#oc sharp-t

[mouzeinsoup]

How did Charlie get the scar?

thANK YOU for this ask it finally motivated me to make this AAAGHH

boom charlie & collins first meeting!!

(small blood warning)

it didn't go well :(

charlie is farsighted so he physically couldn't see collin clearly

whoopsies

[atinydragon]

Little finger swing doodle I thought was cute lol

[circushaven]

Well shit ........guess I'll die🤷🏻 -🍊🐀

Not exactly the "best welcome" bth...

[beyondthegin]

05. 2024 Partner and Protag

Redesign of WIP OCs from my webtoon "It Depends"

[ggukivrse]

study break - part one | jjk

summary. in which you’re all distraction and no remorse, and jungkook keeps coming back for more

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

genre: college au, established relationship, smut (?)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: jk wears glasses (yes that is a warning), oc and jk are both menaces, kissing, making out, allusions to sex

note: this is result of me listening to house of cards on repeat while ovulating. if you guys like it, i might do a part two with proper smut :>

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Jungkook’s apartment is dimly lit, warm in that comfortable, lived-in way you’ve come to crave more than you probably should. A soft playlist hums from the speaker in the corner, barely louder than the sound of your breathing.

His living room looks the same as always — chaotic in the most him way. Hoodies thrown over chairs, open notebooks stacked beside the couch, a half-empty bag of chips spilling onto the ground.

You’re both on the floor, backs against the couch, knees almost brushing. Your laptop’s abandoned by your side, dark screen catching the glow from the window. His is still open, cursor blinking like it’s mocking your lack of productivity. 

It’s supposed to be a study night. Like the five others you’ve had in the last two weeks.

But Jungkook’s wearing that loose white t-shirt again — the one that clings to his skin just a little when he stretches — and those damn grey sweatpants that should be illegal.

His hair is messy, dark strands falling across his forehead in that careless way that looks intentional even though you know it isn’t. His glasses are slipping down his nose again, and he keeps pushing them up without looking away from the flashcards in his hand.

The sight of him — relaxed, comfortable, stupidly hot — should be background noise by now.

But it isn’t.

Your gaze drops. to his jaw, to the slope of his neck, to the curve of his thigh under those sweatpants, to the way his arm flexes when he flips a card.

And suddenly, studying the notes in front of you feels like the least important thing in the world.

You let out a dramatic sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair and flopping your head back against the couch.

“I’m so bored I might actually combust,” you mumble.

Jungkook barely glances over. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.”

His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. he flips another card. “Then stop texting me to come over.”

You roll your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “You could say no.”

He finally looks at you, eyes dark and unreadable behind his glasses. “Have you met you?”

Your stomach flips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, slow and deliberate, “You say ‘wanna study?’ and I stop thinking about anything else. That’s not normal, by the way.”

You blink. He’s back to looking at his cards like he didn’t just casually say something that made your heart punch your ribs.

You watch him for another beat, then let your hand drift — casual, like it’s nothing — to the edge of his sweatpants. You toy with the drawstring, looping it around your finger. Not pulling, just... touching.

“You’re not really helping me focus, you know,” you say softly.

“Funny,” he says without looking up, “I was about to say the same thing.”

You smile. Not sweet — sharp. “You could kick me out.”

He turns his head slowly, meets your eyes again. There’s a flicker there — of something teasing yet dark. “You think I don’t want to?”

Your breath catches.

But you don’t back down. Instead, you tilt your chin slightly and close the small distance between you, your knees knocking together now. “You never do.”

Jungkook huffs out a laugh — low and breathless — and leans his head back against the couch. His eyes close for a second like he’s trying to pull himself together.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

You shrug one shoulder. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just like seeing how long you’ll last.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just turns his head to face you again. He looks at you in a way that makes your whole body feel too warm. Then, slowly, he shifts. His thigh brushes against yours, firmer this time, and his hand — the one that was holding the flashcards — drops to his lap.

“I’m not made of stone, you know,” he says, voice low.

“No,” you murmur, eyes dropping to his mouth. “You’re not.”

Neither of you move. Not really.

But the space between you shrinks anyway. Electrified. Waiting.

His gaze drops to your mouth. Yours does the same.

“You’re evil,” he mutters.

You smile. “You love it.”

He brings his hand up to cradle your cheek. “I really fucking do,” he says, not even trying to hide it.

His lips meet yours before you can think of a snarky comeback.

Jungkook kisses you like a starved man — like he’s been holding back for too long and now that he’s had a taste, he’s not letting go.

It steals your breath. Literally. Your lungs forget how to work for a moment as your mouth parts for his, the soft slide of his lips over yours turning quickly into something more intense. Hungrier. You can feel the warmth of it spread instantly — through your chest, down your arms, pooling in your stomach.

You don’t think. You just move.

Shifting up onto your knees, you climb into his lap and straddle him with ease, hands coming up to cup his jaw. He makes a soft sound against your mouth as your fingers slide into his hair, nails grazing lightly at the roots. his hands find your waist immediately, fingers squeezing — grounding, claiming, maybe both.

Your hips settle against his, the stretch of fabric between you suddenly way too noticeable. You can feel the tension in his thighs, in the way his fingers flex against your waist, how his chest rises and falls just a little too fast under you.

You tug gently at his hair and he lets out a low sound, something between a gasp and a groan, muffled against your lips. It makes your stomach flip, sharp and electric, heat blooming between your legs.

He kisses you harder.

His hands roam — sliding up your sides, over your ribs, skimming the underside of your shirt. Every touch is deliberate, slow but unrestrained, like he wants to memorise every inch of you with his palms. When his thumbs brush just beneath your bra, you inhale sharply, your lips breaking from his.

You lean back, taking in his form: glasses askew on his face, tilted enough to look ridiculous, your tinted lip gloss smeared across his lips, flushed and shiny from kissing, painting the corners of his mouth like you’d marked him.

Something about the sight makes your heart thud faster.

“Here,” you murmur, breath catching, as you reach up and gently pull the glasses off his face.

He blinks, eyes slightly unfocused, lashes fluttering as he tries to reorient himself — like he forgot where he was the second your lips left his.

You set the glasses aside carefully, then glance back down at him. “Better,” you whisper.

Before he can say anything, you dive back in — mouths colliding again, your fingers back in his hair like you can’t stand to not be touching him. His hands move too, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, spreading warmth across your skin.

His hands settle at your lower back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel him now — cock hard beneath you, obvious and impossible to ignore. You rock forward slightly, not to tease, not intentionally — just to get closer — and he groans into your mouth again, the sound deep and low.

You bite back a smile, pulling back just enough to look at him again. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and swollen, eyes heavy-lidded and focused only on you. He looks drunk — drunk on your lips, drunk on your taste, drunk on your touch.

“You’re really bad at studying,” you whisper.

“So are you,” he shoots back, breathless, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His hands slide up under your shirt before he connects your lips again, fingertips dragging gently along your spine. You shiver, leaning into him, your nose brushing his as you kiss and kiss and kiss until the world feels far away — until the only things that exist are his hands, his mouth, the heat of his body under yours.

And fuck, if this is what procrastination always feels like?

You never want to study again.

→ read part two here

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[ririkookiemonster]

no textbooks here — JJK

Summary: being a model in the art class was common for you, but this time, you gave a chance to be the female model in biology class. it was for educational purposes anyway, how far could it go?

Pairing: male model jungkook x female model oc

Genre: Smut

Warnings: human sexuality/ biology class au, university au, voyeurism, unprotected sex (DO NOTTT unless you wanna be a mama) public sex, sex ed au, nipple stimulation, cock stimulation, kissing, multiple orgasm f, missionary, riding, cumming inside, no use of contraceptives specified, shy jk at first, they both are so cute at the end.

Word count: 5k+

Writer: riri🪵

Writer’s note: omg its finally here! i was thinking to write smth ab this ever since i read a voyeurism smut ab sex ed and i hadddd to write one. i love how cute jk is. i love the scenes where they well… get passionate. too cute ahhh. lemme know if you liked it. to be added in the taglist, fill the google form given below or leave a comment!

MASTERLIST

🖇️click here to be added in the taglist🖇️

You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before nervously pushing open the classroom door. The soft creak of the hinges seemed louder in the stillness, amplifying your unease. As you stepped inside, your eyes immediately scanned the room. It was as you expected—empty, save for one person seated at the front: Mr. Jung, the lecturer you had been told about. His presence was commanding but gentle, his smile warm and welcoming, like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.

“Come in, come in!” he called out with a bright tone, his gaze locking onto you as you hovered awkwardly in the doorway. His voice had a way of cutting through the silence, easing some of the tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You stepped forward, your footsteps quiet but deliberate as you made your way to his desk, each step a small victory over your nerves.

“It’s great to meet you,” Mr. Jung said with a friendly nod, his voice smooth and calm. His smile lingered, putting you at ease, if only slightly. He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk in your direction, his movements unhurried. “I just need you to fill out this liability waiver.”

The words were said so casually, but the simple task still felt like a small hurdle. You stood across from him, fingers lightly brushing the paper as you picked it up, your heart still racing just a bit, though his calm demeanor had begun to settle the unease that had gripped you since you walked in.

“Just the standard agreement,” Mr. Jung continued with a calm, practiced tone. “You’ll be paid at the end of the class. And... you’re aware that this is a practical demonstration, meaning you’ll be fully naked?”

“Yes... Of c-course,” you stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly. You reached for a pen from the stand, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nervousness. Your eyes skimmed over the document—standard terms, conditions, rules, payment details, and all that. You’d done this sort of thing before for life drawing classes in the art department, so the nudity didn’t bother you as much as it used to. Still, this was the biology department, and that made it feel... different. Without much thought, you roughly scribbled ‘Y/N’ at the bottom of the page, the pen shaking just a little in your hand.

As you set the pen down, your gaze drifted around the room once more, and that’s when you noticed something or rather, someone you hadn’t before. Sitting off to the side, near the blackboard, was a guy you hadn’t seen when you first walked in. He was quiet, almost too still, which explained why he had escaped your attention earlier.

He looked up, and your breath hitched for a moment. His piercings were the first thing you noticed. his lips, eyebrow, and ears all adorned with silver hoops and studs that caught the light. Despite his edgy appearance, his eyes were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his sharp jawline and the strength in his build. Even beneath the loose, black T-shirt he wore, you could tell he was well-muscled, his broad shoulders and solid frame evident.

Your gaze continued downward, noticing his dark blue jeans tucked into chunky, black combat boots. His medium-length curly hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame his face. Everything about him radiated a kind of effortless cool. And, if you were being honest, this man was HOT.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you realized just how much this guy's presence added to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

He glanced at you for just a fraction of a second, barely acknowledging your presence before averting his gaze, his expression unreadable. It was almost as if he didn’t want to make eye contact. “This is Jungkook, third-year, and the male model for today’s demonstration,” Mr. Jung explained, nodding toward the guy. “Please, take a seat next to him.”

You gave a quick nod and made your way over, sitting down in the chair beside him. Jungkook’s hands rested in his lap, fingers nervously intertwined. It surprised you to see that, beneath his tough, bad-boy exterior, he seemed just as anxious as you were. Sure, he was undeniably attractive—more than that, really. but the way he fidgeted made him look kind of... cute. You couldn't help but wonder how someone who appeared so effortlessly cool could be just as nervous about this as you were.

And then it hit you: you were both about to be naked. Fully.

But, of course, it was purely for educational purposes—nothing more than a biology lesson where the two of you were simply models helping students learn. Still, the thought had your stomach doing somersaults.

You cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension between you two. “Hey…are you nervous?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, trying to break the ice.

Before Jungkook could respond, the door swung open with a loud bang, and a flood of students poured in, filling the once-quiet room with laughter and chatter. You watched as they settled into their individual seats, each equipped with small, built-in desks, their attention mostly focused on their own conversations rather than the two of you.

Whatever nervous conversation you had hoped to start was quickly drowned out by the buzz of the classroom coming to life. You stole another glance at Jungkook, catching him briefly biting his lip before his gaze returned to his lap. It was clear neither of you was prepared for what was about to happen, but there wasn’t much time to dwell on that now.

