#no. being pretty it's not an excuse i want those to do a job. i will think of something A WAIT ok got it i have an idea that's silly

[jeankluv]

The tale of the fox and the knight - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 03

summary: You have been living all your life in almost isolation due to your true nature, one your parents want to hide and protect you from anyone finding it. But when the spring of your 20 year your parents grant you the wish of being able to walk around the city, you meet him. Your doom. Satoru Gojo, a white haired knight whose intentions in your eyes are unkown. And whose presence in your life will change everything, from how you see the world to your way of being.

words: 3,9k

tags: enemies to lovers, blood, eventual smut, Gojo is pretty rude at the beginning, Gojo ooc, betrayal, fantasy, magical creatures, angst, injuries, heavy/strong language, no use of y/n or minimal use of y/n, female protagonist

notes: I could make an excuse and say I was busy, but I wasn’t I just didn’t write anything 😭 ohmygod I’m so sorry I will try to finish the chapters sooner.

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

If stares could kill, Satoru would have been underground a long time ago. While the two of you waited for the food your eyes were like daggers waiting to be stuck on Satoru’s most vital parts. But the white haired man didn’t care, not a bit. He had a clear mind, and it was completing his mission.

Satoru didn’t know why the king needed you alive, maybe it was because he intended to marry you or maybe to win territories on your land, but that was something that didn't concern him. He knew why he was chosen to do that job and it was not only skilled but because was resentful of the kingdom of Zerua and especially the royal family.

He was not older than 6 years when his whole family was massacred, he couldn’t recall the events of that night but he remembers the shield that the soldiers had, the same one that your family so proudly displayed.

Maybe it was how they raised him or those faded memories he had, but his hatred was there and he doubt anything could change that.

He hated the kingdom of Zerua and he hated you and your family. That couldn’t change and he wouldn’t let it be changed, he was revenge thirsty.

Your eyes never left the window that was on the side, the outside world was completely dark and only the slight light of the moon was visible. You swallowed hardly as you remember what would happen in a couple of weeks from then. You needed to escape and return to the castle before that date.

Mother always told you to be careful, but you always longed for the outside world, so that’s why they searched for a knight for you, funny how that person who was supposed to protect you was the one putting your world outside down and not in the positive way.

Looking back at the moon you calculated the days you had. 17 days. 17 days before your best kept secret was revealed to the man that you despise the most at that moment.

You needed to do something.

“Here is the chicken.” A female voice spoke as two plates were left in front of the two of you.

She was a young female, probably in her 20s, she had a short brown hair, no longer than her chin and under her left eye there was a mole. She was wearing a green skirt that reached her ankles, on top she was wearing a corset that matched the skirt and underneath a white shirt that you could tell had been wearing for a long time.

“Thank you.” You spoke as your eyes went from her to the plate.

Silence fell between the three of you. Satoru was on alert as he looked at the young woman, and you shifted gently in your seat as his hazel eyes pierced you.

Her hand, cold as snow, rested on your neck, causing you to jump in the chair and quickly cover the area she touched with your own. Satoru stood up, his hand on the handle. He didn't know what the girl was up to, but he needed to be on guard.

“Relax.” The young woman spoke. “You have a wound on your neck; you should treat it.” Your fingers gently brushed your neck until the burning sensation made you pull away. “It could get infected. Once you're done with dinner, stop by the cabin behind the restaurant, and I'll treat you.”

“Thank you…” You gave her a smile, but that smile disappeared when Satoru spoke.

“No need, I'll treat it.” He said firmly.

“Are you a healer?" The girl questioned, but Satoru didn't respond. “I thought so.” Her gaze fell back on you. “I'll be waiting for you. My name is Shoko.”

Just as she arrived, she disappeared from your sight. Your table fell silent again. You could see that Satoru was irritated. He probably didn't like the idea of ​​someone else treating you, since it might mean you might try something to escape.

And he was right. You would try. Every place you stopped, every bar, inn, town, you would try. Even though your hands trembled at the thought of what he might do, you wouldn't stop.

Satoru grabbed a piece of chicken and bit into it. He was annoyed, angry, and restless. The girl, Shoko, seemed to be smarter than most of the villagers. At least she had some medical knowledge, or at least that's what she had implied.

A sigh escaped his lips. They were five days away on horseback from the Blue Forest. If they got there in that time, there was no way anyone would find them. But getting to Lur would still take time, so the first step was to reach the Blue Forest and lose themselves in the thick fog that formed there.

But now he had to focus on controlling you and ensuring you didn't do anything he didn't want. He watched you eat, so different from back in the castle, he could almost swear you could blend in with everyone there. The bites you took were large, nothing a high-society lady would do, but there you were.

The smile that had been forming on Satoru's lips quickly fell when your eyes met and he remembered where you were.

He took his hand away from his chin and grabbed the mug of beer to take a deep sip, closing his eyes tightly as he got used to the taste; the beer was stronger than Lur's. He set the mug aside and wiped his mouth, directing his blue eyes back to your figure.

“Finish the chicken already.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, this is the first time I've eaten it like this.” You said as you set the bones aside. “It's fun.” You smiled unconsciously.

Satoru said nothing and simply turned around, leaning his back against the stone wall and looking around. You, for your part, continued eating, while observing his profile: straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and mile-long eyelashes. No one could deny that he was beautiful, and whoever did was probably completely blind.

You still remember how your maids started talking about him as soon as he started working for you; his smile made them all blush, and of course you fell for it too. His sweet tone of voice, his delicate movements, all of it had everyone in the castle entranced by him, but who could have imagined that it was just a facade, one that was too well constructed?

You swallowed the meat and your eyes observed your reflection in the window. Your hair escaped from your hood, revealing the reddish color, which stood out even more under the candlelight. The memory of what had happened that day shook you. You'd never heard of mountain bandits before. You knew that if Satoru hadn't intervened, now... You shook your head. You were there, in that village, eating chicken. All things considered, you were fine. You were going to be fine.

Both plates remained empty, and you hesitated to speak. That girl, Shoko, had told you to go there to treat your wound, and this could be a good opportunity to leave a message in case the royal guard following you passed by, or even for her to do so.

You raised your gaze and found Satoru still staring into the distance. You cleared your throat. “Let's go.”

“Are you going to that girl?” He asked without looking at you.

You straightened your clothes and nodded. “Yes, I don’t want it to get infected.” You said firmly. “It could get infected, and I could die.”

Satoru laughed at your answer. “Bunny, I highly doubt that cut will cause your death.”

“Whatever.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Let’s go.”

Satoru said nothing and walked behind you. It was strange, wasn’t he going to threaten you into not saying anything? You said goodbye to the couple and walked out the door. The night chill chilled your cheeks; you were further north, and the temperature was getting lower. If you continued north, the days would start to get shorter and the nights would become much colder and harsher.

You had heard about northern winters, but you didn’t know how much of it was real. The capital was further south, where winters occasionally saw snow, but rainy days were abundant. But the north could endure days of snow, and you'd even heard that there were parts where the sun didn't rise for months. Their days were illuminated only by the bright moonlight that graced those endless nights.

You hugged yourself tightly and looked back. Satoru continued walking, saying nothing.

“Aren't you going to say anything?” You asked him.

Satoru looked at you and sighed. “Don't do anything…” Your lips parted to speak, but Satoru's words arrived first. “Or I'll reduce this town to rubble. Do you understand?” He said, his tone cold, as cold as the air that blew that night.

He stood beside you and his eyes fixed on you, waiting for an answer. “I understand…” You said, trying not to stutter.

Satoru walked ahead of you, his back straight and confident. Oh, how much you wanted to knock him down and make him pay. You clenched and unclenched your fists; it would all come, it would happen eventually.

Soon you were standing in front of Shoko's door. Satoru knocked twice before it opened, revealing Shoko's silhouette behind it.

“Come in.” She stepped aside, letting you enter the warmth of her small home.

Your eyes scanned the room, lit by small candlesticks and the light from the fireplace. The place was small and cozy.

“You can leave your cloak there.” She pointed to a wooden chair.

You heard Satoru snort but remain silent. “Good…” You whispered, setting the cloak aside.

Short, patchy hair showed, and you quickly felt the need to hide under the dark cloak.

“Good, sit down so I can treat your wound.” She pointed to the chair across from her. You did so and looked at her. “It's not very deep, but it's still best to treat it…” She gently grabbed your face and turned it to the side.

Satoru stood there, arms crossed, watching you with his blue eyes that shone in the fireplace.

“This might hurt.” Shoko whispered before you felt a burning sensation on your neck. You closed your eyes tightly, tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as you inhaled deeply to keep them from falling silent. Soon, you felt a cloth being placed over the wound and Shoko moving away from you.

“That's it.” She said, setting the curling iron aside. “I don't think it'll leave a scar…”

“Thanks, Shoko.” You said, touching your neck.

“Okay, now we should…” Satoru started to speak, but Shoko cut him off.

“How about I fix your hair?” She said, touching one of your frayed ends. “I don't think you want to go with that cut, do you?”

You looked at her and then at the ends of your hair. “That would be nice…”

“Good.” She said, smiling. “How about you wait outside?” She looked at Satoru.

“No, I'm fine here.” Satoru leaned against the wall, his eyebrows narrowed.

Shoko said nothing and simply worked on your hair. You heard the scissors cutting, and small strands fell onto your thighs. Your reddish hair, which had once been the most precious thing to you...

Your mother used to dye it every night, while telling you stories about princesses and princes, about true love. Now you realized that it had all been just fairy tales, a fantasy.

“Good…” Shoko spoke, and you could hear a smile in her tone. “You look beautiful.”

You raised your hands to your hair and touched it; it was really short.

“What do you think?” Your gaze lifted and you looked at Satoru, who seemed impassive.

"It’s okay..." He was really cruel.

“It's late now, the inn that welcomes travelers will probably be closed, so stay here.”

”It won't be too much trouble?” You asked.

“Not at all, we have a free room, you can stay there.” She smiled, and you smiled back. “Where are you headed, anyway?”

“South.” Satoru lied. You were coming from the south and heading northeast. “The weather is better there, and my wife and I are looking to start there together.” The biggest fake smile spread across Satoru’s face.

“The south… sounds interesting. The weather will be better than here, that’s for sure.” Shoko commented.

The conversation didn’t last much longer, and soon you found yourself in the room with Satoru, just the two of you. You look around, the room only had a bed, which you knew what it meant and you didn’t like it.

“You sleep on the floor.” You said before Satoru could say anything.

Without waiting for a response, you sat on the bed and move yourself to be in the middle of it, trying to make a statement.

Satoru smirked as he watched you, did you really thought that with just putting yourself in the middle he was not going to be able to move you? Satoru without hesitation walked to the bed and with just one arm he pulled you to the side.

“Bunny, you thought you were making something there?” He chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You broke free from his grasp and faced him. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed.”

“For my own good.” He picked up one of the pillows and threw it at you. “I’m sure the floor is comfortable.” He smiled cynically.

You gripped the pillow tightly. “Are you really going to make me sleep on the floor?”

Satoru thought for a moment. “Yes?”

“I thought you were a gentleman.” You said, grabbing the pillow and some blankets from the bed.

“Well, stop believing that, because I’m not.” He replied simply.

The floor was hard and cold. Just a few days ago, you had been in the castle, preparing for the ball with Utahime, taking walks in the garden, or going into town, and now… now you were on the cold floor of a humble abode, kidnapped by someone you thought you trusted.

You rolled onto your side and buried your face in the pillow, stifling the sobs building in your throat. Swallowing, you wiped your tears away. You had to stay awake until Satoru fell asleep so you could go out and ask Shoko for help.

But your eyes were too heavy; you felt your body slump, falling into a sleep you didn't want.

Fuck...

Satoru, for his part, had his arm under his head as he stared up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. The room was barely lit by the fading light in the sky, and outside, you couldn't hear a thing.

As the minutes passed, your breathing steadied, though a little uneven due to your blocked nose. Satoru knew you'd cried there on the floor, and although his chest had tightened, he'd quickly pushed them away. He didn't care about your tears; Satoru only cared about returning to Lur and completing his mission, and perhaps celebrating his success with Sukuna.

He tossed and turned in bed and saw your silhouette on the floor, curled up in a ball, trying to conserve your body heat. Satoru sat up in bed and took a closer look, then turned his gaze outside again. It was probably after midnight, maybe around one or two in the morning.

With a grunt, he got out of bed and approached you. Something inside him told him to put you to bed, but Satoru ignored it and simply pulled all the sheets over the bed. Maybe that would stop you from looking like an armadillo. Giving you one last look, he left the room.

He stood in the hallway and gripped his sword tightly. “You're not just travelers, are you?” Shoko's voice broke the silence of the night.

“That's all that matters to you?” He glanced at Shoko.

“Not much, really.” She smirked. “But you know..” Shoko walked past him. “Have you ever heard the rumor about the princess of Zerua?”

“The rumor?” Satoru followed her with his eyes.

“Yes, the rumor that says the kings had another daughter, one with fiery hair.” Satoru could see Shoko’s smile despite the dim nightlight. “Your wife has hair as red as fire, it’s curious.”

Satoru smirked. “Yeah… curious, but we are just travelers you know. We are searching for a better life.” Satoru tried to softly smile.

“I haven’t asked you your names.” Shoko then changed the subject. “How rude…”

“Skye..” Satoru responded without hesitation.

“And your wife?” Shoko tilted her head as she waited for a response.

Satoru narrowed his eyes as he tried to examine her face but it was too dark. “Selene…”

“Selene… like the moon goodness?”

“Yes… like her.” Satoru cleared his throw. “Isn't it too late to be up?”

“I could ask you the same.” Satoru felt irritated, he wanted to leave that town as soon as possible.

“I heard some noises… but it was probably an animal.” He gripped his hand around his sword. “I will go back to sleep. Good night.”

Satoru closed the door of the room not waiting for a response and he threw himself to the bed, he looked at you still resting on the floor.

"Ugh, damn it." He scratched his head, ruffling his white hair.

Setting his sword aside, he approached you and bent down, carefully running his hands under your body. Satoru knew you usually slept soundly, so you wouldn't wake up. In fact, lightning could strike the roof and you'd still be asleep.

He placed you on the bed and covered you with the sheets he'd previously thrown over you. He sat on the other side of the bed and looked at you, a long sigh escaping his lips. He needed this mission to be over and done with so he could go home. Satoru's eyes soon closed, exhaustion taking its toll on his body.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Your back didn't hurt, at least not like you thought it would after sleeping on the floor. You stirred, and that's when you realized it: you weren't on the floor. Your eyes opened, and you were surprised to find yourself in bed.

Perhaps you had gotten up and laid down on it, or... You shook your head at those thoughts.

You walked over to the window and noticed the light mist outside. You looked around the room carefully; you were alone, and there was no sign of Satoru.

“Good…” This could be your chance.

With long strides, you left the room and looked for Shoko. The house wasn't very big, so it wouldn't be difficult to find her.

“Did you wake up?” A shiver ran through you. Turning on your heels, you found Satoru staring at you from the front door.

“Yes…” You said, licking your lips. “Where’s Shoko?”

“She went to get breakfast.” He said, passing by you. “We’ll have breakfast and then go.” You rolled your eyes and sat down across from him without saying anything. “Your name is Selene.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name is Selene now, and mine is Skye, so just follow along when Shoko gets back.” Satoru frowned as he explained everything.

Selene? Skye?

“Good morning.” Shoko walked through the door with a smile. “I see you’re up. How was your night?”

“Good.” You glanced briefly at Satoru. “I slept well, thanks, Shoko.”

“It’s nothing. Here’s some milk. Skye told me you’d be leaving soon, but I couldn’t leave you without food.”

“Uh… Yes, yes.” He really had made up those names.

You took the milk Shoko had brought you and took a sip. Satoru's eyes pierced you intensely, almost asking you to drink that bowl as soon as possible and that as soon as you put it down on the table, he'd get you out of there.

“Selene, so are you excited?” Shoko spoke, and at first you didn't realize it, not until Satoru smacked you under the table.

“Oh! Yes, yes... very much so. I can't wait to go south. Maybe we'll stop by the capital, right, Skye?” You looked at him with a smile.

“Maybe.”

"Sometimes you two give the impression that you hate each other." Shoko laughed.

“Yeah that’s because…”

“Things have been complicated.” Satoru spoke over you. “After the bandit attack, Selene hasn't been feeling well, and that might be why she's feeling that way.” Satoru stood up from his chair and took your hand as he knelt beside you. “But everything will be okay, my dear. We'll soon be arriving at our new home.” He smiled at you and then planted a kiss on your hand.

You gulped as you looked at him, wanting to scream and call him names. But if you did, Satoru probably wouldn't hesitate to kill Shoko right there and disappear with you from that village in the middle of the mountains.

“Thanks, darling.” You faked a smile.

Still holding your hand, Satoru stood up and walked over to Shoko. “I think it's time to go. If we want to reach our next destination before nightfall, we'd better get going now.”

“I can give you supplies if you want.” Shoko pointed out.

“We're fine, thank you.”

Satoru tugged on your hand, leading you to the exit. You had to do it now.

”Shoko.” You broke free from his grasp and walked over to Shoko. “Thanks for everything.” You took her hands, leaving the small piece of paper in her hand. “See you.”

You released your grip and walked back to Satoru. He looked at you for a few moments, then back at Shoko.

“Come on, Skye…” You pulled him along. “Leaving now will get us to our next destination faster.”

Satoru followed you, but you could feel him staring at you. You hoped Shoko would read and understand it, and if there was a chance, she would pass the message on to the royal guard.

You reached Satoru’s horse, and you quickly approached him to hug him.

“Hey, Nut!” You said, stroking him gently.

“Nut?” Satoru said, puzzled.

“Yes, Nut, his name is Nut.” Your gaze returned to Nut and you smiled. “Since your stupid owner doesn’t name you, I will.”

Satoru rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whatever…” His hands placed on your hips, pulling you away from Nut. “We’re leaving.”

“Wait, what?!” You said as Satoru lifted you up.

Satoru effortlessly sat you on the horse and, without saying anything, sat behind you. “We're leaving…” He whispered in your ear, causing your skin to prickle instantly.

Satoru grabbed Nut's reins and the horse began to walk. Snapping out of the momentary trance, you searched for Shoko, who was getting smaller and smaller as you left the small town behind. In your heart, all you could hope was that she'd read that note and find it in the right hands.

“Don't do that again.” You said after riding along the trails for a while.

“Do what?” Satoru asked.

“Catching me like that was… it was awkward.”

“Don't do what you did again.” Satoru said back.

Your face turned and you looked at him. You were close together, and that scared you because you saw it in his eyes. He knew, he'd noticed the note, he knew, he knew. “No…”

“No, what?” He smirked.

You shook your head. “Nothing will happen to Shoko, right?”

“Should something happen to her?” Satoru leaned closer to you. “Princess, I'll be nice this time, but not next time. Do you understand?”

“You're cruel.”

“The worst of all.” He muttered. “Now brace yourself, our plans have changed slightly.”

Little did you know that changed was going to make you go to your limit in your relationship with Satoru and make choices you didn’t think you would.

— if you wanna be tagged, comment

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[saythatuwill]

dating android!noah ♡ hcs/thoughts . . .

now playing : stereo hearts // gym class heroes tags: @fadingangelwisp

i know what you're thinking. his model is literally meant to be an "ideal romantic partner". technically he's just programmed to love you!

but things got more complicated when you put those music android parts in. not only did he develop his own little smartass attitude, he became quite a bit more vulnerable to sentience. and falling in love with you. hell, you're the reason he went sentient in general.

not following his programming is weird, he's not just following a program anymore, he's very... real. now he has to figure out how to express love in a way that's less artificial. how to express his adoration towards you.

it started before one of the shows in europe. that little android metal band really took off, you got to travel everywhere with your boys, and free time often allowed for everyone to get out and explore. it allowed for walks, just you and noah.

he noticed you looking at something in the window at a little shop in the city. he'd pretended to be indifferent of where they were, but he was already scanning the price of it, determined to prove his appreciation.

lord knows how he got the money for it (he likely accessed YOUR bank account), but after the show on the tour bus, he presented it to you. chest puffed out, but when you took it from him you could tell he was nervous by the way his body involuntarily twitched and glitched.

but then you smiled. you smiled. and noah's eyes lit up, in a way you'd never seen before. a far cry from his usual lightless, narrowed-eye gaze.

he wants to make you smile like that forever.

so he tries to do things for you all the time now. laundry? he'll do it for you! tired? he'll wash your hair! not in the mood to talk? no problem. he'll keep you company in comfortable silence. anything to make you smile. (and boy, does it work).

he's not the most physically affectionate (since... that was pretty much all he knew programming wise and he doesn't really fw that) but he does his best! he's working himself up to physical touch, and being patient with you on it too.

the first purely romantic gesture he worked himself up to was a forehead kiss. the first time he did it you were STUNNED. he goes out of his way to move your hair out of the way, gentle touch as if you're porcelain. the forehead kiss is never a quick thing, he leans in slow, lets his lips linger for a second.

noah does this all the time now. he's finding new ways to do it. he loves the way your skin feels against his lips, so he's finding any excuse he can to kiss your forehead.

he likes the way your skin feels against his, period. sure, his skin was designed to feel like human skin but is actually synthetic, but his entire body has touch sensors. thank god for that.

let him hold your hand! touch knees with you, rest your head on his chest while you sleep, hold him in your arms! PLEASE!!!

very protective over you, you're HIS person. and he will TELL PEOPLE. like this is deadass him.

hand on the small of your back when you're in public, using his height to his advantage to tower over anyone who fucks with you. scary dog privilege. scares anyone off that he doesn't get a good feeling from. (and he has SENSORS for that sort of thing).

good thing about being with a romantic partner model? body heating and cooling. when you're cold, he's like your personal space heater. hot in the summer? he's like the best ice cube on the planet.

anyone up for a boyfriend that looks and acts like a black cat most of the time, but it's a front for how much of a golden retriever he can be? that's him!

after a show one night, you told him he did a good job. if he'd had a tail, it would have been fucking wagging. it was like he hadn't done a show at all, fired up and full of energy, and of course you got a few kisses from it.

he likes to deny that he did that at all. but every time you compliment him or praise him, no matter how hard he tries to act like he doesn't care and get all huffy about it, he cannot hide that smile.

oh and dont forget how happy he is to show you off. as HIS. he will literally wear a matching outfit with you out in public if it means he can parade you around all proudly. very "look at my s/o. that's my s/o! you wish you could be them, but you can't."

he needs to learn about your interests. he has to. it starts with your favorite music, he wants to learn the songs so he can sing them to you.

at sundown one summer night, you leaned against noah as he played guitar, singing your favorite songs to you softly. it was in your backyard, golden rays on your skin, your boyfriend admiring the way the light catches on your hair. no emotion in his eyes but he may as well have been short-circuiting over how beautiful you are.

then it's hobbies. it doesn't matter WHAT it is. gardening? he'll learn to garden! cooking? consider it done, he's already pretty good at it because it was part of his programming. something art related? ... okay that might be a little difficult. he'll try it for you though.

he just wants to be able to get happy and excited about the things you enjoy with you.

noah doesn't know how to say it out loud, but he loves you. so much. he loves you with every fiber of his being. he just hopes it shows despite the snarky indifferent mask he puts on.

it does. ♡

[oneroomjestershow]

inspired by these memes about next year (im still on 2024 help) i want to show this AU i have been thinking since month ago in the sidelines

[oflgtfol]

attempting to make at least one bracelet for every coworker you’re somewhat close to is a bit of a pain when you work two jobs and each workplace has 20 something employees

[valentinedrifter]

Moments with Karina: The Park

male reader x Yu Jimin/Karina

~6.9k words

A/N: Noob writer making stories. Enjoy.

“So how does air taste like?”

“Funny, you should try it out for yourself.”

“You seemed like you were enjoying it.”

—

You weren’t exactly sure how it got to this point.

Meeting a K-pop idol wasn’t exactly on your bucket list, but here we are, with a K-pop idol, a pretty famous one at that, in the middle of the night, in an empty park, with her laughing and dragging you around like she wasn’t a famous K-pop idol.

It doesn’t help that she’s wearing a pretty explicit outfit. The top alone was driving you crazy. So much so that you just want to pin her down the nearest tree-wall-whatever and show her how much she’s affecting you by simply existing.

The dumbest thing? You didn’t even know she was a K-pop idol till she told you.

So how did you let it get to this point?

Well, it kinda started at a convenience store.

