the routine. What once was a tense and nerve-wracking act is now something automatic and essential for you. In a way, it reinforces your place in his life, but the short distance reminds you that he may be faraway or detached in some aspects but physically, he’s so close. It’s a double-edged sword, really. Some days it’s good, some days it isn’t. Today, it’s the former, and as you look up and meet his eyes, the softness in them says he thinks the same.

You go over your usual with him while munching on some pastries that Mr. Ri was ordered to buy and bring up. The ride to the office is filled with discussions on the upcoming year-end events. When you arrive, you attend two straight meetings before having another one over lunch. You accompany Jungkook to a store opening located in one of their properties after that and it’s 4PM by the time you’re able to sit on your desk for more than 30 seconds. You’ve got two hours to finish what you can today but you find yourself spacing out every few minutes.

Perhaps it’s because it’s the first time since Friday that you’re on your own. Your best friends made sure not to leave you by yourself for those three days - Soomin held you while you slept and silently cried in her arms, and Jimin hugged you for much of the day. Their affection was what you badly needed, and now that you’re without it, somehow you feel incomplete and anxious and somewhat unstable. 

Scenes are hazy in your mind. You’re at least thankful they’re not vivid anymore unlike a few nights ago, but the dim lights and the stench of the alley come to you without warning, and you suddenly freeze in panic. Your fingers tremble as you try to type away, your eyes unblinking as the tears coat them, and you feel sick to your stomach that you want to just be buried in the covers at this moment.

The door opening causes you to jerk in your seat and Jungkook stops mid-sentence to walk over to you. 

“Hey, ___. You can go home,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

“I… I don’t know if that’ll help,” you admit. “I don’t know if being alone is what I need.”

You go home to an empty apartment just like he does, he reminds himself. He knows what that’s like. It’s why he spends most weekends in the clubs where it’s loud and crowded; those somehow mask the emptiness that can get tiring when all he has is himself. Being on your own is good sometimes; sometimes it also isn’t.

But Jungkook doesn’t know what he can offer you. His presence isn’t something exactly enticing nor comforting; he wouldn’t wanna be with him, too, if he was in a similar position.  

“Is there a way that your friends can spend another few days with you? What about your mother?” He asks. 

“They have lives back home,” you sigh. “I… I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to force it if you aren’t,” he insists. “I may not know much but I know enough that these things take time. I…”

I wish I could do more for you, he wants to say.

“I don’t have anything urgent for today,” he says instead. “You can clock off now and Mr. Ri and I can take you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” you say immediately. 

“I insist,” he replies. “At least for the next few days until we’re sure that you’re not in danger.”

You nod, not having the energy to reason with him. At least you don’t have to think about how to commute home without risking being too close to strangers. 

You pack your things and get in the car, with Jungkook letting you bask in the mellow sounds of the radio while he doodles on his leather notebook. You’re tempted to ask him what he’s drawing just to add some more noise but you decide against it, choosing instead to close your eyes and force unpleasant images away from your mind so you can train yourself to do it this time.

It works. Except, it’s the smile of the man next to you that you see, and when you open your eyes, it’s the same thing that greets you. 

He chuckles when you look around and realize that you’re home.

“I was trying to wake you but you wouldn’t budge,” he explains. “Are you just tired or you haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Oh, I just kept waking up last night. I guess that’s why. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “Just try to get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod and exit the car, feeling out of sorts even as you enter your apartment and know you’re safe inside. You nibble on some leftover pizza and try to entertain yourself with the variety shows on TV but you end up spacing out. You curl in bed, trying as much to feel comfort from your pillow that lays stiff next to you. 

You’re not big on physical affection, and most days you’re glad you aren’t because you don’t get any of it anyway, but tonight, it’s what you need. Tonight, you just want that warmth, you want a body to curl into and arms to pull you close. You want hands to caress you and soft lips to plant kisses on the places that hurt. You want to hear soft laughter and random musings and plans for the next day.

The vision ends when you realize that you haven’t experienced much of that before. There were moments during the months you spent with the men you’ve dated, but the feeling of safety was lacking, the warmth wasn’t warm enough, and the desire wasn’t overwhelming. You realize that it wasn’t intimacy you feared; losing it or finding out it wasn’t enough is what you were afraid of, and it’s why you always pulled away. No one ever seemed worth it to try or to stay a little longer for. 

You sigh to yourself as you will the tears not to fall. The loneliness can get to you sometimes, especially on days when there’s a kind of pain that’s hard to talk about and all you need is comfortable silence and understanding without words. But you try to push through. You’ve been on your own for so long anyway. Even when you had someone, you still came home to an empty apartment and you still felt like it was enough when it was just you around. 

You’re unsure if the desire for something more is just because of what you experienced, if the forced closeness and Chi-won’s burning touch hurt you too much or if you’ve been wanting that intimacy all along. Or if someone’s made you realize that you’re ready for it, that it’s actually worth it. 

You manage to fall asleep and drag yourself off the bed to head to Jungkook’s apartment the next day. You drop him off at a restaurant for a breakfast meeting before going to the office where you get to work. It’s a busy day that has you meeting with different departments and coordinating with the organizing teams for the upcoming end-of-year events. 

It’s mid-afternoon when you decide to go to the outdoor garden just right off the elevators, surprised to find Jungkook standing by the railings. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he’s got his hands in his pockets while he looks out at the busy streets, and you wonder what goes on in his mind when he looks at views like this.

The sound of the door closing catches his attention, and he turns around, surprised as well to see you here.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes, I just needed a breather.”

“Am I giving you too much work again?” He shakes his head, finding humor in it now after you pointed out one time how he once gave you so many things to do.

“It’s part of the job, Mr. Jeon. I’ve accepted that now,” you giggle, walking towards where he is then standing some feet away. “But it’s been a busy day and I just needed some air.”

“You can also take a longer break if that’s what you need.”

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “The busyness helps. I’ll get tired and hopefully fall asleep easily and then do it all again tomorrow and the next day.”

It’s a strategy Jungkook knows well because it’s something he does. Being a perfectionist helps because then, he can work himself to the bone without realizing it until he’s entered his apartment. One glass of whiskey and then he’s falling asleep on the couch. 

Weekends are tough, which is why partying and hooking up is his go-to. His best friends have asked him a few times what he’s striving towards, what he’s looking forward to and he couldn’t answer. At one point he stopped wondering, but now he wonders about you.

“What do you look forward to, then?” He asks. 

“Vacation, I guess,” you shrug. “I get to be with my friends and family but then that flies too quickly then I’m back to this routine. So maybe… I look forward to the day when I start savoring the moment, when I start enjoying what’s in front of me, when I start… feeling less alone.”

The last words come out subconsciously, prompting you to turn away out of shame. It’s not an easy thing to admit. You wanted this anyway. You chose to leave home to pay back a debt and then decided to stay because you wanted to prove yourself. You chose to not commit to anyone because the pain of loneliness is much easier to bear than the pain of losing someone. This is on you, and you deal with the consequences everyday. 

Jungkook doesn’t look confused nor curious. There’s a look in his eyes that you catch before his gaze returns to the streets below. It’s understanding; you realize he knows exactly what you’re talking about. And perhaps he’s on the same boat - letting life just pass him by despite the craziness of it all, perhaps wondering when he’ll stop to smell the roses or watch the sunset or listen to the birds. Maybe like you, he’s wondering when he’ll get to do those with a hand to hold and a body to curl into.

The silence is cut short when you’re alerted that Jungkook’s meeting with the Arts Center project teams starts in 15 minutes. You remind him about it then you both head out and go to your desks to prepare. You’re seated on your chair when you look inside his room, meeting his eyes as he looks outside towards you. There’s a small smile on his face that gives you comfort. It’s soft and assuring, and it’s definitely what you need. 

Maybe you can start with this, you think, as he nods at you then meets you at your desk to walk towards the conference room. Maybe these are the things you can start savoring before the day comes that you have to leave this place - these moments of quiet assurance, of understanding, of subtle comfort that tells you that despite the walls between you, he’ll be looking out for you even from afar.

The weeks fly by like a blur. 

The Thursday after the incident, Jungkook informed you that he got word from the restaurant manager that Chi-won returned to his home in Mokpo to stay with his parents. The next day, you took the train home to Daegu to be with your mom. She hugged you that night as you cried to her, feeling the strength that she’s had all these years, knowing that you have to be just like her and that this time, you have to be strong for her and for yourself. 

Spending time with her, Min-woo, and the girls was rejuvenating, and they promised to visit you in Seoul more regularly. They were in your apartment two weekends after, and it truly felt like you’ve become the family you’ve always wanted to have.

Work continued to be hectic as the year-end activities approached. The busyness definitely helped in moving past what you experienced, allowing you to detach from the memories. You gained the strength to keep fighting the way you wanted, and the people around you continued to be supportive and respectful.

Despite all that went on, you managed in organizing the events while also attending to some that Jungkook was invited to. 

The first one was organized by the VP’s Office for the partners of projects that it managed, with the other departments attending as well. It was well-organized, and CEO Jeon himself expressed his satisfaction with how the event came together. Jungkook’s speech was impressive. He ran it with you multiple times and he was able to shake off the anxiety by the time he got to the stage. His eloquence enraptured you; so did the way he looked in another Kim Taehyung-customized textured black suit that had you constantly internally smacking yourself because of all the times that Yoongi caught you staring. You were in full denial about your little crush but knowing your friend, he probably had you figured out, and he’d been kind enough not to push it.

The next event was a big one, as the company hosts an annual fellowship dinner for all its partners, which you had a big role in organizing. A few of you were housed in the serviced apartment building near the office leading up to it, as per Jungkook’s instructions, given that he didn’t want any of you commuting or driving home late at night. You remember how he’d said that he couldn’t risk any of his staff’s safety so casually, and you didn’t think he could be more attractive than that moment. Until, of course, when he showed up in his charcoal suit and parted hair, confidently entertaining the guests and delivering another impressive message. You snuck in a few looks later in the evening as he intently watched a ballad performer on stage, his legs crossed as he drank the flute of champagne and licked the remnants of it on his lips, causing your throat to dry up and promise yourself that you’ll get rid of this crush soon enough.

It doesn’t happen, as the final event of the year rolls around. The fellowship dinner this time is with all the staff, including some from the Southeast Asian office. Jungkook goes for a cream-colored suit this time, a light and clean look that makes him look fresh yet sophisticated. You managed to be professional every time he called for you, and you suppose it’s all the stress getting to you, but being near him made you a little anxious - there was a bit of giddiness that you didn’t want to show, but he somehow also calmed you down. The fact that he kept offering you water and making sure you had something to eat didn’t help. You blurted out that you didn’t expect him to be as thoughtful as he was, and when he said that neither did he but that you brought out that side of him after the incident at the restaurant, you had to keep your cool and act unbothered. He looked shy after, and you suppose that he didn’t mean to say it. But he did, and the words kept you up for the nights after.

You know you’re entering prohibited territory at this point and you wish there’s a way out before you get deep into the woods. You let Soomin and Jimin remind you everyday that you can’t nurture the crush, that the attraction can’t be anything more, that there are serious implications if you did, and that you’re gonna have to get over this as soon as possible. It’s Yoongi who tells you to not overthink it, that the more you force yourself out, the harder it actually becomes. 

“There are things you just let happen,” he’d said. “That’s how they eventually fall away.”

“That’s how they get worse, too,” you responded. 

“They could go either way, but resisting often ends up hurting more.”

You decide to just let the wave take you along while you train yourself to savor the moments for what they are without giving meaning to them. A smile is just a smile, a look is just a look. You know you’ll be without them one day. Just a few more months until you leave the company, and you won’t have a reason to be around Jungkook anymore. At least before then, you can hold onto whatever memories you retain, and you can learn to look back at them with gratitude that during your hardest moments, he made you feel safe.

It’s now towards the end of December and it’s the Tuesday before Jungkook is set to leave for his three-week vacation tomorrow. He called for an early dinner with the team at his new favorite Italian restaurant, wanting to properly say goodbye before you’ll all be without him for a while.

“Savor it, it won't last long,” he teases. “The holidays will be over soon and then I’ll be back before you know it. So enjoy this time that I’m not around.”

“What do you mean, sir? We’ll obviously miss you!” Do-hyun exclaims. “Mostly the once-in-a-blue-moon lunch and dinner treats and the occasional funny remarks but yeah, we’ll definitely feel your absence around.”

Her exaggerated smile lets everyone know she’s teasing, even if you know deep down, she’s telling the truth. Jungkook’s come around these past months, spending a bit of time with each team member and learning their strengths and weaknesses, mentoring the young ones, and sending pastries or dessert during the most hectic days. He’s still serious most of the time and doesn’t join the occasional post-work dinner that Do-hyun guilt trips you into going. There’s always so much to do and his perfectionism has rubbed off on everyone else, but he has his moments. And you know the team appreciates his efforts, too. 

“We’ll see. Maybe when I come back you guys will want another boss or something,” he baits.

“That was like, the first two months of you in your role, Mr. Jeon, but we’re over it,” Do-hyun admits, causing Manager Lee to panic.

He glares at her the way Chin-sun does, but you sit there giggling. Jungkook’s chuckling, too, unable to hide his amusement at the young one’s bluntness. 

She apologizes but Jungkook brushes it off, saying those first months weren’t his best. You don’t miss the way he looks at you, though, and you’ve trained yourself to not think too much about it, the way you’ve trained yourself these past weeks to just accept his smiles and glances as they are. 

“I also took you all here to thank you for this past half-year,” Jungkook continues. “It was tough. I was tough. And it was a big adjustment for everyone but you all showed how good you are as individuals and as a team and I… I needed that.”

“You led us very well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee assures him. “And tough love works sometimes.”

“I suppose it does, and it goes both ways,” Jungkook replies. “And so to thank you, I got you all a little Christmas gift, something you can enjoy when you go on your respective breaks.”

At his words, you distribute the letter envelopes to the team and they open them up, gasping in surprise and in obvious delight. 

Jungkook instructed you last week to purchase two vouchers at a luxurious spa for each staff member, hoping that a bit of relaxation can help you all. You were speechless when he said which specific package he wanted, and even if you know the price is just change for him, it was still more than you expected.

“A body scrub, massage, facial, and high tea, on top of the use of their super fancy amenities?” Do-hyun enumerates, her eyes widening in awe. “That’s a full day of being luxurious and feeling rich! Mr. Jeon, this is amazing! I’m totally going by myself and going twice!”

You laugh at her antics, not surprised she’d go that route.

“This is so timely, sir,” Manager Lee says. “My wife and I are celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary next month. This is gonna be a good date.”

“And it’s my birthday in a few weeks,” Chin-sun adds. “This would be so lovely to do with my husband.”

“My girlfriend and I fought so I think she’ll forgive me after I take her with me,” Yohan says, earning him a few laughs.

“What about you, ___? Inviting anyone special?” Do-hyun asks.

“Yes, my mom,” you answer. “She’s visiting next week, then we’ll go home to Daegu for the holidays. I’m sure she’d love this.”

“Ugh, of course. Parents come first,” she sighs.

You laugh her comment and turn to Jungkook, thanking him again for the gift. He thanks you for organizing them, too, and the dinner proceeds with candid spa stories and what you’re all doing for the holidays. 

Everyone heads home from the restaurant except for you and Jungkook who return to the office to run through last minute instructions and reminders before he flies in the morning. 

You’ve got over a week before your own vacation starts  where you’ll spend a few days in Wando, Min-woo’s hometown, but that also means needing to get a lot done before that, and then returning to backlogs after but you’ll worry about that next year. Right now, you’ve got documents that need Jungkook’s signatures and some memos you need him to approve. 

It’s another hour until you finish, even if a big part of you doesn’t want him to go just yet. Three weeks feels so long when seeing him five times a week for 12 hours was your everyday these past six months. It’s gonna feel a little odd not having your morning routines and car rides. You remind yourself that you’re gonna have to start getting used to that, given that you’re gonna be letting it all go soon enough. Still, it doesn’t mean you won’t miss it. It doesn’t mean you won’t miss him. 

“Have you packed everything, Mr. Jeon? Do you have enough coats? You can get pretty cold. What about all your documents? Did you—”

“Yes, I have,” he chuckles, finding it endearing how you’re speaking too fast and making sure he’s got everything ready. 

It’s not your job since this is a personal trip but he supposes that lines have blurred a while back, and he won’t deny that he’s enjoying this bit, especially seeing you worry. He wonders if you’ll miss him, too, but he won’t risk asking you even just to tease.

“I’ve gone on trips before, ___. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Just making sure that things are okay. Because I’m definitely gonna be the one you’ll call if they aren’t.”

“Fair point,” he laughs. “But everything’s good. Hoseok has been bugging me and making sure as well. He doesn’t want anything to mess up this trip.”

“It’s really sweet that he insisted you join him and A-yeong,” you gush. “They love their winter trips and I love seeing all their photos afterwards. I can just imagine how beautiful these ones are gonna be.”

“Well, he says he misses me,” Jungkook shrugs. “I was away for a long time and frankly, we’re more colleagues here than family, so he insisted I go with them. But I also think they just want a photographer because the sights are obviously gonna be gorgeous and I happen to take pretty good photos, you know?”

“I wouldn’t argue against that,” you laugh. “Surely being the third-wheel photographer has its perks?”

“We’ll see. I’ll definitely take advantage.”

“I’m sure they’ll spoil you somehow,” you say. “And you get to enjoy the landscape and the fresh air and the northern lights. Those are definitely gonna look good in pictures.”

“I’ll make sure to take them, then. And show you,” he smiles. “But yeah, I’m looking forward to a different scenery.”

“Where would you have gone if they didn’t ask you to come?”

“Not sure. Maybe to Brazil with Tae and Seokjin. Or somewhere like Hong Kong; I went there last year on my own. This time is gonna be different.”

“And you’ll have companions. That would be nice.”

“It would. That’s different, too, but I’m sure it will be good.”

You think about Jungkook spending his break on his own in a foreign country, navigating it by himself, meeting people, being left alone in his own thoughts. Maybe an occasional companion for the night. Or every night. Perhaps drinking on a rooftop bar to welcome the new year. But just him and no one else. You wonder how lonely that might feel, and you’re glad that at least this time, he can be around people who truly care about him. 

Jungkook thinks of how else he can keep you longer, knowing he’ll be without you for three weeks which for him, is an extremely long time. 

“Remember to enjoy your time there, okay? Don’t think too much about work,” you pout, knowing he still will.

“___, I’ll be on vacation but I won’t be on a break. You know I’ll still expect updates until next week. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Of course you will,” you tease. “I’ll make sure to keep you posted. I’ll send emails for approvals, maybe call if something urgent comes up.”

“You’re the only one allowed to bother me, about anything. Remember that.”

He says the words with such finality, as if there’s no way for you to resist. You wouldn’t anyway. Other than knowing that you’ll definitely be bugging him for approvals and such, you also would want to know how he’s doing, if he’s enjoying his time away and if he’s getting enough rest. 

“I will,” you assure him. “So, uh. You should head out and get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long flight.”

He nods, knowing that he needs to let you go this time. He decides against offering to take you home - you’ve been insisting that it’s not necessary, and that you’ve been fine with your bus rides to your neighborhood in the evening. He doesn’t want to sound desperate so he finally says goodbye.

He lingers, as he doesn’t move for a good half minute and just stands there by your desk, giving you a look to express things that he can’t ever say. 

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Take care of yourself out there,” you finally say. 

“Goodbye, ___. You do the same. I’ll see you when I get back.”

It’s another few seconds before he manages to start walking away. One last glance then he leaves. And he convinces himself that the sullen look in your eyes means that you’ll be thinking about him while he’s away, the same way he’ll be thinking about you, perhaps while he looks at the sky, knowing it’s the same one you’ll be looking at, and then you wouldn’t feel so far away. 

The time on your watch reads 11:10. The plane should be leaving anytime soon, and you wonder how Jungkook is doing, if he was able to sleep well and eat at the airport lounge. You at least know he got there on time. Mr. Ri arrived some time ago to say that he’s dropped Jungkook off and that he was instructed to take you to work and bring you home until your boss comes back from his vacation. You didn’t argue, knowing that it’s Jungkook’s way of making things convenient for you, given all the responsibilities you have to carry while he’s away. 

But other than that, you don’t know how he’s doing without any update from him. Which is silly for you to even expect. This is a personal trip, after all, and even if the line has somehow blurred after everything that’s happened between you two, you shouldn’t be waiting for some message about him having boarded or something. You’ll maybe just wait for his email asking for updates about his father’s comments on the policies that Jungkook drafted for approval. Or once A-yeong has posted on social media that they’ve landed. 

You shake your head, knowing that liquidating expenses is more important right now than your boss. But then your phone beeps and the smile on your face is immediate.

[From: VP Jeon] The plane arrived late so we just boarded. I’ll get some work done during the flight but I just emailed you an end-of-year message for staff. Can you check if it sounds good? 

[To: VP Jeon] I will, sir. Have a safe flight. 

[From: VP Jeon] Thanks. I’ll let you know when we’ve landed.

Simple and professional, you think, but somehow the thought of him messaging you before takeoff - even if it’s work-related - has you feeling giddy. There’s no desire for more. Just knowing he’s okay and also still thinking of you has you satisfied.

You don’t get to wipe off the smile quick enough for Yoongi not to see, as you hear him clearing his throat, prompting you to look up and see his amused face.  

“I was just checking in to see how you’re coping with your boss away but it seems you’re doing fine,” he starts. “Unless… he’s the reason why you’re smiling.”

Your silence confirms his suspicion, and he merely laughs in response. 

“Yah! You’re supposed to reprimand me,” you pout at him.

“And what would that do?” He challenges. “You’re an adult. ___. You feel what you feel, you do what you do. It’s up to you how you want this to play out.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how it will play out,” you say. “I will continue doing what I’m supposed to do, wait for the Arts Center to open, resign, then never have to see or think about him again. And I’ll be content with that.”

Yoongi doesn’t press or counter you, choosing instead to just agree with your plan and be the supportive friend you need him to be, even if your eventual resignation will make him incredibly sad. 

You’re very particular with the people you let in, with the people you allow to become an important part of your life. He’s lucky he didn’t scare you away for you to distance yourself from him, and though you didn’t return his feelings, he supposes that’s better. He gets to be someone you feel comfortable enough to be with, to be honest with, and that’s more than he can ask for. However you choose to approach whatever it is you’re feeling for Jungkook, his friend who’s just as cautious when it comes to people, Yoongi will just be there like he has all these years. 

“Anyway, is that all you came here for? To know how I was doing?” You ask.

“I sent you the designs and proposals I need Jungkook to go through,” Yoongi responds. “He said to submit them and he’ll review those while he’s there. I wasn’t going to since I want him to actually rest and enjoy his vacation but he’ll be on my ass about it.”

He explains his vision, which you note down so you can articulate it when Jungkook asks. Yoongi leaves you to work on all your tasks, making sure to send you a teasing smile on his way out.

You continue with your day, ending it with an email to your boss about what transpired and the documents he needs to approve. He responds past 1AM the next day during his layover in Amsterdam. Two hours after that, he messages you that they’ve arrived in Denmark and will have dinner before going to bed. 

It’s the day after, on a Friday, when he schedules a video call with you that has you fixing your hair and retouching your lipstick before picking up. He shows up on the screen donned in a white jumper, his unstyled hair making him look cozy and much more boyish than you’re used to. You let yourself be familiarized with the scene, with him seated by a desk with the large window behind him showing clear blue skies and colorful structures. He seems to do the same, as the silence lingers for the next half a minute or so. 

He speaks up first, greeting you and asking how you’ve been. 

“I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. Getting a lot done on the post-event admin work,” you reply. “How about you? You  look refreshed and relaxed. That’s a new sight to see.”

“It’s probably the Copenhagen air,” he says. “It’s gorgeous out here. And the buildings are beautiful. We’re staying at this nice boutique hotel that Hoseok and I explored yesterday. It’s giving us ideas for a serviced apartment with this kind of design. Or maybe villas by the mountains.”

“Oh, talking about work while on vacation, I see,” you shake your head. “I bet A-yeong regrets inviting you to join them.”

“Maybe another day of Hoseok and I just going to hotels and random buildings and she already will,” he laughs. “It’s work but also not. It’s nice to feel inspired by the surroundings. I realized that doesn’t really happen when I’m there.”

“Oh I’m sure. You’re VP Jeon when you’re here and there, you’re just a regular person, a traveler, an architect. As long as you’re getting the rest that you deserve,” you smile. 

“That’s true,” he nods, taking your words in. 