Once the room settled and Mr. Jung began the lesson, you couldn't help but scan the students seated before you. Their eyes were on you-curious, almost probing. You were relieved that they were all first years, strangers whose names and faces you didn't know. It made things a little easier. Still, a few boys in the crowd kept sneaking glances in your direction, and you swore you caught some of them smirking, making your nerves spike even more.

After about five minutes of introductory remarks, Professor Jung's voice called both you and Jungkook to the front of the room. Your stomach twisted as you slowly stood up, feeling Jungkook rise just behind you. The two of you walked forward in unison, the students' gazes growing heavier with every step.

"Good morning, everyone," Mr. Jung addressed the class. "Meet Y/N Y/L/N and Jeon Jungkook. They'll be the models for today's lesson." His voice carried easily through the room, formal yet calm, as though what was about to happen was routine.

Then he turned to face both of you. "If you could both remove your clothes, please," he said, his tone polite but firm. You felt a sharp wave of mixture of excitement and anxiety rise within you, knowing the moment had finally come. and you two began two began to undress in front of the class.

You always enjoyed the thrill you got from being naked in front of the art classes you had modeled in. You like being a muse. You liked the feeling of all their eyes on your body and you expected this to be no different. You pulled off your white sweater over your head, followed by your tank top. You slowly began to unbutton your baggy jeans and slipped them down to the floor, pulling off each leg in turn until you were just in the simple baby pink underwear you had chosen to wear today.

You glanced next to you, where Jungkook was also down to his Calvin Klein underpants. You glanced over as he pulled them down and almost gasped out loud. His cock, although soft, was massive. You could see its outline from the white underwear he was wearing. It hung down limply between his legs, framed by a thin patch of newly grown hair, as if shaved recently.

You hastily turned your eyes back to the class and unhooked your bra, exposing your firm breasts. Then you removed the final item of your clothing, your panties, slipping them down your knees, revealing your own trimmed bush to the watching eyes. Not gonna lie, you were kinda embarrassed. You could have shaved or waxed. But you were here as a model anyway. You just wanted your paycheck for the day.

Your eyes scanned through the crowd. Some of the students looked embarrassed, red in the face, others looked excited. One boy right at the front was watching both of you with curious eyes, a big grin on his mouth. You and Jungkook stood there, upright and completely naked, as Professor Jung walked back and forth in front of you both, talking about various parts of anatomy and pointing at them by his telescopic pointer.

"Here we see,the female nipples are not yet aroused. The areola are widened and flat and the nipples themselves are not yet hard." Mr Jung explained, the end of the pointer hovering an inch from one of your nipples.

"And below," he continued, moving the pointer to indicate the area between your legs, "Is the Vulva. Not to be confused with the Vagina, of course, which is the interior part we can't see at the moment. In this, as you can see, the subject has chosen only to trim and not remove her pubic hair."

Some of the students nodded, while others just kept gaping at you. You were enjoying them all looking yourself naked, especially the guy in the front with a strange twinkle in his eyes. You felt yourself getting a bit aroused, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

Mr Jung then moved on to Jungkook, pointing out at his much smaller nipples than his penis and testicles. The pointer then moved to his dick and balls, as the professor went on about the anatomy of a male’s cock. It was unusual that he made no mention of the fact that Jungkook’s cock was well…. big.

"Okay," Mr Jung said, striding back in front of you. "Y/N, if you could lie on the desk please? Yes, like that, lift your legs up. Perfect.”

You followed Mr Jung’s instructions and laid on the desk, your feet facing the students. Under his direction, you opened your legs up and put your feet on the desk so that your opening was all on display of the students now. You felt a strange feeling of thrill arising in your chest yet again, but you couldn’t see the reactions of the crowd, as you were looking up at the ceiling.

Soon after, Professor Jung began indicating parts of your vulva with his pointer.

"This outer area here is the labia majora," he explained, the cold metal of the pointer touching your lower petals, making your lips slightly open because of the sensation.

"The vaginal opening, and above the labia minora. This subject has fairly small labia minora but it's not uncommon for them to be much bigger and extend beyond the labia majora." Mr Jung continued, the pointer gently kept touching you, as if almost being teased. You felt yourself getting wet from the sensation and kept praying that it wouldn’t be visible.

"This is the urethral opening where urine is excreted from and also female ejaculate, we'll cover that in week five. And finally, the clitoris, also called the clit. Boys take careful note exactly where that is." He joked as the pointer came to rest on my clit, nestled under its hood. The class tittered dutifully.

"Thank you Y/N, you can stand up again," Mr Jung asked. Once again, You both stood naked and motionless before the class as he continued to drone on about the concept, that was arousal now. Soon again, Mr Jung turned to both of you again.

"Now, remember how we saw that the subject was not showing any signs of arousal…?"

There were a few nods from the class, and Mr Jung smiled. "Jungkook, can you rub or suck Y/N’s nipples please? We need you to stimulate them, and we’ll see what outcome we get from that.”

Jungkook glanced at you nervously, and then made his way to you until he was facing you. He lifted one hand up to your breast and cupped it gently, then very carefully he rubbed your nipple with his thumb. It felt nice and you felt a burst of pleasure rush through you.

"Look!" Professor Jung said, his voice was getting excited. “as we expect, the areola has tightened and contracted and the nipple has hardened as blood has rushed into it..”You were enjoying the stimulation Jungkook was providing you by using your tits as stress balls that you felt your breathing was getting deeper. Thats when you heard Mr Jung’s voice again.

"See how the subject's breathing has also changed. Jungkook, give the other one a suck, see how much you can stimulate it."

Jungkook bent down and took your other sensitive peak into his mouth, his tongue, warm and wet, lapping against your skin as if trying to explore the most of it. He started sucking more effectively, his teeth gently grazing on your nub, making you feel hot and bothered. You let out an involuntary gasp, which seemed to please the professor to heights as he gestured excitedly to the class.

"Okay, that's enough," He said as Jungkook returned to his original position beside you. The professor indicated your saliva glistened nipple with the pointer, and flicked it back and forth with the end, making you gasp again.

"Look, it's very hard and so much larger now. That's the result of the extra stimulation we saw. There are other signs of arousal we can look at on the female in a moment, but first let's have a look at arousal on the male. Is there anyone who can tell me the most obvious signs of arousal in the male of the species?"

There was a slight hesitation evident in the class which was quite expected and understandable. After a few seconds, a girl in the left wearing yellow shirt cautiously put hand up.

"Erection?" she asked, biting her lip in nervousness and embarrassment.

"Exactly!"Mr Jung chirped. "Increased heart rate, change in breathing, even hardened nipples are some signs when a male is sexually aroused, but the most obvious sign will be the enlargement in penis size as the blood rushes through the Male genitalia, also called erection."

Mr Jung turned back to you, "Y/N, can you get on your knees and stimulate Jungkook’s penis with your mouth please?”

You almost got a heart attack as you heard that. Yes, you were here just for a biology lesson but the thought of sucking Jungkook’s huge cock in front of the whole class sent a bolt of lightning straight to your cunt. The professor reached behind the desk and handed you a cushion, that you put on the floor in front of Jungkook’s feet and knelt on it, your knees buried in it for support. Jungkook’s cock was inches from your face. It was still soft, but long. You gingerly reached up and held it, your hand surrounding all the way round his girth.

You felt the warm member twitch in your hand, as you wrapped your other hand around it too. Its bulbous head was red and there were three prominent veins visible on it. You took a dee breath before leaning in and putting his thick shaft in your mouth and you knew that now, it was Jungkook’s turn to start breathing heavily.

As your tongue played with the head of his cock, you swore you heard an ‘ah’ leave his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you felt it pulsing and swelling. You bobbed your head back and forth, only getting a couple of inches in your mouth, but using your hands to jerk his shaft too.

The class was absolutely silent and they watched in rapt attention as you continued to work on him. You could feel their stares on both of you. You felt kinda excited and thrilled doing this in front of so many people that the weird pleasure caused your cunt get more wet with your slick, aching with need. You took his cock out of your mouth and looked up at it, still holding it in both hands. It was fully erect now, warm and slick with your saliva.

"Perfect!" Mr Jung exclaimed, "And quite an impressive specimen as you can see. Notice how the veins in the penis have become more prominent and also how the scrotum has become tense and doesn't hang down so low. Thank you Y/N, I think you can let go now." he said, causing a ripple of nervous laughter around the class and lightening the tension.

You stood up and came back to your original position, wiping the wetness around your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. Jungkook meanwhile, turned back to face the front, his big cock still pointing straight upwards in salute.

"Now, I mentioned there were other signs of female arousal. Let's see if any have presented themselves. Y/N, if you could turn around and bend over the desk for us please?”

You did as he asked, soon following his next instruction to spread your lips with your hands.

You were bent over the desk now, your hands on your cheeks spreading them apart to give the audience a view of your asshole and cunt wide open. You felt the cold metal of the telescopic pointer against your ass when you heard professor Jung again.

"So, who can tell me what signs of arousal we can see here?”

You couldn’t see who was talking, but a guy with a deep voice cleared his throat and spoke up, "She's wet professor,"

"Good," said the professor, "The vagina has produced some fluid to aid in lubrication, and you can see it's practically dripping out in this case. The act of stimulating her partner has clearly caused her to become quite aroused. Anything else?"

There was silence from the class. "Come on," he encouraged.

After a few more moments, a nervous female voice said "Labia are engorged?"

"Yes! You can see that is quite obvious here," the pointer touched your lips. "In fact, the whole vulva is slightly swollen and engorged with blood now. Her clitoris also looks a lot bigger and redder now." You just stood there, bent over the desk, your nipples pressed against the cool wood as everyone stared at your swollen hole.

“On to the next part of the demonstration. Y/N, can you come round the side of the desk please, yes bend over the desk again. That's right, so they can see you from the side. And Jeon, come behind her and penetrate her."

You instantly felt your heart racing at thousand miles per hour as soon as you heard the professor say that. This man, with a HUGE dick was going to what, fuck you in front of literally everyone? Considering your state right now, you desperately wanted him to fuck you, as you could feel your pussy throb for him, but in front of the class? It was kinda… interesting but it sure was a turn on for you.

You felt Jungkook approach you from behind, his hands lightly rubbing the flesh of my ass cheeks, his hardness pressed against your opening. You could feel his head teasing your folds when he slid himself inside your pussy in one swift movement. You cried out at the feeling of being stretched and opened by him, even though you were wet as fuck. Being filled up by his cock let pleasure rushed through your body and you felt every part of yourself tingling with energy.

You were bent over the desk, your head turned to the class. You could see their faces watching You as Jungkook started thrust inside you, your cunt gripping him tighter after another thrust.

“Ah fuck, so tight!” Jungkook moaned out, his pace quite rough as his one hand was on your cheek, spreading them apart so he could see your asshole and pussy clenching around him, swallowing every inch of him. Your loud cry with every thrust only fueled his arousal as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

The professor was pacing up and down, still talking to the class, occasionally gesturing towards both as he explained something. Either of you both couldn't understand what he was saying, your whole attention was taken up by the relentless pleasure. You felt a pit in your stomach as you felt a tingling sensation of climax rising inside you, which made you slightly anxious; you felt it would be embarrassing to lose control and orgasm in front of the class.

Suddenly, professor Jung’s voice interrupted, "Stop right there then Jungkook, that's great."

Jungkook breathed out, and pulled out, as you let out a whispered whine and glanced around. He held his hard cock in one hand and it was covered in your essence. You felt empty and open, as if something you needed had been taken away from you and left you incomplete. The professor was pointing out the creamy wetness on Jungkook’s cock.

"Okay, I think it would be interesting to demonstrate a couple of other key sexual positions." Mr Jung continued. "Y/N, would you mind getting on your back on the desk so we can demonstrate the missionary position?”

You nodded and laid on the hard desk before professor Jung passed you the cushion to put under your head. Luckily, it was a sturdy, old fashioned oak desk, and it hardly moved as Jungkook added his weight to it, climbing on top of you between your legs.