You got off work pretty late, your boss telling you to do a bit of overtime for a bridge call he wanted you to attend because someone decided to mess up a couple of accounts, on a Friday of all days. But you, not wanting to lose your work visa because you didn’t suck up to your boss and potentially lose your job, stayed.

I mean, you’ll still get paid regardless, but it sucks having to leave the office five hours later than you wanted to be.

So here you are, coming into the nearest convenience store to your apartment, still in your work clothes that you got from the discount stores you occasionally visit because if it fits and it looks good on you plus it’s cheap, then that’s good enough for you.

You round the corner to the food aisle to get whatever stops your stomach from being hangry with how you decided to work five more extra hours. But you remember that those five extra hours translates to more money so you think that your stomach will be fine, especially when you see a bento box that has tempura, some sushi, and a salad of some kind. Wasn’t your favorite meal but-

“Food’s still food.” You shrug, grab it, and head off to the drinks aisle for your favorite peach drink.

Then you see her.

At first glance she was pretty unassuming. With her back turned she looked like a regular old nobody like you that also wanted to buy a drink, so you thought that there’ll be no problem just going up next to her and opening up the beverage cooler to get your peach drink.

But she turns to face you when grab your drink, and by God was she beautiful. So much so that your brain short circuited and forgot that you were supposed to get your drink. And when she smiles, you’ve lagged out-

“You okay there?” She asks, and her voice sounds divine, unreal even. But she is, and she’s looking at you with a teasing glint in her eye and a slight smirk in her face as you come back to reality, shake your head a bit, and give a shaky laugh.

“Sorry, just a little tired from work.” You know it’s a very shitty excuse because you totally weren’t enchanted with her smile, but you did spend close to 15 hours in the office today. Although she doesn’t know that of course.

You quickly grab your drink and attempt to close the cooler, but she squeezes in between the door and your hand to grab the same drink you did, and straightens to give you another one of her smiles.

“Thanks for helping me choose my drink.” She says, like you two weren’t complete strangers and walks away to the counter, and you’re left shaking your head and trailing behind her after closing the cooler.

It takes you a teeny bit longer than her to pay but that also lets you subtly check her out and you swear she knows, because she saunters away with a little sway in her hips that just…fuck.

And when she sits down next to an empty table with a conveniently placed empty chair and looks at you, gives you a knowing smile, and pats the table while she goes about opening her drink, she definitely knows.

And so here you are, sitting across this beautiful stranger in the middle of the night while trying your best to focus at your bento box, which you begin munching down to avoid thinking about the fact that she wanted to sit next to a complete nobody who just so happens to be you while she takes a sip on her own drink, taking glances at you with a glint in her eye that makes you uneasy in a weirdly good way.

For the next few minutes, it was pretty silent between the both of you, you focused on your food and her scrolling on her phone, drink halfway empty. It wasn’t until you took a sip of your own drink that the silence gave way to conversation.

“You always ask strangers to sit next to you at convenience stores?” You begin, and she chuckles.

“You would be the first.” A sip of her drink.

“Then why ask me?” A stab of a fork hitting sushi.

“Because you looked like you needed company.” A ringtone plays out of her phone.

And that made you stop midway into having food into your mouth, placing down said food to give her a stare that screamed ‘doubt’.

“What, you a therapist now?” Your eyebrow raises, and your mouth goes upwards.

“Maybe, should I start asking for payment?” She side-eyes, and her mouth goes upwards.

“Depends, what kinda payment do you accept, miss…?” You ask, and she turns to face you.

“Jimin.” She leans towards you.

“And I accept payment in gossip, mister…?” She grins, a palm on her cheek.

You tell her your name, she repeats it, and you’ve never wanted to hear your name spoken out loud like that again so much your brain is activating neurons.

“Well then!” She claps her hands. “Start talking.” She beams, and that might actually get you killed.

—

You didn’t know how long you spent with Jimin talking, ranting, venting, everything. You just know that being with her felt nice.

Like it was okay just talking about anything with her.

You tell her about taking overtime just to make sure your boss and your boss’ boss is happy, she laughs and tells you that she’s doing overtime because she’s “in demand” at her job and she doesn’t get enough sleep.

You say that you work as an analyst at an electronics company and she says that she’s a model for a couple of brands out there that are too expensive for you to buy, let alone look at.

You’re annoyed that you lost your last 50/50 at the latest banner on this popular gacha game, having to angry pull another 70 or so tickets just to get your favorite purple-haired amnesiac and she brags that she’s “a little over 11,000” levels at some connect 3 game, showing you the game on her phone that clearly says “11,552” on the bottom right of the screen.

You two keep this back and forth until you realize that you’ve been taking sips out of an empty bottle for the last couple of minutes, and you hear a sweet little giggle that just sounds so fucking cu-

Stop.

You embarrassingly take a glance at her, and she’s grinning ear to ear. “And now he notices.” She brings up her own empty bottle of peach and dangles it in front of you. “So how does air taste like?”

“Funny.” You stand up, grumbling as you start to clean up your mess at the table. “You should try it out for yourself.” You tap her bottle as you stand up and head to the garbage can.

“Wanted your opinion on it Mister Analyst, you seemed like you were enjoying it.” she follows you to the garbage and throws it out her bottle as you soon follow.

“Peachy.” You step outside. “Really peachy.”

She bumps your shoulder with her own and smiles. “I’ll be sure to have a go at it next time.” She whips out her phone and hands it to you. “You should give me your number, just so we can compare notes when I try drinking air.”

You smile back. “Very smooth Jimin, sure it’s not because you want me to start playing that game of yours?” you hand it back to her after putting your number with your name as the contact, which she quickly changes to ‘Mister Analyst’ with a nerdy emoji.

“Totally because I don’t want you to start playing, no.” She’s laughing as she rings your number, and your phone lights up with hers. You were about to save it until she grabs your phone and starts typing away, probably saving her number for you and hands it back to you with the words ‘Jimin’ with a heart looking right back at you.

You ain’t gonna lie, but that made your heart skip a beat for a second.

“Nice heart.” Placing your phone back to your pocket, you look back at her smiling at you, hands behind her back which really accentuates her…chest.

That white top really was doing wonders for her. Doesn’t help that she unbuttoned one of her shoulder straps because it was a part of some fashion trend or whatever. You weren’t really listening on that part because, well, tits.

“Still up for a walk?” She tilts her head, smiling at you when she’s totally not shoving her tits in your face.

“Don’t you have curfew, Miss Model?” You notice it’s close to midnight.

“I told manager-unnie to pick me up at the park close by.” She points her thumb towards your right. “Be a gentleman and take me there, why don’t you?”

Before you could answer, she’s already walking like you agreed. You shake your head, still in disbelief that she could trust someone she’s met no more than an hour, maybe two, so easily,  before catching up.

“You trust me that much to walk you to a park?” You ask, finally wanting to get the answer to the conundrum that is Jimin.

She slows down her walk to look at you. An intense gaze that pierced straight into yours. And Jimin smiles, softly, “Yeah.” And moves on, pretending that nothing happened, like something didn’t change between the two of you, and she mutters something that you couldn’t pick up. 

“You treat me as just Jimin.”

—

You two continue your banter all the way to the park, her talks about her work increasing in number as you found out that she wants to break into the acting industry, be more than just a face in a billboard, more than just someone part of a group, which sounded odd considering she’s a model and models usually work alone, but you let her continue on, letting her air out her frustrations and you unknowingly becoming her outlet.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love them like they’re my family.” Them being her co-workers, you think. “It’s just the job that’s tiring sometimes, you know?” You both continue your stroll, finally reaching the park, trees illuminated by all the lights making it feel peaceful. “Having to always keep up with appearances, having to do what the higher ups say,” She rambles on, taking a seat at a nearby bench, this tired look on her face like it’s her first time being able to say all these things.

“Sometimes, a girl’s gotta do her own thing.” She finishes, as you take up the spot next to her and lean back, taking in the lights, the trees, her face-

You blink. “And this is part of a girl doing her own thing?” Your hand stretches out to relax on the bench. “Talking to strangers, dragging them to a park?”

“First of all, you’re no longer a stranger. You’re Mister Analyst now.” She shoots back. “Second, you agreed to take me here, like a gentleman should.” And the swoon that she makes looks so fake you roll your eyes.

“Right.” You draw it out just enough to let her know that you’re smiling. “I should get paid for this.” You say it as an offhand comment, and she makes an exaggerated gasp.

“You totally should!” She stands up, and starts making small poses as if she’s in a photoshoot. “But you gotta take pics first!”

And so your impromptu life as a photographer begins, using your phone-

“Why is it my phone exactly? Your phone’s better.”

“Because it’s your job to take pictures of me, so you have to use your phone.”

Using your phone as the camera and her as the object of its obsession, you two begin taking pictures all over the park, starting off with a simple head tilt behind some trees, making her hair move just right to highlight her face, and she gives this stare that makes your heart stop for a second and you start-.

Click.

She leans to the left, making one of her legs go slightly up in the air and gives a shy smile.

Click.

She stretches her hands and makes a cute little face that makes you wanna pinch her chee-

Click.

She steps up to the road and turns around to face you, readying herself up by fixing her hair before-

Click.

She hurries back to you, screaming “Yah!” before snatching your phone and skipping away, like it’s her turn to take a picture.

Click.

She stops and hands your phone back to you. “Take it properly this time.” She smiles, and you’ll never get tired of that look on her face before you put your phone up and just-

Click.

She laughs, so carefree, and takes your hand before taking you away to another area of the park, going up a pedestrian crossing before she stops and leans on the railway, giving another smile that lights up the area around her and-

Click.

You two reach the top of the bridge, and she leans forward, staring to the left so you can-

Click.

The both of you walk to the other side, smiling and laughing and having fun like it’s just the two of you left in the world before she leans back on the railing and gives you another look, her white top’s design now prominently seen in the lens of your phone.

The bra that is ever-so-slightly obvious underneath those words on her top, telling you to Send Nudes.

Click.

You feel things shifting between the two of you, a couple lines crossed that ring a few alarm bells in your mind but at the same time, it makes you feel happy, content, making it feel so easy to forget all your problems and just live in the moment with Jimin. 

And she feels it too, when you notice that her stares linger a little bit more than they should whenever you take a picture, or when her hands take a second longer before she lets you go. But no words are said, no more lines to be crossed right now when you both want some time away from responsibilities and relax for a couple of hours.

And that is how you got to this point.

“You okay there?” She’s right in front of you now, waving her hand across your face. A flicker of amusement passes by her eyes as she gives you a giggle. “You looked pretty focused on those pictures. Still can’t believe I’m that beautiful?”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle, glazing back down at your phone’s gallery, pictures of Jimin front and center, before your eyes go back right at her face which you gently give her forehead a flick. “Your ego’s showing, Miss Model.” 

You hear a cute yelp. “Because that’s the same look you gave me back at the store!”

“What look?” You hand her your phone, one of her pictures on the screen, silently asking her to review your creations that were about this beautiful woman named Jimin.

“The look that made me feel like I’m the only thing that matters right now.” She starts scrolling through the pictures while you’re still processing what she just said, jaw a little dropped, chest pounding a bit more, mind rizzed up by Jimin and she’s just there, smiling at her own pictures as though she didn’t just cross another one of those invisible lines.

You blurt something out along the lines of “Maybe you are, Jimin” and her finger stops mid-scroll to focus on you, eyes looking straight into yours, as if she was peering into your soul. 

“I never did tell you who I am, did I?” Her look on you softens, yet still searching for something that you can’t quite describe.

“Does it matter?” Your brows furrow. “You could be Jimin, Miss Model, whoever.” A smile crosses your lips. “All of that just makes you…you, and I think I’d like to know more about all of you, whoever that is.”

And now it’s her turn to have her jaw a little dropped, eyes still soft as she lets out a little laugh. “You say that to all the strangers you meet?”

“Nah, just the ones that make me follow them to a park in the middle of the night and call me ‘Mister Analyst’.” Air quotes are made with a smirk. “So lay it on me, Miss Model.”

She returns with a smile, a real one, and opens her mouth to say-

“Karina. Æspa’s Karina.” She gives a little bow. “Nice to meet you.” And she straightens up, like she’s suddenly become this ‘Karina’ in a split second, her real persona hidden underneath a layer of sophistication and grace, and yet, all you see is Jimin.

Wait. You’ve heard that word before.

“Dude, have you listened to the new song Æspa released?” One of your coworkers suddenly comes up to you while you’re busy fixing up last minute data errors on an excel sheet because somebody decided to use the wrong formula again.

You glance back at him. “What the fuck is an Æspa?” You weren’t really familiar with K-Pop, too focused on adjusting to Korea and all its nuances like actually speaking the language which took you almost 4 months to be somewhat fluent in it.

Eyes widen. “You don’t know who they are?” Suddenly a phone comes out of a pocket and fingers frantically start tapping. “You seriously gotta start listening to K-Pop, you’re missing out!”

And in the next few seconds you hear this synthy, dark, mesmerizing tune and-

“Yeah, yeah” A pause. “I’m the drama” It drags out before-

“Where the hell are those reports?” Your head snaps back to the monitor, quickly getting your head back to the task at hand-

You blink.

She’s still eyeing you, softness replaced with a weary guard, afraid that you’d look at her in a different light until-

“Huh.” You shrug. “One of my friends would freak out if he saw you.” You tease, and reach your hand out. “So how are they? Up to your standards?” 

Then she blinks, and a laugh comes out of her mouth, disbelief written on her face. “Seriously? That’s it?” She’s shaking her head now. “I tell you that I’m this-” Her hands are flailing “-this K-Pop idol and you’re not even surprised?”

You give her another shrug. “I don’t listen to K-Pop, I listen to EDM.” You take the phone out of her hands and show her the last piece of music you were listening to, Lost in Mumbai by Apashe.

She gives you this exasperated stare when she grabs your phone and starts scrolling down your playlist, laser focused on all the song names and sure enough, it’s full of EDM, House, and the occasional Phonk.

“The only thing close to K-Pop here is K/DA.” Her arms are slump, defeated. “How have you not heard of us?” Another shake of the head. “No, how have you not heard of K-Pop when you’re literally in South Korea?”

“Too busy learning hangul and surviving the corporate world I guess?” You don’t really have a defense to that, since you’ve been in Korea for almost six months now and you somehow still managed to avoid K-Pop.

Can’t say you’ve avoided PC Bangs or Manhwas though.

“I told you, I want to know more about you, whoever that is.” You tilt your head. “Karina’s just another part of you that I’d like to figure out.” You lean closer to her, eyes drawn to your phone and your fingers tapping back to your gallery, where a picture of her leaning on a railway is center stage. “Seriously, how are the pics? Good enough for an idol?”

She lets out a huff, still not believing that this is happening to her right now, but her raven eyes showing a hint of something else now. Adoration, warmth, lov-“Yeah.” Her voice was low. “They were great.” But Jimin wasn’t looking at the pictures anymore, she was looking at you.

She takes a hand and brushes it over to your cheek, guiding your face up to hers and you feel her breasts press into your chest before she shifts, her lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, her hand caressing your jawline as you slowly reciprocate.

And she pulls away, just enough for you to feel her breath on your face, and your mind is reeling when she says-

“I think I want to know more about you too.”

—

She takes you away to a darker area of the park, hidden from prying eyes with your hand on her hip and another on her cheek as you push forward, your mouth connecting with Jimin’s, lost in yourselves. She has both hands looped around your neck, kisses deepening, light moans in the air.

You didn’t know how long you two stayed like that, enjoying being with one another, but when she pulls away you’re both breathing heavily, lips burned from all the action as you let out a chuckle.

“Sure you should be doing this?” Your thumb, still on her cheek, starts to move to brush her red face. “Gonna be a hell of a scandal if we get caught.”

“I don’t care.” She bites her lip. “A girl’s gotta do her own thing.” She repeats what she told you earlier, and her eyes look back at yours.

“And I…” Her heart laid bare to you. ”I trust you.” Those three words carried so much weight, and the lines you were crossing began to blur into something more.

You didn’t have to say it back, not when you look at her like she’s your world, not when she already knows. So you do the next best thing you could have.

“Remember when you decided to play therapist earlier?” You start, and in an instant you spin her around, back facing you as you whisper. “Let me take care of you this time.” 

The gasp that comes out of her mouth sounded angelic when you start kissing her neck so tenderly, the little sighs that come out of her mouth as you pepper small kisses, the breathy moan when she says not to leave marks on her neck as you smile under all those pecks on her neck, her jaw, her cheek, and you’re right back to where you started when her lips are already parted, arousal in her eyes as your mouths connect once more.

She brings a hand up to your cheek, another to your hand that was resting on her hip, and starts bringing it lower, deeper, into her jumpsuit that you could just pull down and she’d fucking let you.

It wasn’t until you felt your hand stop at her safety shorts where you separated from her. Her hand still resting on your cheek, eyes darker than what they were used to, lips wet as she takes deep breaths. 

“Last chance to back out.” You didn’t know if you were asking her or yourself, because you both knew that this was a really bad idea. “Your manager might be close by.” Another excuse to stop this, to go back to running around the park taking pictures and pretending that there’s nothing happening between the two of you.

But when Jimin gives you this dangerous little smirk, like she knows what you’re trying to do, she’s already all in. Especially when she takes your other hand and brings it up to one of her breasts, still covered in that white top that you know that there’s no chance in hell she’s stopping.

“Honey.” Your brain blanks out when she whispers. “Stop talking and start touching.”

Now, all bets are off.

You give her breast a rough squeeze, her back arching, your cock throbbing at the way she starts to grind against you. You quickly leave the softness of her chest to steady her hips, stopping her, making her whine, until you pull her top and bra up in one go, exposing her tits to the cold air and you go back to groping all of that soft, firm flesh of hers. You tug at one of her buds, flicking it, rolling it, before you stop to gently slap her boobs, making them jiggle in front of you.

She lets out a soft whimper, grinding against the hand on her shorts instead and your hands starts moving, upwards to the edge of her shorts, slipping inside them, feeling her wet and hot and fucking gorgeous when you pull her panties aside and start to slowly circle around her clit, making her eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent scream, head leaning back towards you.

And once you bring a finger inside her, and she starts to break.

You were evil with her, when you’re pumping your finger so slowly yet playing with her tits so roughly or when you added another finger inside her tight pussy, upping your pace at the way you go in and out of her while gently massaging her tits and it was driving her absolutely insane.

“Please.” She’s biting her lip to stop herself from moaning out loud. “Don’t tease me.” She’s begging now, face pointed towards you, eyes wide as you let out a chuckle.

“Fast or slow, Ji?” You’re still teasing, fingers no longer moving inside her cunt and your other hand resting on one of her breasts.

She kisses you, raw, desperate, biting your lips with hers, and only a word is uttered.

“Rough.”

And your fingers start to push and pull inside of her, another thumbing her clit and she’s crying out, one of her hands quickly going up to her mouth to silence herself while one of yours continue to abuse her tits, slapping them harder now, leaving reddish marks on her perfect skin.

You don’t realize that she’s been cupping the tent in your pants for a while now when you’ve been so focused on Jimin that you move back just enough to let her unzip your pants to fish out your length.

“Dirty little girl, aren’t you?” Your mouth starts moving on its own. “Want my cock that bad?” She nods, her hand moving. 

“You know you’ll be mine after this, right?” You bite her ear, and she moans, eyes closed, pleasure overriding her brain.

“Yours.” She says it like it's a fact, set in stone somewhere, and her eyes are wide now, full of this fondness towards you. “Yours now. Always yours.”

And she finally exposes your cock, she takes a hold of it, stroking it slowly, memorizing what it feels like. She was being so good with your length and yet you’re still punishing in your pace, a hand on her hip to keep her in place while your fingers are pumping so fast inside her pussy her knees are starting to give out.

The hand on her hip snaps up to her chin, forcing her to look at you, forcing her to let go of your shaft to hold on to you because she’s so close to getting ruined.

“Close?” You can hear the nods coming from her, the air a cacophony of moans, squelches, cries-

“Please, please, please-” She’s begging even more now. “Let me cum, fuck I need to cum-”

And when you put a third finger in, she’s ascending.

You’re slowing down now, letting her bask in her high, helping her stand straight as she cums, her chest shaking, legs turning to jelly, and you’re still there. Whispering all the  things that drive her mad.

“Let yourself go now baby, there you go.” She sighs, hands on your wrists.

“Yes-” She drags it out, leaning her entire body to you, chest heaving.

“Such a good girl for me, cumming all over my fingers like that.” Your fingers pull out and you start lazily circling her clit, making her let out a shaky laugh. 

“Stop, Stop-” She pulls your hand up from her core and up to her face, where she takes one of your fingers, still wet from her, and she starts to suck.

She’s enjoying it, eyes closed, tasting your fingers, tasting herself, letting out these dirty moans that you can feel in your hand. She doesn’t stop, not until every last one of your fingers are clean from her mess, sucking them, licking them, worshipping them. All the while one of her hands come back to your cock, her hand rolling into your length and a thumb at the tip and she starts to run it down slowly, and you let out a small sigh, like you’re finally getting relief.

She lets go of your fingers, eyes fluttering open to gaze at you, and the only thing she says before kissing you is-

“Mine.” 

Her hand is still jerking you off, twisting, soft, slow, fast, fuck, and she’s moving, facing you, giving out kisses from your lips downward, to your jaw, your neck, until she squats down, eyeing your cock for the first time, and the look she gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

A hand on your thigh, still clothed with your pants, and another still holding onto your dick while she nuzzles up to it, rubbing it against her face while she lets out these sighs that makes it throb harder, until she rests it on her face, and she speaks these utterly filthy words-

“Honey, can I suck your cock?” She’s still asking for permission, still being the good girl that she is, and all you do is take a hold of your cock, slap it a few times on her cheeks, on her lips before-

“Anything for you, Ji.” And her face lights up, her eyes locked onto yours, her head moving forward to give your tip a kiss, then another, and another, until she’s smothering your cock with kisses which makes you jerk your hips forward, hands on her hair and now you’re the one begging.

She’s grinning, enjoying what she’s doing to you, and gives you a small reprieve when her tongue stretches out to have a taste of you, and your head leans back at the sensation.

She’s licking everywhere, starting from the base, slowly sliding it up your length, swirling around your cockhead to get all the precum that’s been leaking out, and she goes back down to start it all over again.

She’s not trying to edge you so much as she is worshipping you, every inch of your cock lathered in her spit and all you can do is moan her name out.

And then she parts her lips and takes your cock into the her hot, wet mouth is when your mind blanks out and you’re gone-

“Fuck, Jimin-” Even now she’s smiling, your cock in her mouth as she hollows her cheeks, bobbing her head on your length slowly, savoring your taste like it’s going to be the last time she’ll ever have it, and she’s loving it.

Slurps are all you hear, her tongue flicking over and under your cock as she takes in more of you, one of her hands holding the base, moving in tandem with her mouth as she gives you this amazing blowjob that’s making your knees shake.

Then she puts both her hands on your thighs and slides down even more to take your entire length down her throat, her mouth in contact with your clothed pelvis and you feel her gag and pull back.

She’s still stroking your length, full of her drool like her chin is now, while she’s recovering from taking all of you, licking her lips from all the precum and all the strings of spit and she’s staring-”Am I doing good honey?”

“Fuck, you’re doing so well Ji-” A hand goes down to cup one of her tits, and you squeeze while she smacks your cock against her face before taking it all in once more.

She’s going faster now, sloppier, trying different things like moving her head to the side so your cock hits the inside of her cheek, or when she tries to throat your cock all the way back while she’s humming that makes your entire body feel the vibrations.

And everytime, her tongue is always moving, always getting a lick here and there, always twirling around your tip when she pulls back, always trying to get a taste of your balls when she takes your entire length down her throat.

You’re trying your damn best to hold back from cumming, to get more out of this moment with Jimin because you don’t know if you’ll ever experience this again until she takes your cock out of her mouth, tongue sliding over the side, and and it’s like she knows because-

“You know you can cum whenever, right?” Her tongue slides up the other side. “It’s not like this’ll be the last time, honey.” And she stops, resting your cock back on her face again and gives you this look of adoration or devotion or both-

“After all, I’m yours, aren’t I?”

And all self-control goes out the window when your hands get on her hair, forcing her on your length, pushing and pulling and she’s staring at you, letting you use her to get off.

Hands braced onto your thighs, lips wrapped around your cock, tongue moving under your length as you start getting rougher, thrusting your hips faster until-

“Shit, Jimin, cumming-” Hands still holding on to her hair as she pulls her head back all the way out except for the tip, her hand pumping so fast and her tongue still fucking twirling as the first spurts of your cum spilling right into her mouth, her tongue suddenly stopping to lay flat to catch all of it as she drains you of your load, eyes watching you go positively braindead from the pleasure that is Jimin, Karina, Her.