He’s just him while he walks past the canal, while he explores the city and its vibrant structures; he’s just a man in a foreign country who doesn’t have to connect with people, he just has to connect with what’s around him. 

“So, let’s go over your email and the things I need to review and approve,” he continues.

Your hour-long meeting proceeds with approvals and instructions, and he impresses you with how much he’s done despite being on vacation. You suppose he’s still jet lagged and is just taking advantage, but you remind him again that the weekend is coming and you won’t be working, so neither should he. 

“I know, don’t worry,” he assures you. “We’re heading to other towns these next few days before taking the train to Sweden. I’ll have time to work but also to enjoy the scenery.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re able to take a break from all the craziness back here,” you say, meaning it. 

He works so hard and you always wonder if he allows himself to breathe, to take a pause so he can look forward to something, and then savor it when it comes.

“Me, too. So when you take your vacation, I expect the same from you, alright?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, sir,” you laugh. “I am gonna completely shut out once I clock off next Friday. You won’t hear from me until I’m back here.”

“Of course,” he says after a beat of silence. “You deserve a longer break, actually. You know you can always request for an extension.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to deal with so much backlog,” you respond. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go and people to drag with me. Plus, I’ll have a few days off for my birthday next month so I’ll definitely have more chances for rest.”

Jungkook nods, knowing that time will be bittersweet for him because you’ll get to have your break while he’ll be without you. Just like how it is now, as he’s on this vacation while you’re left to do so much work thousands of miles away from him. It also means he doesn’t get to do his routine with you, something that’s given him comfort and a sense of stability these past months. Seeing you through this call is his only way to remain connected with you, a chance to know how you’re doing, a moment to hear your voice and see the smile he’s been without. It’s just been two days but he already feels it’s much longer.

He finally lets you go, knowing you’ll be clocking out soon. Even if he doesn’t want to yet, he says goodbye. 

As you asked, he savors their second day in the city, but he sees you everywhere - in all the greenery that he passes, in the library down the street, in the cafe with all the pastries that they eat at, and in the sky as he falls asleep at night. There’s comfort in knowing it’s the same one you wake up to every morning.

Not having Jungkook this long is a little disorienting. Sure, he’s been away a few times, but he’d still call or message to ask something or to give you instructions. It’s become your habit to bring him coffee every few hours, and you find yourself making one only to realize that he isn’t around. 

Seeing him in A-yeong’s social media feels quite intrusive, but you couldn’t help but watch her Instagram stories, with him in a green fleece jumper as he walked down charming streets last Saturday, and then a black coat over a blue sweatshirt as he strolled the beachside on Sunday. He called the day before, on Tuesday afternoon, for your regular check-in, another hour of talking about work, even if all you wanna hear about is how his days have been. You’ve never thought about it as much before, but somehow seeing him in this way makes you care, it makes you want to know what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking.

You shake away the thoughts as Wednesday ends. It’s been a week since he left and there’s over two more weeks until he’s back. You’ll have another call on Friday and there won’t be another one until you return from your own vacation, and the thought saddens you, knowing there won’t be a reason for either of you to reach out.

But you take it as a challenge, as a way for you to slowly get him out of your system. Hopefully being without him for a while will help.

Friday comes and the call with Jungkook goes a little longer than usual. It’s towards the end when Hoseok and A-yeong make an appearance, as they’re all staying at a rental by the lake in a town in Sweden, and are about to have their breakfast.

“___!” Hoseok chirps. “Is my cousin still working you to the bone?”

“Asks the man who has hours-long meetings with his assistant every other day. If I may say, Hoseok, you’re driving Bitna crazy. I think I just saw her earlier pulling her hair out,” you tease.

“Ah, I don’t blame her. There’s just too much going on,” he sighs. “But at least I’m off her back now. It’s your last day before your break, you shouldn’t even be working right now! You should just be hanging out with the team before you all go out for dinner!”

“Like you said, there’s just too much going on,” you counter. 

“These men never stop working, do they?” A-yeong huffs from next to her husband, prompting you to nod in agreement. She turns to Jungkook with her arms on her waist. “I’m telling you now, Kook, how are you gonna find a girlfriend when all you do is work, work, party, work, party, and work? Hmm?”

Jungkook chuckles, his hand behind his neck as he tries to give an answer. You can imagine A-yeong hampering him about this, given that she’s quite the proponent when it comes to companionship. It’s why she’s always patient with Hoseok, and why they love each other as much as they do. There’s understanding and respect, there’s trust and honesty. She’s not afraid to tell him when she feels neglected, and he makes up for it immediately.

“I’ll find her when I’m meant to,” Jungkook responds. “But anyway, I was just about to let ___ go.”

“Finally,” Hoseok says. Turning to you, he gives you that warm smile that you adore. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bug you during your break.”

“Good,” you respond, even if the thought saddens you a little. “Anyway, it looks so pretty out there. I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it.”

“It is! And the sights are spectacular, ___. It’s definitely a must-visit,” Hoseok replies. 

“One day,” you say, knowing it’ll probably never happen. Still, you indulge him. “I’ll settle with pictures for now, so you better take lots of them for me to see.”

“Ah, Kook is the resident photographer! He’s been taking a lot so he’ll show you.”

“That would be nice,” you smile. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you from enjoying your day. So I’ll go ahead. I’ll see you all when you get back!”

They bid you goodbye, and there’s that nod again, that smile, that softness that you’ve started getting used to seeing on Jungkook. It’s what you think about during the team dinner an hour later, while in the car going home as soft music plays, and as you fall asleep.

You hold onto that last image of him, until the next day when A-yeong posts on her socials again. It’s those snippets of his life that make you pause during the day and keep you up at night. There’s so much about him that you’re drawn to, that you want to get to know, that you want to protect. 

He’s like a movie that plays in the local theater - captivating, intriguing, yet you remain a spectator and then it ends, moving on and you’ve only got the memory of it etched in your mind. It’s not yours to watch whenever you want and no matter how much you try to analyze it, it’ll always just be your interpretation, not his. He’ll remain as a moving image that you want so much to capture but seems too big, too overwhelming, too far. 

But there are instances when you think you’ve got him for a second, that you understand him a little. There are moments like arriving at his penthouse the morning after he gets back from his trip with his mussed hair and oversized jumper that he feels more human, more flawed, more tangible. 

It’s when he smiles at you and says that it’s nice to see you again that he feels within reach. It’s also the moment you realize that him being away didn’t really help. If anything, it intensified that feeling that you know you can’t have. You’re gonna lose him one day, and when you do, you hope for only the good memories to stay. 

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[seresinhangmanjake]

Always His Girl: Preview

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: A decade ago you were hurt by Jake Seresin. Now you have to work with him, and while you'd rather avoid any drama or rehashing of the past, Jake is determined to get you to forgive and accept him.

Notes/Warnings: this is just a little preview of the first part of this mini-series (likely three parts or so, if people are interested). Based on an idea from @tgmreader.

Words: 500

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There’s something about you, he thinks as you shake his hand. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but with your touch there’s an electric shock, a bolt of remembrance, a lingering memory that he can’t quite grasp. It’s with the offering of your name that his memories knock him upside the head. 

Surely, this is a joke. You're playing him. You might not have seen one another since high school, but how can you pretend not to know him when his lips have been on yours? How can you pretend while he still remembers what the delicate skin of your neck tasted like? For a senseless second, he wonders if after ten years you still taste the same. 

In fairness, he didn’t recognize you. But how could he be expected to? You’re not a teenager anymore. You blossomed in a way he didn’t. He’s always looked as he looks now. He’s always had the perfectly styled hair and the muscles and the smirk, but you…you’re something else. 

You’ve lost your braces, tamed your hair—but not too much. And good, he liked your hair—and your curves have finally filled out your clothes. You have a waist that would perfectly fit his hands.

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing almost painfully as his eyes follow you making your way down the line of his team, shaking their hands as you shook his, smiling as brightly as you smiled at him. A pang of jealousy tells him he should get special treatment; a hug, a squeal of excitement at seeing him again—something—but he knows that is a ridiculous demand to make after what happened between you. 

You likely hate him. He’s spent a decade hating a piece of himself for what he did, too, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about where you’d both be if you never found out the kiss was a dare. You might have developed into more. When he kissed you, he’d thought: fuck his friends. He’d kissed you and it felt good and he kept going and he didn’t want to stop, and had you not been interrupted, he wouldn't have.

There’s been few since who have made him feel quite like that. A college girlfriend, a friend from early training, and you.

“I'm honored to be working with such a highly skilled team,” you say. You say some other things, stuff about studying their flying and calculations and…and…he has no idea. He's too focused on your mouth as it forms the words. Pinkish lip gloss that he's willing to bet tastes like cherries, just like in school.

“We're happy to have you,” Javy replies, tugging at Jake's attention. 

He glances down the line. Everyone sports kind smiles and nods of approval, with the exception of Rooster, who looks like he just fell off a cliff into dreamland as he stares at you. 

Jake's heart thuds. Unacceptable. Whatever that look is, it's got to go, because if you're anyone's girl here, you're his.

---

A/N: Let me know if you want to read more of this. You don't have to, but it's my birthday, so as a present please tell me if you're genuinely interested. If you're not, no worries :)

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | complications

masterlist | tag list

words: 2.9k warnings: 18+ | angst, near death experience, blood, reader has a traumatic birth w/complications, PTSD naturally, joel reminded of sarah's death, newbown baby (yes they can be spooky! but this one is cute and safe), (please just somebody take that poor man's pain away) (or not because then what would we write about?) (also he and ellie are a little estranged like in tlou2) prompt: I was thinking maybe Jackson! Joel era and pregnant reader and then she almost dies while giving birth to the baby! Gives room for a lot of drama and angst, and potential comfort right at the end for our favorite old man. tags: (i know it's been a while since I last posted so let me know if you want to be untagged) @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl note: you can read this as pedro's joel if you so wish, but i am in my game!joel feels rn

“I can’t do this, Joel.” Your face creased with pain as another contraction wracked through you. You’d known that labour would hurt, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to come on this quickly, and so strong. You hadn’t yet passed the eight-month mark, and you weren’t prepared. Not even a little. You hadn’t even sorted the nursery yet, or found a crib.

Joel held your hand on the floor of your living room, keeping you supported while you braced against the couch. He brushed the hair from your face, calm and unreadable as ever, but even you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled against your skin. “You got this, baby girl. I know you can.”

“Don’t think you have much of a choice.” Your doctor, one of the few midwives in town, lifted her head. She sat at your feet, peeling off her gloves after your examination. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming right now.”

“There’s no time to get to the infirmary?” you questioned, voice rising in panic. The contractions had barely started an hour ago, and sure, you’d left it a little late before confessing that they were getting painful. Ellie had rushed out not fifteen minutes ago to call for your midwife’s help, and now…

Now, the baby was coming, and all you could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The pregnancy had been a shock to your system. You hadn’t even been sure that Joel would want to go through with it after everything he’d experienced before. But he’d held your hand through each ultrasound, felt your belly for the first kick, and even when you saw fear — dread, even — cross his features, you could easily reassure him that this time was different. This time, it was safe. You’d lived in Jackson for over a year now, and it was the security of the community that had made motherhood feel possible. 

The midwife shook her head. “I’m sorry. You need to start pushing on your next contraction.”

“Oh, god,” you whispered, teeth chattering as the weight of the situation hit you.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel tilted your chin gently. “It’s gonna be just fine, darlin’. You just breathe and push, okay? We’ll do the rest.” 

“Right, just breathe and push,” you muttered. “Of course, you forgot the part about shoving a small human out of my hoo-ha.” 

He smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Oh, right. That little detail.”

“I kinda hate you right now.” Just as you said it, another contraction hit, and your head fell back as you moaned. 

“Push now if you feel like you should!” your midwife reminded. Then, to Ellie: “Go get some clean towels, hon. Lots of ‘em.”

In the doorway, Ellie looked grateful to be given a job and scampered off. 

You did as instructed, dipping your chin into your chest as you pushed, pushed, pushed. A scream ripped through you at the pain it brought, each moment worse than the last. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good. She’s gonna be here so soon,” Joel whispered, his grip around you the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now. 

Dizziness consumed you as your contraction finally eased. “Is she okay?”

“I’m seeing the head.” The midwife beamed. “Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Somehow, you breathed, and you pushed, and you felt your way through the pain as your body broke and mended and then broke again. Joel kept his grip on your hand tight, reassuring, but you saw him bite his lip toward the end and knew that he might have been just as terrified as you. 

The final push finally came, and you sunk back as the newborn's cry rang out.

“She’s here. You did it,” Joel murmured, kissing your clammy temple. He laughed into your skin, the sound of joy and disbelief sending a shiver through you. You tried to lift your head, to see your daughter, but everything felt wrong. Heavy. It still hurt, and black spots dotted your vision. 

“Le’ me see her.” Your words were slurred, your voice far away.

The last thing you heard was Joel calling your name, his voice raw and broken — terrified. 

***

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. 

“She’s bleeding too heavily. I need to get her to the infirmary.”  The midwife shook her head, handing him the screaming newborn. His screaming newborn. It had taken months to quell the panic of becoming a father again — not that he had ever truly stopped. Sarah had lived in his heart all these years, and Ellie was his daughter, even if she hated him for what he did. 

He made the mistake of looking at you, and the sight of the blood made him sick. So much of it. There was so damn much of it. He’d seen a lot of people bleed out, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this much. 

“Shit," he cursed.

He didn’t know when Ellie had returned, but she stood wan and she’ll shocked beside him now.

“Please, take her.” He shoved the baby into her arms before lowering back to his knees to grab your hand. “Don’t you dare do this to me, baby. Not now.” 

“Can you carry her to the infirmary?” the midwife asked desperately.

He didn’t think twice, slipping his arms under your limp body. 

“Joel! She’s gonna be alright, right?” Ellie stuttered, and he heard the panic in her voice, too, as she swayed the baby from side to side, swaddling her in blankets. You were the closest thing Ellie had to a mother. If either of them lost you…

He couldn’t even try to find an answer, as much as he wanted it to be yes.

He gritted his teeth, hauling you up on shaky legs. Thankfully, the infirmary was only a few blocks away, and nobody was there to slow him down so late at night. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. One minute, he’d been settling down for the night after a long patrol shift. The next, you were curled up in pain, claiming the baby was coming. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, fingers curling into your old sweater. His old sweater, if he was being particular, but you’d stolen it from him so long ago that it smelled completely of you now: soap and fresh air. Blood. 

He staggered into the infirmary with that smell still in his nostrils, dampness spreading across his hands, and he damn near passed out on the threshold. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave you, even when flashes of him holding Sarah this exact way raced through his mind. Even when a broken sob stuck in his throat, because he was holding on, and you weren’t, and she wasn’t, and why did he always have to be the one to watch the life seep from them? To end the night with nothing but their blood on his hands?

He set you down on the first bed he came to, drawing the alarmed attention of the nurses, who had a moment ago been ready to dose off on their night shift. In such a small community, they weren’t often needed after dark.

Behind him, the midwife called out orders, wheeling you away into the surgery theatre. He watched you disappear into a white-walled room, a tiny thing that never would have sufficed in the old world. 

In the old world, you probably wouldn’t have given birth in a living room. In the old world, he wouldn’t be stiff with a fear he couldn’t control, frozen with memories that refused to ever leave him.

He spun around and felt unsettled to see Ellie cradling the baby, mouth agape with the same cluelessness he felt. His baby. His. He had to be a father now, but he didn’t know how when you weren’t here with him. He felt like that thing he was always losing in his dreams was finally gone for good. Ripped from him one last time.

He couldn’t look at the baby’s cherubic face. Couldn’t even look at Ellie.

He couldn’t remember why he’d been so relaxed just yesterday to think of the little life you’d both been impatiently waiting to begin. Couldn’t remember how he’d found the strength to sing a lullaby to your bump, laughing when a foot kicked his palm as though telling him to shut the hell up. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was so tiny and pink and new, wrapped in bloody blankets, and he…

“Go give her to one of the nurses,” he whispered. 

“Joel—” Ellie made to protest, but he couldn’t hear it. Wouldn't.

“Ellie,” he snapped. “Go give her to one of the damn nurses. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have a fucking choice, because she’s yours now.” Ellie shoved her into his hands without warning. He tensed with the new weight, bile rising in his stomach. No. No. No. Everything he held, he broke. 

But then the baby let out a gurgle, her feet kicking his palm just like the night before when she was still safe in your belly, and he couldn’t keep from looking down at her. Couldn’t keep from seeing you in all her innocent features. Eyes, nose, even the fine tuft of hair on her head. 

“I can clean her down and check she’s doing okay,” a nurse offered, and suddenly, he was reluctant to let her go. 

And then he remembered you, the blood, your motionless body after so long spent screaming, Ellie’s hatred, Tess, Sarah, and he was glad for somebody else to take care of her. The further away that kid was, the better. He was a fucking curse, and she…

He scraped a hand over his face, pacing over to the surgery room. He didn’t dare march in, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said from behind him gently. “She’s strong, and I’m sure shit like this happens all the time.” 

“I told her we’d be okay,” Joel rasped out, face crumpling finally. “I told her that it would turn out alright, that we could be… That we could make something good here.”

“And you will,” Ellie said. 

He shook his head. “I might as well have killed her my damn self.” He looked down at his bloodied hands as though they weren’t his. They shook more than they ever had before. 

“Stop it! She’s going to make it. She has to!” Ellie’s yell took him aback, piercing in such a quiet, echoey space. She jabbed a finger into Joel’s shoulder. “And you have to hold it together. I know it’s fucking hard, alright, but you don’t get to lose it now! You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in our lives, Joel! That’s not how it works!”

He swallowed down his own self-loathing, head bowed. “I can’t do it without her,” he whispered. 

The rawness in his voice must have been visceral, because Ellie paused, her eyes filling with tears. 

And then she hugged him, tight enough that he thought maybe she was trying to keep him in one piece. He let out a ragged breath and held her. And then he did what she asked. He tried to hold it together. 

***

You woke to whispers and gurgles and wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. Your lids were heavy, body distant, and you couldn’t quite remember where you were or who was supposed to be with you. 

Until you prised your eyes open and found IVs plugged into your veins. 

“There she is,” a voice said softly. 

You blinked, searching for the source, and found it in a bleary version of Joel. He sat in a chair beside your bed, a tiny baby in his arms. His smile was shaky, distorted, and you didn’t know why. Not until he leaned forward and brushed your hair from your face with his free arm.

“Thought you’d left me there for a second.” 

“Is she okay?” Your throat was hoarse. 

He nodded. “Right as rain. It’s you we were worried about.” 

You frowned, trying to remember. One minute, you were pushing as though your life depended on it, and then the next, you were just… gone. 

“You had a heavy bleed. Needed a transfusion,” Joel explained finally. “But they reckon you’re gonna be okay, thank god.” 

“But she’s okay?” You stared at the baby nestled against his chest, not quite sure how she was here. When had this being growing inside of you become a real, tangible thing? How much of her life had you already missed?

Joel sighed impatiently. “Yes, baby. She’s perfect. Takes after her mom in that department.”

He moved to perch beside you so that you could get a closer look. He was right, of course. She was a little smaller than most newborns, but she was perfect. Pink apple cheeks, wide eyes, tiny fingernails. Looking at her felt like everything had finally fallen into place. You tickled her chin and her lips twitched with something content. Something right.

“How’s it feel, being a daddy again?” you asked gently, looking up at him. 

“Right now, it feels like hell. You can’t go scaring me like that.” He wouldn’t look at you, frown set firmly on his daughter. “Thought I was gonna have a heart attack."

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been. After everything, you’d finally thought that danger, terror, was a thing of the past. You’d done a great job of ruining that, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Joel had lost too much before to deal with all this, and you had no idea how you’d cope in his shoes. 

He chuckled. “You’re sorry.” Shook his head. “I ain’t trying to make you apologise for almost dying, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“We said we could do this right,” you whispered. “I promised you it’d be different.” 

“Yeah, well… feels like things’ll never be different for me.” 

You snapped your head up. “What’s that mean?” 

“Nothin’.” He sighed, kissing your temple, and yet still, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “How about you get some rest? I’ll keep the little missus company.” 

“Joel.” You cupped his jaw, pleading now. Everything felt so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though the proof was right in front of you, it was hard to believe your baby was happy and healthy after all the trauma you’d faced. “We’re not gonna start her life this way. Tell me what you mean.”

He placed the baby down in the crib beside your bed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep having to plan a life where I’m alone again, and honestly, I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to. Not this time.”

“But you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t. For a minute there, I thought…” His voice grew thick, and he shook his head. “Sarah’s gone. Ellie hates me. Why the hell did I think it’d be third time lucky? She’s not even a day old, and she almost lost her mom! And there was nothing I could do. There’s never anything I can do.”

Your heart ached for him. One day, you prayed he wouldn’t hold the responsibility of every single person he loved on his shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d been foolish to go into this thinking it could be better. The world would never be safe, not even here in Jackson, and the pain he must live with every day sure as hell wouldn’t ease now he had another daughter to raise. 

You felt hollow at the thought that maybe he’d leave. You wouldn’t blame him, not really. You were scared, too. But you’d only found the strength to do this because you were together, and you’d survived the odds so far. If that stopped feeling true… what then?

Devastation must have been written all over your face, because he pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to me, baby. I shouldn’t be sayin’ all this. You’re barely out of the woods.” 

“I don’t think we can keep doing this if you don’t let some of that guilt and blame go, Joel,” you admitted. “I think your daughter is gonna need a man who doesn’t hate himself for every single thing that’s wrong in the world. You’re right. There was nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. It was my body, and things like this happened even before the outbreak. I can’t imagine how scared you were, love, but fuck, you can’t keep making it your fault. It isn’t. It never was, especially not with Sarah. And this baby? She isn't Sarah." 

He winced at her name, as he often still did. Collapsing back in his chair, he took your hand. Slowly, his lower lip began to wobble as he finally met your gaze. “I love you too much to lose you. And her… How the hell am I gonna do this?” 

“I can’t answer that,” you said. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, he bowed his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Gonna try to be better. I promise. I'll hold it together."

“You don’t need to be better, and you don't need to hold it together. You’re already a good man, and talking about all this is important - for both of us. And for her.” You squeezed his fingers tightly. “I love you so much.” You teared up as you looked at the baby dozing in her crib. “And god, I love her. Can you believe we made her?” 

He hummed. “What the hell are we gonna call her?” 

“And where the hell are we gonna put her?” you added, worrying at your lip. “We never even found a crib.”

He shrugged, teasing. “I’m sure we’ll find a corner somewhere.” He leaned forward, tracing circles along your arm. “We’ll make do. Between the four of us, we’ll find a way. I’ll cut the damn trees down and build us a place from scratch myself if I have to.”

You smiled, peace finally flooding your exhausted body. You saw Ellie standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, and knew Joel was right. Your family was complete now. It would be a little broken at times, as all things were, but you’d do everything in your power to keep it whole. 

Even if it meant reminding Joel every damn day that he had to be gentle with himself.

[mixtape-timeout]

Hi Stays, this is a post to warn everyone to be wary of a SKZ author here on Stayblr with the username @/gimmeurtmi

I followed them not too long ago, but they suddenly blocked me. I was confused why because I have my age in my account and followed all of their rules. However, I have some reasons to suspect that this user is a Zionist. As you can see I am very Pro-Palestine, it’s in my blog title and bio, and I think this is why they blocked me.

They made a post showing anger about Stays educating Felix on his live about Coca-Cola (For people who don’t know, Coca-Cola is on the BDS boycott list, they support Israel and built an R&D center in occupied Palestinian territory of Atarot) In their post they said it’s “pathetic” for Stays to inform Felix about this and that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Felix made the effort to read about the issue on his live and chose to apologize to Stay for it, but this user thinks that boycotting a brand tied to a genocidal state is the same as bullying.

((Screenshots are not mine))

They also showed strong support for the new SKZ collab with Charlie Puth. Many Stays are boycotting this collab because Charlie Puth is a raging Zionist, and the track also has an Israeli producer, Johnny Goldstein who is also a proud Zionist. gimmeurtmi even made a whole tag for this collab on their blog to show how much they’re excited for it, even though two Zionists worked on it and will be receiving royalties for it. You can also see the tags in the third post showing them speaking of Tommy Hilfiger, yet another Zionist, in a friendly manner.

Furthermore, I talked to other Stays in the community about this because I don’t want to jump to conclusions and gimmeurtmi blocked other users who are showing support for Palestine, not just me. From reading their posts on their other blog (@/stuckonspidey) you can also see how far their beliefs about this go. That’s not to say them being Jewish means they must be a Zionist, because that’s a completely false idea. There are plenty of Jewish people who are not Zionist and support Palestinian liberation because we recognize that what Palestinians are suffering through is a history repeat of what our people went through. But this added with all the other questionable evidence makes me suspicious that this user is a Zionist, or at least an Israeli sympathizer who treats support for Palestine as an inconvenience.