"Now, we saw in the previous position that the penis can stimulate the g-spot, but the clitoris would need manual stimulation. In the missionary position however, the male's pubic bone can provide some clitoral stimulation." He then continued to say something about it being the most common position, but at that point, Jungkook’s huge cock entered you again and you completely switched off.

Our gaze locked together, Jungkook began to fuck you hard again, both of you breathing heavily as his one hand groped your right breast. You loved the feeling of him inside you, fucking you as deep as he could go, and you felt the same feeling rising up in you again.”

"Jungkook, please. Can we demonstrate some kissing, let's try to make it slightly realistic for the class." professor Jung told him, before going back to talking to the class about how the vaginal canal lengthens during arousal.

Jungkook leaned over, his lips grazing over yours as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue grazing between them as if seeing permission to enter your mouth, and in the next moment, you felt his tongue inside your mouth as you both let out a shaky moan. He was warm, and tasted of mint. His loosened locks from the ponytail hair hung down over your face.

The combined sensation of the passionate kiss with hard thrusting into your core suddenly spiraled you out of control and you felt myself go over the edge. An intense orgasm washed over you, consuming your whole body. You screamed and dug your fingers into Jungkook’s back as you rode wave after wave of pleasure that coursed through you, your pussy convulsing violently.

“oh my god!” you breathed out, throwing your head back in pleasure.

Jungkook slowed, and kissed you again as you came down from your high. Mr Jung was continuing to talk to the class, "So, we weren't going to do the female orgasm until week three, but never mind. As our subjects have accidentally demonstrated already, it's interesting to note that only around 25% of females can climax from penetration alone."

Jungkook was slowly moving his cock in and out of your soaking cunt now, giving you a break after your orgasm, but it felt amazing. You were already hoping that you’d be able to meet up with him privately for a more intimate sex session. And he was a great kisser.

"Fantastic," said the professor, "But we're running out of time, so let's move on to the male orgasm." You heard a groan, this time from Jungkook almost like a whine as he pulled out from you, and got off from the table, helping you do the same.

Mr Jung fetched a chair and placed it in front of the class. "Jungkook, please on the chair. and Y/N, if you mount him. Let's make sure everyone can see properly." Jungkook followed, sitting on the chair, facing the crowd as you walked over to where Jungkook was sitting on the chair, your legs weak and shaking from the orgasm. You could feel your juices running down your thighs. You glanced at the crowd once and saw they were squirming in their seats looking all hot and bothered.

You turned my back on the class and straddled Jungkook, sinking down onto his cock, feeling him filling you once again. “Oh my god, Y/N.” Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back from the sensation.

Professor Jung was behind you pointing out the details of the penetration and how your lips gripped his penis and-all-that. He pointed to your exposed asshole, "We'll cover anal sex in week four.”

You started to ride Jungkook, wrapping your arms around him as you rode him on the chair. You wanted the sensations to last forever, the thought of thirty pairs of eyes watching your lips wrapped around his cock only spurred you on even more. You started fucking Jungkook as hard as you could, leaning in to thrust your tongue in his mouth.

"Okay Jungkook, when you're ready you can climax inside her." Mr Jung said, folding his arms and stepping back slightly to allow the class a good view. Jungkook hands grabbed your ass and he spread your ass with his fingers as you rode him.

“Oh yes, fuck! yes” You moaned out as you felt yourself coming again. You cried out as your whole body shook and your cunt contracted around his swollen meat. His fingers gripped your ass tightly, and he let out a low groan as you felt him unload his hot ropes of cum inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing.

You held each other tightly as you took heavy breaths. You saw how worn out he was, how his big doe eyes were staring into your, and how his bottom lip twitched slightly as he lets out ragged breaths. You could see his mole under his bottom lip and a scar on his left cheek from the first time up this close.

He was beautiful.

You couldn’t help yourself, as you grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him sensually, to which he immediately responded to, kissing you back gently, as he felt you thumb caressing his scarred cheek. Even the professor was momentarily speechless. There was not a sound from anyone in the class.

Finally, You pulled off, breathing heavily and lifted yourself off his cock and floods of cum poured out of you, covering Jungkook’s cock and thighs with your slick and his release. Both of you were in quite a state, covered in sweat and cum.

Mr Jung quickly regained his composure, his signature smile back in his face. "An excellent demonstration from our two models." he began, "Please give them a round of applause."There was a smattering of clapping from the class for a while before he continued.

"The semen in this position is leaking out of the female. If they were having sex for breeding purposes, the missionary position would be better."

The bell for the end of the lesson rang and he raised his voice over the sounds of the rest of the class getting to their feet and packing up their things. "The homework for this week, please try to engage in the sexual act yourself with as many partners as possible, but please ensure to use protection and get tested for HIV with your partner. Better be safer than sorry. Also, I'd like two thousand words on your experiences, due in before the lesson next week."

The class filed out and Jungkook and you retrieved your clothes and hastily got dressed. The professor came up to us with a smile.

"Not too bad for a first attempt," he said, "Same time next week. you’ll get your pay by 6 in the evening.” He smiled as he exited the classroom, leaving both of you alone in the classroom. You sighed as started you started to walk up to the door to leave before you heard Jungkook’s voice behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey… Y/N?” He took some calculated steps towards you, his hand shoved in his pocket as he continued,

“I had well… fun in today’s lesson.”

You bit your lips nervously, nodding slightly, “I did too. You were amazing.”

Your words caused Jungkook to chuckle a little, as he walked close to you, looking down at you. “I’d want to experience everything with you again. Not in lesson’s though….”

You nodded, before he continued.

“You wanna go get coffee to celebrate our demonstration with me after you get cleaned up? I’ll wait for you outside the locker room’s bathroom. You can take as much time as you want.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, you were definitely flustered.

“I’d love too….”

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-riri🥞

[awrkive]

COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

WORD COUNT 26.6k

WARNINGS/MISC fwb!au, college!au, basketball player!jk, kinda secret relationship(?)!au, nerdy!oc but not really she’s just very school-oriented, jk is tatted up here and is very yummy especially in his jersey sighs, hes also rich lol, school journalist!reader, jk calls oc a lot of petnames, basketball stuff im not sure are accurate t-t. multiple sex scenes honestly idek where all of these came from but they include: unprotected sex (this is a fanfiction everything tends to be crazy around these areas don’t do it irl pls omg lol), penetrative sex, creampie, cumplay, car sex, jk’s silver chain hehe, slight cockwarming, oral sex (f and m receiving), jk wears those curvy headbands thing (they look so cute on guys in fact he wore it once), shower sex. if there is anything i left out, pls tell me so that i can add them here. jungkooks visual is jungkook at jitb listening party . 

NOTES if u have been following me you'll know this is a repost haha! i decided to publish this again so you can read it on tumblr if u dont like to read on ao3! also, please pleasssseee send me guys your feedbacks after reading it even a keyboard smash goes a long way anyway ill shut up now i hope you guys enjoy this monster!! last note, pls be gentle with my cn&bl babies <33

[ CN&BL MOODBOARD ] 

The late March weather has been cold these days, so when Jungkook – in his real fuckboy fashion – texted you that his nose could use a heater and he could offer to warm you up in return, you agreed for him to come over even though you pretended to be disgusted by his offer. 

“Hurry,” you whimper as aforementioned man manhandles you to get you off his lap, making you bounce on the mattress.

Just like that, the warmth from being pressed against his body was gone, exchanged by the cold immediately spreading goosebumps through your skin as Jungkook makes quick work of spreading your legs, eliciting a bit of an uncomfortable feeling from you as you feel your cum leaking out.

Jungkook swipes a hand through his sweaty hairline as he kneels inside your spread legs, and you have to fight a moan at the sight. You still feel a little delirious from when he made you cum the second time just a minute ago, still lightheaded from the high of it. But you can’t deny that he always looks so good in all his natural, naked form; chest heaving, toned stomach coated in sheer sweat, his biceps – especially the tatted one – bulging as he reaches for your hips to pull you down so he could enter you once again.

It tears a cry from your vocal chords, him thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his pace frantic and inconsistent, a tell-tale sign of his impending orgasm. His grunts, together with your pathetic little moans at the feel of his cock touching every part of your pussy filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groans, leaning down, and as a result, reaching deeper into you, mouth reaching for your breast to your mouth. The kiss is a sloppy act of both of you just breathing in each other’s mouths, as Jungkook drills your pussy faster, his fingers tightening around your waist. A particular hard thrust got you drawing out a loud mewl and that’s what tips Jungkook over the edge. “F-fuck – shit, where do I cum baby? Tell me, tell me.”

“Inside– fuck. Please cum inside me,”

He lets out a sharp breath and after a few more erratic strokes, you feel his hot release painting your inner walls.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed as he fell on top of you. You can feel the way he’s heaving as his skin touches yours, but you let yourself relax on the mattress, breathing shallow breaths.

Since he’s way more athletic than you, he got over it soon and you feel him picking himself up to hover over you, beginning to plant kisses all over your chest and the mole in between them; your nipples, your shoulders, your collarbones.

“Kook,” you call softly, your limp hand patting his ass to get his attention. He always gets so preoccupied with kissing your body after sex.

Jungkook hums, but he looks at you. “Yeah?”

You grunt. “I jwashed my sheets two days ago and I don’t want cum stains on them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he leans down, and even though you were complaining just now, you let out quite a joyful hum when he kisses you. “Let me see first.”

You don’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

Pushing your body back up, Jungkook takes it upon himself to get his body off of you only to watch as you slide two fingers over your pussy, spreading the lips so he can see the combination of your and his cum all over it.

“You need to hurry, Nayeon is coming home in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t even try to look like he’s concerned about the urgency of that matter, just hums absentmindedly and gets his own finger to run over your exposed heat. You shiver at the contrast of the hot feeling of your pussy and the cold feeling of his finger, but it soon turns into pleasure when he gathers your cum and pushes it back into you.

“Are you going to keep it in for me?” He whispers, a thumb now caressing your hip.

“Depends.”

Jungkook looks back up at you, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “On what?”

“If you’re going to be good and say please when you want something.” You grin at him, feeling pretty proud of yourself for catching him off guard. It doesn’t last long very much though as he smirks, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you hear a series of knocks and your eyes widen at that.

You hissed. “Shit, that’s Nayeon.”

You sit up from the bed. Jungkook mirrors your haste, scrambling to find his clothes on the floor and putting them on quickly. You have your robe just nearby so you put just that on, ignoring the tingling sensation of cum trickling down your legs.

“I have to go.” Jungkook whispers, and you nod, walking towards the window on the far end of the room and opening it up widely.

Like usual, Jungkook steps on the frame and easily hauls himself outside. It’s the backside of the building of your complex, and it’s mostly and usually quiet, so it was pretty safe for him to just go out of there without anyone noticing, and most especially at times like this. Because Nayeon can’t know. No one can.

“I’ll see you later, pretty.”

Jungkook winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes, waving him off which earns a laugh from him. He easily saunters through the perimeter though and you find it quite unfair how he still carries a certain graceful energy to him even though he literally just did an exhausting cardio exercise with you for about thirty minutes. Ugh, him and his athletic body.

Nayeon’s voice can be heard across the flat, but before you let her in, you sprayed an unhealthy amount of air freshener on your body and around the room (just in case she enters) and shoved your discarded clothes from earlier in the laundry basket. After that, you finally run towards the door, welcoming Nayeon with a smile as you open it.

“Hi!” You greet rather cheerfully. She immediately hugs you briefly, groaning as she steps back and enters your little abode.

“Class sucked today,” she throws herself on the couch and you give her a sympathetic smile, walking towards the fridge to get water.

“Well, wish me luck. I’m headed out to one.”

“God, I can’t wait ‘til we graduate, I’m tired of this bullshit.” She says, but she’s opening up her laptop for what you could guess as for finishing up an assigned work. “I wish I was having bomb sex like you. Hey, do you want to go to this party on Friday?”

“I – what?”