Just as when your orgasm was about to end, she takes your tip out of her mouth and lets the last of your cum land onto her face, messy little streaks on her cheeks, across her nose, and her mouth opens to show you all the cum she’s collected from you.

There’s an idea somewhere, at the back of your mind, something downright outrageous that would definitely get you both in even more trouble and yet, your hand is already moving on its own to collect your phone from your pocket, opening up your camera to-

A red dot starts to blink on your screen.

She’s still smiling against all the cum on her face, still smiling when she widens her mouth to give you a better view of the cum she wrung out of you, still smiling when she gargles it, relishing it, and she’s still smiling when she swallows it.

Her mouth opens one last time to show you well she did it too, and you’re brushing your thumb on a strand on her cheek, bringing it up to her lips to feed her more of your cum, and she’s gladly taking more.

“So good for me.” You keep giving her the strays that are left on her face, helping her clean herself up from your filth and as soon as she’s gotten all of it, she’s licking her lips, still looking at your phone and she winks.

The red dot stops.

You put your phone down, falling back into your pocket as she stands up and gives you a little peck, that smile still etched onto her face, your hands gravitating towards her tits, red from all the slaps you’ve given them and riddled with all the spit she’s let loose from sucking your cock, and you grab them like their yours.

“Thanks for all the cum honey.” 

Her phone lights up and a ringtone blares out.

—

You both cleaned up fairly quickly, well, mostly her considering you fucked her with your fingers and came on her mouth-

“I’m seriously gonna need a change of panties when I get home.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to do it in a park.”

She laughs, smacks your shoulder before spinning around to walk back to the main area of the park, and you’re shaking your head in amusement before catching up to her.

She’s still walking when she suddenly turns her head and-”Take another picture.”

And your life as a photographer continues on. Your phone on the ready, she has her hands on her hips and her head’s slightly towards you with a small smile for you to just-

Click.

“Thanks honey.” She gives this little whirl with this grin that just melts your heart-

“Karina!” Footsteps accompany the shout, and you turn and see this woman in all black running out from a car and stops- “Where have you been?!”

“With a friend, unnie.” And Jimin’s acting like she’s done nothing wrong, as if it wasn’t way past midnight and she’s just nudging your shoulder. “Say hi to manager-unnie.”

You give this timid wave and she’s ignoring you, too focused on Jimin-Karina to care about some nobody that was you. “We need to get back to your dorm, Karina. You still  have an early day tomorrow and it’s almost two in the morning! Do you know how-”

You stopped listening to give Jimin a glance and she’s back to being Karina with all the responsibilities that she wants to ignore coming back down on her, a smile that didn’t really come up to her eyes and a nod that felt too practiced when she’s being scolded for being up this late at night-

“And you.” Her manager points a finger at you, looking like she’s ready to give you a scolding before she lets out a tired groan. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, she’s been a handful these last couple of months.”

Oh, she’s a handful alright-

Give a polite smile and tell her it’s no issue, and her manager’s back to ignoring you again for Karina who’s giving you a wave and a call me gesture as she’s heading into the car, yelling “See you later Mister Analyst!” before she’s taken away, returning to her modeling gigs and singing acts and you’re back to being an analyst that looks at numbers for a living.

Your brain was still processing all of the things you’ve just done with Jimin that you don’t notice that you’re already at the front door of your apartment. 

The door opens and closes and you’re wrecked on the bed, where you see a couple of text messages from her.

“Thanks for listening, I enjoyed tonight.” 

“And don’t forget to send the pics!” A heart emoji at the end.

“Here you are, Ji. I expect my payment in full.”  A few money emojis.

A laughing emoji. “I’ll treat you to coffee next time we meet”

“Oh so there is a next time?”

“There is now” A winky face.

“Lemme know when you’re free and I’ll take you to my fav cafe”

“Can’t wait!”

“And you forgot to send the video, honey” Three winky faces.

A laugh rings out of your apartment.

—

The weekend blurs by, having done nothing but have conversations with Jimin on the phone and look up who she is as Karina and you’re back to your life in the office, looking at numbers, suggesting actions, and pretending that you’re listening to company gossip.

Until you hear the words ‘Karina’s post’ and suddenly, you don't want to pretend anymore.

“What about Karina?” You couldn’t help yourself, and the words are already out loud before the same coworker who’s been telling you to start listening to K-Pop shoves his phone into your face to see your pictures in her Instagram with the caption-

‘To Mister Analyst’

The guy’s freaking out, asking everybody in the near vicinity who’s ‘Mister Analyst’ and ‘Is she dating someone’ and you’re sitting on your chair recording a short video of him before you open up your messages and-

“You see what you’ve done” The video attached.

“Absolutely mental”

An emoji of a hand over its mouth. “Like you’re not enjoying it”

A chuckle. “I’m more worried about you and your career with that post”

“Unnie’ll handle it, she always does”

“You still up for that cafe on Friday?”

And she’s already changing the topic, like this wasn’t a big deal, and here you are, smiling through the chaos, both in your office where your boss is trying to wrangle your friend back from causing more trouble for himself, and in the chaotic combinations of personas that is Jimin.

“Yeah. Pick you up at the park?”

“Can’t wait honey”

[chidorrrita]

・❥・I'm your puppet

You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1000+

: ̗̀➛ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here. 

L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a “pap pap” sound to echo throughout your room. 

He’s relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him. 

Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldn’t be more delighted. 

It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him. 

You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you can’t discern, before he spots you shyly inching over. 

L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking “woul’ ‘o’ ‘ike o’e” offering you a vanilla one. 

“No it’s okay” you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. “I was actually wondering how your job is going.”

He continues to violently chew, “ ‘qui’e ‘ell,” he swallows thickly, “why do you ask?”

“Well,” you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, “I was just worried if you were stressed. You’ve eaten almost three boxes of those.”

“Sugar keeps the brain awake,” he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.

Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s trying to read you.

“Maybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?” His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when he’s with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good. 

His voice softens to barely a whisper, “that would be good,” until he corrects himself “then I can continue working.”

“I’ll help you distress.”

L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pj’s which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” but you still remain at the door.

His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. “I mean… Well I feel bad now.”

More silence.

You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-”

“I would very much like to have sex with you.” 

“-I feel like an asshole- wait what?”

“I said I would like to have sex.”

The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and L’s harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass. 

The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.

Your hoarse voice says “‘is too much. Can’t take it.” between moans, legs shaking underneath L’s thighs.

He accentuates each word with a thrust. “Yes.” “You.” “Can.” forcing the bed frame to hit the wall. 

He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers “be good for me,” and you cum.

Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around L’s cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until it’s all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion. 

He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a ‘pop,’ eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs. 

“You did so well for me.”

“Would you say you’re sufficiently relaxed?”

“Yes, very relaxed. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.

[idontcaboose]

Luthor's Cricket

Part 1

Master post

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lex asked for the nth time.

“Of course it will.” Said the cloaked figure.

Lex wasn't sure why the magic user bothered with the cloak, he had hired him by name after all. 

Gray Warden: 36 years old. Promotes himself as a psychopomp/medium that had pretty good reviews. 

Even from other magic users. Some of his other contacts confirmed that, while not strong in physical/destructive magic, he was an above average medium. His ability to summon spirits and other supernatural beings could be trusted, what he summoned was another story. 

Gray's usual clientele were people grieving loved ones, and the occasional ‘ghost hunter’ looking to ‘prove’ their existence. While not his main job, he did make a pretty penny off of the medium business. It didn't take much for Lex to hire him for a summoning, just a sob story about summoning a spirit to ‘help’ him ‘be better’ and a few thousand dollars. Lex knew most people would expect that would mean to have him act more like the utter buffoon Bruce Wayne, but really, he just wants to be better than Superman. 

Lex waited for Gray to get done drawing a circle on the wood table he had Lex provide and other “Spell components” he said. 

A solid wood table made from oak, ash, or thorne. Preferably oak and/or ash since this is a spirit for healing and new beginnings. When asked about the thorne wood, Gray blushed a bit and asked if he wished to Marry the spirit? Lex stopped asking questions after that. 

The highest quality of chalk available.

Stones of the birth month of Lex himself. When told it was a Sapphire, Gray got excited since that is apparently the perfect stone to summon a helpful spirit with.

And lastly, an object of Lex's choosing to help find the perfect spirit to ‘help’ Lex

Gray assured Lex that the spirit could not affect the world around them other than be heard and seen by those who called upon them. Once all of the preparations were complete Lex was beckoned over.

“So, to complete this ritual you will place your object in the center, with A Drop of your blood. Not two, not three, One. It is not enough to bind, but enough to identify. You will place your hand here, and here” Gray gestures to two symbols on one side of the table. “I will be powering these two symbols, and will call upon a spirit to show itself.

I will be very clear before we start. This is the first time I have done this ritual. I have seen it done twice by my mentor. I do not know exactly what will accept the summoning, but I have placed wards to keep malicious entities from hearing the call. Do you still wish to continue?” Gray asked.

Lex scoffed and placed a baseball sized chunk of Kryptonite on the table. “Let's see who we get.”

Within moments Gray was calling to the otherside, asking for a spirit to answer their call.

“Bro, did you seriously do the equivalent of pspssps'ing a Ghost over with candy?”

There were very few things that could make Lex blue screen. Watching a teenager floating lazily while licking the Kryptonite was one such thing. He had white hair, eyes as green as the rock he was nibbling on, and wearing a black and white suit that reminded Lex of the one the Flash wears.

Gray, apparently, took exception to that. “Excuse me? I don't just call spirits like stray cats!”

“My dude, you were just lacking a windowless van, you did give me free candy after all.” the kid pointed at Gray with the Kryptonite. 

“It's not candy, it's Kryptonite, and we summoned you to help me be better.” Lex stated. 

“Did you seriously summon me to be your Jiminy Cricket? Sure, I got time to waste.” The kid laughed. 

At those words a strange light linked from the kids chest to Lex's chest, glowing gold and toxic green. 

“What the fudg-”

“Lex!”

“Cancel the sum-”

Next

Tags

@dcxdpdabbles for their wonderful prompt/own story Linked Here

[glamourscat]

I read ur tim headcanons and omg yessss pls do a one shot for tim trying to flirt and being adorably awkward!! 🙏🙏🙏

it came out more romantic than i intended to. i hope you still enjoy this loverboy Tim nonetheless! :)

while i was writing i listened to this playlist, also this is not proofread :(

Every Breath You Take | Tim Drake x reader

Tim was in love, but that would be an understatement. He was utterly and foolishly in love with you. And right now he was sure he was doing a poor job in hiding his feelings. You were in his new apartment. For someone who is a nepobaby times two, the apartment wasn’t anything “special”. If anything, it was modest at best. Not that there's anything wrong with modest. 

In fact, it felt right. It was smaller than the estate he grew up in or Bruce’s manor, but it just fit, you know? He had barely unpacked, the boxes all around the place scattered and yet it felt like home. Because of you. You, who decided to stay over for the past two days sleeping over on the shitty couch just to keep him company. Because Tim could have faked it all he wanted, but he was not one for silence nor loneliness. Having you so close felt right. It felt like home. 

And right now, he truly was doing a poor job in hiding his feelings. You two were sitting on his bed, he was straddling your lap as you did his makeup. Why? Why not? No reasons in particular. You two just had time to waste and an extra excuse to be together. The room was quiet with the exception of the cars passing on the street every so often and the soft, quiet music he was playing in the background on his laptop. There was not a word from you nor him though, which is making him more agitated. 

His mind is going so fast, trying to decode if you have caught on the fact he has stared at your lips for the 10th time alone in those five minutes. Or the fact he was fidgeting more than usual or even how his breathing was picking up each time slightly more when you got closer to him. Your breath was hot, the minty scent of the mint you ate earlier lingering between you two as your eyes were so focused on his face. He almost felt shy under your intense gaze, the way your eyes were so accurately looking and sculpting him like the finest artwork. 

The brush you were holding gently caresses shades of sparkling pink on his eyelids while your tongue slightly pokes out of your lips in concentration. So kiss me, pretty little bird. His heartbeat sped up and before he could control it, his mouth opened to let out the most foolish nonsense he has ever let out.

“You do know– once a penguin chooses its mate it’s pretty much for life?” why in the fuck did his mouth even say..

“Yeah? I did not know that actually.” you say, your lips curling in a smile as a little laugh leaves your mouth. So sweet.

“Yeah– I mean, it’s pretty cute. Like, maybe you know, we should do like them. Like the penguins I mean.” he says out before he can register what he had just let out. For the love of– he truly was an idiot at times. 

You stayed quiet. Maybe choosing if to ignore what came out of his mouth, laugh or run away. Maybe all three. And he wouldn’t have blamed you if you chose the latter. 

“Tim?” your voice is quiet, interrogative almost.

“Yes?” god he hated how quiet and pathetic he sounded.

“Are– you saying what i mean you’re…” you stop your sentence in half, looking at him with your mouth slightly apart. “I… I am sorry” you muttered quickly.

“Sorry for w–” but his words died on his tongue as your lips touched his. An involuntary moan left his lips at the sensation. He pushes more of his weight on you, making your back touch the mattress as his hands find your cheeks to deepen the kiss. Gentle yet such a hungry kiss.

“You– you’re shit at flirting” your words came out in a pant, your smile soft and teasing, as a small chuckle left your lips. Lips that were still touching his, despite being separated to catch some air.

“I– oh just shut up” he says equally panting, grinning as a fool, as his lips touched yours again and again and again.

And hopefully, for the rest of eternity too.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[ckret2]

Chapter 84 of human Bill Cipher getting a day pass out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: so it turns out Bill and Pacifica have a lot in common! And it's not weird at all! It's—it's very normal. Their childhoods were so normal.

(Since this entire chapter is from the point of view of a character who doesn't know the person she's talking to is Bill, a PSA for those of y'all who missed it. Thanks.)

####

"Okay, that's as much as I can do to help your hair without deep conditioning it," Pacifica said. "Now let's talk about styling it."

They were back in Pacifica's office, with Goldie seated in his folding chair and Mabel sitting in Pacifica's desk chair (slowly spinning it back and forth) as Pacifica lectured them. Pacifica had given Goldie a spare t-shirt to dry his hair with (you could never have too much spare clothing on hand when you were dealing with farm animals), but he'd just loosely wrapped it around his hair and promptly ignored it.

Pacifica said, "You've got this issue where the weight of your curls pulls the top of your hair down and makes it flatten out near your scalp—but your hair's all the same length, so it really flares out near your shoulders. It's called triangle hair and it is not a cute look."

Goldie and Mabel bit their lips and exchanged a look, and Pacifica got the distinct impression that she'd accidentally reminded them about some inside joke she wasn't part of.

Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being left out of something, Pacifica cleared her throat and went on. "So, uh—you can fix it with like, layering your haircut and stuff? But. I don't actually... know how to do that." All her knowledge of curly hair and its care—much less fashionable haircuts—came from fashion and beauty magazines, which covered things like shampoo and flattering styles but assumed you'd leave the actual hair-cutting to the professionals. "So. I can get your curls presentable, and I guess we can figure out a way to pin it that looks nice? But that's the best I can do without an emergency salon trip."

"You sure we can't leave the triangle hair?" Goldie asked innocently. "I think it's cute. It really feels like me." Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Pacifica raised her brows. "Do you want to feel like you, or do you want to get the guy?"

"Right, of course," Goldie said. "I almost forgot what's really important!"

Pacifica passed Goldie her phone. "Here—I wasn't sure what kind of look you were going for so I saved a few pictures of curly hair styles, let me know if you like any of these." She searched through the collection of makeup on her desk for the bobby pins and hair ties she'd picked up earlier. "The trend this year is for slicked-back styles, braids, and buns—but your curls are so pretty, I'd hate to hide them." 

Mabel leaned halfway across the desk to try to see the pictures too; Goldie's held out the phone to meet her halfway as as he scrolled—and scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. He said, "Good job narrowing down the list to a modest two hundred pictures."

Pacifica said, "Excuse me for wanting you to have options."

Mabel pointed. "Awww, look at that one with all the little butterfly hair clips!"

"It's like butterflies are eating her brain."

"And they look adorable doing it."

"Too juvenile for me. It looks like something Prisma the fairy would wear," Goldie said. "You should wear it."

Mabel's eyes lit up. "You've got to help me make fifty butterfly hair clips."

"You got it." He closed out of Pacifica's pictures, opened up the browser, and awkwardly typed in a search. "Hey, Alpaca, look at this one."

That was the second time he'd called her that. "Do you actually know my name?"

"Rapunzel." He held up a picture of some seventies movie star with thick, feathery hair that fluffed out around her face like the wings of a panicked swan trying to take off. "Think you can pull this one off?"

Pacifica grimaced. "You'd look like my mom." Except even worse and more old fashioned. (She kept that part to herself.)

Flatly, he said, "Oh no, how will I ever convince a male that I'm a prize worth winning if I literally look like a trophy wife."

That would be just about the only part of Goldie that looked like a trophy wife. (She kept that part to herself too.) "And we'd have to give you bangs."

As she suspected, Goldie grimaced and flipped to another image. At least he knew bang weren't for him. "How 'bout this one?"

It looked like a solid helmet of hair, with the ends uniformly curled outward like the embarrassing forced-whimsical hairstyle of the minions of an insane chocolatier. "Ew. That's about the only thing that could make you look even worse than you already do."

"Pacifica," Mabel said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Sorry!" She'd kept so many parts to herself that she didn't have any spare room to keep that part. "I can't do it, anyway. It would need a flat iron and a curling iron, and I don't have either."

"Can't we get some?" Goldie asked. "Any drug store should have 'em, it's a fifteen minute walk to—"

"I don't use them," Pacifica said sharply.

Goldie's stare was like a heat lamp—or maybe that was just self-consciousness heating up Pacifica's face as he scrutinized her. But after several long seconds, Goldie's gaze turned off her face. She quietly sighed in relief.

"Okay," he said. "Then this one." He showed her another picture. It had curly shoulder-length bangs, which wasn't really in style but fine, but behind them was a bouffant shaped like a deflating basketball with a wilting palm tree sprouting out of it.

Pacifica cringed. It was, unfortunately, doable. A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, "Are you really into this look? Really?"

("I think it's pretty," Mabel muttered.)

"Oh, no way!" Goldie said. "Look at that mess! That's way too much effort for a 'do that looks like she did it drunk in the dark in under two minutes."

(Mabel looked at Goldie like he'd personally betrayed her.)

"But," he went on, "it's what our guy is into, and that's what matters here. Right?"

Pacifica studied the picture dubiously. "You're sure?"

"He went through puberty in the 70s! When his libido opened its eyes for the first time, this is what it imprinted on."

Pacifica bit her lip. Well. At least Goldie didn't think it looked good, but. "Can I at least improve it a little?"

"Oh, please!"

She picked up the comb again and grabbed a couple of bobby pins. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

Pacifica talked a big game, but in truth, she knew a lot more about the theory of hairstyles than she did about actually styling hair. You don't have to film a blockbuster to be a film critic. So at that point, all she could do was experiment with Goldie's hair as she attempted to approximate the picture he'd shown her. She circled around him as she worked—putting in pins, taking them out, occasionally asking him his opinion.

But although Goldie had previously been a non-stop chatterer, the moment she'd started working on his hair, he'd fallen silent.

He only glanced in the hand mirror she'd given him when she prompted him, and then only to give one-word answers—usually "fine." His shoulders were as tense and his mouth as tight as Pacifica's had been the first time she had to wash alpaca poop off the bottom of a boot. And Pacifica had nearly vommed, so, that was pretty serious.

Why? It couldn't be pain. Pacifica had gotten all the knots out of his hair earlier—and even when she wasn't using the comb, it was like she couldn't even move a lock of his hair without him wincing. She kept wanting to apologize even though she was just doing what he wanted her to.

There was something going on here. It wasn't just how uncomfortable he was with being touched. There was also the way he did an awful job of washing his hair even though he knew how to perfectly well. And how he'd rather let Mabel brush his hair into a frizzy mess than comb it out himself. And beyond all that, the first thing Pacifica had ever learned about him was that he'd gotten his hair melted off and needed emergency help to grow it back. "You... really don't like your hair, do you?"

"I like it fine. It's gorgeous." He was speaking through gritted teeth, and he had his legs crossed with his feet under his thighs, palms up in lap, eyes fixed on the blanket Mabel had made, as though having a staring contest with the triangle creep would help him endure the torture without flinching. "I just—don't like messing with it."

"Which is fine," Mabel cut in. "Because I like brushing it!" She quickly amended herself: "Combing it. We've got like a symbiotic relationship going on."

"Yeah! Star girl's my personal stylist! She does my hair and makeup. I wouldn't deprive her of that honor!"

Pacifica nodded slowly. Right—all that, and he was defensive about not taking care of it.

Not embarrassed because he didn't take care of it, it dawned on her; embarrassed because he couldn't take care of it. She had a sense for those sorts of things—a middle school queen bee had to develop that sense—because that was what you targeted if you really wanted to humiliate someone: something that they couldn't help. That was it, wasn't it? He'd said he was apathetic about his body; he didn't care that his hair was messy. Because if he did care that it was messy, he would have done something about it. Unless he couldn't. Like, a mental block.

As she tried for the eighth time to gather the bulk of his hair into an updo that looked sorta fun and casual without looking stupid, she turned over everything she knew about him—about his hair, his apathy, his shame... the things he'd said to her the moment they met, before they even got started.

It wasn't a logical deduction so much as it was an instinct, and just looking at Goldie it seemed impossible; but still she said, hesitantly, "Your mom made you do pageants as a kid, didn't she?"

Mabel sat up a little straighter, confused; but Goldie turned around to stare at her, dumbfounded. "How— What—makes you think that?"

Oh please. He wasn't fooling anyone, it was all over his face. "You're so weird about your hair. It's obviously trauma from your mom."

Beneath his sunburn, Goldie's burned cheeks somehow managed to flush even darker. He gaped at her, wide-eyed and terrified, like she was a psychic who had just told him how his own parents had died. He croaked, "What?"

Pacifica burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you should see your face! Listen, you're clearly familiar with pageant life. And I saw so many curly girls getting their hair mauled by their moms half an hour before going on stage. I don't blame you for being weird about touching it! I had it easy—" she flipped her naturally straight hair, "—but even at that, I can't stand using a flat iron to this day."

Goldie relaxed, apparently reassured that Pacifica hadn't read his mind. He settled back in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, I find the smell of burning hair comforting! It reminds me of home!"

"Ha! Okay, yeah, you do get used to it after a while." She started attempt number nine to gather up his curls. "I wouldn't have guessed when you came in. You don't look like a... I mean... you know. No offense."

"Well, duh, you can't tell now." He gestured at himself, "I lost my good looks. What I wouldn't give to have my old body back..." He sighed wistfully.

Pacifica held back a snort. Oh yeah. More than anything else he'd said so far, that convinced her he really was a former pageant kid. In her experience, every single pageant mom trying to relive her own beauty queen glory days through her daughter said things exactly like that.

Mabel said, "Aww..." She stretched a hand out toward Goldie, couldn't reach him across Pacifica's enormous desk, and with a grunt heaved herself up to lay across the top—knocking over a couple of the cosmetic supplies Pacifica had set up in the process—so she could pat his shoulder. "There, there."

"Thanks."

She slid back into her seat. "Did you really do pageants? You didn't tell me that." A note of betrayal crept into her voice.

"I didn't tell her either—" he jabbed a thumb at Pacifica, "—but here we are!" (Pacifica shrugged unapologetically.) "I've got a lotta backstory you're still catching up on."

"Well, yeah, but—you said you just did..." She grasped for the right words, and settled on, "build-y stuff with pageants."

"I didn't say that," he said breezily. Mabel scowled at him; but shot a look at Pacifica, and just sat back without saying anything, arms crossed, her feet audibly kicking at the inside of the desk. 

He didn't seem as stressed about his hair while he was talking, Pacifica noticed. (Maybe that was why hairdressers were so chatty? Or maybe just because it was kind of weird to stick your hands in someone's hair for an hour in total silence.) She asked, "Which pageant systems did you compete in?"

"None you'd have heard about," Goldie said. "They weren't on this continent and it was like a trillion years ago." Before Pacifica could pry about which continent, he added, "Hey, fun fact! Didja know that the first beauty contest in Oregon was established here in Gravity Falls?"

"Pff, duh, of course I know that," Pacifica said. "It was established by the town founder, my great-great grandpa."