From these posts on their main blog, you can see them refuse to condemn Israel or even say anything about their crimes when they got asked about it. Instead, they just talk about how this genocide has personally affected them. There are no posts (that I could find) of them showing any sympathy or support for Palestine, all their posts about the subject are just self-victimizing posts about how they feel. Yes, it’s a scary time to be a Jewish person as well, I know this as a person of Jewish ancestry, too. But fighting anti-semitism AND fighting for Palestine can and SHOULD co-exist. It’s a huge red flag that the only thing they have to say about the genocide is how Jewish people are the victims in this. They also made another post where they claim that “Zionist” is just a word people use to be anti-semitic. This is a tale as old as time that Zionists have used to excuse, deny, and even justify Israel’s war crimes. I was once told that a genocide of Palestinians doesn’t exist and is just an “anti-semitic blood libel”. This is the exact same rhetoric that Zionists in my community and Zionist news outlets use (which, I add, almost ALL news outlets are strongly biased to Israel because of America’s ties to it. Israel is heavily backed in support from some of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, it is not the victim and never was).

I am not making this for drama. I made this post just to tell fellow Stays to be cautious of which writers you’re reading from and supporting. If you are against the genocide that has been happening to Palestinians for 75 years now, I suggest not supporting this person’s work, because at best they don’t care about what’s happening in Palestine, and at worst, they actually endorse it. There should be no place in our Stay community for this hateful ideology.

[kingofbodyrolls]

7 Summers at the Sea | bts | series masterlist

Spending the summer by the sea might bring with it more than just the sweet summer breeze of the salty ocean.

→ AUs: mermaid!au (they are mermen!), fantasy, magical → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, drama, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Taglist: do you want to be added to the taglist? Just drop a comment or send an ask (remember to tell me if you want to be tagged in all, one or more members). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: hi!!!! I love mermaid stories, and I don’t think there’s enough out there, so here’s me creating my own 🧜 This is a collection of mermaid stories for each member of bangtan! They are one-shots and stand-alone, but operate in the same universe ✨

🌊Namjoon You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals. → Deep Dive [19.8k]

🌊Seokjin Life as a mermaid is wonderful, especially when your merman boyfriend, Seokjin, treats you just right. But you’re beginning to recall memories that you don’t think are yours from life on land— from a past life maybe? When you do realize that the memories are in fact your own, the world comes tumbling down around you, questioning your very existence. Are you even a real mermaid? → When it Sinks In [13.1k]

🌊Yoongi You know how the story goes; girl meets charming man, only to find out that he’s a merman and the more you get to know him you realize how cold and unforgiving he is. Thinking you can bring the sun to calm his storm you fall deep for him— only problem? He doesn’t love you back. → Of Salt and Shadow [TBA]

🌊Hoseok Hoseok is royalty in the underwater city of Naraeum, and he’s bored. Bored of duties and responsibility, he recklessly searches for fun on land, testing love potions he stole from the Sea Witch. None of them have worked so far, until one day; there’s you, a human he doesn’t know claiming to be in love with him. It might be fun, he thinks, a way for him to rebel against his family because they would never allow him to mate with a human. → Forelsket [TBA]

🌊Jimin You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free. → To Catch a Merman [17.8k]

🌊Taehyung You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive. → Moonglade [15.4k]

🌊Jungkook When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook. → Till We Meet Again [11.4k]

I don’t plan to have them all ready this summer, lol 😂 But they are all in the works, with my other 100+ wips (I really don’t have that many, I’m just exaggerating).

The list will be updated as I post them ✨ 

Also, please, do let me know if you’re excited— I’m struggling with posting and sometimes I feel like there’s no point in posting, because people don’t engage (= I’m losing motivation is what I’m saying).

Are you ready to take a swim? 🌊🧜

[911-ls-whats-your-emergency]

Has anyone written this season from Tommy’s POV yet?? Because if so please tag me, but in the meantime I just had to outline the crazy sequence of events from his POV:

- Haven’t heard from the 118 in years and suddenly Howie is asking me to fly them into a hurricane

- But also we gotta wait for Hen but you’re gonna need to go get her so we can dramatically surprise her from inside the helicopter

- Can’t believe these losers were actually right and we just found an overturned cruise ship

- Start talking to Eddie in the aftermath and have so much in common, exchange numbers so we can hang out

- A day later Evan Buckley calls the station and asks if he can come by for a tour whenever I’ve got some free time and he seems cool too so why not

- My buddy in Vegas gets awesome tickets to the fight and convinces me to fly out and hey Eddie mentioned he’s into MMA right?

- Evan is super excited about everything but also doesn’t really seem like he’d actually want to switch stations so that’s odd - but hey flying is awesome and I can’t resist a little eye candy so I’ll offer to teach him

- Fight is awesome. Eddie is awesome. New friends are awesome and it’s rare that you have so much in common with someone so we are BFFs now

- Vibes at basketball were strange?? Apparently Evan doesn’t usually play but he shows up and gets really intense and I end up having to take Eddie to get his ankle patched up

- Painkiller!Eddie starts mumbling about how this is all his fault and he knows how Buck gets jealous and….oh now I feel bad

- Let me go to Evan’s place and clear the air - didn’t mean to cause all this drama I just wanted all the new friends

- I might be reading this wrong but Evan is flirting with me…? While also talking about Eddie way too much??

- Okay he is definitely flirting with me but also I am still not convinced he was jealous over me

- But also how can you not kiss a guy like that when he’s flirting with you and then rambling??

- Damn I really hope that was okay because I did not give him a lot of warning

- 😁😁 it was okay

- Gotta get out of here before I get distracted by kissing this man and miss my shift

- But can’t let Evan overthink it too much so make sure I secure a date before I go

- Oops almost forgot I came here to fix what I broke between him and Eddie - one last reminder and we’re good!

- Can’t wait for Saturday…

[crescenthistory]

Ask: hi, could you write something about barty with the prompt c5. ("there will not be a day where i am not there for you") like he receives a letter from his dad and u can tell something is off ab him and comfort him ? thank youu

Words: 1.4k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, implied mental health struggles on barty's front, barty isolating himself, hurt/comfort, romanian!barty, general fluff and unconditional love

Note: this request is super old, i'm terribly sorry lmao, but better late than never? barty deserves all the love<33

You had not seen Barty in 5 hours.

Considering that the boy usually seemed to be attached to you by some invisible 5 metres rope, you were growing increasingly concerned. Your poor cheeks were being gnawed off at record speed, and you knew he would chide you for “maiming his lover” later, but you had other priorities at the moment.

Between your last two lessons, he had slipped off down some hallway and never returned. You paid it little mind to begin with, Barty often ran off on spontaneous, perhaps reckless adventures. It was in the whole school’s best interest to just let him, saving all your questions for when he comes back, demanding stories of his grand escapades – because he always came back to your side quickly. 

When he didn’t show up for dinner, your worry thus began to settle despite your trying to fight it. Sometimes he did skip dinner for an array of different reasons, but he always notified you. Throughout the meal your thoughts wandered off, all yearning for him, but you knew how much he would scold you if he found out you skipped dinner for him.

You would hold it against him, if he was not the first person to admit he was being a hypocrite.

You clung onto hope that you would find him in his common room or his dorm afterwards. When you opened the door to his dorm only to be met with their shared snake, Nova, as the only living being in the room, you finally allowed yourself to give in and accept defeat.

Barty was missing and you were worried.

Behind you, the tell-tale sounds of Regulus’ dance-like steps alerted you to his incoming presence. “Reg,” you said, poking your head out to catch his attention. “Barty hasn’t told you where he’s off to?”

Regulus gave you a bit of an odd look as he passed you in the doorway. “Does he ever?”

You gave him a look that hopefully said yeah, that’s fair before you straightened up once more. “Will you tell me if you see him?”

“If I see him, he’ll be here.” Regulus was clearly not in one of his more chatty moods. This time you gave him a look you knew said play nice. He sighed. “I’ll let you know, yeah. I’ll ask Evan too, when he gets here.”

You gave him a rueful smile. “Thank you Reggie, this is why you’re my favourite.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he laid down on his bed to read. You had enough wits about you to close the door before you left, not wanting a stinging curse to be thrown after you down the hallway and doubly not wanting Barty to get revenge on Regulus for doing so. He always found out somehow.

This was not Barty’s first time disappearing, nor did you suspect it would be his last. You usually had a list of reasons why he might run off and places to look for him if he did.

Had he been in a particularly jittery or theatrical mood, you would have been worse off, as he quite literally could be anywhere where he might cause the most damage and drama. Usually you would begin in Gryffindor or the Care for Magical Creatures classroom, but thankfully you did not have to resort to those measures.

Because Barty had been in a very distinctive restrained mood that only you and a select few of his friends ever seemed to be able to decipher. When you first met him, you thought that mood meant he was annoyed somehow – now you knew that when Barty was truly irritated, he grinned like a maniac. 

This almost stoicness meant only one thing; Barty was feeling vulnerable. Maybe even defeated.

Which quickly limited his hiding spots to places where he could grasp at some privacy without feeling trapped. Considering that the last time he tried to hide away in the prefect’s bathroom, he got caught by none other than James Potter, the poor sod, you narrowed your best bet down to the Astronomy Tower.

Led by a gut instinct and a mouthful of compassion, you scurried up the hundreds of steps needed, hoping to find him and not accidentally stumble in on some awkward attempt at a date between some fourth years.

When you tried to turn the handle to the Astronomy Tower’s door only to find it to be magically locked, you knew you were right in your judgement.

“Barty? Are you in there, love, it’s me?” you called through the door, aiming at making your voice as steady as possible. He hated being treated like he was fragile, at least before he was curled up in your arms.

The faint buzzing sound in your ears alerted you to the fact that he had thrown a muffliato over the room, meaning you wouldn’t hear him if he replied. He could still hear you, though, so you tried your luck further.

“It’s alright, B. I’m here.” You hoped to Merlin he could hear the love and reassurance dripping from your words.

The whirring sound was interrupted by a faint click as the lock was opened. Taking extra precautions, you looked behind you to ensure you would be alone and slipped in through the door, locking it behind you once more without looking.

Fresh air filled your lungs the second you stepped into the tower – one of the reasons why it was such a great place to escape to when feeling anxious or down or both. Your heart was similarly filled when you saw Barty sitting in a large windowsill with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring out with an empty gaze.

“Hi there, lovely,” you said rather cheerily, making your relaxed state penetrate the atmosphere of doom that followed Barty on these days.

You walked over and went to lift yourself up into the windowsill, only for Barty to break free of his trance for a moment to take your hand and elbow and help you navigate carefully until you were seated across from him, legs entangling with his own. He let out a breath. “Hi, Dragă.”

You smiled carefully at him, settling into your place and letting the cold from the window seep in through your clothes without a bother. You leaned forward so your body was bent in half to rest your chin on his propped up knees, giving you a perfectly clear vision of his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want you to have to talk about it.”

Barty always did that when something was wrong – denying you of any responsibility or option to help, assuming it was below you to do so. After a few years attached at the hip, he had learned he could not make you “realise you should leave his arse”, but he would still aim to shield you from himself on these days.

Other days, he would do anything to make you not realise, desperate to claw you to himself. A boy that contained multitudes, each one equally lovable in your opinion, to which he called you horribly insane. 

“At least we’ve got that in common, babe.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you reassured quietly, chin moving against his kneecaps. “I really do want to, though. Be there for you, I mean.”

His gaze met yours, softening at the authenticity and affection surely plastered all over your face. He brought a previously dead hand up from beside him to stroke his knuckles over your left cheek, moving them backwards into your hair. “You always are, aren’t you?”

You let your smile widen at him embracing your care. “There will not be a day where I am not here for you, B. Whether you want me to or not.”

His eyes flickered with a vulnerability only you ever saw. The next thing he said was so meek that you almost didn’t catch it, but flowers bloomed in your stomach when you did. “I want you to.”

You reached your own hand up to catch his in your hair and brought the inside of his wrist towards your mouth to press slow, gentle kisses to it. “I’m glad, lovely. Now spill.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Unprofessional

This wasn't part of the deal.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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He’s not sure how, or when this happened.

It’s been not even a full three weeks at this point, and you’re currently happily reading a new book about how to treat and prevent interplanetary bacterial infections, a book he’d bought you just recently after you’d shown interest in it. Now that, in itself, is exactly what you should be doing- after all, that’s why he took you in, and that’s why you’re here. What definitely did escalate however, is how much he spends on things regarding you that aren’t necessary.

Proper bedding, new clothes, a more comfortable identification collar, a new AC unit in his ship, hell, he’s even started to study himself about what you should properly eat to stay healthy. This isn’t what he thought this would be like. And the worst part about it-

Every time he sees your amazed expression, and hears your genuine gratitude, he feels all warm inside, distinctive purring sound of satisfaction threatening to start sounding the moment you look happy.

You make it hard to stay away.

He wants to sleep close to you these days, just to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, and it’s very obvious why that would be. It’s not just sexual need manifesting some feelings he might not have, it’s deeper than that. If he wanted sexual satisfaction he can just do it himself- he doesn’t need someone else for that, nor does he really crave it often. But looking at you, he could see himself indulge in physical activities more often than he did in the past.

But is it all really worth it?

He doesn’t know you well at all yet. He’s not sure if you’re actually as docile and loyal as you appear to be, or if it’s all just an act to gain something from him later on. He can’t yet be sure that you won’t stab him in the back the moment he turns it towards you, so he will have to see and learn a little more about you before he actually makes any kind of move into a friendly direction.

Better safe than sorry, as humans say.

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“interesting!” the man Yoongi introduced as Seokjin beams, smiling kindly at you. “and you’re keeping her as a partner?”

“She’s simply there so you stop nagging about me not taking proper care about my health.” Yoongi denies, looking through the fridge while his cat-like tail sways around with interest. It’s a little odd to you how he doesn’t outright deny the possibility of being his partner- but you also don’t question it, because it’s not your place to do so.

“Hm, that does soothe my worries quite a bit.” Seokjin nods, before he puts a hand onto your shoulder- something Yoongi instantly glances at from an angle, feeling oddly irritated. “Come, let me make you a proper meal. Do you have any preferences ?” He asks, hand on your back as he leads and helps you onto a chair that’s a little too tall to hop onto.

Yoongis tail snaps up a little at the sight. He doesn’t like what he’s seeing, though he’s not sure why.

“I’m okay with anything.” You tell the older alien, who nods.

“Hm, but do you have anything you like the most?” He wonders, making you visibly fall into thought, before you shake your head.

“I haven’t eaten.. many things yet. So I don’t really know.” You say, more quietly, a little hesitant, carefully looking for Yoongi as if you need his approval to make sure what you’re saying is right.

Seokjin looks at you for a moment, before he turns his head to Yoongi.

“Where.. did you meet her?” He asks, and you can sense his nervousness a little, making you slightly uneasy.

“I stumbled upon her on an outpost.” Yoongi responds. “she asked to be taken along to my next stop, and I took her in instead because she’s pretty low-maintenance and doesn’t need money as payment.” He shrugs.

Seokjin looks back at you, before he walks closer again. “can I.. see your back for a second?” He asks, and you nod, not sure what he’s trying to find- and even Yoongi is confused, walking closer to his friend who carefully lifts your shirt to inspect your skin.

It’s when the older one’s fingers trace some faint small scars that Yoongi looks more closely, and recognizes it as numbers most likely burned in near your lower spine.

“Jin..” Yoongi quietly says, snapping his friend out of his trance as he lowers your shirt again, and shakes whatever he’s felt for a moment off, smiling kindly again.

“I’ll make you something warm to eat.” He excuses himself to occupy his thoughts with cooking for now, while Yoongi stands close to you for just a moment longer. You share a glance with him- but his eyes reassure you, tell you not to worry.

So you don’t.

After making sure you’re not upset or uncomfortable, Yoongi offers to help Seokjin out of hearing range from you- careful as he’s not sure how to really speak up on the very obvious question. “Jin.” He sighs, putting a hand on the older one’s for a second to halt his movements. “is it her?” yoongi asks-

But Jin shakes his head, emotions obvious on his face.

“No.” He answers, defeat evident in his voice. “the number.. it matches, but not entirely. It’s fine though. I just.. thought.” He brushes off, before he moves to chop some more vegetables again.

Seokjin’s mate is a touchy subject. For years he’s been searching by now- but there’s no trace anymore, no lead, no hint at where to look for. Without his partner, Seokijin would’ve never been able to go back home. But the price he paid for it still left scars that reopen on occasion, just like today.

“Maybe she knows something?” yoongi worries, but Jin shakes his head.

“Its fine, Yoongi.” He denies any further talk about it. “just.. forget it.”

When you’re back on the ship after a very filling meal, yoongi feels a bit exhausted- but also glad to be back in his personal home again, environment safe to him as he watches you sleep as the ship breaks orbit again. “Yoongi?” You ask from your sleeping bag, and his ears turn towards you- a common sign he’s listening. “why did Seokjin get upset over my Number?” You wonder, and the alien sighs.

“Because his former partner had a similar number on her back.” He explains vaguely. He doesn’t like talking about stuff that doesn’t involve him- but he also wants to make sure you know that it’s nothing to do with you either. “She died on Gaehos, after they both got attacked by a wild.. alien species.” He offers. “or at least, that’s what we all believe. Jin.. still holds hope that his partner somehow survived. Which isn’t likely.”

“what were they doing there in the first place?” You wonder.

“Seokjin used to travel a lot.” Yoongi remembers. “He was an intergalactic research agent, and his partner was assigned to him. He fell in love along the way, I guess..” yoongi shrugs.

“Oh.” You say, accepting this as enough info to be reassured that at least, it wasn’t about you. “I hope he finds his partner one day.” You mumble, before you snuggle up more into your sleeping bag to finally rest-

And Yoongi can only sigh to himself, unable to understand this unreasonable clinging to hope that’s not even there.

A truly human habit, apparently.

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He’s currently busy repairing.. Something. You’re not sure what it is, or what it’s used for- it looks like a small turbine maybe? But to be fair, you’re not meant to understand that thing, or it’s purpose. You’ve rather been put into service to understand him- and that seems to prove more difficult than you have initially assumed.

He’s very obviously a Xaqal- but his behavior is sometimes incredibly unpredictable.

While his kind lives in large groups, and prefers the security of those communities, they’re also quickly irritated and combative to anyone they don’t seem a member of their chosen group. Yoongi however appears to prefer to live in solitude- never complaining about being lonely, or actively reaching out to you for comfort. Sure, sometimes, when the ship hits turbulence, he will actually sleep closer to you- but you assume that that’s actually more so him ‘protecting what’s his’, to make sure you don't get hurt so to speak. Not because he likes you as a person, but simply because you’re a member of his chosen ‘group’.

But other times, very rarely, he does things that completely throw that entire narrative of him being a ‘typical’ member of his kind right out the window. From little gifts he presents you like blankets or your very own water bottle, to the way he never seems to turn down any opportunity to help you with things.

“Yoongi?” You ask him suddenly, making one of his cat-like ears turn towards you, a sign that he’s listening. “Are you feeling okay?” You wonder, and at that he puts the screwdriver down to look at you, face unreadable.

“I feel fine.” He answers, staring you down with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Just.. Because you’re acting like you don’t feel well.” You explain. “One of the books I recently started reading states that Xaqal people instinctively start to turn towards solitude when they become unwell.” You state, and he sighs, pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah well, I’m not like those examples you have in your books.” He denies, turning back towards his task. “I feel fine. I just like being alone.”

“Oh.” You just say, before you nod, and move towards your strange.. setup in the middle of the of the rather small spaceship right across his navigation panel, to move everything out the way and into a more secluded corner. This however seems to irritate him- eyes staring at what you’re doing, fur on his tail slowly standing up to give it a puffy appearance, a reaction he cannot control, body a lot more open about his feelings than he is with his words.

“What’re you doing?” He questions, clearly upset.

“I- You said you like being alone. So I want to give you space?” You explain, and he hates that it makes sense. It makes sense that you should give him space if he likes being alone so much- but he also doesn’t want you to be so far away where he can barely notice you. But he also doesn’t want to confuse you any further, because frankly, he doesn’t really know what he wants and what he prefers now either- so how are you supposed to know?

“I can stay if you like?” You ask, though the hesitation and slight confusion is clear in your tone. He gets ready to wave you off-

But he nods. Because even though he can’t explain it, he wants you to stay within his reach.

“Okay.” You nod, sitting a bit away from him now, before you think- something he picks up on.

“What is it?” He asks, and you look at him with something in your eyes that’s dangerous- most likely because you’re probably unaware you’re even doing this to him.

“Could I.. could I maybe have something to take notes with?” You ask, before you further clarify. “so that I can understand you better.” You say, and he can’t help but stare at you for a moment, dumbfounded.

Yes. Of course you can. Anything you fucking want-

“Sure..” he mumbles out, before he occupies himself again, tail curling around himself protectively as he hides his face behind his hair. “just.. remind me next time we stop.” He says to himself mostly, and you nod, even though he can’t see that.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say, before you move to pick up your book again-

That sweet tone of yours still echoing in his head long after you stopped talking.

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When he opens his eyes, he’s... home?

He remembers this field. Thousands of flowers, their heart-shaped, red leaves large and covered in drops of morning dew. He knows he’s dreaming right away, because this field no longer exists like this. It’s long been destroyed in order to build more factories- but he remembers his mother and father taking him and all the other ‘siblings’ he had throughout his childhood there. He always enjoyed just laying there amongst the slightly fruity scented flowers, simply staring up at the skies, trying to make out what shapes the clouds might be trying to display this time.

It’s nice that he’s dreaming about this, every now and then. Like a comfort-dream, haunting him softly whenever he feels.. Left alone.

Left behind.

He can hear something, from the left. His head turns, and he spots you- wearing a simple white gown, no shoes or jewelry, even your collar no longer there. You look free, completely unbound to anything as you run around chasing the few fluttering insects that swarm around you, butterflies with long tails, circling around your body like their dancing with you.

You’re really pretty. And in a dream like this, he doesn’t need to look away- he can stare at you however long he likes, taking you in for once.

Once you spot him, you make your way over to where he’s laying down, sitting close to him in the sea of flowers. You don’t say anything, and he likes it that way- words aren’t really needed here in his dream. He just wants to feel your company, even while it’s just his imagination, wants to just be himself without the world expecting the opposite, or worse yet, shaming him for such needs. It’s a gentle moment, nothing but serenety for a while as you sit next to him and take the scenery in around you. It’s obvious that you’re curious, and he wonders why you don’t ask to have things explained.

Your home must be very different. But then again- are you even a human born on planet earth?

It could be. And if you are, he wonders what earth looked like to you when you grew up there. He wonders how long you had until you inevitably became nothing but a wandering body, seeking some sense of purpose no matter what kind. Thinking about it now, he’s glad you’re with him. Who knows what else might’ve become of you if you’d gotten picked up by someone else.

“Yoongi?”

The moment his head snaps up, he realizes that he didn’t just dream- he daydreamed of all things, having gotten lost in the memories of last night’s actual dream while waiting for you to finally emerge from the doctor’s office. “Sorry it took so long- it took longer since you told them to do a full check-up.” You explain, giving the paperwork to him. He takes the papers after looking over them for just a second, before he looks at you.

“Everything good?” He asks, short as ever- and you nod, with a happy smile on your face. That reaction alone convinces him that you’re telling the truth, and aren’t just trying to pacify him by claiming to be alright.

Still- he will take a look at them more in depth later on.

As you both start walking through the neon-lit streets of the relatively new planet, you pass quite a few stores- one of them selling clothes that catch his eye. A comfortable, white sundress and next to it a functional bodysuit clearly made for both comfort and safety during interplanetary travel- and he stops, making you in turn stop as well to check why he’s no longer moving. He points at the faceless mannequins, but doesn’t say anything- yet still, you appear to understand.

“You’re right. That might be good for future travels.” You nod, before your face falls. “Oh- but.. That's too expensive. Could you.. I mean, would it be okay if you gave me 200? I’ll give them back to you-” You start, but he just sighs, and enters the store with you running after him.

“Go see if they have your size.” He instructs you, shamelessly also observing which you one you pick just for future reference.

While he’s waiting, you’re trying on the functional bodysuit- for a moment enjoying the new fabric and comfortable fit, while also letting the feeling of being cared for envelop you. Yoongi is a really nice person, even though he often corrects you on that. You’re not quite sure why, if its just an act of protection or if he genuinely believes in his own claims- but to you, personally, he’s a very kind man.