“Party on Friday? Finals season for basketball starts on Friday and they’re planning a party. We could use free booze and stress-free night.” Nayeon repeats, but you weren’t asking for the party. You tried to ignore it, but you have the tendency to overexpplain yourself so that you do not get misunderstood.

“I’m not having bomb sex.” You say, and that makes her look at you. At that, you realized you shouldn't have taken the bait. Stupid, stupid, stupid you. You could've swerved this topic if you weren't so quick to react at the word sex.

You stare at each other for a solid few seconds until she rolls her eyes.

“Girl, your hair looks like a bird’s nest and your lips are swollen as hell. I might not be having bomb sex in the current moment but I know what I look like after I do the deed,” She wore her eyeglasses and perched it on her nose. “And you kinda smelled like sex when you opened the door.”

“No!” You feel heat coming and spreading through your cheeks. You thought the damn Febreeze would hold up!

Nayeon waves you off. “It’s fine, it’s not like you haven’t caught me before like that.”

“It’s embarrassing.” You insist, stuffing your face with a bread you took from the counter and purposefully not meeting Nayeon’s gaze so you don’t see the teasing smiles you’re sure she’s sending your way.

“That you’re having sex in college?!” Her playful scandalous tone makes you laugh though and that’s when you look at her.

“No, ugh. Just. Sorry. If I smelled like sex. I tried spraying a lot of air freshener earlier.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, is that why you took a long time opening the door? Was your sneaky link here just now?”

“Sneaky what?” You say, laughing.

“Sneaky link. You know, a hook up. Wait, is it a boyfriend? Please say no, because I would be extremely offended if you haven’t introduced your boyfriend to me all this time.”

You could swear you felt goosebumps on your nape when you heard the word boyfriend and saw images of Jungkook in your head immediately, as if you were used to associating him to the word.

“It’s definitely not a boyfriend. Just… someone I hook up with sometimes.”

“Interesting. Do I know him?”

The question makes you nervous. She definitely knows. No one not knows who Jungkook is at your campus.

With a shake of your head, you tell her, straight-faced, “Nope.”

“Okay, which department? Does he go to our Uni?” She asks, now seemingly fully invested in this conversation rather than the assignment before her. You’re happy to be a bit of a help to lessen her sour mood from earlier but you shake your head and let out playful tsk-ing sounds,

“Too many questions, babe,” You teased. “My class is starting in twenty minutes.”

You heard her laughing as you carried your clothes to the bathroom to change and to clean up the mess in your nether region. Damn. Jungkook cums a lot these days… he needs to masturbate or something.

“Fine, fine! You don’t want me to know but I’m gonna find out about the mystery guy one way or another!”

Shutting the door to the bathroom, your face contorts at Nayeon’s words.

Yeah, absolutely not. Jungkook and you made an agreement in the first place that everyone should be oblivious of your situationship, and it’s worked for almost four months now.

You can’t fuck it up now.

As soon as you fixed yourself, you bid your goodbye to Nayeon who went ahead and busied herself by hacking away on her laptop, grabbing your bag and heading out and finally walking to your Uni that was just a few minutes away from your complex. Your apartment is almost like a dorm, to be honest. 

The hallway is a little crowded, but you don’t miss a certain brunette in a familiar gray hoodie you’ve had in your closet before. 

You meet Jungkook’s eyes but you quickly change your gaze to his friend, Taehyung, who’s walking beside him as he greets you cheerfully. 

"Hey, ___!” You return his smile, waving. You had a Philo class with Kim Taehyung at one point and found out that despite your preassumptions about him for being a varsity guy, he was a pretty interesting person to talk with. You’re not super close per se, just acquainted enough to acknowledge each other when you meet somewhere like the campus hallways.

You don’t like the attention it draws, though. So you walk straight to your destination.

Varsity guys tend to be famous, and you’ve chosen to steer yourself away from them. Ironic, though, considering that you’re fucking one. Obviously, you’re not doing a very good job at “steering yourself away from them”.

Maybe it’s the sole reason why it’s a secret. Jungkook is the star player of the basketball team together with Taehyung and a few other guys. You know their usual gist. Famous circle, lavish lifestyle, attractive guys who (unfortunately) know it, skillful at the sports they do, too many people fawning over them. And well… not to be that person but you’re just someone dutifully studying here. Someone in the background. And you love that mostly, but sometimes you think that maybe… it’s why Jungkook seems to never entertain the idea of making your relationship public. Not that you would like that yourself. You took part in the secrecy agreement, suggested it yourself, in fact. You would never admit to anyone you’re fucking him. But, well. It’s just weird. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Someone’s going to end it eventually and you’re gonna make sure it’s you… just so it’s established that you aren’t the one who’s more willing in the relationship. Yeah, that. Just not now. School is stressful. You like sex with him. 

When you arrive at the lecture hall, your phone vibrates. A text from Jungkook is plastered all over your lock screen.

[1:15pm] Jeon: hi pretty [1:15pm] Jeon: nice skirt :) 

You internally roll your eyes. Him and his literal and figurative skirt chaser tendencies.

[1:20pm] You: Hi.

You get a reply immediately.

[1:20pm] Jeon: wanna grab dinner later

You stare at his text, a little taken aback. 

That’s new. Sure, you had grabbed lunch with him at his stupid fancy Benz like, once. After he fucked you in it to ease your nerves about a class presentation you did earlier that day. He didn’t offer, he just bought you Chinese because you passed by a resto as he drove you to your place. 

Anyway. You don’t know why he would do this all of a sudden. You fucked three days ago, then the day after that, then earlier this day. You’re not complaining but you never predicted your sex life would be so active like this. 

[1:22pm] You: Pass. Studying later

Which is true. You have a Tech Writing quiz tomorrow, though not necessarily hard. Whatever. Your thoughts in the hallway awhile ago are making you feel kind of weird about him right now.

[1:23pm] Jeon: boring [1:23pm] You: ):< [1:23pm] Jeon: cute :) do u want me to order boba ill deliver it to ur place after ur class

Well, that is definitely not new. Jungkook delivers you food, like, every single time.

[1:24pm] You: :))) Yess. Thank you [1:24pm] You: I’m going to venmo you [1:25pm] Jeon: lol yk im just gonna venmo it back to u

True. There’s been a lot of back and forth in that app. One time, he “jokingly” sent you a hundred dollars (a hundred dollars!) after you kept on insisting you pay for the takoyaki he made delivered to you, and that horrified you so much that of course you sent the money back to him, but he made you promise to stop trying to argue with him about the payment thing. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel bad about it still though…

[1:25pm] You: 😤😠 [1:27pm] Jeon: do u also want anything besides boba [1:27pm] You: Noppee, I think Nayeon is going to cook something for us later [1:28pm] Jeon: alright [1:28pm] You: Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? [1:28pm] Jeon: nahh it’s alright [1:28pm] Jeon: besides I can think of other ways for u to pay me back without money involved.. ;) 

Ah, there he is. He really couldn’t go on a day without sexual innuendos.

[1:29pm] You: You are infuriating and I’m turning off mh phone  [1:29pm] You: *my [1:29pm] Jeon: you like when I annoy you so .. [1:29pm] You: No I don’t and Im so sore i feel like my brain will leak out of my ears from so much sex  [1:29pm] You: Also please stop using ellipsis in texts [1:29pm] Jeon: hmm [1:29pm] Jeon: who said anything about sex? [1:30pm] Jeon: not me🤔 do u think i just think about sex all the time [1:30pm] Jeon: what’s worng with ellipsis…? [1:32pm] You: Yes you do think about sex all the time 

He reacted to that message with the HAHA emoticon, and you felt yourself having a hard time fighting an eyeroll.

[1:32pm] Jeon: you know me so well [1:32pm] You: Also, nothing wrong with ellipsis they just remind me of how my dad texts  [1:32pm] Jeon: ummmmm im sure ur dad is great so im flattered

You snorted at that.

[1:33pm] You: you do NOT know that  [1:33pm] Jeon: i thought you were turning off your phone [1:34pm] You: I am right now so don’t reply prof is walking to the lecture hall now [1:35pm] Jeon: good luck baby ;)

Nayeon didn’t convince you enough to join her at the party she mentioned before come Friday night. In a weird parallelism, Jungkook also texted you about a party you could come to, and eventually, you’ve come to realize that it was his party. Their party.

Your Uni’s basketball team held a celebratory one because they won the first game of Finals. You only knew when you went to the school’s publication office earlier. The freshman sports journalist, Ryujin, came to you to ask you some questions about her rough draft about said game.

You see, this is one of those times when you are reminded that Jungkook and you really only have a relationship through sex. Sure, you know some stuff about each other. Like how you are an English major, he’s taking Computer Science, you’re the managing director of the school’s publication, he’s a star player in the basketball team; he knows about your favorite takoyaki flavor (it’s smoked bacon) and your boba order, and you know he likes food that you dislike, namely cheese cake and mint chocolate flavored stuff. He also likes Marvel a lot. He knows you’re obsessed with films from the golden age of Hongkong cinema because you mentioned it in passing. (He doesn’t know you particularly love the Wong Kar-wai ones though…)

But somehow, he never really tells you about his basketball games. Sure, he’d mentioned practices before but it’s something he doesn’t bother to include you in. Not that it would matter to you. It’s not like you tell him all about your stuff in school, either.

Your attention is caught by a ping from your phone. 

[12:05am] Jeon: hey you still up? 

The text reads. You type a reply. 

[12:07am] You: Yes, why? [12:07am] Jeon: let’s facetime [12:07am] You: Why [12:08am] Jeon: i want to see your pretty face

Spoken like a true fuckboy. Really?

Before you could respond, his face is taking up your whole screen, asking to facetime you. Without thinking about it too much, you accepted the call, falling back to your bed. 

From the screen, you could see that he’s wearing a black shirt with a long silver chain around his neck. He smiles that adorable smile when you finally make your whole face visible to the camera. 

“What is it?”

The audio from his end is a little distorted, probably from the loud music from where he’s at. That after-game party, most likely. He texted you about it awhile ago. Nayeon is probably there, too. 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Again with the nickname and the slight way his eyes are hooded as he said it. If you squint enough, maybe you could tell if he’s drunk or not. You’re not sure. But the way that’s his instant words upon seeing you is making you feel a little weird in your stomach. He’s got to stop calling you that. 

“Are you drunk-calling me right now…?" 

He shakes his head and says something, but you don’t hear it, so you informed him so. The screen shows you dark, pixelated images, making you think he’s probably moving his camera around, and you could make out that he’s walking away from the party as the loud music fades out eventually. 

"I’m not drunk.” He says after he settles on a spot. 

“Oh, okay.” You nod. You shifted on your side. “Why did you call me?" 

He laughs at that. "I can’t call you?" 

His laughter intensifies when he sees you roll your eyes. "No. I’m just wondering… aren’t you at a party?" 

Jungkook nods his head. "Yes, but it’s getting boring here." 

"Oh.”

Another beat of silence, but Jungkook is the one to say another word. 

“Hey, do you wanna go out for a drive?" 

Well… that sounds good. You just finished a write-up and did some studying a little earlier and you also planned to order food but forgot about it.

"Sure.”

Jungkook smiles at that.

“I’ve been wanting to show you something. I think you’ll like it." 

Your eyebrow arched at that. This is getting a little too new. He’s driven you around before but it always involved fucking, not done with the intention to show you something. Not that you aren’t expecting sex tonight, though. You would actually appreciate that.

"What is it?" 

You could make out a smirk from Jungkook’s face on the slightly pixelated screen. "I’m going to show you the real me.” The glint of mischief in his tone cracks you up, so you played right into it,

“Ohhh, does it involve dead bodies?" 

He nods with a serious face. "Yes, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out." 

"Yeah, and don’t you freak out if I tell the police about it.” You squint your eyes, trying to give him a scolding look. 

“Ah,” Jungkook leans back. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? You’re always such a good girl." 

It wouldn’t have meant anything if it wasn’t for the way his voice drops, giving you a meaningful look again. You could feel the heat in your cheeks but you shrug it off. 