"Close, but no," he said gleefully. "It was established by the real town founder."

Pacifica grimaced. "Him? The crazy undead guy without pants? Ugh, no wonder we're the only pageant with a mandatory bird calls category."

"The first three competitions were actually won by birds! They only added a fashion category to balance out the birds' unfair advantage at birdsong. Quentin resigned from the judges' panel in protest."

"He should've taken the dumb birdsong requirement with him," Pacifica muttered. "They make the kids pageant do it too. I had to get a private tutor to learn how to whistle."

"That sounds fun, though," Mabel said. "I can do bird song! Grunkle Ford taught me some. Listen to this!" She let out an admittedly impressive moo.

"Not a bad cowl call," Goldie said. "You woulda killed it at the accompanying bird costume requirement."

Mabel gasped. "I can make feather wings. Hey, do you think I could compete?"

"Not unless you move to Oregon."

"Aww."

"We can still make wings, though," Goldie said.

Pacifica had never had to deal with the dumb bird costume requirement, thank goodness. That only started in the teen brackets. Which made her wonder—"How old were you when you quit? Pretty young, right? Like, no offense, but if you need teenagers to do your makeup..." If Goldie was living as a guy now, it'd make sense if he didn't wear makeup day-to-day; but if he'd stuck with pageants past like age ten, he would have at least learned how to do his own makeup.

"Ha! You're right. I started when I was young enough that my mom could dust glitter on my butt without getting weird looks! I quit around... equivalent to third or fourth grade in the States? She wanted me to keep going—so I said, 'You want me to perform? Fine then—I'll put on the best performance you've ever seen.' And that's exactly what I did!" Thoughtfully, he added, "But for some reason I didn't win the talent portion. I guess the judges weren't impressed that I could play the piano and set it on fire at the same time."

Pacifica cracked up. "Okay wow—I retired during the talent portion too, but how you did it is way more exciting. The year I was aging out of the 9-11 bracket, I kinda had a meltdown on stage over losing to some girl with a hula hoop? Yeah, I did not win supreme that year."

"You shoulda won talent just for that scream! You hit some impressively high notes." At Pacifica's odd look, Goldie said, "Saw it online."

Figured. That was probably coming back to haunt her in ten years. "It's weird. There's like... two ways pageant girls go—er, girls or guys or... whatever."

"Whatever," Goldie agreed.

"Yeah. Either they make it part of their identity? And keep up the makeup and fashion and everything, sometimes stick with pageants as teens or start modeling professionally? Which is what I did. Or they totally burn out, don't want anythingto do with the beauty industry, and just, like, wear sweats forever."

With a faint air of wounded pride, Goldie said, "It's the bedsheet sarong, isn't it."

"No offense! I'm just saying."

"I'll have you know it's laundry day and Jesús stole my clean clothes instead of my dirty laundry." (Pacifica decided to forgive him for the weird fish smell.) "You're looking at me at a low point, kid. I was actually a pretty snappy dresser up until... lllast summer."

Hearing Goldie call her kid gave Pacifica a little jolt of surprise. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was talking to somebody with an age; she'd started to feel like she was being visited by the immortal Spirit of Washed-Up Former Pageant Children. As if he'd died and stopped aging the same time he retired. "What happened last summer?"

Goldie looked at Mabel. "Yeah, what did happen last summer?"

"Um." Mabel froze. "He... lost it all in a... um... overseas parrot circus venture! Yeah—all the trained parrots escaped before the opening night of the circus and he lost all his money."

Goldie let out a shrill cackle. "I like that, I'm keeping that."

Okay, got it, it wasn't any of Pacifica's business. "I think... this is the best I can do with your hair." She stepped back. "Unless you want to pick a style that doesn't suck."

He gave himself a cursory glance in the hand mirror, immediately lowered it, and said, "Sucky style's fine!"

"Don't say that, you look so beautiful," Mabel said. "You look like a babysitter!"

"Well, it doesn't get much better than that." He dropped the mirror on the desk. "What's next?"

####

Next—finally—was the part they'd actually come here for: the makeup.

"Okay, I tried to get around the eyepatch while I was doing your hair, but you've got to take it off for this part," Pacifica said.

He groaned, but muttered, "Fine, I've put up with this tyranny so far," removed it, and looked at her with his previously-covered eye squinted against the light—which was the point at which Pacifica realized that he had eyepatch tan lines... around his other eye. How???

There was no fixing that before tomorrow. She bit her lips, shut her eyes, pressed her hands together, and took in a deep breath. Okay. She could handle this.

"Why do you even wear this?" She tossed the eyepatch to Mabel—it was one of those cheap costume pirate-y looking patches. "Is this one of the Mystery Shack's gimmicky touristy things? Both your eyes work! And wearing an eyepatch when you obviously don't need it is just tacky."

"I've got a neurological condition! Seeing through two eyes messes up my depth perception," Goldie said. "I get migraines if I don't keep one covered! Which is admittedly the most fun thing you can do to your brain without involving narcotics, but it makes it hard to keep down lunch!"

"Oh," Pacifica mumbled. Maybe she should just get to work before she shoved her foot any deeper in her mouth.

She started by slapping aloe vera on as much sunburned skin as she could reach, handed over the jar with strict instructions to apply more in the morning, and gave him an emphatic lecture on sunburns and sunscreen and skin damage that petered out when he cheerfully started telling her about skin cancer statistics. She changed the topic when he started listing his favorite kinds of skin cancer.

She stripped off the nail polish that Goldie had apparently gotten during one of Mabel's sleepovers, and repainted it with, at Pacifica's insistence, something more "mature." (She vetoed Mabel's suggestion to paint little hearts. She vetoed Goldie's request for gold. She gave him the choice between white French tips, pale pink, or solid red. He chose red.)

She hadn't anticipated that her customer would be in such dire straits that she'd need to shave him, so she didn't have any supplies for that; but she also ordered him to get his legs as smooth as the surface of a balloon as soon as he got home—"And do you think there's any chance this guy you're after will see your pits?" "He already has!" "Hm. Okay. Yeah, uh, get those anyway."—and informed him that she would report him to the police for vandalism if he "shaved" using whatever depilatory cream he'd previously used on his hair.

As she finished plucking his brows, she said, "Okay, I think you're finally in decent enough condition for actual makeup." She stepped back, took in his face, and said, "Barely." She grimaced. "I wish I'd bought a concealer with better coverage. I didn't know the situation was so bad."

To his credit, Goldie had taken her criticism (and occasional looks of horror) like a champ. He simply drawled, amused, "The body rituals of the Nacirema are as elaborate as they are bizarre."

She picked up a couple of the foundations she'd bought and held them up next to the eye that had been protected by the eyepatch tan line, trying to determine which one was a closer match for whatever his skin tone was when he wasn't burned. "Who're the Nacirema? One of the tribes that used to live around here?"

"They're still in the area. Look 'em up."

Pacifica thought the darker foundation was closer; she tested it on his inner arm to be sure. "So, how much makeup do you already know how to apply? Any?"

"I can do mascara, eyeliner, and mascara."

"Riiight. Okay, both of you pay attention to what I'm doing." She evicted Mabel from her desk chair and dragged it around in front of Goldie's folding chair. "Because I will not be coming over to do this tomorrow, so the two of you will have to repeat this yourself. Here." She handed Goldie a mirror so he could watch her work.

Mabel hopped up to sit on the desk next to Goldie. "You have one hundred percent of my attention!" She immediately looked away from Pacifica at the makeup brushes laid out on the desk, picked up a fan brush curiously, and started dragging it up and down her arm. "Ooh. Tickly." 

"Emphasize my eyes," Goldie said. "They're my best feature. You can forget about everything else, but my eyes have to look good."

Pacifica looked at his eyes. Pacifica really looked at his eyes.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

She decided to stop looking at his eyes. "Okaaay, great great great, you've got suuuper long lashes, that's fantastic. We can totally draw attention there. You don't even need fake lashes. And you've got nice big prominent eyes. Kinda bulgy, but that should be easy to hide with eyeshadow. I'm thinking maybe a smokey eye?"

"What about metallics? Like gold?" Goldie asked innocently. "Kind of a retro 'secret agent villainess' look, don't you think! It'd bring out the yellow in my eyes!"

Pacifica said, "You do not want to bring out your jaundice."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"No gold eyeshadow," Pacifica said. "Period. If you want to experiment with color, we can try a smoky eye in burgundy. Burgundy is hot this year."

Goldie muttered something about welcoming a bottle of burgundy right now, then said, "Fine! Burgundy."

(As Pacifica looked through her makeup palettes for the burgundy, Bill leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do we have any leftover gold eyeshadow?" Mabel nodded and winked. Bill winked back.)

"What about the rest of your face?"

"Skip it."

"I'm not letting you go bare-faced aside from your eyes," Pacifica said. "But we can do a natural makeup look."

"That's so boring," Mabel said. She was dragging the fan brush over her lips now. "If it looks natural why's he wearing any makeup at all?"

Goldie said, "Because humans are insane about the most uninteresting things."

As Pacifica worked her way through the foundation, concealer—she decided his sunburned skin had enough of a sun-kissed glow that she could skip bronzer—and contouring, she said, "You are... really good at holding still when you try." He'd gone completely still, like a statue. A statue that was making direct eye contact with her soul. She felt a bead of sweat slide down her neck. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

"He's super good," Mabel agreed. "It's kinda creepy."

"Thanks!" And just like that, he was smiling and alive again. "I do a lot of meditating! Gimme a focal point to watch and I can go like two billion years!"

"You didn't learn from...?"

"Pageants? Ha! No way, I was the wiggliest little demon you've ever seen. It drove my mom nuts when she was trying to do my lashes. She used to say 'If you love me, hold still' to keep me in place—but you know how contrary kids are when they're mad! Eventually I got fed up and said, 'Well then, maybe I don't love you!' And she didn't speak to me for three days." Goldie laughed. "Ahh, I had the most dramatic mom."

"Wow, my mom would kill me if I ever tried something like that—especially if it was in public where people could see us," Pacifica said. "She hired makeup artists so I'd struggle against them instead of her. Your mom did your makeup? Did she ever hire anyone?"

"Nooo way. We ran our operation on a razor-thin budget to maximize the profits from my winnings. The name of the game was efficiency!"

"My mom's sure wasn't," Pacifica said. "(Shut your right eye, I've got to get your eyeshadow.) We went through like, fifty makeup artists or something. Sometimes more than one while prepping for the same pageant." She lowered her voice a tad, "A couple times when the makeup artist was a creep, I messed up my own makeup just so Mom would fire them."

"Ha! Suckers. Yeah, that's probably how it woulda gone if my mom had handed me off to a makeup artist. I was not afraid to sic her on adults! We didn't have any hired help when I was that age, but the principal was terrified of her. And if another kid at a competition was getting on my nerves, I'd go crying to her that they pushed me and oh, man, she'd come down on their parents like the asteroid on Chicxulub."

"Me too! There was this girl in third grade who was so... I don't know, just—" she pulled a face, "eugh, you know? I complained to mom about her and got her family blacklisted by the whole town. They had to move out of the state just to get a job."

Goldie laughed loudly. "Now that is impressive!"

Pacifica's gut shifted uncomfortably. Was it? "Other eye now." She didn't speak for a moment as she tried to get both eyes matching. "Actually... it was... kinda scary?"

She'd asked her mom if she could puh-lease get this girl out of Pacifica's class. She'd just expected the girl to be switched to another teacher.

Instead, over the next few weeks, she heard about the girl's mother losing her job, then her father. Her older brother got kicked out of the local Future Lumberjacks of America chapter. One day the girl came to school in tears after being cut from the softball team. A couple months later, the girl's friends—the two that hadn't drifted away from her as her family became pariahs—threw her a tearful goodbye party during lunch with a mall-bought cookie cake; and the next day, she was gone forever.

After that first time Pacifica had complained about her classmate, her mom had never once mentioned the girl or her family. She never asked if Pacifica had any more trouble with her. Not even when they left town. It was as though, after her mom ground them under her heel, they were beneath her notice. Just four crushed ants.

But Goldie was staring at her, frowning in confusion, like she didn't make any sense. "What—scary for the other kid?" he asked. "Sure. It's supposed to be, isn't it?"

Pacifica didn't reply for a second. I'm afraid of how good she was at doing exactly what I asked her to do without realizing I was asking for it—that sounded stupid. Finally, she said, "Don't wrinkle your face like that, I haven't set your foundation yet. It'll make it cake up."

"Your moms sound insane," Mabel said. While they'd been swapping stories about their childhoods, she'd been staring at them, chin in one hand, chewing on the fan brush's bristles. "Were you guys tortured growing up?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not!" Pacifica said. "My parents would never. You've only seen my mom's worst side, she's not really that bad. I mean—not to me. She's horrible to poor people, but that's different."

Goldie said, "Yeah, my mom was my biggest defender! If anyone tried to hold me back, she'd rip them a new one."

"But—forcing you to do pageants until you have a breakdown?" Mabel said, glancing between Goldie and Pacifica, mouth twisting up like the words tasted sour. "Guilting you into wearing makeup and attacking other parents and stuff? That's nuts."

"It's not like that," Pacifica said automatically, then tried to figure out what it was like.

"Now we're calling a kid's temper tantrum a breakdown? You've got a future career in propaganda, star girl," Goldie said wryly. "It's a mom's job to bring out a kid's potential, right? Sure, it drove me nuts at the time—but kids don't want their potential brought out, kids are lazy!" He shrugged, "Yeah, my parents weren't perfect—they didn't really 'get' me, they held me back from reaching my full potential because they couldn't see what it was—but I'd never have gotten on the road to unlocking my potential myself if they hadn't put me on the right path as a kid."

Pacifica nodded. "Totally! That's just normal mom stuff! My parents are exactly the same—they don't get my alpaca business at all—but there's no way I'd be running a business at thirteen if my mom hadn't pushed me to be the best I can be. Or supporting my alpacas through modeling if I hadn't learned how to present myself in the pageant system. Even mini-golf was just a hobby until my parents got me a coach and started taking me to competitions."

"And I wouldn't be the huge success I am today without those early lessons in public speaking!"

Mabel shot Goldie a meaningful look. He pointed at her. "Don't say a word. I've had a bad year, you can't judge me by that. Anyone could've lost their parrots in a freak accident."

"And some kids had it way worse," Pacifica said. "Some parents would hit their kids or scream at them for messing up their routines or getting distracted? Those girls never lasted long, you can tell if a contestant's just going through the motions because she's scared. I was never treated like that. My pageant coach taught my parents to use a 'warning bell,' when they rang it that was my warning to stop goofing off and focus on practicing or listen to them or whatever. They'd pay me in chocolate if I got back in line."

"Ha!" Goldie smacked the desk, "Oh wow, that's hilarious! Pageant coach Pavlov. My parents would have loved that when I was in the toddler competitions."

"Right?!" Pacifica laughed. "Now I'm like, wow, I used to be bribable with a piece of chocolate? Kids are sooo easy to manipulate."

"But hey, it's a good life lesson: the occasional reward and the fear of punishment is a lot more effective at keeping people in line than actual punishments."

Pacifica nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That's so insightful."

"See?" Goldie beamed at Mabel. "Pageants teach kids all kinds of useful things! Ambition, poise, charisma, self-confidence, social skills..."

She grimaced. "Yeah, but... all the restrictions and pressure and trauma and stuff? That really sounds bad."

"I think you're just bitter that you can't enter the birdsong contest."

She kicked his arm. "I'm serious!"

He pushed back her shoe and waved her off dismissively. "It only sounds bad to you because you were never in the pageant world! It's got its own rituals and expectations, of course it looks weird to outsiders."

"And everyone judges pageants so much more harshly than other competitive sports—which is what pageants basically are," Pacifica said. "Like, pageants and competitive mini-golf took just as much practice, just as much coaching, just as much time and money—but in real life, knowing how to make myself look presentable and talk to adults has helped me way more often than knowing how to knock a ball into a hole. Mini-golf only saved my life once."

"Charisma will get you everywhere," Goldie agreed. "It's the most effective form of mind-control you can do without psychically rewiring someone's neurons."

"Basically! But getting a medal at the Sportlympics has everyone talk about how skilled and hard-working and dedicated you are, and getting a tiara in a national pageant gets people who have never even watched a pageant calling you a bimbo. Like, what?"

"Blatant double standards!" To Mabel, Goldie said, "Both your parents work in Silicon Valley. Their priority is intelligence and grades instead of looks and charisma, so that's why you and your brother get pushed in school—but it's all the same! Parents push their kids to be successful whatever way they know how."

Mabel stared into space. "Huh." She fell silent, gnawing on the fan brush's handle—pondering whether her parents worrying about her so-so grades was comparable to the pageant moms desperate for their daughters' straight hair to be straighter and curly hair to be curlier.

Smugly, Goldie went on, "If anything, the pageant circuit was more useful than school. I—"

"(Stop moving around, I've got to do your other eye.)"

Goldie obediently leaned forward and shut his other eye. "I went from pageants straight into public speaking. I had an entire career before I was out of school. Everyone loved me! I was a natural in the spotlight!"

"Really?" Pacifica said dubiously. She could buy that he might have been a competitor as a kid, but honestly, he seemed pretty creepy to her. Enough confidence could carry you pretty far, but...

He rolled his open eye. "Don't take that tone with me. It was before you were born! And like I said—I've lost my looks. I used to be..."

He trailed off, staring down at his nail polished hands like he didn't recognize them.

He muttered, "I used to be so much better than this."

Mabel reached out and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

Sometimes Pacifica caught her mom staring in a mirror, studying her face with an expression somewhere between nervous and depressed, gently touching her fingertips to the thin lines beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth as though she were examining gruesome wounds. Her mother had always said that looks are everything; and even though she didn't talk about her feelings directly, from the way she sometimes snapped at Pacifica to keep up her skincare—moisturizer, sunscreen, hydration, don't frown too hard—Pacifica thought maybe she wasn't worried about Pacifica's face so much as her own.

Goldie only had the faintest traces of the start of wrinkles, unnoticeable if Pacifica hadn't just spent the past few minutes plastering foundation on his face. She wondered how old he was. She wondered whether he had the same fear her mother did: that his body was letting him down, slowly dying all around him.

You don't go through the child pageant world without learning two things: everyone wants you to look and act older than you are; and the older you get, the less anyone wants you.

"I've got to do your lips," Pacifica said, picking out a couple of options: a red so bright it was nearly orange (totally in this year), a nice glossy nude that ought to be a close match to Goldie's natural lip color. "Did you want to stick with the natural look, or...?"

He glanced up from his hands at the offered lipsticks. "What the heck," he sighed. "Let's make it red."

Pacifica nodded. "Pooch your lips out for me, like this." And that was the last they spoke for a while.

####

(Here's your regular TBOB report: no actual plot was changed due to TBOB. I added in a few lines referencing it: the imagery of Priscilla grinding normal people beneath her heel is meant to be reminiscent of Pacifica's giant nightmare on TINAWDC; the "meditating" for specifically two billion years is a direct reference to the barber pole, although I'd already headcanoned that Bill can meditate/dissociate for absolutely vast quantities of time; I already had dialogue where he goes on the importance of charisma and how much everyone adored him as a kid, but I tossed in another sentence or two about charisma just because of how strongly he emphasizes it in TBOB; and originally I had dialogue where Bill went on about what big supporters his parents were, even though he privately feels like they didn't get him—all I changed was deciding to make him admit to some of those feelings out loud, since it's something he says outright in TBOB. I've imagined that he tends to swing between "they were the best/they were the worst" based on how he's feeling at the time with no neutral ground in between—whiiich lines up pretty well with what TBOB gave us.

And unrelated but I spent way too long researching makeup & hair trends in the 70s and in 2013. I had no idea orange lipstick was hot for a while. My idea of doing makeup is painting my nails once every six years.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts! I've been eager to dive into this aspect of Bill's backstory and Pacifica's POV for a while.)

[pinkhoodi]

can’t pay rent, sorry !

✎ᝰ — telling the batboys that you can’t pay rent this month as a prank

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & jason and tim catching on immediately mmcht

♡⃕ — a/n: it’s this tiktok trend where the woman would tell their partner/husband “I can’t pay rent this month” and the reactions be sooooo funny 🤣🤣

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “I hope you’re not at mad at me love but, I can’t pay rent this month.” bruce turned around to face you and his face displayed a mix of confusion and concern. he’s thinking to himself, “when have y/n ever pay for the rent?”. he’s genuinely concerned cause why would he let his significant pay for rent when the mansion is paid in full?

Ꮺ you’re trying your best to keep a poker face and look sad, but you can’t fool the greatest detective. he notices the small details of you biting your cheek, suppressing a smile, your hands behind your back, he notices you trying to trick him

Ꮺ “my love, when did we ever have to pay for the home? you know what, do you know what company takes care of any of our bills? why would I let you stress about any bills? have I ever asked you to pay a bill?” the questions continued on until you stood there with not a single answer. bruce leans back in his chair and waits with a smirk on his face

Ꮺ “when those bills show up again, let me know so I can take care of it, okay?” he gets up to kisses your forehead and goes back to his work

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ “dick I’m sorry but I can’t pay rent this month.” dick paused what he was doing and turned his attention to you. he was extremely confused cause last time he checked, he assigned you as his beautiful partner who spends his money willingly and not to worry about bills

Ꮺ he went on and asked you the reason as to why, you explained how your job haven’t been giving you hours lately. he slightly cocked his head to the side, responding with, “baby, how many times have I told you never to worry about the bills?” “I know but I didn’t want to have you stressing and I feel like I should do my part with living here :(“

Ꮺ he cups your cheek with his hand and brushes it with his thumb, “your part is being the pretty, funny, and smart partner that lives with me. in addition to rambling about anything and loving me, ‘kay?” you stayed quiet and he lightly squished your cheeks, waiting for an answer

Ꮺ you nodded and gave a small smile at him. he smiled back and placed a kiss on your lips and said, “love you” afterward <3

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ “hey jay, I don’t wanna stress you but I can’t pay my half of the rent. I’m sorry, this month came up a bit short for me.” you try to say in distress. jason had his back turned and snickered to himself. he questioned himself as to whether or not he should play along with your lil prank

Ꮺ of course he chose to mess with you, very jason of him, and played along with whatever scheme you’re plotting. the thing is that he already seen that trend on his for you page, but for your sake, he’ll go with it

Ꮺ he asks why and you tried to give him a terrible excuse of your spending habits, you told him that you’ll do better and tried to make it seem like you were stressing over this. Meanwhile, the man in front of you is keeping his poker face in check and trying not to laugh at your attempt of worrying him

Ꮺ he ends up laughing, you looked confused as to why he’s laughing, and he explains how he’s seen this before. it shouldn’t be shocking cause you send him couple tiktoks all the time, of course he would see it at some point

Ꮺ you stood there dumbfounded, he shrugged his shoulders and continued about what he was doing. he looked back to you and let out another snicker, in amusement of your reaction of course

꒰ TIM DRAKE ꒱

Ꮺ “hey tim, don’t freak out but I can’t my part of rent. I’m really really sorry.” you try to say in distress. tim hummed and continued on the research that he was doing. he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying to be honest. well, at least you thought he wasn’t…

Ꮺ you repeated your sentence again and he responded with another, “mhm, don’t worry about it love.” you were confused as to why there was no reaction and went up to face him

Ꮺ “aren’t you going to ask me why I can’t help pay?” you asked him. tim shocked his head and continued on with his research

Ꮺ you walked away in frustration that the prank failed and before you left the room completely, tim replied, “my parent’s pay for our housing and even I don’t stress about that. also, seen the trend y/n, it won’t work.”

Ꮺ a reaction of surprise came upon from you, you forgot that tim’s for you page is almost like yours, and didn’t think that he would see the trend before you do. you cursed yourself from sending him so many couple tiktoks

♡⃕ HIIIIIII I MISS THIS BLOG SO MUCH :((( I miss writing for my batboys

♡⃕ this my first time writing for tim, im scared i miss characterized him 😞

♡⃕ I’ve been gone for so long but I promise I’m back fr 🙂‍↕️

♡⃕ lowkey wanna do this for jjk too….what we thinking ?

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: psalm 86:11

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[elihermit]

lost in the memories

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after the incident at work where Buck had to rescue you, you ended up in coma and relieved every moment of your relationship with Buck

word count: 2,1k

note from the writer: i’m so excited to finally share my first imagine with you! i’m taking requests 🫧

Breath in and breathe out. That’s what Buck always said when you start panicking and feel anxious. But today this panic was not over missing a deadline for your task at work, it wasn’t something you could easily fix.