A bit rough around the edges, but nothing too harsh.

When you emerge from the changing rooms again, it’s with a little happy jump in every step; happy about your newfound favorite item of clothing, which will both make traveling a lot more comfortable, and make you feel a lot better about yourself. It’s a bit of proof that Yoongi seems to think about keeping you around long-term, and you like the idea of a permanent ‘home’ a lot.

Though, when you move to pay for it, Yoongi simply nods you towards him, pointing to a bag he already has in his hand. “I paid for it.” He says, and you can’t help but feel caught off guard by it for a moment, before you reluctantly put the folded clothing into the bag where something white is already waiting. “Are you hungry?” He asks, as you both exit the store, not quite looking at you, but making it still clear that he’s got you in his peripheral vision at any time, just to make sure you won’t get lost.

One more of those subtle hints that he looks after you, in one way or another.

You shake your head in honestly, because you genuinely don’t feel like you need to eat anything at the moment. It’s a rare new feeling you have these days, no longer every going thirsty or hungry to bed. He provides for you, and you in return try and become someone who can provide for him as well- so that he can always find a use in you, and never starts to feel like you’re a nuisance.

You want a permanent home. And yoongi feels like be could be just that.

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You lied to him.

He’s reading your paperwork you got from the doctor’s office, ship now having taken off again, giving him a good time to take a proper look at the check-up data he’s received. And while you told him that everything is alright, he’s stumbled upon a few notes in your paperwork that make it clear that it’s actually not. It’s nothing life-threatening, absolutely not- but it is something that he has to be aware of.

Are you scared of him finding out? Scared he’ll just discard you like a cheap slave? And if so- has something happened to you before that would warrant such a fear?

Maybe he’s too intimidating after all. Maybe he needs to be.. Just a little softer with you. But he also doesn’t want to pamper you, or cause you to feel too comfortable around- because you need some fear in you to survive. You won’t survive if you’re ever separated somewhere, and he doesn’t want to lose you.

He invested, after all. Not just money. Yeah, that’s exactly why. No other reason at all.

His dreams still won’t let him go whenever he rests. You invade them constantly, and the scenarios he manifests in his sleep become more and more.. inappropriate, so to speak. He’s not sure if it’s simple natural need or something deeper- but he knows he can’t act on it, can’t just use you like that. He also doesn’t like the thought of visiting any of the adult entertainment houses on any planet he comes across; not because he’s in any way ashamed of himself or his desire, but simply because he sees an act like that as something intimate. He’s had his fill of meaningless get-togethers when he was younger, wild and with the need to prove something to himself.

He doesn’t like the thought any longer. He craves something permanent, something stable.

Could you provide that? Possibly a new exchange? Part of the contract, so to speak. He shakes off the thought of it however, feeling a shudder run down his spine just not from cold or the thought of you ever feeling like you need to appease him no matter the cost just for your own wellbeing- but because of your hand, right on his neck, brushing over it in a gentle way.

He turns around, but you just sheepishly look at him. “there was some dust- sorry, I’ll ask before I touch you next time.” You apologize, while his tail wraps around his waist. Why is he feeling uneasy now?

“Its.. fine.” He mumbles. “as long as it’s just you.” He offers- though when you stay silent, and he looks up because of that, he spots something that’ll stay in his mind for weeks no doubt.

You’re shy. It’s obvious from the shape of your eyes and your slightly parted lips. You nod, silently, before you answer.

“I- Yes. Okay.” You agree. “You can uh- you know. Touch me too. I don’t mind, as long as, like you said.. it’s you.” You admit, looking down at his shoes. It’s quiet for a good moment or two, silent thoughts running through both of your heads, and its obvious you still want to say something else in addition- but you don’t. Because it’s him who speaks first, almost without his control.

It’s like the words fall from his lips before he can stop them- though so strong and thick like syrup that he can’t just keep it in his head.

“Thats good- I don’t like sharing.” He speaks, before he attempts to look busy looking at the navigation panel in front of him.

“yoongi?” You ask, a little timid in your tone. “What.. is there something on your mind?” You ask, but he shakes his head.

“No.” He denies.

“Then.. am I bothering you?” You question, but again, his answer is the same.

“No.” He repeats. “Why are you asking that?” He wonders, looking at you again.

“I’m not sure but.. you just seem distracted lately.” You tell him. “and uh.. whenever you drift off, you look at me, or at least my direction. So I just thought.. it might have something to do with me.” You explain your thoughts, making him sigh.

Of course. To be fair, he wasn’t very subtle about things.

“I don’t know.” He offers you. “I’m going to be fair- I do have you on my mind. I just.. don’t know why, and in what nature.” He tells you, and you sit down on the floor close by- something he shakes his head at, as he instead pats a part of his table in front of him that’s free of any cluttered important equipment. You take the invitation, mostly because you’ve never really been this close to him. Once you sit on the smooth surface, feet no longer touching the floor, your leg easily brushes against his as he leans back in his chair.

“What do you mean, in what nature?” You wonder, and he tilts his head a bit in thought.

“I’m not sure if it’s just hormones or lust, or something more complicated.” He bluntly reveals.

“Oh.”

There’s a good moment of silence yet again, where he watches you chew your lip a bit, deep in thought, before you speak up once more. “I-“ you seem a bit hesitant, though you continue the moment he nods in encouragement. “I want you to know that, whenever I’m, you know, nice to you, I’m not doing it just because you’re technically my boss.” You say. “I’m doing it because.. Well, because it’s you.” You say. "I believe you deserve being nice to.” You offer.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Yoongi sighs, as he crosses his arms almost defensively- though you can spot the slightest twitch in the corners of his lips. “But.. I’ll remember that.” He says, before he adds another sentence that sounds awfully soft compared to his usual tone-

“And I hope you’ll remember that I’ll do the same for you.”

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He feels a lot lighter now knowing you know what's going on with him.

It's obvious that he still doesn't know what he really thinks of you- but he's noticed that it doesn't seem to bother you at all. He's quite relieved to see that your behavior or view on him hasn't changed at all- if anything, you seem to be more at ease than ever before, openly trusting in his abilities to provide whatever you might need. You no longer walk after him like a shadow or slave; instead you walk ahead even, eagerly taking in the scenery of the new planet you've stopped on.

"You wanna have some?" Asks an elderly woman with a scar over her cheeks and eye, while she watches you look at the steaming bowls of food she has prepared at her little spot. "Hm.. get your K'shar here, you look hungry." She says, pointing to your collar- and you're unsure what she means.

So you instantly look for Yoongi, who walks closer.

"Here." He offers an appropriate amount of money, though the woman gives him a confused look.

"You work for him?" She asks you, and you nod- making her chuckle as she shakes her head, but offers two bowls to Yoongi. "I'd doubt you but you smell the same. S' he treating you good?" She wonders, and you don't even need to think before you nod.

"Very." You say.

"Thats what counts. Don't let those rats in the cities put mud in your brain. He's good if he treats you good." She tells you, and you accept it with a thanks, though you're not sure why she said it.

It's only as you walk towards the Inn you'll be staying at, that you speak up about it.

"Why does everyone seem to think I have it bad with you?" You wonder, and Yoongi shrugs.

"Because my kind tends to be the slave, not the master." He simply explains to you, while he scans the entrance with a device in his hand, so the door opens. "Thats just how it is."

"I can't imagine you in my spot." You shake your head, carefully carrying the food as you walk up the stairs to your room- Number 374, as he'd told you when you arrived here.

"Why not?" He asks, opening the door for you to walk through.

"Cause you're.. wild. I'm not sure how else to explain." You say. "You do your own thing." You shrug, setting down the food before you sit on the large bed- the only, you notice.

"I'll take it as a compliment." He says, as he sits down at the tiny desk where you had put down the food earlier. "Now come here. Let's eat." He commands- though it's more offered than demanded.

The moment you sit down across from him, and begin to eat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, that is, until you hear something you haven't really.

He chuckles.

"You don't have to force yourself." He teases almost. "Go to bed. I'll clean up." He offers you, and you nod, grateful, before you simply walk to the bed to throw yourself in it- not moving at all after that, too exhausted from the long trip.

So, just before he cleans up, you can feel a blanket being placed over your body-

Another gesture so kind that you can't help but wonder what could be, only if things were just a little different.

If only he would start to be a bit more.. Unprofessional.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Angel of Good Fortune | E.M x F!Reader

Eddie Munson x Female Reader | Eddie Munson x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: Eddie is very tired. Regardless, he plans a special DnD Halloween oneshot for the guys that includes a special surprise visitor. But when it comes time for the reveal, things don't exactly go to plan... For anyone involved.

Tags: Fluff, Joking, Banter, Pranks, DnD, Halloween, Halloween Tricks, Established Relationship, Small amount of Angst (bc of who I am as a person), SPOILERS for the story tags here pls don't read if you want to be surprised> Dad!Eddie, Mom!Reader, Newborn Baby, Post-Partum, Breastfeeding, Sleep-Deprivation.

Words: 9.3K

A/N: A little Halloween Treat for you guys 🧡🎃 There is a reference to Reader's body in this story but no actual body size is mentioned. Just “the same size you were before” implication that could mean literally any size because I don’t want to exclude anyone. Just mentioning it to cover my bases because I know some people have triggers about any mention of the body. ❤

~

“Wow.” Dustin whispered as he pushed open the heavy door to the AV Room of Hawkins High. The door itself was sparsely decorated with fake spider webs and some plastic creepy crawlies that had been stuck crudely around the edging.

He hadn’t been expecting much based on the exterior appearance of the room that housed all the Drama Club’s props as well as the small table that the Hellfire Club used to play DnD.

There were two entrances to the room but the other was hidden in the back just behind the large curtain on the wall and was barely used. Dustin couldn’t help but wonder absently if Eddie had put more effort into decorating the other door since he had not prepared for the effort put into the interior based on the outside.

He supposed that was why you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover.

Inside the room was dark and lit up only by the usual candles and lamps Eddie set out for ambiance during their campaigns. But this time there was black tulle draped from the ceiling in random patterns. The fake spiderwebs weaved between them. Realistic looking bats and spiders hung throughout and there were jack-o-lanterns of alternating sizes in nearly every place that was big enough to house one.

The candles were abundant. Many more than usual and placed around on the floor as well as on shelves and in holders. Some of the Drama Club’s props that were usually hidden behind the large curtain had been repurposed to give the room a spooky edge and some had even been downright altered to fit the theme.

There was a giant cardboard windmill that some of them recognized from the 1983 School play. Eddie had pulled it out and seemed to have downright destroyed it with splatters of what appeared to be blood and other mangled remains that hung from the blades.

“Are those sausages?” Lucas whispered to the other guys, pointing towards the ‘entrails’ hanging from one of the fins.

Eddie had really gone all out for this one shot campaign they were playing on Halloween night.

His throne was adorned in warm toned fairy lights that, while not very spooky, did give it a chilling edge that they were sure would make him look even more menacing when illuminated from behind.

There was a rusted 1880s style stroller sitting behind the throne near the windmill. A headless doll hanging from the handles and another with a head- or, maybe just the head of the other.. Tucked tight into a blanket that was covered in Halloween themed items.

“When did he even have time to do all this?” Lucas asked as the Club sans Eddie followed behind Dustin into the seemingly empty room.

“When he was supposed to be graduating.” Gareth answered from the corner of his mouth, making Jeff snicker.

The clearing of someone’s throat caught their attention. Blood running cold as Eddie stepped out from behind one of the props with a tired look on his painted pale face.

“Thunny.” He said, simply. Plastic glow in the dark vampire fangs impeding his speech. 

“Altho, rude.” He added, frowning at his words and taking the teeth out of his mouth. “That is not gonna’ work.” He mumbled to himself. Fishing around for the pocket in the red and black cape he was wearing and shoving them inside it.

“It looks amazing in here!” Mike enthused as Eddie held back a smile. The fake blood dripping from the corner of his mouth moving into his marionette lines as he kept his glee at bay.

Vampire Lord’s did not smile when they received a compliment.

He didn’t think.

He would need to check.

“Yeah.” Jeff agreed with a laugh. “I’ve gotta be honest I wasn’t even sure you’d show up tonight with how forgetful you’ve been.”

A murmur of agreement rolled through the boys in front of him as Eddie scoffed at the statement. He may have almost fallen asleep driving to school this morning but there was no way in hell he could forget a campaign. 

“Come on in and sit down.” He said as unnervingly as he could muster after the stab at his memory. 

He reminded the boys of the narrator at the beginning of a Haunted House carnival ride that dared them to try not to be scared.

The difference was that they probably actually should and would be scared of Eddie.

Sitting on the throne in front of the table often flicked a switch in his brain that turned him into an unhinged maniac.

They knew they were in for some sort of Halloween themed mischief tonight. They just hoped there were no tricks to ruin their treat.

The boys did as they were told. Taking their places around the table and setting up their belongings as Eddie sauntered towards his seat and flopped down on it. Waiting with fingers intertwined atop the table for them to be ready for him to begin.

The candles flickered in the quiet room, highlighting the dark circles under Eddie’s bleary eyes.  

Anyone that didn’t know him would think he had painted them there as part of the costume and not just an everyday occurrence of late.

Once everyone was settled and the club was staring up at him with eager faces, Eddie stood. Tired body creaking as he leaned behind his chair to press play on the tape player he had hidden there. Soft, spooky music filled the room. Not very loud as Eddie still wanted them to be able to hear him talk.

“Wait…” Lucas said after a long moment of silence so they could listen to the ambient sound. “In the background… Is that… Carnival music?” He asked, looking up at Eddie with a puzzled expression.

The older man raised his brows in acknowledgement. Smiling proudly this time as he bowed to them all. Again putting on his best, most unnerving voice as he said:

“Welcome, to the Haunted House.”

~~

Eddie’s campaign was based around the guys being stuck inside the Haunted House Carnival ride. A ride that came alive with actual ghosts, ghouls and skeletons that needed to be fought off as they worked out how to escape it.

It was essentially a mini escape room without physical props to keep track of. It was unlike any campaign they had ever played before and it was clear Eddie had put a lot of thought and work into how it would turn out.

He had planned it to be short. Only spanning the one session that lasted about three hours absolute max. That was if they made a dumb move or got stuck somewhere. Otherwise they could probably be out of there in one.

He had alluded early on to the presence of someone that could help them through the puzzles. They figured they just had to say the right words or stumble into the right room to find them.

In true Hellfire Club fashion, it hadn’t taken long for things to go from zero to one hundred. Mike had made a call that nearly killed Gareth and Jeff, who was usually pretty quiet and mild mannered, had turned on him.

Eddie watched in delight as the club bickered amongst themselves about how they should have gone about the obstacle Eddie had placed in front of them.

He of course knew exactly how they should go about it but he was keeping that little tidbit of information to himself unless someone rolled a 20.

“Okay! Okay!” Dustin shouted suddenly, holding out both his hands in a ‘stop’ like motion as he tried to quell the argument between Mike, Jeff and Gareth. 

Lucas sat quietly on the sidelines ignoring the chaos as he wrote something down on his character sheet.

“It doesn’t matter! Okay?” Dustin shouted when all attention was on him. “Look it’s like a foot tall, What if we just step over–”

A shrill sound rang out from somewhere behind Eddie, cutting Dustin off mid-sentence.

The sudden sharp cry startled the group. They jumped in unison. Looking between one another and then to Eddie as they waited for the reveal. 

What trickery had he rigged up to breathe even more life into the campaign? 

“Oh! Eddie said excitedly, leaning back to stop the tape player from making the eerie sounds.  “Looks like our guest has arrived.” He explained cryptically, pushing away from the table. The feet of his throne scraping against the floor was barely heard above the repetitive sound growing louder and more frequent.

Eddie moved around behind his chair quickly standing in front of the rusted stroller and dipping his hands inside.

The guys watched in confusion. Waiting for Eddie to pull out another tape player or a walkie talkie and turn it off to stop the shrieking sound. But instead he ducked forwards pulling the pile of fuzzy halloween themed blankets to his chest and shushing it softly.

“Were we too loud?” He murmured to the blankets. Looking down at the pile in his arms with eyes that sparkled in the candlelight.

The whining cry from the baby in the blankets was calmed by the comfort of a firm chest. She cooed quietly as Eddie swayed on the spot and tapped her back with his palm. The soft thump of the repetitive motion reassuring her that she was safe as large brown eyes that matched his own fluttered closed again in his arms.

Eddie looked up at the group in front of him. Ready to apologize for the interruption and make his announcement about the game but he was taken aback by the shock on everyone’s faces. 

Furrowed brows, wide eyes and mouths hanging open around the table as they all stared at him with questions on their lips. Stunned into silence, no one moved until Jeff finally cracked.

“What…” He asked bluntly, pausing for emphasis. “Is that?”

He was pointing towards the blankets in Eddie’s arms. Being ever so gently rocked up and down by strong hands that were made for shredding on an electric guitar or rolling dice, not holding a doll.

“Who? Is that?” Dustin corrected when Eddie narrowed his eyes at the question.

“This…” Eddie said, also pausing for emphasis. “Is your way out of this ride!” He said as excitedly as he could. Somewhat affronted by the rude phrasing of the question. “It’s your lucky night. You’ve been visited by The Angel of Good Fortune.”

The silence in the room was loud as Eddie looked over them all with eagerness, waiting for someone to ask another question so he could introduce his surprise NPC in the way he had planned.

His face fell as no one made a move. The silence stretched almost to the point of being uncomfortable until Eddie spoke again.

“It’s Daisy.” He said bluntly. “She’s the angel.” He explained as if that answered anyone’s questions and didn’t raise at least six more. “Do you guys want to hear what she has to bestow on you or not?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he circled back around the throne and plonked himself down.

If it wasn’t for the humming of the stage lights above his head or the gentle crackle of the candles by his side, he swore he would be able to hear the crickets outside chirping.

“Okay…” He said simply. A sudden rush of foolishness knocking down his resolve when no one spoke. “Well I guess no one wants any fortune then.” He said bitterly.

This was not going at all how he had planned it. 

He shrugged weakly as he scooted forward to the edge of the seat and looked over his notes before speaking again.

They just continued on he supposed. He had been planning to give them all special abilities that helped them throughout the rest of the house. But if they were going to be dicks about him bringing the baby then they could get by without them.

He didn’t really want to be there anymore right that second anyway…

“Right so…” He sighed. “Dustin, you were about to try and step over the obstacle. You can’t do that by the way–”

“No.” Gareth said simply, holding his hand up in front of him as Dustin had done to him earlier.  Eddie’s head snapping up at the declaration. 

“No, we’re not doing this.” He laughed, pointing an accusatory finger at Eddie now. “Come on Man. Put the doll down.”

Eddie frowned at him as the rest of the group murmured in agreement. Nodding their heads and putting forth the same sentiments of Eddie’s Halloween prank being over now. He’d had them at first but going back to the game like nothing had happened with a random ‘baby’ in his arms and expecting them not to ask questions was too far.

“Not doing what?” Eddie snapped, frustrated at the insinuation that he was the problem when it was them and their weird reactions to his surprise.

The baby in his grasp stirred at the words. Loud and sharp not far from her little ears. She could feel his frustration and wanted to join in on the complaining.

Her eyes were open again now, bottom lip trembling as Eddie realized his mistake and quickly tried to shush her. But he’d already fucked up. New babies rarely went back to sleep a second time. Especially when they could feel that their parents were frazzled.

“Ah shi–” He behan. “Shoot.” He corrected,, looking down at her with a sad pout as she began to cry again. “You’re hungry aren’t you?” He asked rhetorically. 

Yeah, this was not going to plan in the slightest. It would be his luck that after the failure of his reveal, he couldn’t get her to calm down for him due to her being able to sense his agitated state.

She shouldn’t be hungry again so soon. If he just took a breath, he should be able to stop her getting too worked up.

He shuffled her into the tight grip of one arm as he fished in his cape pocket with his other hand. Producing a pink pacifier and holding it up in front of her. “May I interest you in a pacifier?” He asked politely, pressing it against her wailing lips and waiting with baited breath to see if she took it.

She did, briefly. Spitting the dummy quite literally as she took it from him for a quick second before hucking it out and sending it shooting across the table. The heads of all the players following its journey as it bounced once on the game board before rolling the rest of the way to land in front of Grant who stared at it as if it was diseased. 

“Nat 20.” Eddie laughed hollowly as the rest of the table slowly turned back to him at the same time and stared with matching horrified expressions.

“How did you do that?” Grant asked softly, barely heard over the baby's cries as Eddie pushed himself up again and began to pace back and forth in front of the throne in an effort to calm the little one.

“Do what?” He asked again over the cries, this time just exasperated at his lack of understanding their line of questioning.

“Throw the pacifier like that without moving your hands?” Gareth asked as if it was obvious. 

Eddie balked at the statement.

“Are you daft?” He asked after a moment of stunned silence that Daisy gladly filled. “She spat it out, you saw her.”

“She’s not real!” Gareth argued, slamming his hands down on the table and pushing himself to stand, the rest of the members following suit.

“Yes she is.” Eddie defended weakly, stopping in place and rearranging the blankets in his arms so the guys could see the baby's face. “See.” 

The six men in front of him took a step closer.

The baby in the blankets blinked at them all from her place in Dad’s arms. Her cries dying down as curiosity became her main focus. The growling in her little tummy became a background sensation for a long few seconds as she looked over at them all with wide eyes that matched Eddie’s.

She probably wasn’t actually looking at them. Baby’s couldn’t see very far in front of them when they were so young. But that was what made contrasting colors interesting. Eddie guessed she was gaping at the fuzzy bright orange spots she could see throughout in the darkness of the room. The candles he had lit to add to the ambiance, calming her as the lights flickered with all the movement in the room.

“What the fuck?” Mike asked candidly. Saying what they were all thinking as they watched the actual infant child Eddie was holding, look around the room and move her little arms around in a way that Eddie couldn’t fake even if he wanted to.

Eddie squinted at them all, eyes dark as the realization began to dawn on him that they all had no idea who Daisy was or what she was doing there with him.

“Do you guys like…” Eddie trailed off as he shook his head at them. Lips pressed together hard as he shrugged, baby moving up and down with the motion as he spoke again. “Listen, when I speak?” He asked slowly, tilting his head in a way that was probably meant to look condescending but really just made him look like a sad puppy.

The silence was enough of an answer for him. Not even Daisy daring to make a sound as her janky little movements had her staring back up at Eddie. The sound of Dad’s voice taking her away from her pretty lights and reminding her that she was hungry and he was not delivering.

Her little lips shook again as Eddie frowned at his friends. Her expression unknowingly mimicked his as she began to cry again and Eddie scowled at the six people in front of him. 

The best friends he had in the entire world.

That apparently didn’t know his daughter’s name or that she even existed despite him rambling about nothing else for the last two weeks straight.

It made him want to join Daisy in her howling.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asked suddenly, as brazen as Mike had a few seconds earlier. Looking between them all with a mixture of hurt and disgust on his face as they all stood quietly and mentally prepared themselves for the scolding of a lifetime. 

But instead Eddie’s voice was small. Barely heard over the wailing of the baby in his arms.

“I thought you were my friends.” He said simply, embarrassment welling in his chest at the way it had come out. The vulnerability he had shown with that one sentence that perfectly encapsulated how he felt about it all without having to actually say any of what he was feeling.

“Okay!” A voice rang out from somewhere in the corner of the room. Startling them all, including Daisy who went suspiciously quiet at the sound. Everyone turned at once, surprised to see…

You.

Having just jumped out of your hiding place behind the windmill. 

“I can’t do it anymore!” You shouted. Holding out your arms and making grabby hands towards Eddie. “Give her to me!” You instructed as Eddie stared at you as if you’d grown two heads, trying to figure out where you’d even come from or what you were doing there.

“What…” He asked weakly as you strode towards him and wrapped deft fingers around your little one. 

He let you take her. His arms falling limp by his side when they were empty.

“Where did you–” He began, cutting himself off. “How did you–” He started again. “WHY did you?” He decided on, tone changing from shocked to frustrated. “Were you spying on me?” He asked incredulously. Sounding a little more wounded than he intended as you turned away from all the prying eyes in the room and pulled down the neck of your shirt.

Intending to give Daisy what she needed to restore the beginnings of peace in the room.

“No!” You clarified, flicking your head towards him as you tried to get Daisy to latch and catching the hurt as if flashed through his eyes. “Well, not intentionally.” You added softly.