"I am a good girl, I pride myself for it." 

Jungkook finally laughs this time, finding this conversation hilarious just as you do. "I know, I like it most especially—" 

After all this time, you developed a sort of a Spidey sense for when Jungkook is about to say perverted things, so before he could make such remarks, you cut him off.

"If you’re gonna say something sexual I’m going to end this call.” But even you could tell it was an empty threat.

Jungkook thinks so, too, you know that, but he decides to step back. “I was just going to say that I like it most especially because it does good to the world." 

The mirth in his eyes tells you otherwise. 

"You do not think that.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

He laughs once more, throwing his head back as if you said the funniest joke in the world. Weirdo. 

“Alright, alright. So I’m coming to your place in five minutes to pick you up. How does that sound?" 

"Good. Nayeon’s currently out… just text me if you get here." 

He told you to end the call – which you argued you were just planning to do so and he didn’t need to tell you and it earned a laugh from him, how stubborn you were about such simple things. You just gave him a baleful look.

Just as you pick out a sweatshirt and some sweats in exchange for your pajama dress, you receive a text from Jungkook that he’s arrived and so you grab your wallet and keys and your phone, heading out. 

You spot his car and knock on the passenger’s seat window and Jungkook immediately opens it for you. 

"Hi, gorgeous.” He greets you. “You want to keep the window open?" 

"Hello. Yes, please.” You say, fixing your seat belt. 

He hums and you press on a button to slide the window open. 

“You want to pick up some food?" 

You perked up. "Yeah, I was planning to get some but I was too lazy to order in earlier." 

Jungkook pressed some buttons again you don’t really understand but it got music to start playing, lights in the car moving into the same beat of the tune (his car was really fancy…). Some mellow ones you kind of liked during this drive on a cold night. He saw a food place from around a corner and you both agreed to get food from the shop. 

He parked somewhere for you guys to open up the take-out. There’s some steamed tofu there so you pick it up and start eating. 

"I’ve been obsessed with tofu these days,” you shared absentmindedly, chewing on said food. 

Jungkook looks at the tofu you were eating. “Really? I remember when you said you dislike it." 

"Yeah, but that’s because I cooked it one time and it sucked." 

"I should teach you to cook one of these days…” you refused to acknowledge what that entails and laughed instead.

“You know how?” You said to tease, but you also genuinely can’t believe he knows how.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, a faux offended look on his face, saying, “Why do I always get that reaction? Of course I know how to cook." 

"Huh,” you pondered. “Wouldn’t have expected it from you." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have this friend who’s a really good cook and I kinda learned through him." 

"That’s cute. Nayeon knows how to cook and I never learned shit from it.” You laugh at your own words, so does Jungkook. “But hey," 

"Hm?" 

"Do you think my boobs got bigger? I think they got bigger.” You put your food down your lap and caress your breasts through your clothes. 

You’ve been thinking about it since last week. Earlier, you saw yourself naked in your mirror and noticed a change in their size. You almost thought you were pregnant but your period literally just ended yesterday. But can that happen with pregnancies? But… you’re very diligent with your pills… so it can’t be. Right? 

You made a mental note to buy a test tomorrow.

“Look the same to me.” Jungkook says, looking at your chest. 

You grab his free hand and put it over a boob. He squeezes it promptly, and you hear an almost dramatic gasp. 

“Oh, they are bigger." 

You remove his hand over you and nod. "Yeah. But I think it’s just due to some hormonal changes. Also I think I’m putting on weight, I’ve been eating a lot these days… but… it’s stupid but I also think my obsession with tofu has something to do with it," 

Jungkook looks over at you curiously. 

"Yeah, they say tofu makes your boobs bigger." You added.

He arches a brow at that. "Really?" 

"Don’t look so excited." 

Jungkook can’t help but huff out a laugh. "I do not!” You roll your eyes. He insists, “I love your boobs the way they are." 

"Geez, thanks." 

You finished your food and Jungkook drove around again. It’s still in the vicinity of your town. The music in his car serves as a lulling noise in the otherwise quiet night. There’s still a lot of cars on the streets, some occasional honking sounds, but you feel really, really nice, most especially when the wind blows a little harsher and it makes your hair go crazy. Jungkook laughs at that too. 

It’s later in the night when Jungkook slowed down somewhere, and soon, he was parking at an abandoned house.

As if on cue, you looked at him and said, "So you really are going to show me your literal skeletons." 

He laughed at that. 

"Nope, sorry to disappoint, princess." 

Jungkook gets out of the car and you follow, immediately shivering at the wind. You wished you wore a hoodie instead of this thin, knitted sweatshirt, but you didn’t expect it would be this cold. It was nearing summer and the weather has been inconsistent for the last month. 

You look at the abandoned house once again. There were wooden planks nailed on the door, plastic covers draped over the windows, and overall, it just looks really old. Kind of creepy, if you were to be honest. 

In your assessment of the house, you don’t notice Jungkook coming to you with two bottles of soju. He brings them up slightly, a grin on his face.

"Drinks?”

“Okay…” you squint your eyes. “Where are we going to do that?" 

He gives you a knowing smirk. "Inside." 

Jungkook went over the fence with ease and you followed his direction but didn’t do the same thing. He looks back at you. "Hey." 

"Are you sure it’s safe?” You ask, looking around, wrapping your arms around your middle because of the cold. 

Jungkook probably notes the genuine concern in your tone, that’s why he sets the soju down and comes forward to you, the fence serving as some kind of dramatic border. 

“Baby, it’s fine. No one comes around here.” He says but you don’t really feel assured just yet. 

“What if someone comes here now? I don’t want to be arrested…" 

"No one’s getting arrested,” Jungkook insists. You still look hesitant. “Come on. Really. I’ve been here lotta times, haven’t ever seen anyone here since then." 

You look at him. He seems to be telling that truth and well, maybe you’re stupid for believing him but he seemed to know this place well and had been going here for a long time and as far as you know, he doesn’t have criminal records, so… 

"Okay, fine.” You give in. 

Jungkook immediately grins. “Nice. Here, let me help you.” He leans forward and takes a hold of your hips as you go over the fence. It’s not that high, really, but you let him carry you over it until you both entered the abandoned property. 

When he puts you down, you tug at his shirt.

“Wait, your car.” you gasp.

“Oh, it’s fine. I parked it at that green house, someone’s just gonna assume it’s theirs.” He says, completely nonchalant about it.

You think he’s being careless about his fucking Benz but whatever. 

Jungkook leads you to the back of the creepy house and the eerie place immediately gives you goosebumps. The cold of the night does not help, either, so you cling to him until he sits on the ground. 

“Jungkook, that’s dirty.” You tell him, trying to tug him up. 

He chuckles. “It’s fine, princess. Come here, I’ll take my jacket off. Sit beside me.” Indeed, he takes off his jacket, and you worry he might be cold with his t-shirt only now but you also really don’t want to sit on the ground… 

“You’re not cold?” You make sure as you sit beside him. Jungkook opens one of the soju and offers it to you. You take it as he opens another one for himself. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jungkook starts drinking but even though you have one in your hand, you don’t. He must’ve noticed it as he says, “Hey. Relax.”

“Aside from my fear of getting arrested, it’s also really fucking creepy here.” You retort, scooting closer to him. You got to be honest and admit that you’re more scared of the place than scared of getting arrested. 

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh at that. “Again, we’re not getting arrested. And what do you mean creepy? You don’t like it here?" 

You look around the place more. "Eh, it’s okay. I just can’t help but think what if there are lost souls around here…” you trailed off, giving him a baleful look when that only made him laugh more. They were quiet laughter, though. Probably to not disrupt said souls. 

“You believe those?" 

You roll your eyes. "Okay, cool macho guy." 

"No, no, I’m sorry,” Jungkook still laughs in between his words and you whisked his hand away in an act of lighthearted sulking when it tried to reach you.

Okay. You don’t exactly believe in ghosts but it’s hard not to when it’s in the middle of the night and quiet and cold and you’re in an abandoned house. You avoid horror movies for a valid reason. 

“Alright, let’s cuddle so you don’t get scared.” Jungkook says, but there’s a teasing sound to it.

“Don’t make fun.” You glared at him. 

“I’m serious, come here.” He opens his arms wide and you roll your eyes, not moving to come closer. He laughs when even after seconds passed you still didn’t give in. You thought he was giving up but instead he twisted to your direction and let both his legs crowd you so that you’re in between them. 

“You’re annoying,” you say but you kind of feel oddly comforted by being close to him like that, and Jungkook must’ve known as well because he just gives you a smug smile, chugging on his soju after.

You did the same. You try to throw away your nerves and scary thoughts, letting yourself relax as he said. When you kind of did a moment later, you find that it’s kind of nice, actually. 

“What do you think?” Jungkook suddenly speaks. 

“Hm?" 

"It’s nice here, right?” He arched his brow at you. “Just try not to think about ghosts." 

You pinch his shin through his cargo pants and he gives you a very ingenuine, "Ouch!" 

"Except for the ugly house, it’s nice here.” You reply. As you look up, you see stars scattered across the dark skies. It was quite a view, honestly. Makes you a little surprised because it was so beautiful. You almost missed Jungkook’s words. 

“Yeah. It’s not exactly beautiful here but it’s a great place to think." 

"Think?" 

Jungkook sees your teasing smile and shakes his head. "Yes, baby, I do a lot of those." 

You chuckle at that and drink more of your alcohol.

You don’t exchange more words after that but you find that it wasn’t awkward. It was just… a nice silence. A comfortable one. With Jungkook crowding you with his legs, you feel like you might be the most relaxed you’ve ever been in the past few months. 

You twist yourself so now you’re not facing forward anymore, but to Jungkook. You realize if he’d been looking forward he just had a view of your side profile. You try not to think too much if he just stared at you, although you did feel him do that for a few minutes a while ago. 

"Hey, congrats on the game.” You tell him with a soft smile on your face, placing your drink on the ground. It’s still filled in half. You could finish it but you doubt you wouldn’t be drunk by that time. Your alcohol tolerance is not at all exemplary. 

“Thanks.” Jungkook sheepishly smiles at you. “You watched it?" 

"Ah, no. I just heard about it. I don’t really know anything about basketball so…” you trail off, noting the way he nods at your words. 

“Right. I’ve never seen you watch us before.”

You try to joke, “That’s because you never invite me to any of your games." 

But it looks like that caught him off guard. "I– huh?” The look on his eyes tells you that he was genuinely surprised at your words, those eyes of him looking like a deer’s when it’s caught in the headlights. 

You laugh. “I’m just kidding. I don’t usually watch sports games. Too crowded for my liking." 

Jungkook nodded at that, but he still looked taken aback from your words earlier. You really were just kidding. You hope he didn’t take it seriously. But he agrees with you, anyway. "Yeah, it can get crowded sometimes." 

Silence and then after a few beats, Jungkook speaks again. 

"Hey, let’s make out." 

You arched a brow but didn’t really find any reason to oppose it, so you went ahead and kissed him. 

Jungkook immediately holds your hips. On the other hand, you snake your arms around his neck, kneeling in between his spread legs. The kiss starts slow but he holds the back of your neck and deepens it.

You whimpered when he nudged your legs with his free hand, and your shock made you break away from the kiss. Jungkook took it as an opportunity to start pecking your neck, though, his hand seemingly coaxing you to open your legs. You got the message and finally straddled his waist, Jungkook groaning and you moaning when you feel your crotches connecting at the action.

He was already sporting a semi, and you also feel your panties getting slick from the way he kissed and bit and licked and soothed your neck. 

"Jungkook,” you moaned, searching for his mouth. 

He kissed you again, all tongue and so sloppy, his hand reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and creeping inside it to find you not wearing a bra. He did think you weren't wearing one when you put his hand on your boob in the car earlier.

“Ah, fuck,” he squeezed your tit in his hand, you whine. “They really are bigger. Can I see them, baby?" 

You nodded, not even giving it a solid thought as Jungkook immediately hiked up your top until your perky breasts were all bare for him to see. 

And devour, eventually.