You work as a psychologist who helps your patients get through the trauma of the past and find the strength to move on.

The day started as usual: morning kisses and cuddles with Buck, breakfast, I love you's, and you both went to work. But then everything is just blank, you didn't even get a chance to take your first patient or maybe you did? You can’t even remember.

You woke up at your apartment, cuddling your favorite toy, you got it when you were 9 years old and since then — it’s your lucky charm. You look at your screen to check the time — “8am”. Good, you have time to grab the breakfast at your favorite spot.

Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, put on some makeup and you’re ready to go.

“Good morning, (Y/N)! Let me guess, latte with raspberry syrup and English breakfast?” — it was Alice, the waitress in your favorite spot. You go here almost every day and you truly can say that she became your friend.

“Good morning, Alice! Yes, you know I can’t start my day without you teasing me and my favorite coffee to get through this.” — you can’t help but smile, she really knows how to highlight your day.

“Of course.” — Alice smiled. “How many patients do you have today? I think I need to make you two coffees.” — she remembered when yesterday you had 5 patients and you came back to the cafe to buy one extra coffee. You loved your job, but sometimes it was too much even for your professional head. Poor people, they don’t deserve to live with all of those traumas.

“Yes please. You’re an angel!” — you gave her a grateful look and agreed on her offer.

Now you have 30 minutes to eat your breakfast and the place was so packed, you were lucky to take the table the moment you walked into the cafe.

About halfway through enjoying your breakfast and making your schedule for tomorrow, you heard someone approaching you.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but could I please sit with you? There’s no empty table and I think I will actually go nuts if I don’t eat.” — you raise your head and it was the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes on. Pretty blue eyes, brown hair and the body of Greek God. Fuck, you stared too long, gotta answer quickly.

“Of course. I got you, this morning anger because of being hungry is not very cutesy.” — you laughed and pointed at the seat in front of you.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much, my co-workers just got saved from my rudeness by…” — he sat down and didn’t finish his sentence so you could tell him your name.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Happy to help, we don’t want to give your co-workers some traumas.” — you chuckled. God, you can’t forget about your work even when you have free time.

“That’s very true.” — he laughed. “I’m Evan, but you can call me Buck.” — the way he smiled… This image definitely won’t leave your head.

Suddenly, everything went dark. It’s like there was only one lamp that shined on your table. Buck started crying. You never heard any man cry like this. So much pain, desperation and suffering. With his head on his hands, you could see how his shoulders trembled with every cry.

He raised his head and looked into your eyes with so much sadness.

“Please, come back to me.”

Darkness. You move your finger. Why can you move ONLY your finger? What’s going on? It doesn’t feel right. You can’t see, you can’t move, you can’t speak and hear. Just darkness.

You open the door. Here he is, in all of his glory. Your partner, your love, your friend and your boyfriend in one person.

“Okay, I got every snack you like, you ready for our movie night?” — there’s a big bag of goods in front of Buck and he’s smiling like The Cheshire Cat.

You smile and pull him into the kiss. The sweetest kiss you have ever had. The best lips you have ever tasted. You already knew it would end up being Netflix & Chill.

“I missed you so much.” — you say into his lips and he gives you one more kiss before leading you to the couch.

You sat on the couch immediately getting trapped in his embrace. You didn’t mind at all. There’s no place in the world where you would rather be.

“Did you pick a movie? It’s your turn today, baby.” — you loved your tradition when at least 2-3 times a week you have movie nights. Last time you watched a movie called… You actually can’t remember, making love to each other sounded better after 15 minutes into the movie.

“Yes.” — he makes you look into his face. “Come back to me.”

Darkness. What the fuck is going on? You can feel you squeeze someone’s hand but you can’t see anything. Is that some kind of dream? More like a nightmare actually. Why are you getting pulled out of the most happiest moments of your life?

Buck. You feel so scared without him, you feel so alone. You want to scream “I’m here!”, but not a single word comes out of your mouth. That must be some kind of horrible joke.

You look into the mirror one more time and notice Buck staring at you with a smile.

“Okay, baby, first of all — you know you can stare and touch.” — you said with a smirk and Buck immediately made his way over you. He put his hands on your waist and yours gently fell on his neck. “Secondly, remind me again why we’re gathering in the middle of the week?”

You took a day off, because Buck was convincing you that no one has any other free day and only today they can all meet up together. Honestly, you loved being at Bobby’s and Athena’s house, especially when everyone was there too. Eddie with Christopher, Hen with Karen, Chim with Maddie. It’s like having a second family and you were grateful that they accepted you and loved you as much as Buck loves you.

“(Y/N), I told you it’s the only day when everyone is actually free.” — he said and kissed you. “And to be honest, I just wanted one more day off for you, you were working your ass off past weeks.”

True. For some reason you took more patients than usual and it was exhausting two weeks. Buck is always worried when you overwork yourself, so you didn’t hesitate long when he asked you to take a day off, you felt like you needed that too.

The evening was going great. Everyone is talking, laughing, dancing and eating. It was the most fun days when you all meet up together and Buck knew you loved it. So when Buck asked everyone to give him a little attention, you giggled, because usually it was the beginning of Buck doing something funny.

“Yeah, I know you all are probably expecting me to do a back flip.” — everyone laughed. “But today is a bit different. Not gonna lie, probably it was the hardest task in my life to keep everything a secret.” — you furrowed your brows, what secret?

But Buck continued.

“(Y/N), can you stand next to me, please?” — you’re confused, but you did what he asked. “My love, I know you’re confused and probably thinking that I had too many drinks. And I might be drunk, but I’m drunk in love. The moment I saw you in that cafe, I knew I couldn’t lose you. Honestly, the waitress said that there will be an empty table in 5 minutes, but I still chose to sit with you. Because how could I not?”

You started to realize. Is he… proposing? The love of your life is proposing to you?

“Buck…” — you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you and can’t even remember my life before you, that’s how well you filled all the missing pieces. So…” — Buck got on one knee, pulled a pretty little velvet box out of his pocket and asked the most important question that you didn’t even know you needed to hear. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” — you froze, tears started streaming down your cheeks. All the love you had for Buck just got 10 times stronger.

“Yes!” — you smiled happily and fell on your knees to kiss Buck.

He pulled the ring out of the box, carefully placing it on your finger and looked into your eyes.

“Then please, (Y/N)… Come back to me.”

Darkness. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. You either died or got trapped in the most fucked up dream. And knowing that you don’t really have dreams, there’s only one option left. Are you actually dying? This can’t be real, right?

In the past 3 years your life has finally fallen into the right places. You met Buck, work was going great, you’re supposed to marry the love of your life… You cannot miss that. “Till death do us apart” doesn’t mean that you have to die so soon. You need to come back!

“My love, I know you probably don’t hear me, but I can’t do it without you.” — you heard the echo in this pitch blackness. It was Buck. “We had so much ahead of us, do you remember? We wanted to buy the house, I wanted to surprise you with the best honeymoon, we wanted to start trying on our own bab-“ — his voice broke, you heard sobs.

Your breathing has become heavier. You could feel your chest rising. Can you just open your eyes? You can’t leave Buck like this, you can’t leave your new family. You need to come back, you had so much ahead of you. Wedding, kids, travels, joy, being a wife and mother.

You heard another echo.

“Please, baby, just please come back to me…”

NOW! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!

You could feel your eyes trembling. Darkness was replaced by white light. Heaven? There is definitely no smell of medicines in heaven.

Slowly, you open your eyes. So slow that it doesn't scare away reality.

The first image you see when you open your eyes and move your head to your right is Buck. He squeezes your hand with his head almost on the hospital bed. He’s still sobbing. It broke your heart into a million pieces. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Buck…” — you whisper. You can’t talk any louder, because your mouth is so dry. But he heard you.

Buck raised his head and met your eyes. You’re awake. You’re actually awake. One moment he was in hell, now he’s praising God for bringing you back.

“You came back…” — he smiled with his puffy eyes.

“How could I not? I heard you wanted me back at least four times.” — you chuckled tiredly, making jokes was your defense mechanism against difficulties.

“I thought I lost you, these 4 days were the hardest time of my entire life…” — he wanted to continue, but you interrupted him.

“4 days? W-what happened?” — you couldn’t believe it, you were out for 4 days.

“The building where you work collapsed. There was a mistake made when designing the building and it just fucking collapsed. I found you under the concrete slabs.”

Of course he was the one who rescued you. Your hero. On one hand you were happy that it’s him who saved you, but on the other he probably blames himself for not doing more, for not providing the proper safety. But let’s be honest, he did everything he could and you’re so grateful for that.

“Thank you for saving me.” — tears falling down your cheeks and you’re just happy to be back to him. To your lifeline.

He didn’t say anything, just got up and placed the most gentle kiss on your lips. Almost like he was afraid he could break you and you would vanish, that’s why you placed your hand on his cheek as a confirmation that you’re really here with him.

“So, what’s the best honeymoon you wanted to surprise me with?” — you said into his lips.

“You really heard everything?” — he asked confusedly, you giggled and kissed him once more.

Time to make more memories together.

[djcandiepaws]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ yandere! crossdresser x reader

summary: a fanfic introduction to yan!crossdresser cw: stalking, mentions of murder, and implications of masturbation!

You had recently moved to a new state due to your mother being given a job offer in a state completely different than yall's previous one.

When you transferred it was lowkey hell. I mean, obviously you were exempt from assignments prior to you coming because you JUST transferred. But even so its a different state so there's obviously different teachers with completely different teaching styles, and not only that but also new topics. Some of which you weren't taught beforehand.

It was tough to catch up, and especially with math. They were teaching a topic you weren't taught in your other school yet and to make matters worse they were already well into the unit and so you were pretty much behind from the start.

One day you were in class struggling to listen to the teacher. She goes over stuff a bit fast and you're one of those students that have trouble asking for help so right off the bat it was a bad start.

Soon the class ended and you were about to get your notebook and leave until you feel a tap on your shoulder. That's how you met her. Or him? It's confusing. Like you saw the teacher call him by male pronouns yet, I don't know, they look like the epitome of feminine beauty, it's intriguing. "Hey! I saw you were struggling to keep up with notes in class. If you want you can take a picture of mine, I don't mind at all! Especially since you're a new student and all!" He chuckled while uttering the last bit.

You're very thankful for the help but oh my god.. He's ethereal. It's honestly fair how perfect he is. He doesn't even seem human, I mean, he's androgynous which people say is like peak attractivity, he seemingly gets good grades, and he seems kind so far? Like he's offering up his notes, and as far as you know he hasn't done anyone dirty, well that you know of. He's so perfect it's uncanny.

He nervously fidgets with the ends of his hair due to him noticing your very obvious staring. "Uhhh, is there something wrong?" You instantly snap out of it and become flustered after realizing how you must've made him a bit self conscious with how hard you were staring.

"I'm sorry! Also, yes, thank you! I was struggling really bad with this lesson. It's been hard to keep up!" You reply feeling a bit bad with how you obviously made him feel. "I understand that, I just transferred a few months ago but trust me it gets easier to stay on top of stuff. Actually, after school would you mind meeting up with me at the library and we could study together and maybe even grab lunch after?" Honestly your eyes lit up the moment he said that. This could get you on top of your grades and finally get you passing!

"Yes! Of course! Thank you!" Instinctively you hug him tightly. He gives you the pages of his notes and you take a few snaps of them. Y'all also save each others numbers in your phones to keep in touch. This honestly feels like your lucky day, your grades mean everything to you and to get the upper hand by meeting this guy feels like winning the lottery!

As for him? Poor you just existed and he's love-struck by you already! Even before officially meeting you he's been watching you around the school. Taking pictures of you openly but using him being in the photography club as an excuse when people question him (he isn't in ANY club). He often goes to the same places he sees you visit/pass by to catch glimpses of you, and when he does he goes in his notes app and writes down the places you go to/pass by and writes at what time you often visit so he can be there when you pass by again.

Sometimes he'll follow you home closely behind you and take photos of you and he REALLY likes the photo he took he keeps it in a special ribbon box of photos he especially likes of you and keeps it for his alone time. It might seem creepy but you have to understand he loves you and he will do absolutely anything to get you to himself, maybe he would even kill if need be.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (09) | 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: 18.4k

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 for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I return to uni. 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!

Seeing you standing in his kitchen donned in that pastel-colored blouse makes Jungkook stop in his tracks; you’re exactly who he needs to wake him up. 

It’s been weeks of vacation, which also means weeks without his usual routine. It’s striking how being absorbed in his work has altered him in that sense - he looks for the stress, for the long hours, for the isolation that’s demanded of his job. Perhaps there was just really nothing to look forward to, and work was an excuse for all those things because there wasn’t much else going for him. Ironic, considering everything he can do with what he has, yet nothing seems to be what he’s looking for, even if deep down, he knows what it is.

This is something that Hoseok and A-yeong made him realize during the trip as he watched them gush about the pretty streets and marvel at the fjords and immerse themselves in the view of the northern lights. 

His cousin, the President of the company who makes decisive decisions and conducts press conferences and signs off on billion won projects, is the same man who squealed during a husky ride in Finland, laughed his butt off when he slipped on a glacier, and muttered words of love to his wife as they all watched the bright evening sky over the lake in Norway. There was so much passion in him, something A-yeong mirrored, whether it was about work or his relationships or just about everything in life. Hoseok looked forward to that trip, to that time with his wife, to that break, to seeing the scenery and feeling peace. 

While Jungkook found himself constantly thinking about the Arts Center and upcoming projects and new design ideas… and the one person who connected him to all those - you. It felt like he was rushing towards something because the achievement was the goal, and while he stopped by the mountains and marveled at the water as he sat on the cliffs, his mind was racing, chasing something that he couldn’t even grasp. 

That’s how the past six years have been. Perhaps more, he thinks. Maybe 20. He’s never allowed himself to just be. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know who he is outside of what he does; he doesn’t know much of how he is outside of being an executive and heir, and so during the moments when he isn’t functioning as such, he’s a bit lost, just existing in a place he’s visiting, not knowing how to interact, how to breathe; not knowing how to connect or to be free.

You’re the bright spot amidst it all. With you around, he still seems to be wandering while stuck in a certain spot, but he’s not alone because you’re there. With you around, there’s a sense of calmness somehow, with your smile and your presence warming the coldest parts of him that he’s left untouched and unfeeling for years.

So when he walks towards you, his eyes fully opening now to see you better, he hums in satisfaction. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, prompting you to turn around. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Really, Mr. Jeon? I thought the three weeks felt fast,” you giggle. “But it’s nice to see you, too. Were you able to rest out there?”

“Somehow,” he replies, taking the glass of water you give him.

“Is that why you passed on your morning workout to sleep in?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking that he’d slept in when you walked into his penthouse earlier without the usual sounds from the gym that you’d gotten used to.

“I was pretty jet lagged,” he groans. “Couldn’t sleep so I did it last night to tire myself out and then I finally fell asleep three hours ago. It’s a miracle I woke up after the tenth snooze of my alarm.”

“Ooh, that is not good, considering all the documents on your desks and messages on your inbox,” you shake your head. “What if I move the team meeting to tomorrow so you don’t push yourself too hard today? You could’ve taken the day off.”

“And have a worse day tomorrow? No thanks,” he chuckles. “I’m fine, but I agree with moving the meeting.”

“Just take it slow,” you advise. “I brought some pastries because I know your fridge and pantry are empty. I’ll get them ready shortly.”

“I’ll wash up then.”

You follow not long after, preparing his outfits for the second half of the week, then setting out the breakfast for both of you. He returns to the kitchen wearing the brown suit you chose for today, looking just as handsome as you remember. You fix his tie like you always do and meet his eyes like it’s reflex, the warmth bubbling within you when he returns your soft smile. You take your seat a chair away, taking your iPad after to start going through updates when he stops you.

“Not yet, please. My mind’s still half asleep.”

“Okay, sir,” you respond. “We can talk about your trip instead. How was it?”

Jungkook finds himself more engaged in telling you about it, not like how he was when his best friends met him for dinner last night and he was too tired to narrate how it went. But you ask with such excitement that he ends up sharing more than what he planned.

He talks about the Vikings museum and historical tours, the bike rides and coastal walks, the calm but lively cities and the breathtaking waterfalls. He even mentions the things he’d only kept to himself - like that one evening when the sky looked like one of Lee Jaemin’s paintings that had him staying at the balcony with a glass of wine while basking in its beauty, and when they were in Hans Christian Andersen’s hometown and he wondered what kind of fairytale character he would be, and that he learned he really enjoys hot springs during the winter. They’re random thoughts that he just ended up saying, somehow feeling natural and comfortable in sharing them with you. 

You indulge him, asking more and sharing your thoughts, too. You even throw in the occasional teasing remark and playful laughter. You ask about the scenery, expressing your yearning for the outdoors that you said you never really appreciated before, as the open space always overwhelmed you.

He passes you his iPad where he’s opened the folder of the photos that he took with his camera, a gift from Taehyung who’d said that Jungkook needed to go out more and “feel the sun.” He rarely used it but a Northern Europe trip seemed like the perfect excuse. He’s used to assessing interiors and marveling at structures from afar, but this time he got to appreciate what lies beyond his walls, beyond the little world he’s been burrowing himself in.

“These are stunning, Jungkook,” you gush, dropping the formalities as he shares something that feels so personal. “I didn’t know you had the talent for photography, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” he shakes his head. “I took it as an elective during university and it helps with design ideas. I should at least take nice photos if I need inspiration or a basis. I don’t really do it much, though.” 

“Did it make you feel good, at least?” You ask, wondering what else gives him satisfaction.

“Somehow. It makes me feel good when I’m looking at the pictures. I’m transported to that day and that place again, like a holder of memories and desire for the good things.”

You go through the photos - dozens of them. He didn’t take too many, just one or two shots of every scenery. Beyond the majestic landscape, there are the everyday scenes - people talking at a cafe, strangers enjoying the park. There’s a couple holding hands, laughing at each other; from the silhouettes, you can tell they’re Hoseok and A-yeong, a moment that Jungkook probably thought too precious to not capture. 

Something in you stirs, as the photos elicit a mix of awe and yearning. You look at Jungkook and you think it’s what he felt, too. 

There’s a saying you heard about watching what people photograph to learn what they fear losing. With Jungkook, it seems as if these - freedom, tranquility, connection, intimacy - are things he wants; somehow they seem to be what he fears having. 

“It’s nice to have a keeper of good memories, isn’t it? Of that reminder that beautiful things exist and that they’re tangible, you know?” You say, returning his gadget. 

“It is,” he responds after a beat of silence, seemingly processing your words. “We forget sometimes. Or maybe, we just don’t know what that’s like. In that case it’s like an illusion. But it’s still good to have that, I guess. It’s still something.”

You don’t know what more could be said. It feels too personal or even intimate of a conversation to have with your boss on a Wednesday morning as you eat breakfast in his apartment. So you let it go, smiling as you say you’re glad he got to have some rest. 

He says that so does he and then asks about how your holiday was as you both head to the car. You talk about it during the ride, how you spent a week in Wando with your mother’s partner’s family and then drove to Jeonju, how the entirety of your break had you stuffing your face with food and bonding with them, and how they drove you back to Seoul last weekend, thankful that for those two weeks, they had you around.

You don’t tell Jungkook that some days, you’d think of him, wondering how he’s doing. You don’t tell him that you’d seen A-yeong’s posts and that he looked at peace in them, that there was a softness in his eyes that you’ve rarely seen on him. You don’t tell him that despite the vacation that you said you were looking forward to, you were also looking forward to this - having him back, sharing stories, and living in the silence alongside him.

You wonder, as you glance at him looking out the window, if this is what you meant about savoring the moment, enjoying what’s in front of you, and feeling less alone. Because right now, those are exactly what you feel. 

Jungkook wanted to wait to get to the office before proceeding to work matters, something that surprises you because he always gets down to business immediately, not unless he’s recovering from a hangover. But he blew you off even in the car, wanting instead to listen to your stories and then doodle on his leather notebook again for the rest of the ride. You end up meeting with him for an hour before he settles in, then he goes to lunch with his father, meets with your team, and then decides to visit the Arts Center mid-afternoon. 

Work is back in full-swing just like that, and you pull the energy from within you to manage the crazy week. There are start-of-the-year events to attend and organize, a board report and meeting to prepare for, new projects to initiate, and a major one to monitor. 

You’re glad that despite all that, Jungkook allows you to have a four-day off on the succeeding week so you can celebrate your birthday with a road trip down coastal towns with Jimin and Soomin. It’s a silly thing to do in the middle of winter, but they insist that warmth is most satisfying when it’s cold outside, and you don’t disagree. You’ll definitely be sighing in relief when you hold the steaming hot hotteok in between your hands, and it’ll be the best one you’ll have. 

It’s Thursday and you’ll be back in a week. You’ve just finished briefing Do-hyun, who’ll be covering for you while you’re away, and you get off your chair to grab tea in the pantry. Jungkook’s voice stops as you, as he stands by his door and asks if you’re already leaving.

“In an hour, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Is there anything I can help you with until then?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “I’m actually about to leave for dinner with Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh, alright, sir,” you hum. “Goodbye, then. And I’ll see you next week. Just know that you’re the only one who can disturb me.”

He laughs in response. “Come on, I won’t be badgering you, especially on your birthday. It’s your one week away from me. You have to savor it.”

“So should you,” you counter. “But okay. I will.”

“Good,” he nods. “I’ll just fix up and go ahead then.”

He returns to his room and you’re just the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t properly greet you but you suppose that’s good for you. So you go to the pantry and end up chit-chatting with the team, finding yourself smiling when you look up and see Jungkook by the door, who tells everyone not to stay too late before he heads out. 

You arrive back at your desk, your heart beating fast at the sight of a small brown bag on your table. 

For your trip. Something to help remind you that beautiful things exist and they’re tangible, the note reads. Happy birthday. 

Your mind goes to a conversation you had not long ago, about how photos can elicit certain emotions and be a keeper of memories, especially of good ones. You know this is from Jungkook, and you also have an idea of what this might be, which is why you open the package right away.

Still, it catches you by surprise, especially when you find two disposable film cameras inside. They’ll definitely be enough for your upcoming trip and you know the photos will come out amazingly. You’re ecstatic. 

Perhaps this is why he wanted to leave before you did - you’d thank him and he’d be terrible at accepting it again, then you’ll call him out for it. Maybe it was good he hadn’t stuck around to see you act this way. At least he didn’t see you with that silly smile on your face.

But Yoongi does as you head down the elevator, smirking at you when he sees the bag you’re holding and the familiar handwriting on the card.

“I’m guessing you’re not fighting it anymore, huh?” He says, teasing yet somehow still comforting. 

“I’m trying not to, even if I know I’m being stupid,” you admit. “I can at least have these fleeting moments of joy after I walk away from this.”

“Retain the good memories. That’s one way to let things go,” Yoongi advises, as he exits the carriage on the parking lot floor.

The doors close on your smiling face, and he chuckles to himself at the irony of things. That’s how he learned to let you go, after all.

You return to work the following week with a spring in your step, with Jungkook noticing as you heat up the fried rice that you told him you’d be preparing for breakfast. You hum as you go about in the kitchen, feeling energized after the last few days you’ve had. 

It was freezing, but you, Soomin, and Jimin went a little crazy and ran down the beach whenever you drove by one, something you all did as kids living in Busan. The drives from town to town were slow but they had you all singing to your favorite songs, munching on chestnuts and bungeoppang, and stopping over viewing sites for fresh air and photos. 

You used Jungkook’s gift a lot, taking pictures of things that elicited strong emotions and good memories - purple and orange skies, snow melting on the pavement, the crashing ocean waves turning white at the tip, an empty playground in the park, Soomin’s infectious laughter, Jimin’s angelic smile. 

The cold was an excuse to seek your best friends’ warmth and they took advantage of it. It reminded you of those few years growing up with them before you returned to Daegu for college, something you and Jimin reminisced about, and something that you thanked him for after what seemed like ages. You recalled how he approached you first as the new girl who entered school in the middle of the school year, how he followed you around because you were always alone and was scared of loud noises, and how he’s never left your side since then. 

Every night during that trip, he hugged you as you tried to fall asleep, knowing you needed it for the cold you felt inside and out. He was next to you when you talked about Jungkook gifting you the cameras and admitted that it made you feel good, that it made you happy.

“I’m glad he’s showing you kindness,” Jimin had said. “But… just be careful, okay? Your heart is capable of a lot of good things. Pain is the last thing it deserves.”

“I don’t really know what my heart is capable of,” you replied. “My brain does the hurting but my heart… I don’t know what it does. I don’t know how it works.” 