“You were!” Eddie gasped. “You don’t trust me?” He asked. Ignoring the rest of the people in the room as his one track mind got stuck on your appearance and he momentarily forgot he was in the middle of an argument with some of the worst friends in the world.

“No, that’s not it.” You argued back, not looking at him as you spoke while you were trying to encourage the baby to work with you.

“You don’t think I can take care of our daughter on my own?” He asked, not waiting for your answer before he continued. “You too?” He asked, nodding at you and then his friends as he remembered they were there.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight?” He shouted as your guilty eyes turned back to him.

“I just wanted to see you surprise them...” You explained softly. “But… It wasn’t going to plan…” You winced, baring your teeth in a cringe as you used Daisy’s blanket to cover your modesty.

Yeah, you were right. None of this was going to plan…

All of the guys had met you before. Most of them remembered you from your senior year. Even the Freshman had met you once or twice since joining Hellfire. Had hung out with you and Eddie together over the small holiday break between the first semesters of the year.

And look, okay… Maybe you weren’t around as often as you used to be and maybe Eddie didn’t talk about you as often as he wanted to. But you both knew it wasn’t for lack of wanting to brag about the fact that he was yours. 

It was his circumstances he didn’t want to think about. The fact that he had a girlfriend in College only served to remind him and everyone else of the fact that he had failed to graduate twice now and was on a fast track to his third failure. 

It reminded them all that he was College age and should be running around on campus with you instead of in the schoolyard with them. 

Except you weren’t at College now. You were at home or… Supposed to be. Tired, cranky and hormonal. Six weeks postpartum and ready to lose your mind when Eddie had said he was planning on going out on Halloween night.

Which meant you would spend your favorite holiday sitting at home alone with the baby.

Eddie had felt bad when you’d pointed that out and offered to take her with him. The guys hadn’t met her yet anyway and he figured the creepy old stroller in the AV Room was probably safe enough to let her sleep in until she woke up hungry and he could introduce her to everyone while he fed her dinner.

However he obviously hadn’t anticipated his friend’s not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

He had told them you were pregnant and how excited he was for Daisy’s arrival. He’d had a month off school when she was born. Only returning 2 weeks earlier and when asked about his time off he had babbled nonstop for an entire lunch break about how perfect his little one was, how happy she made him and how tired you both were. 

Because damn were you both tired. 

You weren’t sure where Eddie had pulled this campaign from or the energy he had used to decorate the place. You were worried most mornings that he would crash on the way to school. The way he was barely able to keep his eyes open, falling asleep at the kitchen counter and nearly drowning in his cereal.

You were pretty sure he hadn’t learnt a thing at school since he’d been back. He was so exhausted, he could barely hold a conversation. 

Not that you could talk. You were just as bad and right now, you weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be home, sleeping.

As far as Eddie was aware, you were. You had left the AV room over an hour earlier. Saying goodbye to him and your Bub.

You did intend to go home and sleep through all the trick-or-treating door knockers.

But it was the first time you had been away from Daisy since she had been born and you hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming feeling of guilt that had washed over you as you’d closed the door with her on the other side of it.

You would have gone back in immediately if Eddie wasn’t so insistent that 1. He let you rest and 2. He was going to introduce Daisy to the guys.

He had a plan on how to do it dramatically. You had chuckled at that. Because of course he did. 

He wasn’t just going to have them walk in and be sitting there on his throne, holding a baby. 

He had written her into the campaign. When they made it to the specific spot in the story where it would be perfect to introduce her or when she woke up. Whatever happened first was fine. He was going to present her to them as a surprise NPC that afforded them all special bonuses. 

It was a very cute idea but it hinged pretty heavily on the ‘spooky’ atmosphere with the doll hanging from the stroller being a red herring and the guys not noticing your actual baby sleeping in the bed of it.

If you were honest, you thought the guys would still see it coming from a mile away but you hadn’t said anything. Wanting to let the sleep deprived new Dad have his small amount of fun. Even if the guys clocked her immediately and didn’t end up being surprised. It would still be a nice little moment for him.

You’d felt yucky about leaving Daisy behind as you walked to the parking lot. You trusted Eddie with her whole-heartedly but ‘Mom guilt’ as the midwives had called it, was strong.

You had fed her to sleep just before you left and knew she would be fine for at least two hours even if she didn’t sleep the whole time. Eddie had promised that the campaign would only take around that long and if she woke up before then and desperately needed you, he would walkie and you could drive back over since you guys only lived a couple of minutes from the school.

He had a bottle of formula in the diaper bag just in case he needed it for her. But you weren’t sure if she would even take it for him. It wasn’t an issue for her to have it. You’d just never been away from her long enough before for someone else to need to feed her. 

Not even Eddie.

You had made it almost all the way to the car before you’d stopped in place and stared at the cracked bitumen under your feet for a long moment. Not sure you could actually go ahead with leaving her.

You’d sighed, deciding to head back inside. Intending to sit in on Hellfire if Eddie didn’t outright postpone the start time to drive you home and put you to bed.

You were about to turn around when you heard someone call your name. The Hellfire guys had arrived sometime during your contemplation and were running towards you excitedly. 

You hadn’t seen them in a really long time. Probably since you were in your first trimester of pregnancy.

You had found out you were expecting in the middle of your first year at College and you were determined to finish at least one year before the baby arrived. So trips home to see your love were rare. When you did make it back to Hawkins you were so exhausted from working overtime to get your coursework done that you just wanted to spend time at home with Eddie. Enjoying the last of your quality time together before you became a family of three.

It was nice to see the guys briefly in the parking lot of Hawkins High like old times. It cheered you up somewhat and you spent a long few minutes catching up with them.

However, it had become apparent pretty quickly into the interaction that they had no intention of congratulating you on the birth of your first child. A very strange interaction if you were honest but you kept up the friendly face as if nothing was amiss.

It wasn’t until Gareth had rolled his eyes and said:

“You know he’s telling everyone you just had a baby.”

The rest of the guys had chortled at the notion, making you frown as he continued somewhat candidly.

“So obviously that’s not true.” He said derisively, gesturing towards your body and making you bristle. You supposed the implication was that you were the same size you had been the last time they had seen you and there was no way your body could have grown and nourished a child over the last nine months and then gone back to looking the same as it did before within such a short span of time.

These assholes…

You’d thought to yourself, not replying as the men in front of you all nodded in agreement with Gareth’s statement. 

Did they expect you to suddenly shape shift into a different person just because you were a Mom now?

I guess they will be surprised.

You’d concluded, smirking to yourself as you bid them a terse goodnight and watched them walk inside the building with the belief that Eddie was lying about his personal life.

Well, you certainly couldn’t go home then. It seemed like Eddie was going to be able to put on quite the show and you wanted to see how it panned out. 

Afterall you figured you’d probably only just make it home before you were being called on the Walkie to come back.

You had snuck into the AV Room via the second entrance and hid behind the curtain at first. Moving closer and dipping down behind the windmill as you tried not to laugh at the sound of Eddie talking with fake fangs in his mouth.

You had slumped down on the ground and waited way longer than you had thought you would have to. Not proud of the fact that you had nodded off once or twice. Jolting awake after a particularly loud exclamation from someone at the table and hoping you hadn’t been snoring.

You guessed this was probably the typical newborn experience. Baby never sleeps more than an hour at a time except for when you, yourself could be sleeping but had chosen not to because you had been convinced she would need you again within minutes.

Just when you were starting to think you’d have to ruin Eddie’s surprise by standing up and checking that the baby was still breathing, she had begun to cry and you had done your best to shuffle out of view so Eddie didn’t see you when he moved towards the stroller to pick her up.

He was too distracted by her to notice you anyway. Thank goodness because you had not thought about the implication of hearing the baby cry and your body responding to it, ready to do its job. You had been distracted by your aching breasts and the milk leaking into your bra that Daisy could definitely smell from her place on Dad’s chest about three feet away.

There was no way he was getting her to settle now. Mistakes had been made and you knew then that it was only a matter of time until you had to reveal yourself to help Eddie out. It was just the matter of when exactly to do it so that you didn’t ruin the moment Eddie had been planning all week for.

Luckily for you, you supposed, the guys had ruined it for you. Being rude and not believing the baby was even real.

You felt bad for not correcting them in the parking lot. But you hadn’t done so on the premise that Eddie would get to have his fun reveal moment.

“Happy Halloween…”  You grimaced at the guys, turning to them and taking in the shocked expressions around the table. Each boy appeared to be in a different stage of grief as their eyes roamed from you to Eddie, to the baby in your arms, back to Eddie, back to you.

“But…” One of them began, trailing off as Eddie looked between you and the guys as well. Trying to figure out what he had missed. 

“Wait…” Someone else started, also trailing off as they tried to make sense of the situation.

“What the fuck is happening?” Eddie murmured under his breath, just as confused as everyone else. 

So you weren’t spying… But you didn’t go home? What did you mean Happy Halloween? Were you pranking them? Was that directed at him or the guys?

A thousand questions ran through his mind at once. He opened his mouth to ask some of them and was immediately cut off by Gareth.

“You don’t look pregnant!” He shouted, again gesturing at your body and making your eyes darken dangerously as Jeff elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m not.” You replied curtly. “I was.” You clarified, one hand tapping against the baby’s bottom to make your point. “But I’m not anymore.”

“But you didn’t…” He gasped out, winded from being elbowed. “You didn’t say that–” He tried, voice strained.

Eddie turned to you with a questioning gaze. Brows raised as he waited for an explanation.

“Didn’t say?” He asked you, specifically. “When did you even see them?”

You sighed softly, deciding to explain to the whole room and answer Eddie’s question all at once.  

“Eddie wanted to surprise you.” You huffed to the group, as if that much was obvious. “I figured if I corrected you when I ran into you earlier that you would know straight away that Eddie had the baby because she wasn’t with me and the surprise would be ruined.” You said with a shrug, finally turning to Eddie. “I ran into them in the parking lot and it was obvious they didn’t realize you were telling the truth about Daisy so I let them run with it for the sake of the dramatics.” You said apologetically. “I just wanted to see how that played out before I went home.” You added, peeking down at Daisy under the blanket covering her and making sure she was alright. “But, it didn’t go as I expected.” You admitted.

“Oh.” Eddie replied quietly, following your eyes to the blanket and frowning to himself as the room fell silent once again.

He appreciated the sentiment but it hadn’t exactly helped him. Although he supposed, you were right and it probably wouldn’t have helped him keep his surprise if you’d corrected them either.

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

He had been so excited about his little Halloween oneshot. But none of it had worked out anywhere near how he thought it would.

He was feeling defeated.

“I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding.” You continued loudly, interrupting his thoughts as your eyes bored into each of the men in front of you in turn. Desperately trying to get them to say something that corroborated your ‘theory’. “Because they are your friends and they do listen to you.” You added through gritted teeth when no one spoke up.

“Yeah!” Grant defended quickly, catching your drift and jumping into action. 

“We are.” Gareth agreed.

“And we do!” Jeff piled on.

The freshman nodded along as well. Big smiles on their faces as Eddie scowled at them all, looking a little too sad for someone that was dressed as a vampire.

“It’s just that like…” Jeff began, looking to Gareth and Grant for back up.

“You fuck with us a lot.” Gareth finished, a murmur of agreement making its way around the table as Eddie scoffed at them derisively. 

“I do not!” He argued meekly. Shrinking under the collective tired stare of the group and also your knowing gaze from by his side.

“What about when you said your Dad hatched an elaborate plan to steal drugs from his former partners and sell them to Rick for a quick buck?” Jeff asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“That happened!” Eddie justified, throwing his shoulders up as the guys all exchanged sneers. 

That did happen. 

You hadn’t been dating at the time but you knew about it from your place on the sidelines. You opened your mouth to defend him but didn’t get it out before another example was being thrown around.

“Well, what about when you told us that some assistant to a big music producer.” Gareth paused, waving his hands around to emphasize how silly it sounded. “Came to The Hideout and scouted Corroded Coffin before I joined and tried to take you to L.A to become a rockstar?” He laughed, turning to the guys for support and frowning at Jeff’s grimace.

“That did actually happen, I was there for that.” He interjected, one finger pointing towards the ceiling.

“See!” Eddie gestured towards him with his whole hand.

“Okay well guys come on…” Gareth continued. “He also said that Chrissy Cunningham tried to buy drugs from him the night she died.”

“She did!” Eddie exclaimed, voice higher than usual.

“And don’t forget that he’s apparently friends with Steve Harrington now.” Grant laughed heartily, the older guys erupting into laughter as the Freshman exchanged anxious looks with one another. 

“That’s also true!” Eddie argued incredulously before Dustin piped up:

“Yeah, that one is actually true too.” He said, hissing through his teeth.

“It’s all true!” Eddie shouted, desperation in his tone. 

“Look, the point is Eddie you lie like, all the time.” Gareth justified weakly, gesturing around the room as if any of them had actually managed to come up with a solid lie Eddie had told that hadn’t been corroborated by other person in the room. “So…” He said, dragging out the word.

“But I’m not lying!” Eddie argued, bordering on whiny. “All of those things happened to me! Including this!” He added, thrusting his hand towards you and the baby.

Silence fell on the room once more. The slap of Eddie’s hand falling back against his thigh seemed to echo in the small space as he shook his head at them all. Turning to you with pleading eyes as if to ask you to convince them he was telling the truth.

You felt bad for him, smiling apologetically as you slowly slipped down to sit in his throne. Your tired legs giving out as you waited for someone else to say something. You weren’t sure why they still seemed to look unconvinced or what you could even say to persuade them. 

You were literally holding the baby in front of them. All the evidence they should need to understand.

A sniff caught your attention and you looked back up to Eddie quickly, horrified at the thought that he had potentially begun to cry. But to your surprise he was now looking back at the guys, a puzzled expression on his face as the sound happened again.

Your own head turned to look them over, watching in confusion as everyone stayed so defiantly staunch that the quiver of Dustin’s lips and the small change in his breathing was as obvious as if he had just burst out into laughter immediately.

Mike’s elbow connected with his side gently. A motion that was meant to be discreet but again in the stillness of the room seemed as blatant as if he had just tackled the other boy to the ground.

“I can’t keep it in…” Dustin ground out, his eyes wide as the other guys all began to huff and sigh. The barely contained laughter of the kid that was decidedly, Eddie’s best friend, was infectious. Lucas sniffed as well and snowballed Grant into a snort that triggered Jeff.

Slowly one by one the group began to laugh. Soft murmurs of mirth at first that quickly turned into the hearty sound of chortling as they all nodded at one another knowingly, as if making a silent decision before Dustin turned to the head of the table.

“Trick or treat!” He shouted, throwing his hands up and leading the rest of the club into doing the same.

“Trick or Treat!” They mimicked. Shouting in synchrony and throwing their hands up in unison as if welcoming the guest of honor into a surprise party.

Eddie balked at the exclamation, not expecting it and certainly not understanding it at all.

Was he the guest of honor?

“What?” He asked tiredly, shaking his head and slumping his shoulders. He had no idea what was going on. Exhausted with the shifting emotions in the room as the guys all seemed to delight in the notion that he still didn’t understand.

“The ultimate trick!” Gareth clarified, pointing at the DM with a brave finger as Jeff and Gareth clapped each other on the back. 

“You fell for it.” Mike laughed, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Damn, I guess having a baby really does mess with your brain.” Dustin theorized as you and Eddie shared a look of bewilderment.

“Wait…” It was Eddie’s turn to trail off. “What?” He asked again, mirroring the way the guys had asked it earlier. “What’s going on? I’m so confused.” He complained, rubbing at his forehead with one hand as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Oh damn.” Jeff laughed, wincing. “I feel kind of bad.” He mumbled as Eddie scowled at him.

“Dude…” Grant said loudly, commanding Eddie’s attention. “We were pranking you Man.” He laughed, gesturing towards you and the baby. “For Halloween?” He said slowly, dragging out the words as if Eddie was too simple to understand them. 

“Of course we know who Daisy is.” Jeff laughed awkwardly. “How could we not?”

“Yeah you haven’t exactly shut up about her since you’ve been back.” Mike added, groaning as Dustin got him back for the elbow earlier.

“Yeah I didn’t think you’d fall for it.” Jeff admitted uneasily. “Honestly I thought Mama Bear over there was gonna’ murder Gareth for the comment he made outside.” He said scandalously as Gareth had the decorum to shoot you an apologetic look.

“You look amazing by the way.” He said quickly as both sets of eyes turned on him and Eddie had to stop himself from asking what the comment was unless he wanted this to become an actual haunted room.

Although he wasn’t too worried about Gareth’s ghost disrupting his sessions anymore than alive Gareth already did.

“Wait so…” Eddie said again, closing his eyes and making the group groan collectively as he desperately tried to make sense of the situation. 

“Okay, this has kind of spiraled from fun into mean.” Mike interjected, looking around at the other guys and all of them nodding in agreement. “We knew you guys were tired but we didn’t realize you were that tired.” He said with a grimace.

“Yeah…” Dustin agreed as both you and Eddie stared at them all blankly, trying to wrap sleep deprived brains around the situation. “It was meant to be a really simple prank. Like opposite day or some shit.” He laughed uncomfortably. “We didn’t think you’d take us seriously, I mean we’ve seen a picture of her for Christ’s sake.” 

Eddie had momentarily forgotten about the polaroid he’d taken of Daisy not long after she was born. Currently residing in his wallet after having been passed around the lunch table six times over until he finally decided she’d been given enough compliments and took it back.

“Oh.” Eddie hummed, ruminating on his first week at school and remembering, vaguely, the interaction.

He didn’t remember too much of the last six weeks in general if he was honest.

“That was mean guys.” You murmured with a frown. Trying not to be too hard on them since you were honestly just glad that they hadn’t truly believed Eddie was lying about his personal life.

You looked to Eddie. Waiting for him to say something but instead you were faced with the blank stare of a man that you were pretty sure still didn’t truly understand what was going on.

Dustin took it upon himself to take a step forward.

“We knew you were going to do something insane tonight. It wouldn’t be Halloween without you trying to pull the wool over our eyes somehow and we kind of thought you had been setting us up for a big prank for the last month so... We all agreed to just roll with whatever it was, no matter how insane we looked and prank you back.” He explained, waving open palms over his face in big exaggerated movements to show the scale of their operation.. “But now it’s sad.” He said with a nod, lips pressed together and brows raised in concern as Eddie narrowed his eyes at the other man. 

The kid ignored it, placing a grounding hand on Eddie’s bicep. 

“Congratulations man.” He said definitively, watching as Eddie’s brows shot up in surprise. “You’re a lucky man.” He said, nodding at you and the baby.

Eddie took in a sharp breath, turning himself away, unexpectedly overcome with emotion at the statement.

It was really all he wanted from them in the first place.

An acknowledgment of his new life and how lucky he was to be living it.

“Yep. Thanks.” He said quickly, refusing to look at them. “You know you’re supposed to let me choose if I want a trick or a treat right?” He asked, his sentence clipped with the terse edge of someone that was trying not to cry. “You can’t just yell trick or treat after tricking someone.”

“You tricked us first!” Gareth argued at the statement. Jeff’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder as Eddie whirled back around to face them suddenly. Emotions forgotten or maybe just consolidated into anger as he took offence at the blatant lie.

“It wasn’t a trick!” He gasped, scandalized. “It was a surprise!” He panted. “With treats!” He added, throwing his arm out towards the unfinished game in front of them. “The Angel of Good Fortune had gifts for you all!” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly at all of them at once as he stared incredulously at the ungrateful group before him. “No wonder the poor thing was inconsolable, you ingrates wouldn’t accept her presents.” He said pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest as you stifled a laugh at the statement.

Yes, that was why. It had nothing to do with Mommy hiding a few feet away and leaking dinner into her bra.

You didn’t say anything, letting Eddie have the win as you looked down at your little angel and realized she was finished eating already.

You shook your head at her. 

The audacity to make all that fuss and only feed for a few minutes. 

She obviously wasn’t hungry and should have taken the pacifier but all the yelling from the club had startled her into wanting Mom when she knew she was nearby.

Or maybe Eddie was right. You conceded privately. She was just upset that the guys didn’t accept her gifts.

You smiled at the thought of Daisy growing up to DM just like her Daddy.

No doubt she would be just as dramatic.

You shifted her in your arms as the boys argued. Covering yourself up again and removing the blanket so she could breathe easy now that she was content to lay still in your arms.

She blinked up at you with milk-drunk eyes, lids falling closed slowly as she began to drift off again. Her little lips sucked at the air and made you smile.

“And another fucking thing!” Eddie began, startled by you tugging on his cloak and jerking your head towards the baby in your arms.

“Language!” You chastised gently. As if the poor thing hadn’t been listening in on some of the most intense arguing you’d ever witnessed for the first hour of the session. 

“Oh, sorry.” Eddie said quickly, turning back to the guys. “And another… Thing!” He repeated, omitting the swear, this time stage whispering as he pointed at them. “Your ass- Uh, butts, are still stuck behind that obstacle!” He whisper-shouted. “Good luck getting through them without the Good Fortune she would have afforded you.” He snipped, waving his hand towards the baby.

Silence descended on them all once again as all eyes in the room turned to look at Daisy.

“Why can’t we just step over—“ Dustin began to ask, being cut off by Gareth.

“Can’t she just give us our fortune now?” He asked with a shrug, looking between the baby in your arms and your boyfriend who looked as though he was ten seconds away from a conniption.

“No!” He snapped, exasperated. “You lost that privilege when you decided to pretend she wasn’t real.”

“Oh come on Eddie, please!” Mike pleaded, turning to you instead when his pleas fell on deaf ears. “You were as much at fault as we were!” He defended weakly. “Can’t you convince him?”

Eddie’s attention snapped to you quickly, a warning in his dark eyes as he wordlessly told you that no, you could not.

“Well…” You began, Eddie’s eye twitching at the word. “I think maybe you should let Daisy decide if she wants to give you her good fortune.” You said casually, making the teen scoff. 

“But she’s a baby?” He said in a weird way that was halfway between a question and a definitive statement.

Eddie gasped suddenly, turning back to the guys with glee in his eyes as he smiled at them with the unhinged grin they had come to both love and fear.

“Yes.” He said breathlessly. “Yes, let Daisy decide!” He said a little too excitedly. “You’ll probably have to beg.” He added, unable to keep the mirth from his tone as he leaned down to you and gestured for you to move closer to the edge of the chair.

You did so, scooching forward and holding the baby a little further from your body as you angled her towards the guys,

“She won’t stay settled like this.” You warned Eddie. “Better make it fast.”

“That’s the plan.” He murmured so only you could hear.

You sniffed out a laugh. 

Of course it was. 

Anything to make the club suffer a little harder after they’d pulled one over on the DM.

You figured you’d probably be taking Daisy home now anyway. May as well let Eddie have his fun watching the guys beg as penance for their sins and then deny them their fortune that would help them get out of the haunted house ride before midnight.

They were going to have a hell of a time with all the disadvantages Eddie gave them after Daisy cracked it from her uncomfortable position and he could claim that not only did she refuse to give them her fortune but that she had handed them some misfortune as recompense.

“Alright, who’s begging?” Dustin asked jovially. Hands on his hips as he turned to the group, ready for a manly discussion only to find that all eyes were on him. “Oh come on!” He shouted, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “Fine!” He sighed, a little too quickly, taking a breath and turning to you with conviction.

He knew he wasn’t winning that argument and he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

“Please!” He exclaimed suddenly, dropping to his knees in front of the throne and pressing his hands together in prayer. He bowed towards Daisy. Trying his best to ignore the unhinged smile forming on her Father’s face and the disappointed look on yours. “Please oh Goddess of Good Fortune–”

“Angel.” Eddie interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Oh Angel of Good Fortune.” Dustin corrected, “Please choose to still mpart us with your wisdom–”

“Gifts!” Eddie said sharply.

“Gifts!” The kid corrected again, looking up at Eddie with narrowed eyes before turning back to the baby. “Please impart us with your generous gifts and help us through this obstacle we are stuck behind and are not allowed to just step over.” He said derisively, making the group behind him chuckle.

“What do you think Baby?” Eddie asked Daisy directly, bending down and resting his hands on his knees as he stared at his newest love with doe eyes. “Should we still give them your gifts?” He asked, voice gentle and softer than they’d ever heard before as he cooed at her.

Daisy blinked up at him. Paying no mind to you or any of the other people in the room, least of all Dustin as she shifted uncomfortably. Little lip beginning to tremble.

“Well.” Eddie laughed, pushing his palms off his thighs and standing straight again. “I think that-” Eddie began, looking at Dustin smugly.