Jungkook went straight to sucking your boob and squeezing the other to tend to it, massaging it in his huge palm. He licked a nipple and bit at it slightly, making you sigh at his action. Your arms went to his head to fist his hair in your hands. 

His ministrations on your chest encouraged you to roll your hips against his pelvis, and that elicited a grunt from him. Smiling a little at that, you experimented on doing it a little harder, and as a result, Jungkook tugged at your nipple, making you whine a little too loud.

"Behave." 

You pout. "I want to fuck." 

"It’s not so creepy here anymore?” He had the audacity to tease, but his hands were still on your breasts, fondling them. 

“I didn’t say we can fuck here. Just…” you looked around, not really specifically looking for something. 

Now that Jungkook mentioned it again, you get reminded that it really is creepy as fuck here. And you still didn’t trust the ground. There was no way you could stand fucking in this property. And what if something scary happens while you’re in the middle of doing it… 

Just as you were thinking it, a strange sound catches both of your attention.

“I think we should get back in your car.” You decided. 

Probably seeing the flash of fear in your eyes, Jungkook laughs. “Are you thinking of ghosts again?" 

You slap his chest. "No. But I want to cum." 

"So demanding,” he playfully scolds but you just roll your eyes and let your sweatshirt fall to cover you up once again. You immediately cling to him the moment he stands up and help him pick up the soju bottles, anxiously praying you guys hurry up to get out of here. 

“It was just the wind.” Jungkook comforts you once you were on your way to his car. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s never just the wind. At least those shitty horror movies you and your cousins watched during sleepovers tell you so. 

Jungkook opens the door to the backseat and you go in and he follows after you. 

You immediately straddle him once he’s seated, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Wow, you’re really eager for me to fuck the fear out of you, huh?” He says, sounding smug about the way you reach for the hem of your shirt and removing it from yourself. 

“Hm. Your dirty talk these days have been subpar.” you slide his jacket off of him and he lets you remove his shirt as well, laughing more at your impatience. 

“Can’t think straight when a pretty girl is on my lap." 

Before you could say something about that, he gripped your waist and got you off his lap, manhandling you to lay on the backseat. Your back is against the car door as Jungkook twisted in his seat, hauling himself backwards to pull your sweats down and take off your birkens. Leaning down, Jungkook pressed open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, teasing his mouth on where you need him the most. 

But you didn’t want to feel anything there other than his cock, and you tell him so. 

"Jungkook,” you whine, catching his attention. When he looks up at you, you whine some more, “Just fuck me. I’m so wet already." 

He cursed, caressing the sides of your thighs. "Baby, I need to prep you.”

“There’s no need for that, come on, please. I need your cock." 

Jungkook groans. But then he makes quick work of unzipping his pants, pulling it down with his boxers until his dick is out. It’s plenty hard already, the shiny tip catching your attention. 

You let out another cry at the sight of him gripping his base, pumping it for a few seconds and finally pushing your panties to the side and slipped inside you. True to your words, it was quite an easy slide, but the burn still stings a little bit. His size was on the little above average spectrum and you’ve always found a hard time taking it in smoothly. 

"Oh, god,” you mewl, grasping his bicep while your other hand grips the back seat. 

Jungkook tightened his fingers on your waist, a hand coming up to one of your thighs to wrap it around his middle. You follow his silent command, welcoming the hot kiss he gives you. 

“Should I move now?” He whispers in your mouth, and you nod frantically, throwing your head back with a moan when he does as told. 

His cock was not even pulled out completely before he slipped it in again, slowly, in agonizing deep strokes. Like he wants to feel every corner of your warm hole. 

“So good…” you moaned, tightening your thigh around his body. 

“You like when I fuck you slow, baby?” Jungkook pressed kisses on your chest this time, and you could only nod your head mindlessly as he repeated thrusting out again. 

“I – ah… so good, Kook. I love it," 

The car is cramped and all you could hear are your heavy breaths and the lewd squelching sound of his cock going in and out of your pussy, his chain dangling in between your bodies feels cold when it momentarily touches your chest.

You would tell him to go faster, harder, but the way he was planting fairy kisses on your skin and his tattooed arm popping veins on the side of your head as if he was finding it hard to not fuck you stupid, you found that his deep and precise albeit slow strokes great.

"So pretty,” he says, moving the strands of hair that stuck everywhere on your face. 

“K-kook,” you whimper. 

“Hm? Baby? What is it?” Jungkook looks at you with an uncharacteristically soft gaze, his dick still continuing its slow pace in your cunt. 

“M-my back hurts like this,” you say. 

His eyes look softer at your words, expression gentle. “Sorry, angel.” He caresses your face and kisses you which you welcomed with a sob when his dick hits deeper after he leaned down. “Here, I’ll sit here. Straddle me.” But he doesn’t even wait for you to move as he hauls you to his lap himself, his cock still inside you, feeling it twitching when you sit on it outright. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook squeezes your breasts and laps at them, only to look up at you again. “You okay?" 

You nod, pushing him slightly so that he relaxes his back against the seat. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to bounce on his cock.

Jungkook throws his head back, letting you on your own pace, hands gripping your hips to help you move. 

"So fucking good for me,” he hissed just as when you mewled when his cock hits a particular spot in you. “Take it easy, baby, nice and slow, okay?” He said, taking a hold on the back of your head and pulling you in for a slow kiss.

You followed his words and planted your knees on either side of him, going down steadily, crying out at the way you feel every ridge of his huge cock inside you like this. 

It was so pleasurable, the way he groaned in your ears, squeezing your breasts, tugging at your sensitive nipples, murmuring stupid, sweet nothings, his cock seemingly growing larger in your heat each second passed, and soon, you feel that knot in your stomach ready to burst. 

“I-I’m cumming, Kook, I’m cumming–" 

Jungkook hummed, and when he felt your movements stuttering, he took it upon himself to press his thumb to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves and fucking his dick up into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm snap. 

"So good for me, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.” He kept rubbing delicious shapes on your clit, and you had to bite back a pathetic sob as the pleasure started to become too much. 

But he was still chasing his high, and you leaned forward to kiss him through it, letting him do whatever he wanted to get himself there. 

And when he did cum, you feel yourself cumming a second time too, Jungkook letting out strings of curses and nonsense as he feels you dripping more juices down onto his cock. 

Your head falls on the crook of his neck, Jungkook caressing your back as he relaxes on the seat. 

For a while, words were not spoken. He kept kissing your hair while you felt him twitching in your pussy. 

“I’m so tired,” you wearily peeled your face from his neck, looking at him. He has his eyes shut close, but there’s a content smile on his face that you leaned down to kiss. You didn’t know what for, you just felt like kissing him. 

Jungkook hums. The mess in your crotch starts to feel sticky and cold and uncomfortable. 

“Let’s stay like this for a while.” He says, as if he could read that you were about to get off his lap. 

You chuckle. “I can literally feel you going soft." 

"Ignore my dick. I wanna feel you a little more." 

"Okay." 

Jungkook does an unexpected thing of kissing your forehead. You choose to ignore the weird tingling feeling in your stomach and the way your cheeks feel hot at the action, just let him slip his fingers through your hair and rest your cheek on his naked chest. 

You eventually got off of each other after a few minutes, and you both were quiet as you dressed yourselves back. Jungkook and you got out of his car so he could drive and you could enter the passenger’s seat. 

The drive to your place was quiet but the silence was nice and comfortable, just like when you were at the back of that creepy old house. Jungkook occasionally sang along to some of the songs playing from a random playlist he pulled up on Spotify, and his voice sounded kind of nice. You wanted to say something about it but decided not to, in slight fear that he would stop.

When he pulled over in front of your complex, there was a soft, gentle smile on his face when he told you, "Sweet dreams." 

Your face mirrored his as you wished him good night. 

You locked the door to your apartment, ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach. 

You found yourselves at that abandoned house again the next night and Jungkook forewent the booze and brought junk food from Wendy’s. You had a swell time just sitting with each other at the back of the house, talking about the most random things you could talk about like some silly childhood memories. You almost shared your joy upon finding out that you weren’t actually pregnant after taking the test earlier that day just like you said you would the other night, but you found it better to keep that to yourself.

Additionally, you ranted to him about Professor Kang for giving you a C+ on a project you thought you deserved a higher grade for. Jungkook showed blind support by roasting your professor’s haircut. You didn’t fuck that night but did it the next night after a few drinks. 

When the day of their second game of Finals hit, your Uni won again and Jungkook ditched the after-game party, picking you up and driving you to that place. Almost like it became tradition. 

This time, you think you went overboard with the drinks, but it was probably just your shitty alcohol tolerance because Jungkook was standing still with his third bottle – which you childishly argued was unfair. 

Jungkook carried you like a sack of potatoes on your way to his car, ignoring how you slapped his ass. But you were all giggles and hushed whispers in the backseat as Jungkook guided your hips, bouncing you on his cock, just like the other night.

"How does it feel, baby?” Jungkook whispered against your mouth while you gripped his shoulders hard to slide up and down his cock, the tops of your feet resting on his thighs.

“S-so good,” you whimpered, speeding up, feeling yourself getting close to your edge. 

Jungkook tightened his hands on your waist but didn’t really do anything to control your movements or pace like he usually would. Like he was just enjoying you on top of him, using his cock to get off. 

You leaned down to kiss him, your moan upon feeling him deeper getting swallowed by the way he immediately reciprocated your touch.

You opened your eyes but then you suddenly caught a glimpse of a car. You pulled away from the kiss, but Jungkook took it as an opportunity to kiss your neck instead. While he was busy lapping up your skin, you narrowed your eyes to see clearer, only to realize that the car you saw was a fucking police cruiser. 

“Jungkook,” you called him, stopping your movements on his lap. 

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice nearly sounded like a whine, understandably confused at your action– or lack thereof. 

But you only tapped his shoulder a little harder. 

“There’s a damn cruiser in front of us." 

Well, it wasn’t actually in front of you. It was more like, parked across from you, beside that abandoned house. 

Jungkook seemed to realize your panic though. His car wasn’t lit because you immediately got into it the moment he put you in the backseat. It was a little inconvenient especially when you were slipping him in but it turned to be a blessing in disguise because whoever owned that cruiser wouldn't have noticed what you were doing in his car.

"Shit." 

You hastily climbed off of him, quickly finding your shorts on the floor of the car and sliding it on while seated. Meanwhile, Jungkook just tucked his dick in his boxers and zipped up his pants. It was pure luck that you didn’t completely strip each other off earlier because it made for a fast dress up.

"Wait.” Jungkook leaned over the center part of the car and stayed a few seconds hunched over the console. You were just about to ask him what he was doing when the passenger’s seat suddenly reclined back. 

“Oh." 

"We can climb over here so that we don’t have to go out and have a cop seeing us. It would be suspicious.” He suggested, and you quickly nodded and did what he told you with a little bit of his help.

Jungkook pressed a button once again that had the driver’s seat this time leaning back, just like yours did. He climbed over it just as fast, putting on his seatbelt that you remember you needed to do as well so you followed. 

He lit on the car and started the engine. But before he could drive, a knock on his window made you both look at it.

“Fuck.”

You held your breath as you watched his window slowly sliding down, revealing a police decked in his uniform hunching down to see the inside of the car. 

“Evening, officer.” Jungkook greets casually. You didn’t know what to do. You reached for the phone in your pocket and turn it on, ducking down as much as you could so as to hide your face, trying to seem busy and casual.

“Oh, it’s just some kids, Hwang,” The cop turned to the side, and that’s when you heard another set of footsteps coming towards you. “You kids live here?" 

"Yeah. It’s my parents’ house, I’m just about to drive my girlfriend home.” Jungkook answered, referring to the green house he parked at, not a hint of hesitation or even an ounce of nervousness in his demeanor. 

You were too frozen to react to the way he called you his girlfriend. 

The other cop nodded. “Apologies. We were just roaming. Be careful, kid, you got a sleek car. There’s some thief on the loose around the street." 

Jungkook nodded as well, even did a little salute as he said, "You got it, sir." 