It left him speechless then and somehow, you were glad that he just held you tighter, only because it was the only way you wanted to be comforted at that moment. But you also knew that whatever your heart ended up doing or experiencing, Jimin and Soomin would be there to help you make sense of it, to pick up the pieces should they need to.

“It seems as though your birthday rejuvenated you, ___,” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. “You look much lighter and relaxed.”

“Only because I haven’t checked my emails nor taken new instructions from you,” you laugh as you serve the fried rice in bowls then head towards him. You fix his suit again and speak casually like you’ve gotten used to. “Once I open that iPad and see what I have to deal with, relaxed would be the last thing I’ll be.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “Let me savor this then.”

His words catch you off guard and they prompt you to meet his eyes - soft yet piercing, then he turns shy and turns away from you. Perhaps he’s surprised at what he’d said, too.

“Work is stressful and your calmness rubs off on me most times,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a busy few days ahead and I want that calmness to linger.”

“It will,” you assure him. “And yes, I feel rejuvenated, and that’ll probably last me for days so that will linger, even if I’m stressed, so don't worry. You’re gonna do well. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

Jungkook’s meeting the Culture Minister next week to present the Arts Center’s plans and activities leading to its opening to the public, which is why you think he needs that calmness as well. The team has been helping him with the preparations and while you felt bad that you didn’t get to contribute as much, he assured you that all the notes you left him have been instrumental. 

But still, his words affect you. Is this calm and relaxed version of you all he wants to savor? Does it mean anything more? 

The thoughts wander away as you have breakfast with him, and he asks if you wish to talk about work later on but you insist that you’re mentally ready for it all. He’s the one who gives you updates this time, and just like that, you’re back to your usual routine.

You glance at his plate, all clean right after because even this dish, he savors. And you realize that doing things for him, no matter how simple, makes you happy, too, especially when his lips turn up in a small smile and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows. 

“It’s infinitely better than mine,” he hums.

“So, it’s really, really, really good then?”

“You don’t even know how mine tastes like.”

“True. But Taehyung said once that yours was really delicious and I’ll take his word for it. Seokjin agreed and I believe them.”

“Wow, really? That’s a rare moment where they praise me,” Jungkook laughs. 

“You should savor that, too.”

“I should. Heavens know the last time that happened. And when it’ll happen again.”

“That’s kind of hard though, isn’t it?” You say, being a bit reflective as you go back to your daily routine after a trip that you wholly enjoyed. “Savoring things… capturing them, appreciating them. Like, you have to be in the moment, you have to be present, and that’s not easy to do.”

“It isn’t,” he responds after a while. “You have to care enough for something to be worth savoring, I guess.”

“Exactly. But how do you do that when everything is temporary - things, feelings… people. Not all of them are meant to stay,” you reply, meeting his eyes as they seem to be in deep thought.

“Maybe they will… if you ask them to,” he softly says.

“That depends.”

“On what?” He asks.

“If they have a reason to,” you shrug. 

Your faraway eyes tell him that you’re in deep thought, perhaps processing the exchange that even Jungkook can’t fully wrap his head around. But you turn to him not long after, smiling as you take the plates to clean up, as if you’d just snapped out of a trance, of a moment of honesty. 

He watches you from his seat. There’s an aura about you that truly feels more relaxed, yet there seems to be an added layer of pensiveness, of deep thinking that could easily be mistaken for savoring the moment when you might be questioning it, perhaps wondering if it’s real… or worth caring about in the first place.

Even until now, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him hanging on to every word you say, like it’s some secret message or code to learning who you are and what your fears and pains and hopes and dreams might be. 

In the past months, his moments with you have allowed him a peek inside - there’s this yearning for something that you’re not ready for; there’s this knowledge of the fleeting nature of the world that you want to capture as memories because that’s the only way you can make them stay; there’s this desire for companionship that terrifies you more than anything.  

But then again, as he sees that soft courage in your eyes, maybe he knows why - he has the same fears as you, and perhaps that’s terrifying, too, as he realizes that much of what he’s scared of is tangible. 

He fears the emptiness left in your absence and the silence surrounding him when you’re gone. His trip over the holidays made him think so; this past week when you were away solidified it. There’s a lot of you to miss. He’s unsure how to deal with these thoughts and feelings; he doesn’t know how to move forward and be professional when you affect him this way. All he can hope for is that you’ll always find a reason to stay close to him, that you’ll always find a reason to want him around, and that every moment you share is something worth it enough for you to savor but that you both never have to let go.

You think about the conversation with Jungkook later that night on your way home. There’s something about the impermanence of the world that’s always scared you; things break and wither away all the time and you fear the loss in their absence. Perhaps it’s because you’ve experienced various types of losses throughout your years of living. 

You lost that childhood innocence the first time you saw your mother cry, then when her smile that finally returned was wiped off, and then when her hopeful eyes became filled with tears out of fear. You lost that comfort of a routine when you left Seoul at 10 years old, and then that stability when you said goodbye to your life in Busan. You lost that security when you decided to come back here with a dream tucked away, burdened with a debt and a past that you couldn’t escape. You lost that feeling of freedom when your favorite library closed, and then of safety during that night at the restaurant when you were hurt and exposed. 

It’s hard to savor things when you know you’ll lose them one day. But that’s also precisely why you should, as what these past months have been showing you, you think now. The absence reminds you that something good was in its place, and that at one point in time, it made you hope that you deserved it, that you were worthy of having it. 

But as you lay in bed that night and think of how much of Jungkook you thought about while you were away, you start to think that maybe things aren’t as temporary as you once believed. He was in the icy streets that you walked on and the warmth of the hot chocolate drink you had. He was in the drizzle on the playground that you wiped off and the touch of the leather notebook you saw at one of the shops. 

And perhaps that was the difference - you didn’t just stand by; somehow it felt like you connected with them - they were tangible, within your grasp, and that made them linger, that made them feel real. In your mind, that’s where they stayed.

The tail-end of winter marks the time when you’ve settled in the new year. All your backlog from the holidays and your short birthday break have been worked on. Operational plans and goals for the year have been finalized. The Board report and meeting are over and major events have been scheduled. Things are picking up now as the Arts Center is near its completion, with the consequent promotions and marketing on full speed. That last bit has been contracted to a subsidiary company but Jungkook is still on top of most things, which means that so are you. 

You accompany him to meetings with different departments regularly, and that’s on top of monitoring the other small projects that the VP office is working on, which is also on top of supporting Jungkook’s executive functions. In a blink of an eye, you’re back to the hustle and bustle nature of your job, and you’re reminded of why it’s been so hard to get out of it, and also why you can’t wait to do so. 

There’s just so much going on all at once, and given how you are, you give all of yourself to it because it’s the only way to get things done; it’s the only way to get through it without feeling like you’re taking for granted all that you’ve been given and achieved. But it also means you’ve lost the sense of meaning of most other things, and you wanna be able to do something that means something to you, something of good memories, of beautiful things that are tangible that you can touch and feel. 

You let go of the thoughts when Do-hyun and Yohan pop in your area to say goodbye. It’s another long night for everyone and you’re glad that they finally listened to you and decided to go home. You say that you still have a couple of things to work on when they insist that they walk you to the bus stop, telling them once more that you’ll be fine. 

“It’s forecasted to rain soon,” Do-hyun informs you. 

“I’ll get a cab, don’t worry,” you assure them. “Finance needs these files first thing tomorrow morning and we’ve got that ocular at 8. Thank you though.” 

“Fine, but let us know when you’re home, okay?” She says.

“I will. Get home safely, you two.”

You get back to work, and with the peace and quiet in the office with you being the last one here, you manage to finish what you need to in an hour and then finally call it a night. You head out and sigh to yourself once you see the lightning strike, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the rain will begin to pour. You manage to bring out your umbrella by the time it does, then turn at the corner to look for a cab so you can avoid those who’ll be hailing from the main road. 

There are a few people who have the same idea as you, and it’s after some time before you spot one, with the driver slowing down once he sees you. But right as you start speed walking towards it, some man decides to get ahead, running past you and bumping you in the process, causing you to lose your balance. The wet pavement doesn’t help, as you slip on your foot and fall to the ground. You try to get up but jerk in pain when you do, realizing that you’d hurt your ankle, a foreign feeling that has you immediately worrying. 

After all the times you’d found yourself under the rain, this is the worst moment of all - you’re hurting, all alone, and completely worn out. You’ve had a really long day and you don’t have the energy for this; all you want is to go home and have some rest. But you know there’s no other way, so you shift on your bum, manage to get up and strain your arms in the process, then you limp to the nearest post you can find using your umbrella as a walking stick then stand on one foot.

The rain has weakened a little, so you’re at least not getting even more wet, but it’s still winter and you’ve started to freeze. There are no other cabs in sight and all ride-hailing apps have been such a pain to book. Knowing that it’ll be tough to get home in any way at this stage and that you won’t be able to manage on your own, you decide to call Mr. Ri. He’s always told you that if you need help for anything, he’s another person that you could call.

It’s half past 8 in the evening. You’re banking on him being on the way home after having dropped Jungkook off at his building after a dinner meeting at 5:30.

“Hey, ___. Is everything alright?” Mr. Ri asks, knowing you rarely call at this hour. 

“Not really,” you sigh, the shiver in your voice evident. “Have you dropped Jungkook off?”

“Not yet. But what do you mean, not really? What happened?”

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to finish. Tell me, are you in danger?” He presses, and you hear the worry in his voice. 

You told him about Chi-won some weeks after it happened, and Mr. Ri, having known you for many years, knows you’re not one to usually reach out. He’s made it a point to check on you regularly, and calls like this would definitely ring some alarm bells. 

“I’m not in danger but I hurt myself,” you say, quickly appeasing him that it’s probably just a sprained ankle and not that serious. “I just can’t get any ride and I can barely walk. I was hoping you were on the way home.”

“I’m not but I’ll go get you, okay? I’ll tell Jungkook and we’ll drive to you right away.”

“Mr. Ri, he’s in a meeting!” 

“That’s most likely over and now they’re just chatting over drinks,” he reasons. “I’ll get him. You know he’ll want me to.”

“You don’t know that,” you stammer.

“You weren’t there with him the days after what happened that night at the restaurant, ___,” he huffs. “I just knew it was really bad because of how worried he was, and he’s never been that way. So yes, I know he’ll want me to get his ass out of there and be on the way to you. Plus, I’m sure he’ll fire me if I don’t.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Just don’t make it sound so bad because it really isn’t.”

“You know I can’t control how that kid reacts,” he hums. “Just send me your location.”

Mr. Ri heads out of the driver’s lounge and rushes to the restaurant where he manages to send a message to Jungkook that you’re stranded somewhere with possibly a sprained ankle. He says it as it is, knowing that Jungkook won’t need much to decide on ending the meeting and go to you, which he does right away.

“What happened?” He asks the older man as they both walk towards the basement parking.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask any more questions,” Mr. Ri responds. “She’s somewhere near the office. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Try for 15,” Jungkook instructs.

He calls you right after and he immediately picks up on your chattering teeth.

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?”

You’re a little surprised when Jungkook calls this soon, and with how you’re trying to move past whatever attraction you have towards the man, this really isn’t helping.

“Just… cold. My umbrella flew away,” you laugh. “The wind’s picked up and I think it’s gonna rain again.”

Just as you say so, it starts, and you pick up on the change in Jungkook���s voice. You’ve since learned that he’s not fond of it, always closing his eyes and trying to tune everything out with even just a drizzle. But he continues talking and asks what happened, trying to keep you company. You narrate the incident and attempt to play it off as something minor, although the longer you stay leaning against the post, the more pain you’re starting to feel. 

“We’re five minutes away. We’ll be there soon,” he assures you then drops the call.

Jungkook clenches his fist and closes his eyes as the rain continues to pour. With the sound of the thunder, he jerks in his seat like he always does, but he pushes forward, knowing you need his help. He takes deep breaths just as he’s learned to do, and not long after, Mr. Ri informs him that he sees you just meters away.

The car slows down and Jungkook looks outside the window. He can see you leaning against a pole on one foot, drenched and shivering, your eyes closed as you wait for them to arrive. He meets Mr. Ri’s eyes in the rear view mirror as they halt, and with the rain just barely stopping, the older man nods and exits the car.

Jungkook watches from inside as Mr. Ri runs to you. He sees the smile on your face despite the droplets on the window. The older man takes your bag then helps you walk, leading you to the car where Jungkook manages to push the door open. 

You slowly enter with as much energy you can muster, wincing in pain when you have to adjust your foot inside. You sigh in relief as you feel the warmth and dryness of the car, prompting you to apologize for getting it all wet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ll take you to the hospital, okay? And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing that much as you’re causing him inconvenience right now, you’re too tired to argue. You lean your head by the window and try to catch your breath. 

“Have you had dinner? He asks.

“Not yet. I was supposed to grab it on the way home.”

“We’ll pass by somewhere after the hospital.”

“Okay,” you look at him and smile. 

Jungkook isn’t surprised when you don’t counter him. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, as he sees it in how your smile isn’t as bright as what he’s used to, with it fading as you turn away. You’re still shivering though, despite the car heater being turned up. He doesn’t have a towel to dry you up, though, so he instead removes his coat and instructs you to lean forward so he can place it over your shoulders to warm your back. He takes his puffer jacket from the front seat and puts it over your lap right after, giving you warmth there, too. 

“Is that better?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mouth. “Thank you.”

His scent wafts through your senses, allowing you to breathe and feel all of him at once. It’s the closest thing to tangible comfort you’ve gotten from him, and you hate how good it feels.

You’re just about to fall asleep when the car comes to a stop. The rain has subsided and perhaps that’s why soon after, you hear Jungkook open his door and then your door, too. He removes his coat over your back, placing it back inside, then he holds onto your forearms to help you climb out. He takes his jacket and instructs you to wear it, giggling at how you’re being swallowed in it.

“I look ridiculous,” you pout as you sit on the wheelchair that he’s asked the nurse to get.

“Just a little,” he teases.

He walks next to you as you’re wheeled inside the hospital, staying close by when you explain to the ER doctor what happened. She assesses your foot and lower leg, diagnosing you with a sprained ankle like you expected, and proceeds to wrap it in elastic bandage. 

She treats the minor scratches on your palms you got from the fall then writes you a prescription for painkillers. Jungkook takes it so he can buy them for you after, then he helps you settle the bill with your insurance. 

You’re quite uncomfortable - you’re still a little wet and the bandage feels foreign around your foot. But you’re also feeling a bit shy, now that Jungkook is the one pushing the wheelchair towards the pharmacy nearby. He parks you at the side while he buys the medicine, and as you look on, you can’t help the relief mixed with giddiness that you feel despite the pain that’s close to overtaking you.

He stands by the counter with his white dress shirt slightly untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are in his pockets while he waits for the pharmacist to return, and amidst everything that’s going on, you’re still able to admire how overwhelmingly handsome he looks, especially given what he’s doing right now for you. His side view is quite blinding, so you’re slightly embarrassed when he turns around and calls your name again after you missed it the first few times.

“Dazed and tired?” He asks as he walks back to you with a pack of medicines.

“Definitely,” you say, which isn’t a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. “I just want to eat and have a nice bath and then sleep.”

“And you’ll do all that soon,” he assures you. “We’ll pass by whatever’s open on the way to your place. Just make sure you don’t have the hot water on, okay? And then elevate your foot when you sleep.”

“Yes, I heard everything she said,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“Including the full-on rest that’s required of you for the next few days?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that’s what you’re gonna have. You’re on leave until you’re able to walk properly again, Ms. Cho.”

“So now you’re being formal,” you tease, flashing him a playful smile. “But yes, Mr. Jeon. The instructions are understood.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Glad you’re not being stubborn about it.”

“Oh, not with this one, not when I’m this tired and in this much pain.”

His look turns sullen at the admission of what you’re feeling and you wish he didn’t feel this bad. But you can’t deny the way it’s giving you butterflies, prompting you to scold yourself internally because learning how caring he is isn’t exactly what you need to get over a crush. This is definitely the worst part about being injured, you decide. 

You make it out of the hospital and he helps you again as you enter the car, sliding in next to you as he ensures that you’re warm. 

You pass by a noodle house on the way, and he buys you some more food for the next day despite your insistence that he didn’t have to. But you’re too tired to argue some more, and you doze off a little during the drive to your apartment, with your half-awake self mumbling your apology about taking up his time.

Jungkook playfully shakes his head. Knowing you’re probably shallow sleep-talking, he disregards your words. He just gets glimpses of you, comforted to know that you’re at least getting the most rest you can have, given your current state. The painkillers will kick in soon and that’ll help you sleep better, but right now, he wishes he could do more for you. 

In the deepest crevices of his heart, he wants to hold your still shivering hands and maybe hug your trembling body. He wants to stay with you until you’re warm and comfortable in your bed, perhaps assure you in whatever way that you’re not alone, that there’s help whenever you need it. He can’t imagine how it would’ve been like for you being under the rain, cold and hurt with no one around. 

On second thought, he can, and that’s the thing about it. Even if you get out of it with just a sprained ankle - considering how much worse it could’ve been - it’s still terrifying being alone and powerless, paralyzed on the spot and not knowing if anyone will show up. He wants nothing more than for you to get over that and be able to move past it because he knows how haunting it could be; he knows how restraining such memories are.

But he also knows that there’s not much he could do - not with the unnamed feelings he can’t express, and not with the line he still believes he shouldn’t cross.

So he settles for glances and soft smiles at your fluttering eyes and slightly parted mouth. You look tired but peaceful; he thinks it’s quite endearing. It also feels intrusive so he looks away, out into the streets that he’s able to somehow see now. He thinks about the timing of it all - your late night and his dinner out, your injury and the bad weather. He’s thankful that the rain subsided and that allowed him to help you as much as he was able to, and that he got to you in the first place.

You arrive at your apartment with you now fully awake, and Jungkook heads to your side right away. Pulling you out of the car requires more strength from him, and despite your terrible condition, the butterflies appear once more when he instructs you to hold onto him for support. You have to act unaffected when you feel his broad shoulders and taut arms, with your hands gingerly laying on them; you wonder if he feels anything, too, under the thin material of his dress shirt. 

His left hand only grazes your waist but his hold tightens after you grant him permission, perhaps knowing that it would be harder for you if he holds you that loose, he asked you to put your weight on him after all. Despite your agreement, you still hold in your breath, a silly attempt at slowing down your quickening heartbeat. He’s never been this close, and you’re unsure if you want him to be anywhere else.

You suspend your thoughts for the shortest of seconds until you both manage to get up the few steps to your door. Mr. Ri helps in unlocking it, and you settle on the dining chair that Jungkook pulls out for you after you both enter.

As you release a breath and watch him look around, it’s then you realize that your boss - the Jeon Corporation Vice President who lives in a penthouse in an exclusive district in Seoul - is in your tiny studio apartment that’s literally just the size of his bedroom. You’re not ashamed one bit but you are a little shy, so you jokingly welcome him to your “little mansion.”

“It’s nice,” he hums, looking around some more, which he doesn’t need to move to do. 

The small round dining table, the off-the-wall kitchen, and the three-seater couch are all in the open living space. There’s a half-wall that separates your sleeping area, with your double bed against it and the tiniest of balconies just off of it. 

You’re quite proud of what you’ve made of the place, with the plants in the corners, some chic art pieces on the walls, and photos with your friends and family on stick-on frames resting on the shelves. It’s cozy and comfortable for you, and you feel quite proud when Jungkook’s lips turn up when you respond that you’re happy here when he asks.

“It’s everything I need,” you hum. “And it’s in a safe part of town. My neighbors are older couples who are all kind.”

“That’s good,” he says, turning to you. “Will they be much help to you while you recover?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “I have a crutch. I’ve got food to heat up, and my place is so small that I don’t have to move around to get things done. I don’t really need help, you know?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly unconvinced. 

“Watch,” you say, your shallow confidence pushing you to grab the crutch next to you then using it to walk towards him so you could prove that you’re capable enough to look after yourself. 

But your unfamiliarity with it leads you to mistime your step. Before you know it, you’re tripping on your foot and losing your balance, and as your life is about to flash before your eyes thinking that you’re gonna fall once again and make your injury worse, Jungkook’s reflex kicks in and he steps forward to catch you. You feel his grip on your waist gradually tighten as if to keep you steady, as if to make sure you’re alright. He’s so close, you can feel his breath as he pants, the worried look on his face something you’re familiar with by now. But he stays there, inches away, and so do you. 

He’s bending, so he stays leveled with you. You can see his long eyelashes resting on his honeyed skin and the endearing curve of his nose. He looks so soft like this, comfortable even, with his big round eyes looking like the most innocent ones you’ve ever seen.

The voice in your head suddenly becomes loud enough and you break his gaze, realizing then that you’re also clutching onto his shoulder for support. You give him a look of apology but he just laughs, something you’re thankful for because the last thing you want is for the tension to thicken.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You think it’s that easy?” He shakes his head, his tone sounding like he’s both teasing and reprimanding you.

“It seemed like it,” you shrug, allowing him to help you back on the seat, disregarding the slightest bit of giddiness you feel as he has one hand on your free arm while the other ghosts over your waist in case you fall again.

“It’s not. And I know this because I’ve used this before,” he says. “So since you’ll be by yourself, we have to make sure you can at least use the crutch without falling, okay?”

“Fine,” you concede, listening to his instructions carefully then trying to do it on your own. 

It takes some getting used to, but after a few tries, you manage to at least walk without tripping. You plan on just staying in bed or on the couch tomorrow anyway so you’re not that worried. Even if Jungkook still seems to be.

“I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m gonna survive. But you should head home. It’s getting late and you have that ocular in the morning. I’ll just have to email Chin-sun about accompanying you and—”

“None of that,” he interjects. “I’ll be the one to tell her and I don’t want you worrying about work tomorrow, okay? You’re gonna take your medicine and just rest.”

“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Only when I’m dealing with someone as stubborn as you,” he counters. 

You just laugh at him answering back, enjoying your banter more than you should, then he says that he’ll go ahead, for as long as you’re sure you can manage. It takes another five minutes until he makes it out the door. But before he disappears, you call his name, your heart skipping a beat when he turns around, as if he’s just hanging onto your every word.

“Thank you,” you say. “I know it was a long day and it was raining but… you still came for me.”

“Just recover quickly, okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.”

You nod and he leaves. And just like that, you’re once again on your own - damp, injured, and extremely tired. Jungkook’s presence remains in your apartment though, and there he is again, making you smile and making you feel things you shouldn’t.

You don’t mind being alone. In fact, you enjoy it. But during the times when you don’t want to be, he just happens to be there. And being the stubborn woman that you are, deep down, you like it that he is, that in your own little world with the walls up so high, he’s become a frequent visitor. You’re just not sure if you want him to stay just yet. 

You wake up the next morning feeling faint and sore, and it’s probably the painkillers having lost their effect. And there’s a reason why, seeing that it’s close to midday when you finally get out of bed. You manage to stand and walk to the kitchen with no issues, and you take your medication and heat up the food that Jungkook bought for you last night. It’s when you’re seated that he calls, bringing that smile to your otherwise uneventful day.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Just fine. I took my medicines for the day and I’m about to eat lunch,” you reply. “And you? How was the ocular?”

“It was good. It has a lot of potential so I’ll run down the details with the teams and propose it. But speaking of sites, remember what I said about Hoseok and I thinking of a Scandinavian-inspired mid-rise in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the one you came up with during your trip. Are you gonna push through with it soon?”

“Perhaps. I’ve gotten emails of proposed sites for some other projects but I’ve seen a few that could work with this idea,” he shares. “There’s one in Gangwon that’s near the town center so it would be practical for many. There’s even— ah, why am I saying this to you now? You’re off the clock.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. Jungkook doesn’t always show this much excitement with the projects he has to manage so when he does, you encourage him. It’s also an excuse to hear more of his voice. “My mind’s not prepared for being home today anyway so I’m a little disoriented. But that’s good. I can look into the sites and we can do an ocular whenever you prefer.”

“Alright, that’s something to schedule for next month. But uh, you sure you’re fine? Does your ankle still hurt? Did you get proper sleep?”

“Well, I slept like a baby,” you giggle. “And I at least remained in one position. It still hurts a bit but it should be okay in the next few days. I’m just gonna have to replace the bandage tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Just make sure to ice it and keep it elevated.”

“Yes, boss,” you tease, earning you a groan. “But uh, thank you for checking up on me. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

He’s silent, and you suppose it’s him again not knowing how to respond to gratitude, so you follow it up by saying that you’ll eat your meal now and reminding him of his meeting at 2PM.