“Oh my God!” You gasped suddenly, cutting Eddie off and making his head snap back down towards his daughter. He watched, mouth agape as she moved her little head up and down. Seemingly nodding in response to his question.

“What the fuck…” He whispered hastily, recoiling.

“Language!” You chastised again, tone wavering as you also stared in shock at your newborn that had apparently understood her Dad’s complex question.

Now that was spooky.

“How did you do that?” Eddie asked Dustin quickly, reminiscent of the way they had asked him when Daisy had spat the pacifier across the table.

Dustin shrugged, looking just as bewildered from his place on the floor. His hands that had previously been outstretched as if in prayer were now withdrawn to his chest as he leaned away from the baby.

Wary of her.

He turned back to the group slowly. All of them standing there in shock as they watched the interaction between their teammate and what appeared to be a completely conscious baby.

“Well, it’s settled then.” Gareth said quickly, everyone turning to him slowly as he shrugged and gestured towards the table with one hand. “The Godd- Uh, Angel, has spoken.” He smiled, looking around at the other guys and jerking his head towards the game. “Shall we?” He asked, pulling out his chair and sitting down in front of his character sheet.

No one else moved for a long moment. Not even you as you stared down at your little one and tried to figure out if she could understand you or not.

“Uh… Sure.” Eddie replied when no one else made a move. He turned to you with worried eyes. “Did you want to…” He trailed off as you snapped back to yourself, realizing Daisy was probably still uncomfortable as she wriggled around in your arms. You repositioned her, nodded at Eddie’s question with an equally concerned expression.

Yes, you definitely wanted to go home and yes you would take the baby so the guys could finally finish their ill fated journey through the haunted mansion. 

Even though you were honestly a little scared of her right now and wished Eddie would come with you.

Maybe you’d go and visit Wayne instead…

“I’m sure Eddie can speak for The Angel.” You chuckled awkwardly. “She needs to go home and get some proper rest in a quiet room.” You explained, leaning towards the diaper bag Eddie had stashed under the table and stopping half way as he dove for it instead to save your back. 

“I will speak for The Angel…” Eddie began, frowning as he helped you get up from his throne. “Even though I am starting to wonder if she can speak for herself…” He added quietly, sounding skeptical. “But first I’m gonna walk these guys to the car.” Eddie said apologetically, placing a hand on your back and turning towards the main entry of the room as you bid goodnight to the club.

“Oh!” You said, stopping by the door. “The pacifier?” You asked Eddie. Watching as he pointed a finger in the air and turned back towards the guys.

“It’s right he-” He paused, sidling up between Dustin and Mike and staring at the blank spot on the game mat where it had landed earlier.

“Here!” Gareth interjected, finishing Eddie’s sentence as he held up the pink paci and made a motion like he was going to throw it. 

Eddie held out his hands in response.

“Thanks man.” He said, as he caught it between his palms. Returning to you and leaving the club in stunned silence as you both left the room and headed towards the parking lot.

“Really?” Dustin asked, sounding exhausted but impressed none-the-less. “Using the pacifier to make the baby nod?” He asked as Gareth grinned from ear to ear and each of the other members of the club began to catch on to what transpired earlier. “You realize they’re scared of their baby now?” He asked. “That’s diabolical.”

“Not as diabolical as you pretending we all planned a prank and totally knew what the fuck was going on earlier.” The other teen shot back immediately, looking around after he spoke in fear that Eddie had somehow returned without them noticing.

“I’m just surprised you all caught on to be honest.” Dustin said earnestly as they all argued back about the statement.

“Seriously though…” Grant began when the shouting died down. “Did any of you think that baby was real for a second?” He asked quietly, eyes flicking towards the door as an affirmative murmur moved around the table.

“God no.”

“Not a chance.”

“Nope.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Good.” Grant nodded. “I stared to think I was the only one that thought Eddie was full of shit.” He admitted, falling silent as the sound of Eddie’s footsteps coming back up the hallway forced them into a huddle to discuss how they were going to move through the obstacle they were stuck behind if Eddie decided they really didn’t deserve Daisy’s gifts.  

“Sorry about that guys.” Eddie sighed as he slumped down in his throne once more. He leaned back in his chair, ready to press play on the tape player and resume the ambient sounds. His fingers sliding over the buttons and furrowing his brows as he picked it up instead so he could look at it. “Ah shit.” He laughed, holding it in his lap.

“What?” Dustin asked, looking between the DM and the device.

“I thought I stopped it, but I guess I hit record instead.” He sighed. “Oh well, I guess it’s a good thing.” He shrugged. “Daisy will get a kick out of your prank one day.”

~

A/N: I hope you guys like this little Halloween Treat. Please let me know if you did. I don't really write x reader fics anymore so would appreciate the encouragement. xx

[tetsuissohot]

Lice?!

☆summary. you check their head for lice!

☆warning/tags: fem!reader, mostly crack, fluff, jkk men with lice?

☆word count: 1.3k

☆a/n: I don't know how I came up with these, but I still hope you enjoy and that this brings a smile to your face!

Nanami Kento | Gojo Satoru | Toji Fushiguro | Geto Suguro | Choso

Nanami approached you in the living room, looking uncharacteristically flustered. He adjusted his tie for the third time in two minutes, clearly uncomfortable.

"Y/N," he said, voice calm but with an underlying urgency, "I need you to check my head."

You blinked, setting down the book you were reading. "Uh, what?"

Nanami sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair. "It’s nothing serious... well, probably nothing. But I’ve noticed I’ve been itching. A lot. I can’t afford to be distracted on the next mission, so just... check."

You suppressed a smile, biting your lip. Seeing the always-composed Nanami unsettled by something as simple as an itchy scalp was too adorable.

“Sure thing,” you said, standing up and motioning for him to sit on the couch. “Come here, let me take a look.”

Nanami sat down, stiff as a board, his back straight and eyes fixed ahead as if preparing for battle. You took a seat behind him, fingers gently parting his hair.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. “So, should I call Satoru if I find anything? Maybe he’ll bring you a lice comb—”

“No.” Nanami cut you off instantly, his voice firm. “Under no circumstances should Gojo find out about this.”

You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Relax. No lice. You’re clear.”

Nanami visibly relaxed. "Thank you." He stood up, adjusting his suit once more. "But remember, we never speak of this again."

"Agreed," you said with a grin. "But if you’re ever itching to come back for a check-up, let me know."

He shot you a deadpan look. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Gojo waltzed into the room with his usual swagger, but something was off. He scratched his head casually, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t bothered, but you caught the third scratch in as many minutes.

“Babe,” he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips, “you wouldn’t mind checking my head for lice, would you?”

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Satoru, you literally have Infinity. What, did they evolve to pass through it?”

Gojo plopped down on the couch beside you, leaning in close. “Listen, Infinity protects against curses, not tiny, itchy creatures. They might be cleverer than we think. I can’t risk this perfect hair being infested.”

You snorted, grabbing the comb from the table. “You really think you’ve got lice?”

Gojo gave you a dramatic shrug, scratching his head again. “Well, if you loved me, you’d check and make sure. You wouldn’t want the strongest sorcerer being brought down by some tiny bugs, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but part of you found his vulnerability oddly endearing. “Fine, hold still. Let me make sure your Infinity isn’t on vacation.”

You ran the comb through his hair while he hummed, grinning all the while. “You know, I could get used to this. You, doting on me, fingers in my hair. It’s pretty romantic if you think about it.”

“Keep talking and I’ll start charging you for this,” you teased. “Also, no lice. Your perfect hair is safe for now.”

Gojo beamed and leaned back, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “Ah, wonderful! I guess I’ll have to come up with a new excuse for you to pamper me next time.”

You playfully pushed his shoulder. “Get out of here, drama king.”

Toji barged into the room with his usual swagger, but the moment he started scratching the back of his head, you knew something was up.

“Toji?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He scratched again and grunted. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this looks.”

You blinked. “Like you need some flea powder?”

Toji shot you a glare but then sighed, leaning against the wall. “Look, I’ve been itchy, okay? Maybe it’s nothing, but I need you to check my hair. Make sure I don’t have any of those... lice things.”

You had to stifle a laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man who took down powerful sorcerers and curses, was worried about lice.

“You? Lice?” You chuckled, motioning for him to sit. “Aren’t you supposed to be too tough for something like that?”

He scowled, sitting down with a huff. “Just check. I don’t want to be distracted on a job.”

You grabbed the comb, shaking your head as you began parting his hair. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you worried about something so... small.”

Toji grumbled. “I’m not worried, I’m just... irritated.”

After a minute or so of combing through his thick, dark hair, you grinned. “No lice. You’re good. Maybe you’re just allergic to being so grumpy.”

Toji looked over his shoulder, his smirk returning. “If you’re done messing with me, maybe you can help me... de-stress.”

You flicked his ear and laughed. “Sure, but next time, try not to come in here scratching like a stray dog.”

You were chilling in the couch when Geto came in, looking suspiciously thoughtful. He sat down beside you, scratching his head absentmindedly.

"Y/N," he started, his voice soft but curious, "do you know what’s causing this? I’ve been itching for days."

You tilted your head, looking at him with amusement. “Scratching your head a lot lately, huh? Want me to check for lice?”

Geto chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Really? That’s your diagnosis?”

You shrugged, already grabbing the comb. “Well, you’ve been scratching a lot, and lice don’t care how strong a sorcerer is.”

Geto leaned back slightly, allowing you to start combing through his long black hair. “I’ve exorcised curses and fought cursed spirits my whole life, but I never thought I’d need protection from something so... mundane.”

You laughed softly. “Well, even sorcerers can’t escape normal human problems.”

Geto closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose that’s what I have you for. Keep me grounded in the world of lice and hair care.”

You chuckled, running the comb gently through his hair. “Exactly. Someone has to make sure you don’t lose your head over a few itchy spots.”

After a few moments, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “All clear. No lice.”

Geto smiled, his eyes soft as he glanced over at you. “Thank you, my love. I feel much more at peace now.”

You kissed his cheek. “Glad I could help. Anything else bothering you? Maybe you’re allergic to all that long hair.”

Geto grinned. “Perhaps... or maybe it’s just an excuse to have you take care of me.

Choso shuffled into the room, looking slightly unsure of himself. He scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Y/N,” he started slowly, “I... think I might have lice.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the blunt admission. “Wait, what? Why would you think that?”

He scratched again, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been itching a lot, and I heard some people say that could mean... lice. I’m not sure, but it’s starting to worry me.”

You smiled softly, walking over to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit down, I’ll check for you.”

Choso obediently sat down, his shoulders tense as you grabbed the comb and began parting his hair. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by visible uncertainty.

“I’m not familiar with this... lice thing,” he admitted quietly, glancing up at you. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s just tiny bugs that can live in your hair. Annoying, but not dangerous. And don’t worry, if you’ve got them, I’ll help you get rid of them.”

Choso relaxed a bit under your touch, his tense shoulders lowering. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d have no idea how to handle something like this.”

You finished checking his hair and smiled. “Good news, Choso—no lice. You’re safe.”

Choso looked up at you, visibly relieved. “Thank you. I feel much better now.”

You ruffled his hair affectionately. “Next time you’re itching, just come to me. I’ll make sure it’s nothing serious.”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm. “I’ll remember that.”

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading until the end! I hope you enjoyed it. This piece was more of a spontaneous writing, so there may be some imperfections in the scenario. I just had these ideas and wanted to put them down quickly. xoxo

[seokgyuu]

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack, → PAIRING: Vernon x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Soonyoung x Afab!Fem!Reader & Chan x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: angst in this chapter, shower sex, unprotected sex (you know... that's just who she is, like fr, all of the sex in this is unprotected), cumming in pants (m), virgin!vernon, cum eating, angry sex, usage of the words "baby", "princess", dirty talk, Mommy!Kink (Vernon)

→WORD COUNT: 13k

previous ; masterlist ; next

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Or happy holidays for those of you who don't celebrate! For this year I thought I'd give you a treat in the form of a new chapter of everyone's favorite shit show, lmao. We are actually nearing the end - only one more chapter left of the regular scheduled content aka after next chapter every single member of svt got his own time to shine (some even... more than once). I honestly don't know how this happened, this was supposed to be a funny little smut fest and now it's literally almost 100k words of filth and drama. Thank you for reading this and sticking by it for the past 3 years! I also want to thank @bitchlessdino for betaing this chapter <3 And now enjoy the ride!

Also: I opened a ko-fi! If any of you want to support me through that, I would be extremely thankful! If not that is also completely fine of course! Remember that reblogs and asks is what keeps us as a writing community going, so please, if you like my work consider reblogging with feedback <3. Happy holidays!

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The whole thing was like a blur. One second you were in the car with Seungcheol, the next you were outside, hearing your best friend yell at you. Her whole face was red, her eyes wide and her mouth moving as the worst insults left her lips. The worst thing was, you couldn’t even be mad at her. You couldn’t even be offended because she was right.

Her brother tried to calm her down, but the look she gave him made even Seungcheol back down. In all your years of friendship with Jiwoo, you had never seen her this mad. She suddenly looked way taller than she actually was, taller than Seungcheol, taller than your apartment complex. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She now asked for the nth time and you once again didn’t know how to respond.

“Jiwoo, I-,”

“You really couldn’t see the very clear invisible boundary that you’re not supposed to fuck my brother?”

“How can it be clear when it’s invisible?” You responded without giving it much thought. Jiwoo’s head turned even redder and Seungcheol sighed, closing his eyes as he let his head fall to look at his shoes.

“Oh my god, you know what I mean! Y/N, you can’t seriously think it’s okay to sleep with my brother behind my back!” 

“I never- fuck, Jiwoo, I’m sorry, okay? I really- I didn’t plan for this to happen. After the first time I really wanted to end it, but-,”

“The first time?!” Jiwoo gasped and you noticed your mistake too late. Seungcheol rubbed a hand over his face, stepping closer again, wanting to get in between you two.

“Jiwoo-yah, please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

“A big deal you say? You mean as big of a deal as you made it when you found out I slept with Taehyung one time?”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. You looked between him and his sister, chewing on your bottom lip. There really wasn’t anything for you to say to make this any less bad. You had betrayed her trust, had lied about who you had slept with when you had actually slept with Seungcheol. You had been avoiding her, having Soonyoung be something like a freaking owl between you. Sighing, you pulled a hand through your hair.

“You’re right, I did cross a boundary. I- I should have told you and I shouldn’t have avoided you. I am sorry, Jiwoo, I truly am.” 

She turned back to you, her eyes still full of fire, no sign of forgiveness. Seungcheol looked over at you too, his gaze unsure. 

“Can you promise that it won’t happen again?”

The silence that followed the question, even if it only lasted a few seconds, spoke more than any of your words could have.

Jiwoo snorted, shaking her head.

“You know what, go right ahead. I should have known at one point you would do just about anything to finish this stupid challenge. You never respected any fucking boundaries, you slept with Soonyoung when I told you I wanted to, you slept with Wonwoo even when you already knew he had feelings for you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Y/N, you just want to win, prove yourself to whoever the fuck. Most certainly not to me because if that was the case you wouldn’t have fucked my god damn brother!”

Without waiting for an answer, Jiwoo turned around and stormed off, most probably to her car. You couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was as if she had pushed you right off the edge of all the anxiety you had been feeling these past weeks. As much as you felt like crying, you couldn’t. 

“She-”, Seungcheol’s voice seemed distant, even though he was right next to you. Perhaps you were now stuck in your own little bubble, far, far away from everyone, only close to yourself and the knowledge you had hurt the one person who meant most to you. 

“She didn’t mean it, Y/N, she is just angry right now.” His hands were on your shoulders and as soft as his touch was, as much did it burn. You shook your head.

“No, she is right. I don’t respect boundaries, I- I forget about them, I just do whatever I feel like doing. I- god, I slept with Seokmin today, right outside your office, all for you to hear, I- I made you angry, I manipulate people, I-,”

“No, don’t do this,” Seungcheol interrupted you, “you don’t get to make yourself feel worse. I told you to sleep with Seokmin. Hell, I told you to sleep with three people to get this challenge over with.”

He wanted to make you feel better, you knew that. He wanted for you to not spiral and fall into a whole of self pity and self hatred but it was too late. You were already there.

“I need to go, I need to- I need to be alone, okay?” You ignored the hurt in his eyes, the obvious need to hold you close, to comfort you. Right now, you couldn’t. Acting like you hadn’t just lost your best friend of years and years, acting like you hadn’t been a horrible person, that all of the things she said hadn’t been right. 

Without saying another word, you turned away from Cheol and walked to your complex, typing in the code and finally letting the tears fall freely. 

-

A week went by. A week filled with nothing but you and your self pity as well as self hatred that made you turn off your phone and cry into your pillow for as long as you could before all of your tears dried out. You had done this to yourself - all of it. If you had done what you had known was right, none of this would be happening right now. Jiwoo would still speak to you and perhaps you could have seen Mingyu again, could have spent hours just forgetting about that stupid challenge and feel like you had any other purpose than this. It was silly really, how much this had changed your life. If for better or worse… debatable. Right now it was definitely worse. 

On Saturday Soonyoung decided it was done though. Your pity-party had to come to an end. Jiwoo had told him all about your fight and when she had read on his face that he had known about you and Seungcheol, she had called him an asshole and left. So, now he was here, 8 pm sharp at your door, banging on your door and almost gasping in shock when he saw the state you were in. Your hair was greasy and your eyes swollen, the clothes you were wearing had probably been on your frame for more than just a few days and judging by the way you were holding a bucket of ice cream pressed against your chest, you probably hadn’t had any real food in god knows how long.

“Y/N…,” Soonyoung sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing here? Isn’t my not answering any calls enough hints that I don’t want to talk or see anyone?”

“How do you know I called you when your phone is off, hm?” Without waiting for you to answer and completely ignoring your complaints, he squeezed into your apartment and closed the door behind him, the grin on his face almost scaring you.

“We’re going to a party, babes,” he then said and you laughed, getting your spoon out of the pocket of your sweats, ready to dip it back into the cookie dough ice cream. Soonyoung gasped for real now, grabbing the spoon out of your hands and shaking his head.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Y/N. Go take a shower. Maybe even two, for Christ’s sake. And then, I don’t know, look in the mirror and try a smile.” 

His words made heat rush to your cheeks and you found yourself scratching the back of your head as you slowly made your way to the bathroom not even sure how he managed to change your mind so quickly. But perhaps a shower wasn’t such a bad idea. Showers always helped to make you feel better after a hard time and if this wasn’t a hard time you didn’t know what was. 

So, standing in the bathroom, a soft towel pressed against your naked body, you chewed on your bottom lip and finally stepped into the shower, towel set aside on the toilet seat. The second warm water started running down your body, the tension of the past days seemed to finally leave your body. You didn’t feel as sore anymore, as sad, as useless. Less like the worst human on this planet, who didn’t care about anyone but herself. Your eyes flew open, seeing only the already wet tiles staring back at you. The sound of the water hitting the floor mixed with the blood rushing in your head gave you a sense of steadiness as well as made you feel like you were about to pass out. Tears were about to well up again, tears you were sure had already grown tired of leaving your body. 

“No crying in the shower, you hear me?” Soonyoung’s voice echoed through the door and you felt the sob in your throat turn to a choked laugh, your head turning to the door. An idea popped into your head. Clearing your throat, you slowly moved the glass door to the side.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want to join me?” 

The silence only lasted for a few seconds before you heard something like a thump noise and the door opening around ten seconds later. There he stood, Soonyoung, in his naked glory a big grin on his face as he stepped under the shower, your back hitting the wall you had stared at just a few seconds before.

“To what do I owe the honor?” He asked, his hands creeping around your waist. You shrugged.

“I thought you wanted to help me get my mind of things?”

“And that's how to do it?” He asked, smirking. 

“We can shower together, make out a little…,” your hands moved up his torso, stopping at the sides of his neck, tongue licking over your lips, “maybe more… we’ll see.”

No further words were exchanged when he dipped down to kiss you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip, his already half hard cock pressing against your stomach as you let your arms wrap fully around him. Your eyes closed as you let him lead the kiss, his tongue now devouring yours, every touch of his setting you on fire, giving you new energy. You let every bad thought leave your body, instead let him enter it - metaphorically as well as physically. His fingers made you arch your back and his lips sucked softly on your nipples, and when he finally sunk into you, his cock stretching you out as good as it had back then, it seemed as if you had never felt anything bad ever in your life. 

“God, not gonna lie, missed your tight little cunt, baby,” he breathed against your ear, your legs wrapped around him, teeth sunken into your bottom lip as you let him fuck you into your wall, droplets of water running down both of your bodies, his cock hitting the perfect spot over and over until he made you cum, your moans echoeing through the room like a song he could never get enough of. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off as he kissed you hard, his seed soon getting washed away with the rest of the metaphorical dirt you had felt on your body for days. 

After, Soonyoung helped you pick out an outfit for the party, comfortably seated on your bed, his legs crossed and his face red from the shower. He was seriously adorable. 

“I like the black dress, it’s super sexy,” he said as you were holding up said black and a rosy pink dress. You pursed your lips and nodded, hanging the pink dress back into the closet and walking over to the mirror, holding the black dress against your frame. It was tight, but didn’t show any cleavage with its almost turtleneck-like cut. Was this what you were going for? Sexy? You clicked your tongue and turned back around, placing the dress on the bed before slipping into some underwear that wasn’t necessarily extremely sexy but also sexy enough for anyone to see (if you somehow managed to score in your current mindset). 

“Where are we going by the way?” You asked Soonyoung now and the man shrugged, grabbing his phone.

“Not too sure, actually. Like I know where it is, but that’s about all the information I got from my source.”

“Your “source”? What are you?  An investigative journalist?” You chuckled and Soonyoung grinned at you, eyes on you instead of his phone for a short while. 

“Maybe.” 

Laughing, you finally slip on the dress and walk over to the mirror again, eyeing yourself cautiously. Yes, this was good. This made you look hot and also sophisticated, made you feel confident and less like a failure. You smiled. Soonyoung had a good eye for dresses, apparently.

When you finished applying your make-up and Soonyoung had also gotten ready, you found yourself in the backseat of a cab, not paying much attention to where you were going as you were busy finally turning your phone back on, Soonyoungs portable charger plugged into it. Anxiety rushed through you, when the lock screen lit up and was flooded with countless notifications once you had typed in your pin-code. Missed calls from Mingyu, Seungcheol and Soonyoung. Messages from all of them, as well, plus a group chat for a project you had completely forgotten about. Your friend next to you eyed you worriedly.

“Perhaps you should have done that tomorrow.” He scolded you, snatching the phone from your hands to lock it and shove it in the pocket of his oversized denim jacket. You pouted, crossing your arms before looking out the window. Seoul passed by your eyes, lights everywhere and you noticed how much you had actually missed leaving the house. The last time you had been this upset, it had also resolved around Jiwoo. But back then, it had ended well, the two of you had found your way back, mayhaps even stronger than before. But this? You weren’t so sure you could come back. It shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it was, you thought. So what, you slept with her brother? He was his own person! He could make his own decisions! Fine, you lied to her about it. Lied for weeks and weeks. You felt small again, suddenly, wondering if you even deserved Jiwoo to ever forgive you for betraying her like this. Her words still stung and you knew that while she was angry, being that mean hadn’t been fair. 

“We’re here!” Soonyoung grinned at you, handing the cab-driver his card and thanking him, before opening the door and helping you out, your hand in his. When your feet touched the ground, the door closing behind you, you finally took in the surroundings. And felt yourself almost falling right into Soonyoung’s chest. 

“Tell me, god fucking hell, Soonyoung, tell me that this is not the house the party is at.”

Soonyoung blinked, his arm wrapped around your waist to steady you after you had almost tripped.

“Uh… it’s not?” He tried, but judging by the way he said it, you knew it wasn’t true. You closed your eyes. Pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Soonyoung-ah,” you start, “was your source Joshua?”

Silence. Soonyoung stays fucking silent. You feel heat arise within you and it’s not the kind you had felt earlier when you had asked him to join you in the shower. It’s anger, fueled by Soonyoung’s carelessness and his obvious stupidity. Bringing you to a party at Joshua’s place? Joshua who was roommates with Mingyu? Mingyu, who you had been ignoring for the past week, who had called you and texted you, the only thing missing was him barging through your door! 

“I’m sorry! See, I thought you would never go if you knew!”

“Well, you’re correct! Do you know how many of them will be there? Haven’t I been through enough already?!” You slapped his shoulder and Soonyoung winced, holding the spot with wide eyes.

“Oh, come on! I get it, alright? You fucked it up with Jiwoo. Jesus, so did I!”