The cop patted the top of his car and Jungkook bid them a final goodbye before closing his window again and driving away. 

You felt like your soul just went right back inside you after it got out for a moment there. 

"Holy shit, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” 

And then suddenly, you giggled. Actually, like, giggled. Because realizing what just happened, you found every single thing fucking hilarious. You got away from cops!

“Oh my god, Jungkook. That was insane!” You said in between your laughter. 

Jungkook looked over at you before training his attention to the road and finally laughing with you, seemingly finding what happened just as hilarious. “Yeah. It was, it was.”

“And they really believed you! I can’t believe it,” you covered your face with both of your hands, your belly starting to hurt with how much you found the whole thing incredulous that it was funny.

“It’s not like we did anything wrong…” Jungkook said but he had a hint of playful tone when he spoke the words.

You snorted. “Well, in between public indecency and trespassing, which do you think they would most likely arrest us for?" 

That got Jungkook to laugh again. 

During the ride to your place, you complained about feeling too cold at one point. Jungkook asked if you wanted him to turn the A/C down but you shook your head and so he offered his jacket instead because you only wore a shirt. In your defense, when he picked you up, the weather was humid even though it was late at night.

You didn’t stop talking and laughing about what happened earlier, though. You found it hard to let go of it just like that.

"You are so drunk,” Jungkook chuckled as he pulled over. “You’re going to regret it tomorrow." 

"It’s Saturday tom–” you cut yourself off with a yawn. 

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.” Jungkook commented, pulling over, indicating that you were near your apartment. You didn’t even notice. 

“Not drunk, just tipsy.” You said, starting to unbuckle your seat belt but you kept on failing. Your tipsiness was starting to kick in again and everything was a little too hazy in your head.

You still definitely are aware about your surroundings, so aware that you felt Jungkook hunching over your side to unbuckle your seat belt for you, so close that you felt his breath fanning your face.

“Thanks.” You smiled, he returned it.

You opened the door yourself this time, though, and was only a little surprised to see Jungkook getting out of his car too.

“Let me walk you to your door."

And honestly, you should be worried about the possibility of Nayeon being at the apartment and seeing you together, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care when all you could feel was odd content in feeling Jungkook’s presence as you walked towards your place. 

It was quiet but it was comfortable. You noticed how it’s always been like that with him, especially these days.

When you reached your door, you turned to Jungkook who was a little behind you, probably slowed his steps when you neared your place.

“Thanks for walking me." 

"No biggies,” Jungkook grins and then he stares at you for a while.

“What?” You asked. 

He leans down, holds your hip and presses his mouth against your own. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t really make a big deal out of it in your head when you were supposed to because this has never happened before: Jungkook walking you to your door and kissing you before he leaves has never occurred before. 

And yet, it felt so normal. Like it was just something that happens on the daily. Like you were so used to feeling his casual and soft kisses instead of the passionate and hard ones that often led to something. 

“See you next week?" 

You nod, biting your lip as he lets you go. "Yeah." 

Jungkook gives you a one, last small smile before he turns around and goes to his car, entering it and driving away from your complex. 

What a crazy night. 

You did not want to admit it, but maybe the strange feeling in your stomach the other night was goddamn butterflies.

You really weren’t supposed to come with.

But Juyeon, your editor in chief, told you to accompany Ryujin as she goes to interview the basketball team for their second win at the Finals season today. Your responsibility told you that it was fine, which, really is fine because you were used to monitoring freshmen in the club and that was actually one of your official jobs as the managing director but!

You were basically gonna do a babysitting job because Ryujin apparently fucked a guy from the team after she interviewed them the first time and it resulted to a poor article, and as a result, Juyeon is afraid she’s gonna fuck up her future write-ups so you’re the collateral damage of the whole situation. 

Juyeon didn’t tell you that herself, though. Keeping things professional and decent. You heard it from the other members of the club. 

Right now, you have to be at the gymnasium to meet people you’ve never really bothered meeting before and have always avoided for obvious reasons. 

But it was fine.

You checked Ryujin’s questions on the way there and when you arrived, she immediately tried to spot the team’s coach to talk to him about the interview she was gonna conduct. 

Instantly, you felt a prickling sensation on your arms and the back of your neck as the varsity players stopped on their tracks to look at the newcomers. At this hour, you can see no one at the gym seats. You and Ryujin were the only civilians and they noticed that immediately. 

It’s as if you couldn’t help it, but you spotted Jungkook on one of the benches drinking water. As if on cue, he met your gaze, and you could see the little surprise he had on his face seeing you. However, you quickly looked away and walked towards where the coach and Ryujin were.

"I’m here with our managing director, too. She’s here to help me with the interview.” Ryujin told the coach, all smiles. 

“Good day, sir.” You greeted him. He nodded at you in acknowledgement and turned to look at his team. 

“Alright,” The coach loudly said, which got the players to transfix their attention to him instead. You tried not to notice Jungkook looking at you as he walked towards your direction, the other members doing the same. Coach stood straight and elaborated, “The school’s publication is here to interview you about the previous game you’ve had. Practice ends here–” he was cut off by the collective loud cheers from the guys. He shook his head. “But put on your best behavior." 

"Guaranteed, coach.” Someone said but you saw how he sent a wink to Ryujin’s way.

Jesus Christ, where even was the subtlety? It was such a boy-ish thing to do. If you could, you would roll your eyes. Wait – was it the guy she fucked on that interview? Ugh. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care. It was her sex life… just maybe she shouldn’t mix it with her journalism activities… 

“Careful, Kang. I’m gonna make you do ten laps if you don’t give these writers some good material,” The coach warned and some of them snorted. He then turned to both of you and Ryujin. “These guys are very rowdy but you guys will be fine." 

You try to smile at him as he bids his goodbye and leaves the gym. Taejun, the senior sports journalist had already interviewed him so Ryujin only had to do it with the players themselves so they could collaborate on the article. 

Ryujin enthusiastically greeted the team and introduced herself, as well as you. You offered them a small smile and was only a little taken aback when Taehyung chirped your name.

"Hi, Taehyung.” you return his greeting.

He grins at you.

Ryujin looks at you immediately. “Oh, you know someone here?" 

Yeah, technically you knew of some people here. You knew Taehyung though, and you knew Jungkook. But you chose to just nod instead of saying anything. 

Ryujin lets out a happy noise. "That’s so cool!" 

Yeah…

"Hey, surprised to see you here,” Taehyung walked up to you. “I thought you weren’t in the sports section?”

You were surprised to know that Taehyung even remembers what you told him a long time ago. You got to know each other that much during the time you were constantly talking. 

“Well, yes. Ryujin is a freshman, though. I take care of them sometimes, you can say.” You replied. 

Taehyung nodded in understanding. “You’re gonna be here for a while?" 

"We’ll see. But I think the interview will be a quick one." 

Someone from the team called Taehyung and he looked at you apologetically. You nodded with a smile. 

"We always seem so busy whenever we see each other,” Taehyung shakes his head with a laugh. You find that quite funny too. “Hey, do you wanna catch up? Get some coffee around." 

"Oh, yeah, sure. But I bet your sched is crazy these days.” you said, alluding to their constant practices for Finals season. 

“Nah, I can make time. Unless you have a crazy sched too?” He gave you a playful smile. 

You cocked your head to the side, squinting your eyes at him. “Not all of us are trying to get our school a big trophy." 

Taehyung laughed at that and his teammates called for him again, this time it was Jungkook. You both looked at him. He had a strange look on his face but you shrugged it off. 

"Well, I better get going. Ryujin’s starting.” He said and pointed back with his thumb. 

The boys were kind of rowdy in the start, but they eventually scattered around the benches doing their own thing as Ryujin talked to them individually, especially the ones who usually play in court. 

You offered to take some of your own notes, too, were kind of bothered that you didn’t really understand some of the terms used and that this was very unusual territory for you to get a material at for writing an article. You never really dabbled on sports writing. 

Eventually, you felt your bladder looking for relief so you told Ryujin that you would be back in a minute. 

It was a little difficult to find the comfort room but you did see it in the far corner of the hallway, a few steps away from the gymnasium. 

You were washing your hands on the communal sink after peeing when the door suddenly opened, revealing Jungkook in his jersey. 

Hand clutching your chest, you looked at him with a scandalized expression. 

“Jesus,” you squint your eyes. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook closes the door and saunters towards the room. “No greetings or anything?" 

You give him an eyeroll and come back to washing your hands as soon as you get over the initial shock of seeing him. 

You simply shrug.

In a second, Jungkook was beside you.

"We haven’t seen each other in a while,” he said, giving you a playful nudge. 

You whisk your hands, ridding the wetness out of your hands. 

“It’s only been three days." 

You see him smile at you through the mirror, and he has that soft look again on his face. You get reminded of your last night together. When he kissed you good night as he dropped you home. 

"I was surprised to see you there,” Jungkook says, turning around and leaning back on the counter. 

You think he’s referring to seeing you at the gym and that makes you chuckle. Why was everyone surprised to see you at the gym? “Why, you think you guys own the gym or something?" 

Jungkook found your sass amusing, though. 

"Come on, you know what I mean." 

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him but ended up laughing for no reason other than he also laughed. 

"Eh, duty calls. Our EIC had me accompany Ryujin, so...” you see Jungkook nodding. You swerve the topic to the next one. “Your big game starts in, like, five days from now.” You mirror his stance and also lean back on the counter. 

Jungkook watched as you did so. “Yeah.”

His eyes are trained on yours, and you hold a weird, intense stare until he finally peels himself off from the counter and walks to you. You’re surprised that you’ve never thought about him in his jersey but you were able to see him earlier like this before and right now, in your close up view, damn. He looked good. Especially with his tattoos all out like that. You really like them. They looked pretty.

“It’s probably gonna be the last game,” you said, referring to the fact that they’ve won the last two games and if they win this one, it would be the concluding point of the Finals season. “You’re going to make the Uni proud?” You arched a brow at him. 

He shrugged. And finally, he crossed the small distance between you and held your hips. You think you unintentionally let out a happy hum at the contact. You’ve been wanting him to touch you as soon as you saw him earlier. For some weird reason. 

“Sure, but only if you’re there for me to give me my personal reward,” The lewd undertone was not lost on you and it made you giggle. Somehow, he’d gotten even closer, fingers caressing your hips in soothing circles. “You look good, by the way. This skirt is new?" 

It is new. You try not to think too much about what it says about you that you kind of thought of him when you placed the order a week ago. It was just a blip of thought, anyway. You swear. 

"Yes. And you’re kinda sweaty,” He really is. But it doesn’t stop you from looping your arms around his neck and Jungkook is only visibly satisfied at the close proximity. 

“Hard at work,” he leans down, but he only nudges your nose. “Can I see your panties?" 

You would have scolded yourself for giggling like a school girl at that question, but Jungkook must’ve realized how stupid that sounded too as he laughed together with you. 

"I don’t know, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I think.” You whispered, playing into the joke. 

You saw his smirk before he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between you and touched your mouth against his. He prodded at the seam of your lips with his tongue and you let him access, his tongue swirling with your own as you shared a rather passionate kiss in the sink.

There was a string of saliva between your mouths when he broke free.

“God, I missed your taste.”

It was his last words before he dove in again, kissing you way deeper now, more frantic as well, as he started getting handsy. At some point, his hands on your hips lifted you up until you were seated on the counter, Jungkook kissing you like it hasn’t only been three days since he had you like this. He squeezed your bare thighs that got you whimpering, your hips, waist. Up, up, and up until he was copping a feel on your boobs through your clothes. 

He was kissing your neck when you suddenly felt him untucking your shirt from your skirt. 

“Wait, no,” You tried to get your head out of your previous headspace and took a hold of his wrists. 

“No?” Jungkook stops, looking at you curiously, lips plump, hair a little wild. And with his stupid basketball uniform, it was extremely hard to discourage his advances. 

But…

“Someone might come in,” you say with genuine worry in your voice, pushing him away slightly. 