“You better not be checking your emails and my calendar right now,” he warns.

“I’m not. I just memorize your schedule,” you defend.

“Okay then, I’ll go ahead.”

Jungkook drops the call and sinking in his seat, he sighs in relief. He managed to get through that conversation without sounding extremely worried, which is what he’s been since last night. His busy day today actually includes constantly worrying about how you’re doing, but he supposes it’s too much to let you know. Sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but knowing how you tend to move about, anything can happen. You were all alone for some time last night, too, just waiting for a way to get home. And that’s another thing he worries about - that fear latching onto you, that helplessness weighing you down.

He asks Mr. Ri if he’s heard from you, thinking that you’d probably be more honest with him, but the older man says you told him the same thing.

“Don’t you believe her?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“I do, but she’s quite stubborn though,” Jungkook laments. 

“Well, I’ve known her for a while and she tends to just deal with things on her own,” Mr. Ri says.

“But she shouldn’t. She’s injured.”

“I think it’s natural for people who’ve been alone for many years to be that way,” the older man shrugs. “I mean, you’re the same.”

Jungkook doesn’t disagree. And if you’re truly anything like him, then you’d just push through the pain and force it to stop hurting so you can go back to your normal busy life because doing so keeps you from thinking of how lonely it feels when you’re sick or hurt and there’s no one around. It’s how he’s always been, too, he admits to himself.

The thought disturbs him, which is why he messages you three more times during the day and then again the next morning, asking if he could drop by. He’s expecting you to insist that you’re fine and he doesn’t need to, so it surprises him when you say that he could. 

You’re pacing back and forth in your mind since you’re unable to physically do so, but the thought of Jungkook visiting you this Saturday morning is a lot for you to handle, even if you did say it was alright for him to come. The truth is, you wanted him to, only because selfishly, seeing someone be that worried about you gives you some form of comfort.

You called your family yesterday and told them about the injury, which they obviously panicked about. Your mom asked if you needed her to come to you but like always, you said she didn’t need to. You told Yoongi about it, too, and he was worried as well, in the classic way that he often is; he had food delivered to you for dinner last night so you didn’t have to think about it. You only told your best friends about it this morning and they were furious you waited so long to let them know; they were packing their stuff right as you were speaking to them two hours ago. 

You know you have people to depend on and would be at your doorstep anytime you ask. These are the same people who’ve done that for years and you fully accept their care and attention; it’s become a part of you and your healing process. But when someone like Jungkook who, for whatever reason he has, shows you the same, it feels different; he goes out of his way to show it to you, and he’s not even someone who normally does it. It’s a new kind of comfort, one that you find yourself seeking. So when he called earlier and asked if he could drop by, there was an internal sigh of relief. 

Over half an hour later, your doorbell rings, and you limp your way towards the door to open it. 

Other than being in suits, you’ve only ever seen Jungkook in his gym clothes - half naked as well - and in night out wear. You realize that this is the first time you’re seeing him in a casual outfit, and with a jacket over a sweatshirt and a brown beanie, he looks different - there’s that boyish charm that you’ve never seen; he looks softer, kinder, still reserved but a lot more comfortable.

You let him in after your greetings, then you turn to him and smile. 

“It’s really the suit, I know it now,” you tease. “It’s what makes you look intimidating.”

He looks at his attire then frowns at you. “So how do I look now?”

“Not intimidating.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Whereas you…” He eyes you in gray leggings and a blush jumper, looking soft and comfortable and even more like the bright spot he’s realized you are, but he’d never tell you that. “You look injured.”

“Gee, what a surprise. I feel injured, too,” you laugh. “But uhm, it’s nice of you to visit my humble mansion once again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better,” he hums. “And bring some more food so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You eye the beef brisket with rice and say that you know what you’ll be having for lunch. He responds that he might just go back to the restaurant and meet his best friends there, too. You return to your seat on the couch, realizing there’s not much room for him to sit on, but he gets to you first, standing in front of you and eyeing the elastic bandage on the table.

“Aren’t you due for a redress?” He asks.

“Yes but uh, I can’t actually reach my foot,” you say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m not really flexible so I’ll just wait until Soomin and Jimin arrive.”

“I can do it,” he offers, thinking that the bandage isn’t serving its purpose if it remains loose. “I mean, I’ve dressed myself on my own before so I’m familiar with it.”

It’s probably the painkillers but something possesses you and you agree, your mind too out of it to take the words back. A part of you wishes you had, especially when your heart does a thing when he kneels on the floor and slowly takes your injured foot. You wiggle your toes in reflex, as if they’re shy, too, and Jungkook laughs at your silly antics, especially when you admit that you’re a little ticklish. 

But he softly looks at you right after and asks if he’s hurting you, and you shake your head, unable to say anything else and process that you really allowed this man - your boss and in-denial crush - to do this. 

You sit there, charmed by the way he looks determined to get this done. He removes the old bandage and wipes your ankle before wrapping it with a new one. His hands are large and quite rough but he’s very gentle, making sure to not lift your foot too high and that the bandage isn’t wrapped too tightly. Once he’s finished, he lays it on the table and looks up at you to ask if it feels okay.

“Yes,” you shyly smile. “Thank you. That was, uh, that was really nice of you.”

He nods and stands up to throw the trash in the bin, wanting to quickly hide his smile at how wholesome you looked in thanking him. 

He proceeds to look around, taking more of your home in. There’s something very calming about it, and it’s more than just the plants that you have and the right amount of sunlight coming from the balcony door and kitchen window. There’s also something familiar, as he looks through your shelf of photos, seeing your mom and her partner for the first time. She looks a lot like you. She has a nice smile like yours, and she sees that same joy on her face as he’d seen on you, as she hugs you tightly in one of the pictures. 

The familiarity is similar to when he first had a whiff of your scent - old rose like the one his mother used to wear, one he remembers as a child when he still clung to her. There are those memories that stick with him. Others he doesn’t have anymore but that’s good, he supposes. Seeing your shelf, he sees all the good and tangible things you hold dear. 

“The photo on the far right, the one with Soomin and Jimin. We took that during my birthday trip using your gift,” you tell him. “It came out really nicely.”

“It did. Did you finish the film? What else did you take photos of?”

“We used it all up,” you smile. “And just a lot of the scenery and the three of us. We all divided them so we could have copies and just remember how fun that week was.”

“Good, that’s what I hoped.”

Jungkook stands there, his jacket now off so his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are in his pockets as he looks through your shelf. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing, if any of this makes him curious. It’s as if he’s taking in all the small parts of who you are that he can see displayed before him. He turns to you and your eyes meet again, and for a moment, it feels like you’re really seeing him and he’s really seeing you, like there’s something only both of you share and understand and want and can give.

But the doorbell ringing disrupts it, with you wondering who it could be since your best friends won’t arrive until an hour from now. Jungkook walks to the door and opens it, surprised to see Yoongi who’s just as surprised to see his friend in your apartment.

“Hey, you’re back. And… here,” you smile, attempting to stand up but Yoongi tells you to stay put. 

“I flew home last night and thought I’d visit and get you some food, but it seems like I’m second in line,” he says, his smug face causing you to glare at him. 

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Jungkook defends. “I won’t stay long.”

“Of course you do. And I won’t stay long either. I don’t wanna disturb anything.” 

He smirks at his friend, prompting Jungkook to glare at him as well. 

“Yah, chill, you two. I’m really just passing by,” Yoongi reiterates, making his way now to sit on the arm of your sofa. “Just wanted to check on ___ and make sure she’s well-fed.”

“I’m injured, not starving, okay?” You groan. “But thanks. What have you got there?”

“Noodles, custard buns, and some tarts. Wasn’t sure what you’re into when you’re incapacitated,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“I’m very much mobile,” you correct him. “Just… slow and limping.”

Jungkook pulls your dining chair and sits in front of you, and the three of you talk as if this isn’t weird at all. You’re all colleagues - you and Jungkook consider Yoongi as your friend, but you don’t know if you should consider your boss as such, and you don’t know if he considers you the same. You’ve definitely experienced a lot of things that could qualify what you have as friendship, but even then, there’s something more about it, something a little more intimate, different, terrifying.

You brave through this dynamic and learn that Yoongi likes to tell Jungkook off a lot. It’s the kind of bluntness you expect from Yoongi’s no-nonsense attitude but it’s refreshing to see him be more straightforward towards someone like Jungkook who you’re used to seeing as commanding and serious. Jungkook takes the hits, seemingly unbothered as they bicker, and it’s another side of him you enjoy seeing - the smiles and laughter are natural, and there’s this comfort about him that you suddenly want more of.

The time passes quickly, with the doorbell ringing again signaling that your friends have arrived. Yoongi gets up first to open the door, greeting them who do the same. You manage to stand up with Jungkook telling you to be careful, and when it dawns on them who else is in your apartment, Jimin’s face turns sour and Soomin’s goes from confused to amused. 

Jungkook looks taken aback by the cold welcome, but he manages to introduce himself to them.

“Oh, we know,” Jimin says dryly. “You’re the one who gives her so much work that she had to do overtime again and that’s why she got hurt.”

You feel the tension come like a strong wave and you try to lower the level a little bit. 

“He also brought me to the hospital and got me some food,” you tell Jimin, whose bitterness isn’t unfounded. He did listen to you complain about this very man all those months ago. “He’s just checking up on me, making sure I’m alright, the way you guys are.”

“As we should,” Jimin huffs. “At least we don’t cause you any injury or pain.”

“You don’t. But you do make things better so could you do that, please?” You say, opening your arms for a hug, something to appease him before it gets even more tense. 

Jimin has the sweetest smile but wouldn’t be afraid to burn anyone down with his looks if they deserve it. Jungkook did at one point, but you obviously feel very differently about that now. But still, you glance at the man, hoping this encounter isn’t putting him off too much, and with the slight tinge of guilt in his eyes, you suppose it hasn’t.

Jungkook turns away, partly because a reminder of how he’d treated you before makes him regret even more how you both started, and partly because seeing you affectionate with any man - even if it’s your best friend - makes him a tiny bit jealous, only because it’s something he can’t be with you. Seeing you that way with Hajoon months ago was different; Jungkook had been more shocked than anything. But this time, given that his attraction towards you seems to grow every second, and that he’s been wanting nothing more than to comfort you, there’s more of that feeling of loss, of hope that it could be him one day, even if that’s something that’ll probably never happen.

“I know you dislike him but tone it down for now, okay?” You whisper to Jimin. “My place is too small to contain all this tension.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing him just reminds me of what you had to go through because of him,” he says before pulling away. “But he did help. And well, Soo and I are still upset that you didn’t tell us sooner. You know we would’ve driven here on Thursday night.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why. You both had something big going on and I could wait,” you reply, a reason you give them everytime. 

Wanting a short breather from all this, you excuse yourself and ask Soomin to help you with something in the bathroom, and she heads there right away.

“Can you make sure that those two don’t murder each other?” You whisper to Yoongi as you gesture towards Jimin and Jungkook.

“It would be entertaining if they did, but yes, I’ll try,” he chuckles.

You walk to where Soomin is and after closing the door, she looks at you with the same amusement that she’s had since she arrived.

“What in the romance drama is this!” She exclaims, lowering her voice when you scold at her to keep it down. “All your three men coming to your home to make sure you’re okay? Talk about making an impression.”

“They aren’t my men, okay!” You scowl at her. “They all just happened to have the same thought. And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” Soomin laughs. “It’s just… I know you’re hurt and that you’ll be okay but it’s just amusing to see them show up for you like this. Especially the big boss. He’s way hotter up close, I can tell you that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you frown. “I wish there was a potion I could take to make him look unattractive to me so that I’d stop being so giddy at everything he does. And fuck, Soo, I haven’t been like this in ages. Or ever.”

“Well, you haven’t been this accepting of someone’s attention, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and I’m being silly. I might just be putting myself up for disappointment here,” you groan. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know what I’m not supposed to feel. And he’s not making it any easier.”

“Your situation isn’t easy in the first place, hun. And there are many reasons why,” she sighs, wishing there was a way to uncomplicate this very complicated relationship you have with Jungkook. “But whatever it is you think you shouldn’t feel, think about what he may be feeling, too. He wouldn’t be making all this effort since Thursday night for this to just be nothing.”

“I wish none of that means anything. That’s probably gonna be easier, right? That he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I do? That’s probably better than dealing with all the complications.”

“Maybe, but we don’t really know,” Soomin says, pulling you in for a hug. “But also think about how new and different this feels. It might be worth it in the long run.”

You fall into her embrace, knowing that during the toughest times of your life, this was your saving grace. It’s no different when you’re confused and in need of guidance, and though you’ve always made decisions for yourself with knowledge of the consequences, Soomin was there to back you up during the times when you were going in somewhat blindly. She wants you to be happy, and you won’t really know if continuing to feel what you do about Jungkook will make you so. If all else fails, well, you could always go back home, or maybe return to Busan and start a life there. Jungkook will just be a memory; you hope to the heavens it’ll be a good one.

You shake away the thoughts and finally go back out and are relieved to find some peace. Jimin’s washing your dishes while talking to Yoongi who wipes them dry. Jungkook sits on your sofa, looking around quietly, but he stands when he sees you approach him. 

“I’ll go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I… I think you’ve got everything you need.”

“Let me walk you there,” you smile. 

He’s outside the door when you thank him again then apologize if Jimin made him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. I’d be protective of my best friend, too, if I learned how their boss treated them,” he responds.

“I, uh… those were hard times and I may have complained quite a bit about you,” you pout. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure I deserved it,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you have them. I mean, my best friends tease me a lot and say shit about me to my face and behind my back.”

“Oh come on, Seokjin and Taehyung love you,” you laugh. “I’ve seen it, but you all also said you’re like that to each other; it’s how you guys grew up. I mean, I was the new girl in school and Jimin and Soomin have been protective since day one, whereas your best friends have shown you tough love since you were kids. They said you never accepted their affection so they switched tactics.”

“That’s fair. I was always shy and then turned into a bitter, introverted child. There was no transition, I guess. Now we’re adults and have just stuck with each other because we’re all we’ve ever known.”

“Well, you make decisions to stand by people, Jungkook. They do with you and you do the same with them. Plus, you’re not that insufferable,” you tease. 

“At least you don’t think so. Not anymore, I hope,” he says softly, looking away. 

“People deserve second chances. You gave me some and more and I… I’m glad you did. I at least get to see this side of you that’s helped me a lot these past months. I’m thankful. And I hope you know that.”

Jungkook just nods, unable to reply through words again. You let him, knowing it’s his default response. He walks to his car and turns around for a final goodbye, leaving you in anticipation for when you’d be with him again.

“Well, that was a long goodbye,” Yoongi says, surprising you as he stands behind you. “And no, I didn’t hear anything.”

You turn to him with a playful frown. “I was just making sure that Jimin didn’t make him feel too bad. I mean, I know I complained a lot but still. I didn’t want Jungkook to think I cursed his existence or something.”

“You did at one point though,” Yoongi laughs. “But it’s acceptable. Jungkook was rude, and heavens know how much shit I gave him for treating you the way he did.”

“You did, huh?”

“I always told you I’d look out for you, ___. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, I was always going to have your back.”

“You’re heaven-sent, Min Yoongi,” you smile. “I wish I could do half as much as you do for me.”

“You do more. I hope you don’t ever doubt the comfort that your presence gives to people. Maybe that’s what it’s done to Jungkook. And I know he hasn’t felt much of that in years.”

It’s Yoongi’s last words before he says goodbye, and they stay in your head for the next few days. Maybe Soomin’s right - all that Jungkook has been doing might mean something, and you hope that finding out what it is will all be worth it.

Jungkook decides to meet with his friends at one of his favorite restaurants for lunch. All he planned on doing today was visit you and he has nothing else going on for the rest of it. The club scene has become boring for him, and going to one only to bring home a woman to hook up with is no longer appealing, not when you invade his mind all the time.

Being welcomed in your home was refreshing. And even if it was awkward, meeting your friends allowed him another peak into your world. You choose the people you allow in, and you don’t choose many of them. The ones you do stay for a long time, and that’s the kind of person you seem to be. You value relationships so much that’s why you don’t have many of them, and with all that you went through and the vulnerability you’ve both shown each other, he’s started to hope that one day, he’d be deserving of that, too. 

“So did you feel like a fish out of water being there with her actual friends?” Seokjin asks. “Because I don’t know what you’d consider your relationship with her is. Boss-assistant feels too simplistic at this point. Are you friends? Are you more? Or is that all too ambiguous?”

“I don’t… know,” Jungkook sighs. “We’re all that but we also aren’t. We’ve gone through so much that it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to define what we are. But I feel like I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and we’ve connected because of that.”

“And what about you? Have you been vulnerable in front of her?” Seokjin asks.

Has he? Jungkook thinks. Maybe that first time he asked for your help with his new role but he supposes it’s nothing compared to what you’ve shown him, intentional or not.

“Not really. I… I don’t let myself be. That’s still distance I need to establish,” Jungkook reasons.

“More like, because you know that if you do show that side of you, you’re scared you’ll find out that she’ll understand, and that having her next to you is what you need to heal whatever parts of you that are still hurting?” Seokjin counters. 

“I don’t want to need her, you know that. There’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross. She’s my assistant and—”

“You’ve been treating her like the most important person and it’s not hard to miss,” Taehyung interjects. “You were never like this, not since Chaerin.”

“I don’t even know what it is about ___ that just makes me consider risking things, you know?” Jungkook sighs. “I’m always torn with what our reality is and what we could be but I’m afraid that if we cross that line, we’ll have to make sacrifices. I… I’m finding myself wanting her around all the time. When she leaves, I want her to stay. When she’s not there, I want her to come. But at the same time, I don’t want her too close because I don’t know if I can have her or if I can want her. Because I don’t know what of me I can give that won’t hurt her,” he admits, with a bit of help from some whiskey.

“Maybe if you let yourself be vulnerable, you’d know,” Seokjin advises. “Some people would run and hide but there’s always that one person who wouldn’t. That might just be her. And then you’ll learn what you can give, too.”

Jungkook lets his friends’ words settle and then thinks about them throughout the night that he spends all alone in his penthouse, with another glass of whiskey in his hand as he looks out the balcony. A part of him wants you to run and hide when you see who he really is, what he hides and what he’s ashamed of. Maybe that would be easier, he thinks; maybe that would hurt less.

You return to work the next Tuesday, having gone to the hospital the day before and being cleared to return to your usual routine. Jimin and Soomin stayed with you until that evening, with you rejecting their insistence to stay another day. You can manage, you assure them. You’re able to walk properly now and would just need to do daily exercises, wear the elastic bandage for another week, and forego the heels. 

Jungkook’s pleased to know that you’re doing better and makes sure you don’t walk around if you don’t need to, so he’s been the one going to see you when he needs something. He also postponed some potential site visits for the project that he and Hoseok are working on until you’re fully capable, which is why it’s three weeks later when you find yourself in the car with him, on the way to some towns in nearby provinces on an early Friday morning. 

Mr. Ri called in sick today and Jungkook didn’t want to deal with a chauffeur he doesn’t know, so he decided to drive instead, thinking it’s more efficient that way. These are all initial checks and being that you’re the only one from his team who’s privy to the details, he wanted you to join him as a sounding board and also to get your own thoughts about what you’ll be seeing. He has a vision in mind and he needs to translate it properly; you’ve been helpful these past months in making sure he’s able to do that.

Disregarding what this time alone with you would do to him, Jungkook meets you in his penthouse, telling himself to focus on only one thing today, and that’s finding the right place for his planned project. 

You leave early for a quick stop at a cafe and then head north to some towns in Gyeonggi province. There are some properties and land that are up for sale, and you prepared the information about them beforehand, allowing Jungkook to play around with the timeline and budget in his mind, even drawing rough drafts on his iPad as he assesses them. You’re both in work-mode, discussing each site on the way to the next one, with you searching for more details along the way and him, stopping on the side of the road to add an idea that he comes up with on the spot. 

It’s a little chaotic, as his mind goes from one thing to another, but you suppose this is how Jungkook naturally is. You’ve seen him perform his duties in various ways, but this is when you see the most raw side of him, and it’s quite the privilege to see. He always said he preferred the creative aspect of the job, which is why he enjoyed his time in Singapore, handling the design department. You contend that he’s grown tremendously in his executive role. As Hoseok has said, Jungkook relates to his staff better now, and has even engaged and attracted more partners with his great ideas.

You’re quite sentimental going on this trip with him. It wasn’t long ago when you were going to work with anxiety, anticipating his next criticism so you can prepare yourself, and then going home feeling like a failure. So much has happened since then, and you could even say that you’ve found comfort in your daily routines; doing something different like this is now exciting and something you look forward to, especially since it allows you to go outside, see the sights, and breathe the cool air. 

“You okay there?” He asks, noticing your silence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking how 10 months ago, this would’ve stressed me out so much.”

“What? Going on a road trip?”

“Pretty much going anywhere with you,” you laugh. “Car rides even with Mr. Ri made me freak out, and I was so scared to make a mistake or make you wait for information that I couldn’t find. And now here we are - I survived the last five hours with you and not once did you groan at me.”

“Wow, I must’ve been a really terrible boss to make your standard for a non-stressful day to be that low,” he laughs before turning serious. “But I… I’m… I’m sorry, for all the stress and anxiety that I caused you. I was being selfish and irrational about it. I hate change and you were the biggest one, even with my new role. I took out all the frustration on you and I shouldn’t have.”

He says more than he expected, but it’s also the apology that he should’ve given—that you deserved ���months ago. 

“I forgive you,” you say softly, glancing at him before returning your eyes towards the road. “I always knew my limits and I guess I let you push it and that was on me. I could’ve stood up to you, too.”

“You did though, more than once. And that knocked some sense into me.”

“I guess,” you hum. “And then things improved and I’m just glad they did.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, as you both opt to bask in the scenery around you. There’s that understanding and acceptance of how things were and that regardless of what’s going on in your own minds, you at least have this. You think to yourself that this just makes leaving that much harder, but at least this is one more memory you could take with you.

You make it to Hwacheon in Gangwon past noon, and this is where you spend most of your time in, as the sites are spread out around the county. There are areas tucked away in the mountains while there are those closer to town with grand views. It’s in the latter where you grab some lunch and go through some of his plans, and you take in his ideas, learning from him in the process. 

It’s late in the afternoon when you inspect the final site, which is in an area in the neighboring Chuncheon county. It’s got potential for another project that CEO Jeon is looking to do, and with your notes completed, you and Jungkook start the trip back home. You would reach the tail-end of the Friday night traffic by the time you return to Seoul, the GPS says, and so both of you savor the sky’s changing colors as it transitions to the evening, letting the soft sounds of the radio replace the silence.

Barely 30 minutes in, the rain starts to pour, and it’s seconds later when it dawns on you what that means, as you hear heavy breathing next to you. You turn to Jungkook whose hands are tightly gripping the wheel, with sweat lining his eyebrows despite the cool temperature.

“Did the forecast say it was gonna rain?” He asks, the mix of panic and frustration evident in his voice. 

“Yes, but not until late in the evening,” you say, checking your phone to make sure you got the correct information. 

Your heart breaks upon realizing that at midday, the weather station warned that there was going to be a thunderstorm, with rainfall coming in around this time. You inform Jungkook, and despite all the progress in your relationship, your heart breaks a second time when he says that you should’ve constantly checked, that the weather changes all the time and you should’ve been mindful, and that now you’re both gonna be stuck on the road because he’s unable to drive and you don’t know how to. His tone is harsh, accusatory, as if it was something you could control, as if everything was your fault, just like how it was before.

Jungkook stops on the side of the road as the downpour continues, and he leans his head on the steering wheel now as he takes deep breaths. You tell him he could breathe better if he sits straight up, but he ignores you. 

A part of you wants to remark how it’s ironic that just earlier, he was apologizing for the way he treated you, and now it’s like you’ve both taken a few steps back. You want to say it’s not your fault, that you wouldn’t even have known that the rain affected him this way if you hadn’t seen him be nervous about it when you went home from the gala last year. But you think about the way his eyes looked earlier, how they filled with worry and fear, like there was a sense of powerlessness that you know a little about. 

So you settle for a bit of grace and understanding, thinking they’re what he needs.

“I don’t know why this is on me,” you say softly. “I didn’t know how bad it was but if I did, I would’ve checked constantly and I would’ve had us turn back the second I saw that forecast. And if I could drive, I’d drive us back as fast as I could. I’m sorry.”