Now it’s you who blinked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you forget that she also has to fuck people? A significantly lower number than you, yes, but still! And, well- I was one of them.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. But it still made something inside you sting.

“And why did you fuck it up with her?” You asked quietly. Soonyoung sighed.

“When I heard about your fight I took your side. I told her that there are worse things than you sleeping with her brother. That, even though I understand it sucks that you lied to her, it wasn’t like you killed someone, or did something illegal. You just slept with him!”

Yeah, and kind of gave him hope there would be more. After the challenge. You pressed your lips together. 

“But, well, Jiwoo didn’t like it. And she kind of guessed that I knew about it.”

“You like her, don’t you?” You found yourself asking him the second he finished his sentence, catching him off guard. He cleared his throat, fixing the collar on his jacket.

“It’s not that I didn’t like her, Y/N. But she went completely nuts over this, so out of character. I was confused and hurt that she threw this at me, that she said I owed it to her. As if because we were seeing each other casually, mind you, she still had other people to fuck, I suddenly became only hers and not your friend.”

They were seeing each other. Your stomach dropped and you felt like you were about to actually pass out.

“You were seeing her? And you still- you still had sex with me today?!”

“Woah, okay, I see how this can be confusing, but, Y/N, it was never serious. It wasn’t exclusive. We slept together a couple of times and had a few dates, but that’s it! I’m pretty sure I saw you more than her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You watched his face, saw the way his eyes shift, how the wheels turn behind them and something told you, that you probably already knew the answer. You decided to stay silent.

“I just- I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

It was a lie, but neither of you exposed it as such. 

-

You ended up inside anyway. Fleeing from whatever was going on with Soonyoung, you were in desperate need of a drink. The familiar space was packed with people - courtesy of the apartment being big enough to hold that many. In addition to Mingyu’s room and the bathroom, there was a relatively big kitchen, a living space and, of course, Joshua’s room. The doors to the bedrooms were closed and upon seeing Mingyu’s, you felt guilt and shame creep up your spine. He was here somewhere, maybe drinking, maybe kissing another girl. And if that last thing turned out to be true, you knew you couldn’t even be mad at him. You had basically abandoned him for a week. After he had proven to be incredibly sweet and understanding, you had decided to just ignore him, to leave him in the dark, to forget all about him. 

While you did see a few familiar faces (Seungkwan was chatting with Minghao in the kitchen and Jun was downing a bottle of vodka with a guy you didn’t know), Mingyu was nowhere to be seen. Only when you reached the living room did you spot one one of the hosts. Joshua was wearing a tight dark blue turtle-neck and perfectly fitting black slacks, his hair was up and only a few strands fell into his remarkable face. He spotted you right as you walked through the door, a hint of surprise on his face. He excused himself to the girl he was talking to and walked over to you, eyebrow raised.

“Y/N,” he said, “you’re alive.”

You deserved that. Maybe not from him, but in general. You cleared your throat.

“Seems like it.”

“Where were you? I had to physically restrict Mingyu from running to your place countless times.”

Your heart dropped once more on this night. Heat erupted on your face and you let your head drop for just a second, before looking back up at the man who had been the one to start off this stupid challenge.

“I was at home. I… wasn’t feeling too well. Is Mingyu here?”

Joshua didn’t seem too pleased with your answer, but decided to not pester you any further. Instead, he shook his head as he crossed his arms.

“Not yet. He is getting more drinks. Speaking of, should we get you one?” 

You followed Joshua back to the kitchen, Soonyoung somewhere lost in the crowd, apparently. After your little talk, he had excused himself to the bathroom first thing and if you were being honest, you weren’t too keen on seeing him right now anyway. You let Joshua mix you a drink, thanking him with a more or less honest smile when he handed it to you. He himself took a sip from the fresh bottle of beer he had taken for himself out of the fridge, eyeing you over it now.

“Mingyu told me about the challenge.”

You almost dropped your cup. 

“He did what?”

“Ah, don’t be mad at him. He kind of tells me everything, you know,” Joshua’s smug smile made you want to punch him in the face. You decided against it mainly because causing a scene wasn’t on your to do list tonight. Neither was talking to Joshua, though. Still, here you were. 

“So, does this mean I was number one?” Jesus Christ, you rolled your eyes.

“Yes. And that’s the only number one you’ll ever be in my book.”

“Ouch.” He was still grinning. Even more than before. How on earth could he have played the part as the cute and innocent barista so well, when in reality he was nothing but a cocky fuck boy? It was official: you needed to get away from him asap. But when you turned, you suddenly felt like your feet had been glued to the ground because why the fuck was Vernon walking into the kitchen right then and there?

He saw you the same time you did and the look on his face was a mixture of shock and confusion. It had been weeks since the… incident at Mr. Choi’s office and while he hadn’t seen you in the flesh since then, he sure as hell had thought of you. His cheeks began burning when he saw the suspicion in your eyes and when you came over to him and his two friends, he literally felt like all of his wet dreams and fantasies about you were suddenly out on display. 

“Did Seungcheol send you?” Was the first thing you said to him and poor, poor Vernon could only shake his silly head and point at Hyunggu and Seungyoun over his shoulder with a shaking hand.

“N-No, I came with my friends.” You followed where he was pointing with your eyes and the two young men behind him waved at you rather confusedly. You clicked your tongue and nodded, turning back to look at Vernon. 

Vernon, who was out of the usual suit you had seen him in before. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and dark jeans, a necklace adjourning his slim upper body. His hair was messy, but a good kind of messy, that kind of messy you wanted to claw your hands into. Taking a sip from your drink, you contemplated. Seeing Vernon here, out of all places, seemed almost too much of a nudge in his direction. When Seungcheol hadn’t been the one to send him here and it was pure coincidence, didn’t this mean something? As much as it had bothered you that Seungcheol had wanted to decide this challenge for you, it now seemed to come in handy. 

Licking over your lips, you took another step towards Vernon, one hand reaching for the small cross necklace he was wearing and letting it slip through your fingers. Your eyes stayed on the silver for a second before looking up and seeing his gaze, his red cheeks and the mouth that hung slightly agape. You smiled.

“How do you know the hosts?” You asked. Vernon needed a few seconds to regain composure.

“I, uh, I don’t actually. Hyunggu is, uhm, he works at the same coffee shop as J-Joshua.” He explained and you nodded, still playing with the jewelry. The poor man in front of you was close to losing his mind once more. 

“I see. Well, this seems fated, doesn’t it, Vernon?” Your voice was merely a whisper when you leaned forward, your lips meeting his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Vernon didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, he didn’t know what to say ever again. His ability to speak had been ripped from him - by you and the way you looked at him, the way your breath hit his neck and ear. 

The thing was - you had kind of ruined everything for him. There was no porn he could watch that could even come close to what had happened at Mr. Choi’s office. At some point he had tried finding women who looked like you in the videos, tried to replace your image with theirs, but nothing would work. More often than not he would find himself with his hand full of lube, eyes squeezed shut, imagining you and the way your pussy had looked all wet and ready just that this time it was his cock that was about to fuck you stupid. 

So, when he felt your hand wrap around his wrist he didn’t even think about stopping you. He let you lead him into one of the bedrooms, let you sit him down on the bed, your legs on either side of him as you began straddling him. His head was in a haze, no thought to be thunk, only your lips on his, your tongue inside his mouth and finally your hips grinding against his extremely hard cock. 

Somehow his hands had landed on your back while yours laid on his shoulders, slowly moving up to cup his face as you kept on grinding down on him. Vernon’s head was spinning. 

“You’re so hard already, can feel you against my pussy, Vernonie…,” you whined against his ear and his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth. No words were able to leave his mouth, though. He could only nod and move his arms around you, finding himself rutting his erection against your core, catching you off guard. The moan that escaped you got him close to cumming right then and there.

“F-fuck, bet you can fuck me so good, baby,” you said before moving down to kiss his neck, his hips still moving up, chasing his own high.

“Shit!” His eyes rolled back when you found an especially sensitive spot on his neck, your tongue dragging over it just as your hand opened his jeans and slipped into them and his briefs - causing Vernon’s eyes to fly open and look at you in shock.

“W-wait I-,” he began, but the second your hand touched his bare cock, he couldn’t stop it. 

“O-oh, n-gh, f-fuck,” he whimpered as he came onto your hand and into his underwear - thick ropes of white and hot cum leaving you with your mouth dropped in surprise. 

His head dropped onto your shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. Shame crept over him and he swallowed hard before he dared to look at you again.

“I’m sorry, I, fuck, I, uh- I’m a virgin.”

And scene. 

“You’re a what?” You stumbled out, the shock ever so present on your face. Vernon felt his face heat up.

“A... a virgin.”

Slowly, you pulled your hand out of his pants, looking at the stickiness he had left on it for a second before licking it off, your eyes not leaving his face. Vernon felt his cock twitch and a whimper escaping him. You were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“Cheol doesn’t know that, does he?” You asked once your hand was clean and Vernon was already a little hard again. Vernon shook his head and you sighed.

“Well, I certainly won’t take your virginity for this stupid challenge, so…,” you stood up from his lap and looked at the mess he (or you?) had made, clicking your tongue before looking around the room and walking to one of the drawers on the side. You haven’t been in Joshua’s room before, but you definitely had not wanted to take Vernon to Mingyu’s room to fuck him. Or, well, not fuck him. You opened the first drawer and found yourself successful, grabbing one of Joshua's neatly folded pairs of underwear and throwing it at Vernon who caught it, with a somewhat horrified look on his face.

“Change into that. Don’t want you walking around with pants full of cum, baby.” You winked at him, and Vernon turned even more red. He mumbled a quick thank you and you chuckled, closing the drawer again, before walking to the door to go back to the party. 

Just that, once the door was open, you were met by yet another familiar face. Chan was leaning against the wall, talking to some girl, a drink in his hand. When the door opened, it was more like a reflex to look at who came out - never had he expected to see you or the dude stumbling over his own feet behind you. His brows shot up and your jaw tightened. 

“Now, who do we have here,” he says, the girl next to him forgotten, “you don’t pass up any dick, do you?” 

Your veins began burning. Anger, raw and so real like back when Chan and you had seen each other last. Your hands were balled into fists in no time and you somehow succeeded in moving, ready to leave the party for all you cared, but Chan was quicker than you. He grabbed your wrist and held you back, pushing you into the kitchen, where music was now blasting as well, music that rang in your ears as you were pressed against the wall right next to the door. 

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat out, trying to free yourself, but Chan just grinned down at you, his head slightly tilted.

“Just trying to make sense of you, princess,” was his awful reply. You scoffed, shaking your head and looking to the side, seeing that Vernon had escaped the bedroom now, closing the door and hurrying into the living room. 

“You should leave me alone,” you breathed out finally and Chan leaned forward, his lips right by your ear.

“I can’t really hear you, you know?”

You closed your eyes. Was he kidding? He had dragged you in here. He had chosen this god forsaken kitchen as the place he wanted to talk to you in. When you opened your eyes again, you saw in his eyes what you hadn’t before. Want, need. He was desperate for you. He craved you - had probably been lurking around your apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But you hadn’t come out, you had stayed inside and now that he finally saw you… 

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” you say now, his eyes still boring into yours. Something flickers in them now, hurt maybe, or something totally different. You just know that his jaw is suddenly tightened and one hand is on your waist, grabbing you roughly. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who?”

“I do. Did you fuck that guy?”

“Fuck you, Chan.” 

There was too much tension between you. More than back then in the elevator. His breath hit your face, his brows furrowed. 

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“What is it to you if I did?” You spat back at him. One of his hands was suddenly right there on your neck and your eyes widened at the sudden wave of want shaking your body.

“It’s an easy question, doll. Did you fuck him?”

His grab on your neck was almost too much to handle right now. Your pussy was crying into your panties and your head felt so far away, you feared it wasn’t even on your neck anymore. 

“No.”

You wished someone would walk in. One of the guys you had seen earlier. Soonyoung, for all you cared. Even Joshua would be fine - just anyone to get Chan away from you. All of the arousal from your make-out with Vernon was still fresh and with Chan’s hand on your body, you couldn’t guarantee anything. 

He was so close and he smelled so good. His face was mere inches from yours and if you moved just a tiny bit…

Chan was quicker than you. The thoughts were running around in his head ever since he saw you come out of that room, ever since he saw that random dude behind you. Jealous. That’s what he was. Jealous of some guy you had been in a room with by yourself and jealous of everyone who would come after. It was stupid and twisted, considering his brother was literally in love with you. His grip around your waist got stronger and suddenly his nose was touching yours, both of your mouths opened in a breathy gasp and when he saw the way your eyes fluttered close, there was literally no way around kissing you anymore.

It didn’t start out sweet or slow, no, Chan was full on kissing you like he knew you wanted to be kissed. His tongue was right there, his other hand on your chin, moving your head up so he could dip his tongue easier into your awaiting mouth. You moaned into the kiss, heat between your legs now accompanied by throbs that made you press your thighs together. Chan pressed himself against you, felt every curve of your body and wished he could just take you right here and now. But there were people around, drunk people, people who might not mind you any business, but still people. And so, he grabbed your hand after parting from you and taking you to the bedroom you had just left, the door falling shut behind you, his lips on you again right then. Hands were back on your waist and he groaned when he felt your hands feeling him up, sliding underneath his shirt and down, pressing against his bulge. 

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” you breathed and Chan bit down on your lip, nodding because, fuck, he wanted that too. It’s stupid, really, there is a bed right behind you, but Chan was greedy, Chan maybe even wanted someone to notice, wanted to get caught red handed, his cock in your tight pussy. He wanted everyone to know he got you, not Wonwoo.

Your hands moved to open his belt and you shoved his jeans and briefs down at the same time, have them pool at his ankles, your hungry eyes looking between his face and hard cock that laid against his stomach. Skilfully, you grabbed around the base of his cock and started jerking him off, Chan moaning against your neck as he tugged your dress up and panties down. 

“Your fucking dripping, baby,” he breahed into your ear and you nodded, looking up at him with a pout.

“Fuck my dripping pussy, Channie, need you so bad.”

He didn’t need to hear that again. He grabbed his cock after you dropped it, your head banging against the door behind you, and brought it to your pussy, sinking into you a second later, your one leg wrapped around his slim waist. 

“God, fuck, that’s right, such a wet tight pussy just for me.”

He began to move right away, devouring your lips with his as his hips frantically fucked into you. Your hands held onto his shoulders, eyes closed shut and skin on fire from desire. He fucked into you quick and hard, hitting you right where you needed him to and, fuck, did it feel good. Felt so good that you already felt yourself nearing an orgasm. 

Chan’s breath hit your face again when he parted from you and leaned back, his eyes studying you as he continued to fuck you. You still had your eyes closed, which meant Chan could look at you all he wanted. His cock was twitching wildly at how your face looked, how your mouth was dropped open at how fucked out you looked, at how much you were into this. He licked over his lips, hands grabbing your hips harshly, thrusts becoming sloppier the closer he felt to release.

“Craved your pussy so much, baby, look at how good you take my cock, shit.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, Chan staring at you making your stomach turn and your cunt clench around him, a moan escaping you when he picked up the pace once more, the door literally banging from the movement. There was no way people who passed wouldn’t notice. 

“Ch-Chan!” You cried out, and he smirked, continuing what he was doing.

“What is it, doll? You scared people will know that you’re getting fucked like the filthy whore you are?” He slowed down his thrusts just for a moment, your whimpers music to his ears.

“Pl-please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for but Chan just chuckled, finally pulling out of you to lead you to the bed, where he told you to get on all fours. You did as told, your pussy aching for his cock to come back and fuck you. You wiggled your hips just when Chan slipped back into you, a harsh slap landing on your ass.

“So impatient, slut. Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum on this cock.”

He went back to fucking you hard and quick, your moans filling the room and making Chan move even quicker. He was so close to emptying his load in your warmth.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck!” Your walls clenched around him multiple times, letting Chan know that he had in fact made you cum on his cock. He kneaded your ass, slapping it as he fucked you through your orgasm, closing in on his own with every passing second.

“So good for me, came so prettily on my cock, my perfect little whore, isn’t that right?” One of his hands now moved, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you against his chest, his cock seemingly vibrating inside of you, overstimulation making you cry out.

“Want you to cum in me, Chan, want you to so bad!”

Somehow your words were like a spell, getting Chan to do exactly as you had told him to the next second. Hot spurts of cum filled your spent pussy that was now milking him for all he had.

“Fuck! Yes, take it all, every last drop, that’s right.”

Chan thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and uncontrollable, his cock finally slipping out of you, accompanied by his own release that now dripped onto Joshua’s bed sheets. He couldn’t stop staring at your pretty pussy filled with his cum. Gosh, he really wanted to take a picture of this. 

You were the first one to come back to her senses. You turned around, seeing your panties and his pants and underwear laying on the floor by the door and you climbed off the bed to grab it all, put your own on and hand Chan his clothes. 

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat as you pulled your dress back down. Chan was back in his underwear and suddenly unable to look at you. What a joke.

“This probably shouldn’t have happened,” you finished then, feeling your own conscience starting to grow extremely guilty. Not to mention that you felt just extremely… yeah, what even? At this point there was nothing to say about you. How long had you been at this party? Thirty minutes? And you had already made out with Vernon, had made poor Vernon cum in his pants and now you had fucked Chan? Chan, who you had sworn to never fuck again because it was obvious you shouldn’t. Maybe Soonyoung’s idea to get out of the house had been a bad one after all. 

“Yeah. It shouldn’t have.” Chan didn’t look at you, he in fact couldn’t bear to do so. Guilt flooded him, making it almost impossible to even leave the room. Wonwoo was out there somewhere, drinking, dancing, not knowing you were here and most definitely not knowing his own little brother had betrayed him. Again. Chan sighed pulling his jeans back up and trying to fight the urge to just stay in here and wait this party out. 

With nothing but static sounds in your ear did you move to open the door, hand already around the knob. 

“If he wasn’t in the picture,” Chan’s voice suddenly cut through the silence and you stopped midway opening the door, “would you think about it?”

Your heart ached at his question and you closed your eyes. You really had a talent for making people fall for you only to disappoint them. 

“I don’t think the answer I have is the one you want.”

Even though he would never admit it, Chan felt his heart break a little at that. He knew it was stupid. Liking you was the exact opposite of what he should’ve done. You were just a girl he slept with once. You were the girl his brother had been talking about all this time, the one he had been hopelessly in love with. 

It wasn’t fair, really. That the cute neighbor turned out to be you. That the girl he wanted to see again so badly after that first fateful meeting in the hallway was the one his brother wanted. In all his years living on this earth, he had never hated Wonwoo. His older brother had always been his favorite person in the entire world. But now? In this exact moment he hated him. 

“Is it because of my brother?” He finally asked and you turned around to look at him.

“No, it’s not. I promise you, he has nothing to do with this.”

Chan moved his head and looked at you, nodding slightly. He would probably feel guilty about feeling relieved in a few hours, but right now he enjoyed the knowledge you wouldn’t go for his brother. 

With one last smile, you finally turned to open the door, Chan right behind you. 

And that was when time seemed to stop for both of you. 

Of course this would happen because how could it not? How could you ever walk out of this room without any problem, without anyone seeing you. It was like ice was somehow replacing the blood in your veins, making you shiver, making you freeze. 

Wonwoo stood there, right in front of the bedroom, just like Chan had earlier. And as if that wasn’t bad enough - Mingyu stood right there next to him. 

You heard Chan’s gasp right when Wonwoo and Mingyu looked at you. Saw your disheveled hair, Chan’s not fully closed belt. The guilt in his eyes, the shock in yours. It took Wonwoo everything in him not to drop his glass at the sight. 

“Tell me this is not what it looks like.”

Where his voice came from, he couldn’t tell. He just heard it, felt it ringing in his ears after. When neither you nor Chan began speaking and only continued to stare at him, he felt his jaw tightening and his body move. Without knowing where he was headed, he ran out of the apartment, leaving you and Chan behind with nothing but the biting feeling of a guilty conscience. Your eyes briefly met Mingyu’s, before you followed Chan, who was now running after his brother.

Cold air was giving you an unwelcome hug when you reached downstairs, Wonwoo standing on the side of the road, seemingly trying to catch a cab.

“Hyung, wait!” Chan called out for him and Wonwoo let his arm drop down - there wasn’t a cab around anyways. God, why didn’t he take his own car? Why did he have to get here with Mingyu and why did he plan on crashing here? Why had he even decided to come here in the first place?

When Chan finally reached him, Wonwoo slowly turned around. As much as you wanted to deny it - seeing Wonwoo this way made your heart clench painfully. Coming to a halt behind Chan, you suddenly felt like maybe you shouldn’t have followed them.

“Hyung,” Chan started again, looking at his brother with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry, I- I know what this must look like to you.”

“It looks like you slept with the girl I’ve been telling you about for weeks, yeah.”

Chan swallowed. 

“He didn’t know, Wonwoo. Neither did I, when we slept together - we didn’t know.”

“But you knew today, didn’t you?”

Chan and you shared a quick glance and Wonwoo scoffed, looking away for a second, before he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared back at you.

“Mingyu told me, actually. That you two- that this happened. And I was planning on letting it slide because as you said, you didn’t know. But tonight? You knew and you still-,” Wonwoo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“You know, I’m not even mad at you, Y/N. Because I don’t expect anything else from you. You take and take and take and you never ever think about the consequences of your actions. You simply don’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings and some fucked up part of me admires you for it. How easy it must be to go through life not caring about anyone but yourself.”

Any other day his words might have made you feel a different way. Maybe you would have felt offended, angry even. But right now? You knew he was right, felt it in your bones that his words couldn’t be any more true. Averting your gaze, you looked at your feet, not allowing yourself to cry.

“You, though,” he was talking to Chan now and even though something inside you itched to step in, you didn’t, “you knew who she is, what she means to me. And you still did this?”

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I truly am, I don’t know what to tell you.” Chan sounded just as broken as you felt and it took everything in you to not put a hand on his shoulder to offer some comfort. 

“That makes two of us, Channie. I also don’t know what to tell you.”

Wonwoo finally turned around to walk off and when he walked around the next corner, Chan finally moved again, pulling both hands through his hair, before turning around and spotting none other than Mingyu stepping outside. Anger rushed through Chan, but you stopped him before he could do anything.

“Let me talk to him, Chan,” you said quietly and while Chan looked like he didn’t want to listen to you, he ended up nodding and storming off, back inside. 

Once he was gone, you took a few steps closer to Mingyu who looked at you with a blank face. He didn’t feel bad about telling Wonwoo, you could tell. You could also tell that he was mad at you, if because of the ghosting or the fact he had caught you with Chan, you didn’t know. Sighing, you shrugged slightly and looked up at him.

“When did you tell him?”

“Around three days after you suddenly disappeared.”

“You’re angry at me.”

“You think?”

Mingyu had never looked at you like this before. Like he was actually mad, like there was something seriously wrong. 

“I’m sorry for not texting back, for not calling you back, Mingyu, I truly am. Something happened and I just closed off. Not just you, I- I just turned my phone off and didn’t think.”

“I was worried about you.” He took a step closer. You felt his warmth and closed your eyes, even let him put his hand on your cheek. That was until you remembered Wonwoo’s face, the way he had looked at Chan. And that’s when you realized something.

“You told Wonwoo about Chan,” you started, your eyes back open and looking at him, “but you didn’t tell him about you.” 

Mingyu’s jaw twitched, his hand slowly falling from your face again. He didn’t have to confirm it with words for you to know your assumption is correct. 

“How can you do this to him?” Now, you felt the tears behind your eyes that you had held back the entire day. Mingyu licked over his drying lips and let out a bitter laugh.

“Why is it always him you’re worried about? Why does it matter that he liked you first, why do my feelings not matter to you, Y/N? This isn’t fair.”

“No one ever said this is fair, Mingyu. This whole situation is fucked up, this has nothing to do with fairness. If I was smart, I’d just stop right here. I’d leave you alone, I’d never speak to any of those guys upstairs again. But I can’t because I’m selfish, because I don’t want to leave you alone, I don’t want to never speak to them again. I’m selfish because somehow I still can’t let go of things I know shouldn’t be mine.”

“I am yours, Y/N, I have been yours since the day you stepped foot into the office, the first time you kissed me. How can I prove to you that I don’t care about any of this?”

Both of his hands were on your cheeks now and his thumbs wiped away the tears that began to fall. 

“Mingyu, you know it’s wrong, you know it’s not fair. Not to you or Wonwoo or anyone else. I can’t just accept you as mine when it’s so clear Wonwoo will never forgive you, not after Chan.”

“I don’t care. I love you, I want to be with you.”

“You don’t mean that. You shouldn’t mean that.”

Even though it took everything in you, you let your hands wrap around his wrists, lifting his hands from your face.

“Y/N…,” he whispers, but you shake your head, another set of tears dripping down your cheeks.

“We can’t do this anymore. I appreciate you wanting to wait, but even if I were to finish this stupid challenge, I don’t think you and I should be together.”

Mingyu heard your words and he understood them. Every single one of them reached his brain and a part of him even agreed with them. But looking at you, seeing the face he had been seeing in his dreams for the past months, the one he had missed so much when you had left him the first time - that part fell extremely small. The bigger part wanted to reach for you, tell you how wrong you were. No one would be as good for you as him, no one understood you the way he did. Yes, Wonwoo was his friend, maybe even his best friend, but you… you were his. Everything about you was made for him and it didn’t make any sense for you to not see that. He knew you did, he knew you felt the same. But, apparently, your conscience won over your heart this time.

“Don’t do this,” he heard himself say and you pressed your lips together, shaking your head again.

“Mingyu, it’s for the best. I am not- I am not good. Something inside me is rotten, I feel like… I feel like I’ve lost who I am in the past few months. I did things because I was being selfish and I need to stop. I already lost my best friend, I can’t lose myself too.”

You let go of his wrists now, looking up at him with a sad smile. You hoped he knew that if you had met under different circumstances you would love to be with him. 

When you left, Mingyu stayed back, staring at the spot you had just stood in. And, somehow, he didn’t believe that this was the end of you two just yet.

-

You sat down on the bench of one of the bus stations near Mingyu’s apartment complex, about to get your phone out to text Soonyoung - when you realized that he still had it. Groaning, you let your head fall back against the glass behind you. Wonderful. Just great, really. He would probably drop it off tomorrow once he realized you weren’t at the party anymore. Maybe it was better this way - not having your phone close to get any ideas about texting Mingyu. Or Seungcheol. Another groan left you. Seungcheol. The fact he hadn’t sent a whole SWAT team into your apartment was probably thanks to Jiwoo. Maybe he didn’t want to see you again after talking to his sister. And maybe that was right. If you couldn’t see Mingyu anymore, you probably shouldn’t see Cheol anymore too. 

“Y/N?” A voice made you open your eyes, surprise visible in your face when you saw Vernon parked in front of the bus station, passenger seat window down as he looked at you with worry.

“Vernon? You’re already leaving?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, thought that maybe this was enough socializing for the next couple of weeks.”

The way he awkwardly smiled made you laugh. Nodding, you let your eyes roam over his car. It’s nice - not as nice as the car he drives for Cheol, but definitely on the more expensive side. Vernon clears his throat.

“Do you need a ride?”

It probably took a lot of courage for him to ask you this. Smiling, you thanked him, getting up from the bench and walking over to his car, opening the door and plopping down onto the passenger seat.

“Guess you won’t need the address,” you joked and he blushed, still with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. I think I got that covered.”

You drove in comfortable silence. The city was still alive since it wasn’t that late and you watched strangers laugh on the street, drink in some of the booths standing around town. A part of you wished to be as carefree as them, but you figured that this would take a while for you to gain back. Not caring and going out, making friends without thinking about how you could possibly get them into your bed. It was crazy, really, how much this challenge had affected your life, how now, three months after the idea had left Jiwoo’s lips, she wasn’t even your friend anymore. 

“Can I ask you something?” Vernon spoke into the silence and you turned to look at him, nodding.

“Sure.”

“Okay so, I know that Mr. Choi kind of told me to, uh, sleep with you and… I also know that you are now aware of me… never having been with someone like that,” he began and you frowned slightly, unsure what he was going to say next, “if I am honest with you, Y/N, ever since that time in Mr. Choi’s office, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not… not in a romantic sense, more like, as in-,” he scratched his head, trying hard to find the right words for what he wanted to say, “as in I think I actually need you to take my virginity, or else I’ll probably never be able to get this out of my head.”

Oh. You raised your eyebrows, blinking at Vernon a few times, the words still registering in your brain. Then, when it finally clicked, you broke out into an honest laugh, catching Vernon off guard.

“I’m- I’m serious!” He whined and you nodded, waving with your hand as if to signal you weren’t really laughing at him.

“No- No, I know. And I am flattered, but-,” you let yourself look at him again and when you spotted the earnest look on his face, your laugh faltered, making space for a smile that somehow even spread to your heart.

“I know it’s a weird request. But I’m just a guy Y/N. And you, quite literally, have been taking over my mind. I just- I would be incredibly happy if you would… do that. And of course I understand if you’re not into it, but I thought I could at least ask and-,”

“Okay,” you interrupted him, Vernon now being the one to blink at you a few times when he stopped at a red light.

“Okay?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it. We, you and I, can do it. Not tonight though, I’ve had, uh, quite the evening and would just like to fall into bed. By myself.”

Vernon felt like he had just seen the gates of heaven and he wasn’t even naked in bed with you yet. Quickly, he nodded, continuing the drive when the light turned green, a wide smile on his lips as he realized you had really just said yes to his insane request.

“Sure! I get that, I, uh, we can definitely do it another day, I’m fine with that. You can call me, I- you have my number, right?”

-

Soonyoung ended up bringing your phone over the next day, not even staying for a chat and not even able to look you in the eyes. Your jaw hurt from how hard you were biting down, knowing exactly why he was behaving this way. Thanking him and slapping the door closed, you sighed and fell back onto your couch, plugging your phone into the charger and waiting for it to turn on. 

Going through your messages was a true pain. Mingyu wondering where you were (before the party, obviously), asking if he had done something wrong, telling you he was gonna come over. You closed your eyes, holding back the stupid tears that wanted to slip out again. You should really get a fucking grip. Mingyu had been part of the challenge, nothing more! He should have never become more than that, should have never become someone you actually cared about as much as you did now. 

You deleted his chat, not even opening the messages. Then, you moved on to Seungcheol. Your next big problem. While he did text you several times, he did seem to understand you needed your time and space and he was willing to give it to you. 

But I just need you to understand that I am serious about this, about you. I want to be with you.

Seungcheol’s words suddenly barged into your mind, reminding you of the fact that he did in fact care about you, that he wanted you, that he didn’t care about anything else. Sighing, you closed the messenger app and instead opened your contacts, choosing his and pressing the call button. 

He picked up after the second ring.

“Y/N,” the way he said your name soothed you right then and there. 

“Cheol…,” you breathed out, feeling another set of tears wanting to break through.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you could hear him moving, making you wonder about whether he was at home or in the office on this Sunday morning. 

“Not really, if I’m gonna be honest,” you replied, turning over so you laid on your back now, “but I will get there. Eventually.”

You could imagine him nodding, could imagine the worried frown on his face.

“I am so sorry about my sister,” he then said and you shrugged, smiling sadly to yourself.

“It’s not your fault. She had every right to be mad at me.”

“No, she didn’t. And I told her that. I talked to her, tried to make her see that she is completely overreacting. Yes, I am her brother and, yes, we should have just told her, but she is making this a bigger deal than it ever had to be.”

“Maybe. But as you said, we should have told her. I should have told her. Instead I told her a lie about a businessman I met at the hotel, instead I kept on lying to her for weeks, I avoided her, scared to accidentally let it slip. Yeah, what she said to me was… harsh and it did hurt me. But I deserved it, Cheol.”

You heard him sigh on the other line.

“Baby, you didn’t deserve it. We all make mistakes, we are humans. She acted like you killed someone.”

The usage of the pet-name made your stomach flutter. Chuckling lightly, sadness still audible, you let your hand rest on your forehead.

“I can’t really change the situation now. She didn’t contact me at all while I had my phone off. We had fights before, but never like this.”

“Just give her time. She’ll come around.”

Around to what? You didn’t dare ask the question. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you just said and swallowed hard, licking over your lips after.

“If you need anything, call me, okay? I’m here for you,” he paused, “and Jeonghan is back. So, if you want to finish what you started - you can.”

Finish what you started. At this point you weren’t even sure you wanted that. 

“I’ll call you. Bye, Cheol.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

-

Vernon picked you up in the car he drove for Cheol a day later. 

You kept telling yourself this wasn’t for your challenge, but for Vernon. He had asked this of you. He wanted you to do this for him. It didn’t matter that you could beat the challenge because the sole reason for it wasn’t your friend anymore. Still, even with all of this in the back of your mind, your pride remained right there, wanting you to do this for yourself, prove to yourself that you could finish this even when wounded and on the floor with nothing left. 

So, when Vernon parked the car on a high spot with a beautiful view of the city and the two of you were making out on the spacious backseat - you allowed yourself to count this towards the challenge you so desperately wanted to leave behind you.

Vernon’s hands were careful, shy even, placed on your hips as his mouth discovered yours, his tongue slowly moving against your own. You wanted to let him find his pace but when he didn’t try to make a move fifteen minutes in, you decided to take the lead. Quickly, you moved onto his lap, straddling him like back at the party, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him deeper this time, tongue licking sensually against his and he whimpered underneath you - absolute music to your ears. 

“Touch me, I know you want to,” you whispered into his ear then and he swallowed hard before letting his hands slip to your back and down, fingers almost clawing into your ass, your hips beginning to grind against him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his cock already rock hard in his pants. You chuckled, kissing his neck and letting your finger glide under his shirt, pulling it over his head skilfully, his hands landing right back on your ass once he was shirtless in front of you. You licked over your lips and moved to kiss down his neck, tongue flicking against his skin and finally his nipple, the moan coming out of Vernon’s mouth deliciously ringing in your ears. He dared to move your shirt up as well, helping you get rid of it and he immediately groped your breasts, his eyes glued to them still covered by pretty dark red lace. You smiled smugly, fingers caressing his abs and chest, thumb and index softly pinching his nipple and making him throw his head back.

“Feels good,” he mumbled and you giggled, doing it again. The way he pushed his hips up, searching for friction had your pussy dripping into your panties. You happily continued, lips back to kissing his neck and chin, moving up to his mouth where he gladly welcomed you with his tongue searching for yours. God, he was eager and you loved it. 

“Keep telling me what feels good, Nonie, wanna make you feel so so good.” Your voice was dripping in honey and Vernon nodded rapidly, reaching for your face to kiss you again and you let your hands wander down to open his jeans, hoping the incident at the party wouldn’t repeat itself. Vernon was concentrating on your lips on his, on the way your skin was warm under his fingertips, on how good it felt to kiss you and to have you on top of him. When you touched him over his boxer-briefs, he did moan into the kiss, but he didn’t fear coming undone like last time - he had jerked off twice this morning to prevent that from happening. 

“So hard for me already, bet you have such a pretty dick, baby.”

He twitched under your hand now, his long eyelashes fluttering as he watched you - how you sat up, biting down on your red bottom lip, your fingers pushing down his pants and underwear so his cock could spring free. 

“I knew it, so pretty, Nonie.”

Your hand around his cock did not make him cum, but it did make a good load of pre-cum leak out of him, his face red as he watched your thumb carefully collecting all of it, smearing it over his shaft and using it as lube for your hand that now grabbed around him. Vernon couldn’t help the pathetic little cries when you began jerking him off.

“Y-yeah, j-just like that.” His eyes rolled back and you watched him in awe, taking in every single one of his pretty sounds and the way his hips bucked up into your fist.

“Be a good boy and stay still for me, yeah, baby?” You grinned to yourself, seeing how he struggled while nodding, his teeth sinking into his lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He was incredibly pretty at that moment. 

Your hand moved quicker, getting him as hard as you could without making him cum. 

“F-feels really good,” Vernon sighed, his hands grabbing onto the seat underneath him, nails dragging into the leather. You watched him carefully and finally dropped his cock from your hand to rid yourself of pants and underwear. Vernon’s eyes flew open and he held his breath watching as you shifted, pants and panties slipping down your legs. 

“I would love to suck you off, baby, but I fear you’ll come right away and I really, really want your cum in my pussy.”

The whimper leaving Vernon now made you grab his cock and lead it to your dripping pussy. 

“F-fuck, I- I- oh my god,” Vernon’s hands found place on your back, eyes wide as he stared down at your pussy sinking down on his length, his whole brain working on not cumming the second his tip breached you. His head was spinning, his breath hitched once he allowed himself to breathe again and when you were fully sunken down, he felt his dick twitch wildly inside of you.

“Holy fucking shit.” His nails dug into your skin and you let your pussy get used to his size, arms wrapping around his neck, lips back to kissing him softly.

“Feel good?” You asked and he nodded, not able to speak, too busy concentrating on not shooting his load right then and there. 

What he did not expect was the feeling of you moving. How your walls felt around his virgin cock that was only used to his own hand. How tight you were, how warm, how perfect. There was no stopping the moans, the cries, the whimpers as you began riding his cock, your lips traveling from his neck to his lips, from his lips to his ears, sucking on his earlobe and making him push you harder against his chest.

“M-Mommy, f-feel so good.” The word slipped out and it rang in your ears, your pussy clenching around him, a smirk on your lips inevitable when you parted from him only to take a look at his face. 

He was lost in pleasure, but the fact he had said that was somehow displayed on his face as well. Your hands moved to your own back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall off your frame. Vernon twitched inside you once more.

“Such a good boy for Mommy, aren’t you, baby?” You brought his hands from your back to your front, placing them right there on your tits.

“I know you want Mommy’s tits in your hands and in your mouth, isn’t that right?” Vernon saw stars when your hips moved again and your tits almost slipped through his hands. Quickly, he nodded, beginning to grope at them harder, his mouth open as he watched how they looked in his hands, how soft they were, how good they felt. And when you pushed his head down, his face right there between your perfect tits, he almost couldn’t believe he hadn’t cum yet. 

With his tongue shooting out and lapping at you, you began riding his cock quicker, letting yourself lose, moans coming out of your throat that made the poor man feel like he was dying. He brought his lips to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he heard angel’s sing in his ears, tongue twirling around the hard bud. 

“Just like that, baby. Your cock feels so good in Mommy, gonna make me cum.” 

Vernon knew it wasn’t going to be long until he exploded, his spit running down your tits as he kissed and sucked on your skin, moving up to your neck and kissing your mouth again, hands still busy on your breasts. 

“Are you gonna cum for Mommy, Nonie? Are you gonna fill Mommy’s pussy with your cum?”

“Y-yes, gonna fill M-mommy up, pump her full, o-oh,” Vernon had never ever expected to last as long as he did. 

“That’s right, baby. Pump Mommy full, come on. Know you want to.”

The second the words had left your mouth, Vernon couldn’t help it anymore. He cried out, calling for you over and over as his cock twitched and twitched, hot cum filling your pussy, his hips fucking into you with absolute no control. You felt your own climax hit you just then with the way he kept on thrusting upwards, hitting you right there where you needed him. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, pussy tightening around his cock and he whimpered, overstimulation hitting him as you kept fucking yourself on his cock, the sound of your cum stuffed pussy riding his cock so lewd it literally caused his cock to grow in size again, all of the blood in Vernon’s body down there, all of his senses heightened but his brain completely shut off.

“Sh-shit, n-ngh, Mommy, please!” His cry made you look at him, the fucked out face having you clench around him again. He wasn’t done with you yet. Instead of letting his cock die down, he kept on fucking into you, his head now thrown back as he cried with every thrust, his hips showing you no mercy as he chased his pleasure. There was nothing you could do but enjoy, your mouth hanging open as you let him have his way with you, your hands back on his shoulders.

“You fuck Mommy so good, baby, come on, I know you wanna give me more, want all of it, Nonie, all of your delicious cum in my pussy, gonna make me so fucking proud.” 

His overstimulated but incredibly hard cock obeyed immediately. A second orgasm made Vernon’s body shake, more cum filling you as he cried, head falling forward onto your shoulder as exhaustion hit him next. He was still twitching wildly and you allowed yourself to fuck down on him until you yourself reached a second high, his whimpers telling you to keep going.

“W-wanna make Mommy cum,” he cried and you grabbed his face, seeing actual tear stains on it, kissed him softly.

“Made Mommy cum two times, baby, I am so proud of you, did so well for Mommy.”

A smile spread on Vernon’s lips, before his head dropped again, his chest heaving with great effort. 

As a good virginity-taker should, you held Vernon against your chest for a while after he had slipped out of you, his cock extremely sensitive. You had cleaned him and yourself up and helped him back into his boxer-briefs, finally letting him rest against your frame, as he came down from his high. 

“I’m sorry if this was a bit much,” he mumbled after a while and you chuckled, fingers caressing through his hair.

“It was all fine, don’t even worry about it, alright?” You kissed the top of his head and Vernon thanked you, squeezing your hand before lifting his head. You allowed him to kiss you when he wanted to and you agreed to grabbing some McDonald’s before parting ways. 

-

Having made the decision to end this challenge once and for all, you had called Seungcheol the day after your “date” with Vernon to tell him you were willing to meet that business partner of his. Setting a time and place (two days from then at Seungcheol’s company), you were content with finally finishing what you had started. Sure, a part of you felt devastated about the fact Jiwoo wouldn’t be there to share this with you. Maybe even a really big part. You decided to forget about this for the time being - after all there was still a chance Seungcheol was right and she would forgive you. 

When you arrived at the company that day, you mentally prepared yourself to, one, see Seungcheol and, two, see this stranger you’re supposed to let into your bed. You didn’t even know why you hadn’t asked Seungcheol for a picture or even any more information about Jeonghan, but then again you had been worried about a lot of other things. One that apparently had not been on your mind, was Seokmin. 

Seokmin who was talking to one of the women at the front desk and who, once he spotted you, seemed to stop mid sentence. You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart beating faster, remembering the last time you had seen him. Seungcheol had gotten you out of that situation rather quickly and a part of you had been worried that Seokmin would have to deal with repercussions - but since he was still here, you figured there hadn’t been any. 

“You’re here.” He said when you reached him, a small smile playing on his lips. You nodded and he excused himself to the woman, leading you through the gates with his ID card and to the familiar elevators.

“Meeting Mr. Yoon today, I heard.”

Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan? You frowned. What a strange coincidence. 

“Yes. What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s… something, for sure. Good looking, intelligent. Very well traveled, too.” 

The elevator pinged and the two of you walked inside, your hands tightly clasped around your purse.

“Right. And… is he nice?”

You looked over at Seokmin, who seemed like he really had to think about that question. 

“Uhm, well, I guess, “nice” wouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Mr. Yoon, but he is… he can be nice. If it benefits him.” Seokmin slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“And I would assume in this situation, it would definitely benefit him.”

Smooth. Another heatwave met your cheeks and you averted your gaze, clearing your throat just in time for the elevator to come to a stop and open its doors. 

Seokmin let you out first, a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips as you stepped out, your head turning to face the way you knew Seungcheol’s office was - only to be met by something, or more someone you most certainly had not expected to see.

Jiwoo was standing there, right by the entrance to Seungcheol’s office space, talking to a man who’s face you couldn’t see.

“Ah, Mr. Yoon is already here.” Seokmin’s voice said next to you and you blinked, looking from him to Jiwoo and finally to who you presumed was Mr. Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan.

You stopped in your step, feet suddenly glued to the floor. Yoon Jeonghan had moved his head. His face was right there in your field of view. And Jiwoo’s hand was on his arm as she laughed about something he said. 

“Y/N?” Seokmin was visibly confused, but you couldn’t even hear him. There was only the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, only the faint memory of a voice that belonged to the man standing right there.

I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Aren’t best friends supposed to share things?

You were taken back to the time Jiwoo and you had your first real big fight, to the way neither of you understood that it wasn’t any of you who was the problem but him. Him, who had lied to both of you, who had known you were best friends, who had taken advantage of both of your naivety. 

And now he stood here? In this very office building, being Jiwoo’s brother’s business partner? Your world was spinning and you only found your senses again when Seokmin’s hand landed on your shoulder and his worry was even more visible on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked and you looked at him, really looked at him, shaking your head as an answer. You didn’t say anything, instead you continued walking, your steps echoing against the walls of the space and finally Jiwoo and Jeonghan noticed you. 

While Jiwoo’s eyes widened in shock, Jeonghan remained oddly calm. Instead of surprise that it was you, there is a smug smile displayed on his lips as his eyes lingered on your body.

“As it turns out,” he began, “we do get a chance for that night we never had after all, Y/N.”

Your hands turned into fists - fists you were ready to throw at him. But before you could do that, you were interrupted by Jiwoo.

“Are you joking?” She gasped, looking between Jeonghan and you, “Is it not enough for you to drag my brother into this, now you’re going after my ex as well?!”

If the world wasn’t spinning anyways, you would have been sure it had started doing so right then. There it was again - the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Your ex?” You croaked out, shaking your head in absolute confusion.

“First of all, I didn’t know he was the Jeonghan Cheol was talking about. And second of all, as far as i am concerned he is not your actual ex, you fucked like what, once? And then you broke it off right?”

You knew the answer even before asking the question. The Jiwoo standing in front of you, with her face pale and her jaw tightened - she was someone different from the Jiwoo you knew, but perhaps the realest version of her you had ever gotten.

“Well- well, yes! But-,”

“You’re lying,” you now interrupted her.

“I am not!”

“Yes, she is,” Jeonghan now chimed in, a smile on his lips you could only describe as mischievous. As if he knew he was stirring the pot.

“Oppa!” Jiwoo hissed and you felt your stomach drop right down to your feet.

“She wanted to break it off, she really did. But I guess she just couldn’t resist me. You will find out soon enough what that means, sweetheart.” His phone started ringing just then, a wink in your direction serving as his goodbye right before he began walking towards the other side of the floor to his own office space. 

You were shaking. Your whole body was in something like a trance. Jiwoo could only stare at the spot Jeonghan had just stood, blood rushing back into her face.

“You’re telling me that, even after you found out he had lied to both of us, you went and slept with him again? You even went as far as to date him behind my back?”

“So what! You fucked my brother behind my back that is far worse than this!” She screamed back at you, her eyes wild and her face flushed. You couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you are horrible, you are fucking horrible, Choi Jiwoo.”

And even with her screaming behind you, you didn’t look back when you stepped into the elevator with its open doors seeming to welcome you like a warm hug from a friend you so desperately needed. 

header by @wongyuseokie

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you. 

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough. 

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse. 

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that. 

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you. 

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him. 

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet. 

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now. 

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now. 

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in. 

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place. 

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous. 

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast. 

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing. 

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen. 

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues. 

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her. 

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps. 

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around. 

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal. 

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now. 

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye. 

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook. 

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing. 

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy. 

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does. 

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule. 

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it. 

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning. 

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond. 

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that. 

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from. 

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time. 

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person. 

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you. 

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance. 

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says. 

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic. 

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues. 

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him. 

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started. 

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now. 

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know. 

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster. 

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed. 

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable. 

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down. 

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar. 

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it. 

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this. 

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little. 

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern -  should not happen again. 

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed. 

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you. 

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you. 

“You may leave,” he instructs. 

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask. 

You’d never cared before, why the change now? 

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you. 

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this. 

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps. 

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask. 

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems. 

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. 

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now. 

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything. 

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is. 

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual. 

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in. 

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents. 

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement. 

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do. 

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in. 

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while. 

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated. 

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous. 

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little. 

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling. 

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place. 

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too. 

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug. 

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that. 

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be. 

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again. 

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece. 

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are. 

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him. 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak. 

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time. 

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips. 

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too. 

“Uh, yes,” you say. 

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down. 

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam. 

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture. 

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle. 

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself. 

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it. 

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off. 

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for. 

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung. 

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says. 

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again. 

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear. 

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke. 

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks. 

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around. 

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days. 

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs. 

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done. 

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly. 

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do. 

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself. 

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day. 

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out. 

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night. 

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them. 

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked. 

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can. 

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you. 

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist. 

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.  

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle. 

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says. 

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter. 

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good. 

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him. 

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes. 

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he. 

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit. 

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time. 

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…” 

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about. 

“Like them.” 

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair. 

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients. 

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side. 

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now. 

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table. 

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why. 

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. 

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time. 

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there. 

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal. 

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at. 

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace. 

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after. 

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though. 

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk. 

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way. 

“Your girl?” He scoffs. 

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you. 

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you. 

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts. 

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top. 

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead. 

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing. 

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes. 

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably. 

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…” 

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins. 

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–” 

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body. 

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs. 

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom. 

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting. 

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be. 

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot. 

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds. 

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters. 

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave. 

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.  

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you. 

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you. 

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter. 

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away. 

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him. 

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri. 

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously. 

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience. 

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily. 

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do. 

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you. 

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car. 

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything. 

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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