He slows his breathing and sits up. His hands still tightly gripping the wheel but his eyes are downcast, and you suppose there’s more sadness than anger, so you stop pressing your nails on your skin, which you’d started doing in anticipation of him arguing with you about it.

“I don’t like the rain,” he shares, his voice low. “I… I have a bad memory of it as a kid and I just get reminded whenever it starts. I panic when it gets louder and I just… I can’t stay out here when that's all I can hear.”

His honesty surprises you. You can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for him, even more that he has to suffer through this right now in front of you, considering how hard it is for him to express how he feels. You don’t know how bad this weather is gonna go, and at this pace, the thunderstorm will probably reach you by the time you make it back to Seoul. So you do what you do best, and that’s to come up with options. 

“There’s a guesthouse not far from here,” you say after checking the map. “It’s the closest one. We could spend the night there and wait out the rain. That’s better than being stuck here or continuing the drive back to the city.”

He nods in agreement, knowing there’s not much he could do. He doesn’t want to be stuck here; even more, he doesn’t want to unload on you nor have you witness how much worse it could be. 

He keys in the address you give him while you call the property and ask if they still have available rooms. They do, so you reserve two and sigh in relief that that’s one problem solved.

You make it there in 15 minutes. Jungkook heads out the car first with the rain having eased up a bit, and you retrieve his luggage from the trunk, the one he keeps there for emergency trips and instances like this one. It has enough clothes for a day, and you’re glad that at least he has something to change into.

You make it inside and meet the owners then introduce yourself, stating that you reserved two rooms. 

“I’m so sorry but we had to give up one of them,” the woman says. “A family came in with a baby and we couldn’t turn them away. The weather’s going to get worse tonight and we try to accommodate as many people as we can. I hope you understand.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” you say, knowing you would’ve done the same. 

The thought of sharing a room with Jungkook feels too intimate and definitely not good for your heart, added to the fact that you’re probably not his favorite person right now, so you try to find a way out. You turn to the living room and see the sofa that’s big enough for you, so you ask if you can just stay there instead.

“Our cleaners will be using that space since they can’t go home due to the rain. I’m sorry again, Miss. Your room has twin beds so I hope that eases your worry somehow.”

“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” Jungkook says from behind you, hoping to the heavens that he will. He has one fear, and that’s you seeing how he really is during times like this.

He takes the key and walks up the stairs to the room you’re given. It’s spacious with a fair enough distance between both beds. He takes the one farther from the window then gets his clothes from his bag. It dawns on him that you don’t have your own with you, so he offers you his sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. “It’s gonna be cold and you’re gonna need it.”

“So will you. You can’t be in wet clothes, not in this weather.”

“It’s happened before,” you shrug.

“___, just take it,” he insists, placing the item on your bed. “I have a top here that I can wear and the blankets will be enough. This is loose but it’s at least better than damp clothing. And you can go ahead in the bathroom. I’ll just give Mr. Ri a call.”

You nod and head out, taking his jumper and the towel with you. You’re given some basic toiletries, and the warm shower is just what you need for that bit of comfort after a stressful evening. As you’re about to dress up inside, you hear a knock on the door.

“I asked the lady if they had spare pajamas for you and she gave me a set,” Jungkook says from outside. “I’ll leave them on a stool by the door.”

You wait for him to leave before getting them and putting them on. It’s a plain set of shorts and shirt that’s a little big but it’s way better than your damp skirt and blouse, which the owners offered to wash and dry for you for tomorrow.

You return to the room with Jungkook sitting on the floor, and you give him back his sweatshirt that he turns down. 

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t you get cold easily? You’ll need that.” 

He walks out, barely meeting your eyes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed when he returns half an hour later, the sight of him with damp hair in black sweatpants and a white sleeveless top doing things to you. But you shake the thoughts away, especially as he once again creates that distance. He doesn’t look at you when he settles in bed, nor when he switches off his bedside light, and definitely not when he turns around to face the other way. You sigh to yourself, feeling even more alone now with him acting like this.

You can’t really blame him though. Dealing with something that elicits painful memories is difficult, and you understand the tendency to isolate yourself and push people away when that happens. It’s what you do sometimes, but still, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you a little when Jungkook does this to you, considering how good your relationship has become, regardless of your stupid attraction.

Settling in your bed, you decide to turn around and face the window. You focus on the droplets creating their own artwork on the glass, in hopes that it’ll help you take your mind off Jungkook, even if he’s literally just a few feet away from you. The last thing you want is a strained relationship, and you hope that this doesn’t make him fall back into his old ways. Although he’s experienced a few stressful moments these past months, they weren’t personal, and you suppose situations like this are when his emotions truly come out.

The rain has gotten stronger again and you’re pleased that Jungkook isn’t awake for this, based on the soft snores you hear. You’re about to fall asleep, the sound hypnotizing you a little, but that’s when the first blare of thunder strikes, causing you to jerk in bed in surprise. It used to scare you because of what it reminded you of, but you learned how to manage it after the first hit; the succeeding ones are no longer triggering. In fact, you just think of how it used to drown out the sounds of what you were truly afraid of.

Just then, you hear distressed moans. The sounds of frantic breathing and shifts on the bed follow right after. And then there’s a restrained groan, like a call for help that doesn’t fully come out, and that’s what alarms you. You immediately get off the bed and rush to Jungkook’s side. You see that he’s still asleep, his body - now uncovered by the blanket - is tense, despite his efforts of turning about. The low sounds of almost-cries convince you that he’s having a nightmare. 

Thunder hits once again and it’s much louder this time, eliciting another frantic response from Jungkook. He’s kicking the covers while gripping the sheets, and with another roar of thunder that causes him to scream, that’s when you decide to wake him up. 

“Jungkook, hey, listen to me,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping his head still with your hands. You’re able to control him as he continues tossing and turning, repeating his name until he slowly opens his eyes. “Hey, you’re safe with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”

He’s awake now and you see the worry in his eyes, but you talk to him calmly, wanting him to trust you. It works, as he nods and slows down his movements. But he’s still breathing heavily, his lips chattering and the rest of his body shivering. 

You anticipate another hit of thunder, and you’re able to shield him from it, pressing your palms on his ears, trying to drown out the sound. You stay that way, thumbing his temples as you tell him it’s okay, that you’ve got him, and that it’ll be over soon. You hold his gaze to let him know that you’re not going anywhere, and his pretty eyes that often look so far away are now overtaken with fear. 

“Just look at me, alright? And follow my breathing,” you instruct him, your voice as gentle as you can make it despite your own worries for him.

He does as you say, his hands gripping your wrists as if to keep them there, and you assure him that you won’t let go until he says so.

“You’re doing good, just keep breathing,” you repeat, pacing your breathing with his until you’re doing it together. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way, with his head between your hands and your eyes locked on his. It takes a while, but the thunder eventually stops and the rain eases. Jungkook finally calms down and you slowly release him from your hold. You watch him shut his eyes, as if in desperation to let everything go, before he opens them again. 

“Is that better?” You ask, moving just a bit farther from him to give him space, but you remain close, wanting to be next to him in case something happens again.

“Yeah, that was, uh… that was tiring,” he huffs.

“I think the thunder has passed but if it happens again, I’ll be here, okay?”

He nods, his soft and desperate eyes now looking at you to express his gratitude. You want so badly to hug him, to hold his still-shaking hands and assure him that he’s not alone, that you won’t let anything hurt him for the rest of the night, and that you understand it all - whatever it is he’s afraid of, and why he keeps it all to himself.

But you suppose that’s going too far. You’re afraid that you’d want to stay there, even more if he doesn’t want you to. So you nod as well and think that he at least has this to comfort him, that he at least knows you’re just there.

You walk back to your bed and lie down, facing him this time. You smile, wanting that assurance to be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep again. Jungkook does the same as he settles under the covers, patting it down so he could see you better. You both stay there, safe in your corners, your eyes telling each other things you can’t say.

Whatever distance you felt earlier has shortened. Right now, with both of you falling asleep to each other’s view, he’s never felt so close.

The morning after heavy rain is always bittersweet. There’s the reality of the damage it caused but you also can’t deny that it gives life to other living things. What it also does is make way for clear skies and give you that fresh, rainwater scent of the grass and the trees. It’s what you see and smell when you open the bedroom windows, reminding you that the evening has passed and the worst is over. 

You spot Jungkook seated on one of the chairs in the garden, and you hope that the view is making him feel better, with the nightmare from last night slowly drifting away from his mind. You dress up in the dry clothes you find hanging on the doorknob of the room then head downstairs, surprised to see food prepared in the dining area. The tofu stew and grilled mackerel are so appetizing, and the loud rumbling of your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat last night, with all the stress making dinner your last priority.

“Hello, dear. It was a pretty hard evening so we prepared something for our guests,” the owner says, her radiant smile reflecting the brightness of the day. “You may call your friend outside so you can both eat and get ready for a long drive home.”

You thank her then call Jungkook, his eyes brightening when he walks back inside and sees the food. He engages in conversation with the owners, asking about this town and the surrounding ones, and what their appeal is to non-residents. You gauge that he’s doing a bit of research himself, and you think he’s at least not too out of it to still do so.

“You’re free to stay until noon,” the owner informs you. “You can enjoy the view outside; it’s really pretty now that the sky has cleared. I’ll be making tea shortly as well.”

Jungkook says he’ll return to the garden and you wait for the hot drinks before following him. You’re unsure if he wants you around but you try, sitting next to him then sighing in relief when he doesn’t move away.

“I was 10 years old when my parents sent me and my brother to a cabin somewhere in Hwasun,” he starts. “I thought they were coming with us but it was just me and Jeong-sik and some staff. He and I never got along. If he wasn’t ignoring me, he was teasing me. But that day, he convinced me to play hide-and-seek, saying that by the time he finds me, our parents would be back. We were outdoors and I ended up wandering too far, so close to the woods that I couldn’t find my way back. My brother hadn’t come and I was getting scared. And then it started to rain.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“It started getting stronger and the skies had become so dark, I could barely see anything,” he continues, his eyes fixed towards the mountains faraway. “The rain made the ground slippery so I decided to just sit by a large tree and hope someone would find me. It felt like hours and maybe it was. The thunder was so loud then and it kept going and going and going. And I was drenched and all alone, and no matter how hard I screamed, no one could hear me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, feeling your heart break as he narrates a painful memory that you can relate with. 

It’s only close to what you experienced yet it feels so real to you. You can feel his fear and his pain in the tremble of his voice, in the way he grips on the edges of the bench, in the way his jaw clenches at the memory, like it’s one he’s tried hard to bury yet can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries. 

But this feels so personal, and you don’t want him to feel like he needs to share it with you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you add. “I know it’s difficult to share something like that.”

“But I want to,” he responds, turning to you now. “Because I’ve carried the memory with me for 20 years and I’ve been dealing with it all on my own. But that’s not an excuse to treat you the way I did last night. That’s not a reason for me to take it out on you and especially to blame you. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry, ___. I…”

He looks down, perhaps trying to gather the courage he needs to be honest with you, to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you because I did,” he adds. “I was scared and I didn’t think I needed you but you were there and I’m so sorry.”

You sit there and watch him cower onto himself, and somehow you see the little boy who was scared, who was wondering why he’d been left alone, who was waiting for someone to come find him or perhaps… someone to sit there and be with him until the rain stopped. There’s a lot he carries; there’s also a lot he buries, as if there’s a bottomless hole within him where he keeps everything hidden but it still feels too heavy, too much, taking from him every time he hides something new. 

You don’t say anything for a while, as you start to see Jungkook for who he really is. You feel the weight of his words and how much it took for him to say them. It’s not that his experience makes him different, but now that you know the pain he’s been carrying with him, you’re able to see the other parts of him that he’s unable to show, perhaps too afraid that someone wouldn’t understand, or that they wouldn’t stay if they found out why he keeps his distance and why he pushes people away.

Your silence prompts him to look up. You meet his eyes and see the sadness in them and it feels like he needs more than just forgiveness.

“We do things we don’t mean to when we’re afraid,” you tell him. “It doesn’t always mean we intend on hurting them. And I understand that, more than you know. I’ll never take that against you.”

Jungkook nods, shifting again towards the view as he lets your words sink in. He was hoping for forgiveness, but he got so much more. Maybe there’s a reason why you’ve been patient and gentle with him ever since the beginning. Perhaps you’re carrying your own burden and painful memories that you’re unable to share and deal with, too, and though he’s nothing like you, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re the same somehow.

He senses you turn back to look at the mountains, and the silence prompts him to continue the story of an experience he’s only shared twice before - once to his best friends and another time with Chaerin, all of whom have seen this side of him - the scared and vulnerable side. They were understanding and supportive as well, trying to find ways to comfort and help him deal with it. You’re the third and the one he’s known the shortest time, yet he feels more comfort with you than anyone who’s ever tried.

“I fell asleep at that tree while waiting,” he recalls. “The next thing I know, I was being carried back to the cabin. The rain had stopped but it was still dark, and I was tended to until I fell asleep again. I was sick for days and I didn’t see my parents until we were back in Seoul. It’s just a hard thing to remember. I know we have selective memories and I always wish that’s one thing that I don’t ever have to remember but life isn’t that kind, I guess.”

“It isn’t. But we learn to face those fears though, and manage them. It’s the only way we can get through it,” you say.

“Have you?” He asks, wondering if that’s another similarity he shares with you. 

“Not really. I wouldn’t be alone and where I am if I have,” you say. “But I’m trying. And I’ll continue to.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs. 

“Well, it’s not always easy if you’re not quite sure what you’re really afraid of,” you respond. “Is it just thunder?”

“Yeah… but once the rain starts, it tells me that thunder could come. It doesn’t always but it’s what my brain tells me. Then I get anxious and I… I don’t know what to do. Like I’m paralyzed and unable to think or move. I just… stay there and sometimes, I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Well, it rained when I got injured,” you remind him. “But you managed to get me to the hospital. And you stayed with me. That’s definitely something.”

“You were hurt and it was more important that you got treated,” he reasons. “That was scary and I guess my brain told me to get shit done that moment.”

“So… do I always have to be hurt for you to get through the rain when it starts getting bad?” You ask.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you going through that again,” he frowns at you. 

The way he reacts to the thought of you being hurt gives you that warm feeling again. But it reminds you that you feel the same. You don’t want him to be scared, you don’t want him hurt, too.

“Fine. But when it starts to rain and you’re all alone and you feel like you can’t manage, you call me, okay?” You tell him.

“And what would that do?”

“That way I can talk you through it. Maybe go to you if you want me to.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because during the times I was afraid and alone, you were there,” you bravely say, turning to him and prompting him to do the same. “Sometimes something triggers those memories but then I think of how you stayed with me in the alley and in the playground and in my apartment. I think of you and I stop feeling scared. Maybe you can think of last night when it starts to get bad, too. And we can just create more of those memories to override the bad ones. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He savors your words, not realizing how much you’ve held onto your moments together. And he understands that now. The way you held him together last night is ingrained in his mind, and if that’s how it feels to be with you during his darkest moments, he starts to wonder how good it would feel during the good ones.

Maybe he’ll start with this, as you both sip citrus tea while looking at the lush mountains out on the horizon. He’ll continue with the scenic drive back to Seoul and a stopover at a cafe for some iced coffee and conversations about good memories. And at least for today, he’ll end with the sight of you walking to your apartment and then turning around to wave him goodbye, and then your smile giving him warmth on this cold afternoon.

The door shuts and he starts the trip back to his place - empty, lonely, just like how it’s been for years, all his pent up emotions bringing him to this point of isolation. But there’s you - the feel of your touch, the soothing sound of your voice, and the gentleness that got him through the night.

He misses you already. And much as he knows he’s in big trouble, thinking about you and wanting you is all he could do.

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[ozzgin]

Okay but imagine this grumpy dragon with his silly sunshine human. Know human knows how much the dragon cares for them and they know the dragon won't let any harm come to them. But this silly little human let's impulsive thoughts sometimes win. So imagine the human taking a leap of faith just to get a react out of their dragon partner.

(Honestly I'm imagining this as a human princess, she just wants to see the forest and run through it. I just like imagining falling in one of those pretty dresses and the dragon catching you. But he lectures you the whole time)

Ok ok hear me out, goofy Reader who's always had a crush on her family's dragon, and the dragon who was always aware and just kind of went along with it because it's cute. Except now it's officially happening. Content: female reader, monster romance, parody

"I am ready to be the sacrificial bride."

"...The what?"

The King - your father - looks up from his book with a confused expression.

"You know, for the dragon", you clarify, mildly annoyed by his obliviousness. "The one guarding our Kingdom?"

"Oh, sweetie..." he begins, "no one does that anymore. We have a yearly contract."

What a load of nonsense. You stomp up the stairs, heading for the top of the tower. It's fine, you tell yourself. So what if you don't have an excuse to flirt with the beast? You can just come clean and confess your feelings either way.

Above the roof, the gargantuan monster yawns lazily. He can hear your angry footsteps, and he knows exactly why you're coming. You're not the most discreet suitor, you see.

He's been looking after you for years already, earning the grand title of benevolent guardian who keeps you out of danger. No one has a grasp on you quite like he does. It is only natural, then, that he could read your longing stares, or the dreamy sighs as you’d nudge yourself one inch closer to his frame.

Oh, he knew very well that you didn’t “accidentally” end up in this or that kind of trouble, especially because your terrified shrieks would immediately turn into a beaming smile upon his arrival.

He grunts, preparing himself to face you.

You explain your side while he nods along monotonously. Pointless to argue, really. He'll just say yes. After all, why not? You're kind of annoying, but at least you're cute. Maybe this way, if you're officially "dating", you'll be less clingy, and he can do his job in peace.

"Really?" you repeat, eyes wide in delight.

Before he can confirm his intentions, you begin to unbutton your dress.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I thought we're going to consummate the relationship", you respond sheepishly.

Good Lord, you're a helpless horndog. What would he even tell your father? Somewhere, deep into the royal gardens, the King sneezes loudly and jokes about his daughter being up to no good.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist]

[rocketbaby]

Heyy! Could you do another bunny izuku of how he acts like in heat I eat them up every time

I was actually really thinking about writing him again, bunny izuku has my heart. Please excuse any mistakes I was rushing a bit 🙏

Tw! Suggestive/nsfw -no actual sex scenes, hand job -- Mha master list

I believe his heat can get quite pretty painful and if he doesn't get the help he needs he starts behaving weirdly.

Bunny!Izuku starts begging you to help him with his heat,he's asking you to let him mate with you. Usually you tell him no because he gets really really rough during those times and you can't take it:(

He still insists,but you don't give in to his pleas,you still want to be able to walk after all. However if he doesn't get what he needs he'll start acting up.

In the first days of his heat he's being a little bitch about everything, hiding your shit around the house so you don't find them, chewing on your chargers and even clothes, leaving holes in them.

Btw he also uses your undies and/or bra to jerk of, wrapping them around his dick.

He'll go like this for a few days but his heat eventually gets worse for him and he's no longer able to hold back. He knew you said no but the poor thing really needed this,his cock was aching and twitching in discomfort.

One night when you get home from work/studies you can't spot him,you call out his name multiple times only to hear some whines and murmurs coming from your bedroom.

During his heat you don't allow him to sleep in your room because he'll get naughty in the middle of the night, trying to stick it in while you sleep. So he gets his own room and he knows damn well he can't be in yours.

You sigh as you walk in your room, seeing him humping your pillows while burying his face into one of your shirts (it smells like you and it gets him hard)

Bunny!izuku was whining out your name when he noticed you got home. You saw his eyes tear up a bit,you knew his heats were more intense than the average heat for other animals but you were still hesitant about letting him fuck you.

You walk up to him, stroking his ears and hair a bit,which only got him harder. He groans and grunts a lot at your touch.

You were really tempted to give in to him in this moment but you were busy tomorrow and you couldn't just stay home..and it'd be weird if people saw you limping around.

Sighing,you quickly help him on his back, lowering down his shorts.

He whines at your action, giving you a soft glance,his eyes are so pretty when he cries. A few tears run down his face as his eyes lower down to your hand wrapping around his cock.

A loud grunt leaves his mouth as his body suddenly goes limp. Your hand was so much better than his,so much softer.

His head leans back against the pillow while his hips buck up into your hand.

Poor izuku can never last long,he always cums so so quickly. He can go 3 minutes at max.

He came all over your fist as you were stroking him through his orgasm. I believe he can get pretty vocal in these moments..he also begs a lot.

"ngh oh god,thank you,thank you. Your hand feels so warm,mmmh its so much better than mine"

"please please,next time lemme be inside you,yeah? Please love, please let me have you"

[bitterbutblue]

feixiao on top!

i'm guilty of falling for you twice ☆ feixiao x reader

~ feixiao is so cool shes so cool but shes also so babygirl coded u need to hear me out guys u need to SEE my vision like shes so babygirl coded please hjgsfjkhdlkjlka anyways domestic fluff with feixiao because we should love her more instead of thirsting over her

song: fallin' twice - chevy (robin's singing voice!!)~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Jiaoqiu, can you stop that!"

"I'm trying to cook!"

"You're being irritating-"

Feixiao lets out a loud groan as the sounds of bickering fill the room once more. Being around you and Jiaoqiu always feels like a babysitting job with how often the two of you argue over the smallest things, whether it be his food being too spicy or your need to add coriander to everything.

"Guys, please."

Her voice cuts through the bickering like a knife, and you immediately shut up. You look away, pouting like a child with your arms crossed as Jiaoqiu raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and Feixiao.

"How'd you get her to shut up?" Jiaoqiu looks at Feixiao, who just hums as she flips to the next page in her book with minimal regards to your pouty state. You shoot a glare at him.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Both of you, calm down." Feixiao rolls her eyes "Jiaoqiu, can you excuse us for a bit?"

"Wha-"

The look she shoots his way has him closing his mouth and leaving the room with a disgruntled huff. The second the door closes, Feixiao gets up to walk towards you, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

"Darling-"

"He was being a bitch!"

"Language." She chides, lightly flicking the back of your head with her finger. You wince, but ultimately melt into her embrace as she rests her head atop yours.

"You mustn't keep picking fights with him, he saved my life."

"He's a cocky little bitch." You whine, and she just laughs. Her laugh sounds genuine, not those she puts on for appearance in front of the other generals, or in front of Jiaoqiu or Moze. Her laugh around you is light, and for a moment all you can focus on is the feeling of her heart beating through her chest, echoing onto you as her hand interlaces itself with yours.

"He may be sometimes, but you should still try to see him the way I do."

You turn around to face your girlfriend, sighing.

"I don't actually hate him, Feixiao."

"I know. But for my sake, stop arguing with him all the time?"

You don't notice the way her breath hitches in her throat when you smile up at her, you don't notice the way her heart jumps and flips when you reach up to cup her cheek. You don't see how her eyes soften when you tilt your head to the side with a small smile.

You don't notice how she falls for you all over again over something as simple as a smile.

"Anything for you baby."

She just blinks, face turning a light pink and you grin.

"Flustered?"

"No." She responds quickly, clearing her throat as she looks away. You grin up at her, pulling her so that she's now standing in front of you.

"You're so pretty when you blush." You whisper, and her ears fold down from embarrassment which has your heart absolutely soaring. Who else gets to see the tough general like this?

"You- uh.." Her eyes dart around the room anxiously, worried that someone may walk in.

"Stop worrying."

She yelps when you tug her down,. She stumbles over her feet, catching herself on the armrests of your chair so that she has you caged in between her arms. She turns redder at your close proximity and you laugh because how is she still so flustered around you when you've been dating for almost two years now?

"You're adorable."

She wants to swoon, the great general of the Yaoqing reduced to a giggly mess over her girlfriend. It took her a while to finally be able to put her guard down around you, but being able to do that was the best decision of her life. You love her, unconditionally.

She loves you, unconditionally.

"You're... you're also cute." She mumbles out, and you smile up at her before moving to quickly give her a peck on the lips.

"I know."

She finally lets out another laugh, the softest smile on her face.

"Get over yourself..." She mumbles, before kissing you again. You smile into the kiss, hand cupping her cheek before she pulls away.

"Jiaoqiu will return any moment now. Do I look alright?"

Her face is red, ears flapped downwards and she looks like a giggly schoolgirl after seeing her crush.

She looks perfect to you.

"He will definitely suspect something."

"Fuck."

Se doesn't get any time to even recompose herself because Jiaoqiu storms in, finger pointed up at you two as if accusing you of a crime.

"I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT- GAY PEOPLE! GAYS! MOZE, YOU OWE ME!! THEY'RE GAY AND KISSING!"

"JIAOQIU, GET OUT!"