“There’s not really a lot of people who come to this bathroom,” he tells you. Which, you think, kind of makes sense. Him and his teammates have their locker rooms and their own comfort room that was an extension of the gym (which you pointedly didn’t go to for obvious reasons) and this part of the campus was a little quiet. 

But then again, you did tell Ryujin you would be back in a minute. And it would be quite ironic if Juyeon told you to monitor her because she fucked someone in the team while you go ahead and fail to do that job because you were fooling around with another someone from the same team. 

Jesus. That’s enough crisis for today. 

“Ryujin’s probably going to interview you soon,” you said, tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

You jump slightly to step on the floor, turning around to fix your hair, seeing Jungkook stepping back through the mirror. “Why did you leave the gym, by the way?" 

Jungkook invades your personal space again and presses himself to your back. "I got excited when I saw you…” he whispers in your ear and your whimper betrays your resistance from literally a few seconds ago as you feel something hard on your ass. 

But at the same time, you look at him incredulously through the mirror. He just shrugs as he sees it, gripping your hips again and burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“Kook,” you whine.

Jungkook chuckled and before you can do something stupid like give in to his touch, he leaned back and held his hands up. 

“Fine, fine,” he says, still laughing when you turn around to glare at him. “Can I see you later?" 

You jab at his chest lightly. "For being annoying just right now, you can’t " 

His face contorts and pouts. "Aw, come on," 

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics. 

"We can’t get into anything tonight. Nayeon is staying at home and I’m nervous about her seeing your car if you pick me up,” you tell him. “Also, we can’t go to that place. That cruiser might be back again." 

"Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “We can just go together to my place after this, though? It would be late by the time your friend is finished with the interview."  

You look at him funny. 

He sighs. "Damn, I thought I could finally convince you to fuck at my place." 

You shake your head. "Never.”

From the start, you both agreed to only fuck at your place (whenever Nayeon is not around, of course) per your request. Jungkook lives quite far from the campus, at least far compared to yours, and it was a high complex building. As far as you know, most of the big shots at school live there and he’s neighbors with Taehyung. You don’t want to risk it. 

“Never is a long time..” Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and that breaks you from your thoughts. 

Laughing, you push at him playfully. 

“Gee. You should go. They’re probably now wondering why you’re taking so long." 

"They’re probably thinking I’m taking a shit.” he shrugs. “I think I told Taehyung that before I left.”

“Oh no, is that what they’re going to think about me, too?” You gave him an animated concerned look, making your voice purposely higher in pitch. 

“Wait, what? You take a shit?” Jungkook playing into the joke caused you to laugh and you punched his bicep that he just took with a grin. 

When the laughter died down, Jungkook looked at you seriously.

“When can I see you again?" 

"I don’t know. Sometime this week, maybe? Don’t be whiny.” You smile as you see his pout. “Hey, you really should go now." 

He looked a little hesitant but he didn’t really have a choice. And you were also growing more concerned that someone from the gym might think maliciously about you and Jungkook disappearing at the same time for a long time. Hopefully, no one cared enough to think about it. 

"Alright.” Jungkook says finally and starts to step out. Before he leaves, though, he asks, “Wait, are you going to the game?" 

You hope Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise if it showed on your face. You didn’t expect him to ask that. 

But you try to play it cool, pondering on it. It’s Wednesday, next week, and as far as you knew, there was nothing major in your schedule. You still don’t know about that, though. Maybe some of your profs would drop a big project on your heads come Monday. 

It’s why you were surprised to hear yourself say, "I’ll try." 

Jungkook gave you a wide grin before he left completely.

When you got back to the gym, Ryujin was already talking to him.

Jungkook looked at the door when you entered and did a poor job of hiding a smile to himself, and for what reason, you simply didn’t know. But so as you did not know the reason for why you looked too closely at him to even notice that tiny gesture. 

For someone who was adamant to see you last week, Jungkook wasn’t really able to snuck in time to do so. You shared texts here and there, but he mentioned that they’ve been practicing nonstop since the past few days because they are preparing for a big game, after all. Might be the last one if they come through and win it. 

Come Wednesday, the day of the third game, Jungkook texted you that he got a reserved seat for you at the venue. Your weird giddiness over that was clouded by the worry at the thought of how he managed to do that without anyone suspecting anything about your relationship. You mentally noted to tell him about it later. 

When Nayeon came home after classes, she told you she got two tickets for the game if you wanted to come with. You didn’t really need tickets, though, you could just use your journalist card and they would let you in.

See, you had all these resources to go to the game but the thing is, you have a book review and another assignment due tonight and you needed to get some studying done for a test tomorrow. The game starts at 3 pm and will probably end around 6 or even later than that. It’s not that you never procrastinated in your life but you’ve learned over the years to prioritize more important things over the ones that didn’t really need urgency. And this is why you told Nayeon that you couldn’t come with her because of your packed schedule today. 

But worry looms over you as you remember how excited Jungkook seemed over your texts earlier when you asked him what you should expect at the game. He told you about how it could be chaotic and noisy and crowded but it was gonna be fun and worth your while, especially if – he jokingly said – he scores a shot for you if you were to be there. 

Looking back, you made it sound like you were gonna come but in your defense, you really were going to but these school activities came to you unexpectedly and you didn’t have the luxury of time to set them aside to watch a basketball game first. 

And anyway, was it really a big deal if you didn’t come? You don’t think Jungkook would really mind. Maybe his texts went over your head that you thought he was excited at the prospect of you going to his game. You would tell yourself it didn’t matter, and if Jungkook was going to be shit about it (which you doubt, ‘cause he seemed casual about inviting you) then he was weird for being (hypothetically) weird about it. It wasn’t like this was normal for you both, anyway; you going to his games, that is. 

So around 2 pm, you messaged him. 

[2:06pm] You: Hey, I’m really sorry I can’t go to your game. Swamped with school works, but I wish you good luck :) Go break a leg but hopefully not literally! 

It was hard to focus on writing your book review because you couldn’t help but be agitated as you remembered that they air these Finals games on television and you could literally just turn it on and watch it from there. But the empty document on your laptop was glaring at you, like it was daring you to watch TV instead of finishing it. 

Of course, you chose to tend to the intimidating clean white MS word page instead. As if you really had a choice in the first place. 

At 10 pm, your book review was mostly done and only needed a few touch-ups. You also finished your other assignment so you finally had some time to eat.

You just reheated a leftover pizza from your fridge when you received a text from Nayeon.

[10:11pm] Im Nayeonie: babe im sleeping over at a friend’s so the place is all yours for tonight. don’t forget to lock up ok  [10:11pm] You: Ok! You’ll be back tomorrow morning?  [10:14pm] Im Nayeonie: eh probably around 10am but I’ll see 

You remember that she was at the game earlier. It actually slipped off your mind eventually when you got your head in too deep with finishing your assignments, but now that you’re reminded of it again, you wanted to know how it was.

[10:16pm] You: Hey how was the game?  [10:16pm] Im Nayeonie: oh my ur interested in bb now??  [10:17pm] You: Don’t tease! I just wanted to know if you had fun  [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You snort at the ridiculous emoticon. 

[10:17pm] You: What the hell does that mean?!  [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: nothing lmaoooo [10:18pm] Im Nayeonie: but the game was fine! it was kinda intense but our uni lost unfortunately): they had a three point difference 

Oh. You usually didn’t care about any sports games that your Uni has but the news deflated you for some reason.

[10:19pm] You: Ah, thats unfortunate

You replied, finding that you didn’t really know what to say. Should you message Jungkook? But what were you going to say? 

[10:19pm] Im Nayeonie: yeah it is it was supposed to be the last game 😖😖 but there’s still 2 more to go anyway im not too worried about it finals went like this last season too [10:20pm] Im Nayeonie: but jungkook’s buzzer beater at game 4 was really insane it’s like all over on twt IK you proly won’t care about it but ill still send you a link HAHAHAH 

Nayeon did send you a link and thankfully you were able to see it even though you didn’t have Twitter, but you looked up "buzzer beater” on Google first. You didn’t understand it completely but slowly did when you played the video she was talking about. 

The camera was a bit shaky and the background was expectedly noisy. The angle shifted to the timer on top of the ring and you could see that there was only ten seconds left. When the lens panned to the court, you saw a player wearing your Uni’s colors and you couldn’t have mistaken Jungkook for anyone when you spotted the tattoo sleeve. He was a bit far from the ring, at that curved line – the three-point line, you learned through the replies – but he successfully shot the ball quite gracefully into the ring and everyone just lost it. Even the person behind the video was cheering exuberantly. You could also make out that Jungkook pumped the air at his own shot in triumph as a buzzing sound overtook the screams before the clip ended. 

Apparently, they were losing in the fourth game, but Jungkook managed to make a three-point shot in the very literal end which got them a chance to play through the fifth.

You scrolled through the comments and found out that it was indeed a tight game and the other team only had a three-point difference with your Uni’s team, like Nayeon said.

It was amazing, in your opinion, but people online could really be shitty.

Some were mocking Jungkook’s buzzer beater in game 4, saying how it was useless and how he could’ve done it again in game 5 but wasn’t able to. You didn’t know shit about basketball but you were very certain it was a rare thing to do in court so the people who were complaining about it could go fuck themselves.

This is why you avoid social media as much as possible. You hope Jungkook doesn’t see those comments. 

You were frowning as you texted Nayeon back. 

[10:26pm] You: That was cool [10:26pm] You: Hey I’ll talk to you soon I’m gonna go eat dinner. Have fun on your sleepover

You weren’t able to see her reply when Jungkook’s name is suddenly plastered all over your screen. You accepted his call on the third ring.

“Hi,” you say. You can’t help but think about the negative comments on Twitter but Jungkook sounded fine when he answered. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted on his end. “Can I see you?" 

"Sure,” you answer almost immediately. You composed yourself before continuing. “Nayeon will be out until morning. Come over?" 

You can feel his smile through the line as he says, "Nice. Be there in five." 

Per his words, Jungkook did arrive in five minutes and when you heard a knock from your front door, you quickly opened it and ushered him inside. 

"Hey,” you greet him as he removes his stompers off. He slides on your extra fluffy home slippers, your old one that you have been lending him whenever he would come over. You think it’s kind of funny on his feet because the sliders were too small. “I just finished my leftover pizza for dinner so I don’t have any food right now. Do you want me to order in?" 

Jungkook shakes his head. "Nah, I’m not really hungry. Unless you are? Wait, nevermind, I’ll do that." 

He takes out his phone but you stop him. 

"No, no, it’s fine. I actually ordered Chinese while you were on your way so I could beat you to it.” You tease. But you kind of meant it, honestly. He needs to stop paying for everything. But also, the pizza didn’t cut your hunger and you needed to eat rice, anyway, so you ordered in right after your call with him ended.

Jungkook frowned but then shook his head. “Alright." 

"Water?” You asked, going towards the kitchen. 

“Yes, please." 

He followed you on your way there and when you turned around to give him the glass, he snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you. 

It took you by surprise, but you reciprocated immediately. You mirrored his smile when he broke the kiss. He gazed at you, a fond look on his face, and leaned down to press his forehead to yours and said, "Hi." 

You giggle. "Hi." 

Jungkook presses his mouth on you again and you kiss some more for a little while. It was weird because your kisses usually lead to fucking, but this time it didn’t mean anything other than plain kissing, just for the sake of it. You were reminded of that time in high school when you and your first boyfriend often made out (sloppily) in your room because it was all you were ready to do. Jungkook was far more skilled than said first boyfriend, though. And it felt way nicer with him. 

You were the one to pull away, licking your lips and biting the bottom one.

"Do you wanna watch something?" 

"Hm. Hopefully you aren’t going to make me watch Legally Blonde again." 

Your frown is instant. "I thought you liked that movie?" 

Jungkook chuckles and pecks your lips again but you sulk, especially after hearing his next words, "I do, baby. It’s just I’m getting tired of it…” When he sees your frown deepening, he says, “I’m kidding. We can watch it." 

"No, I feel betrayed now.” You break free from his hold and down another glass of water. 

He laughed and was about to say more when your doorbell rang, indicating the food delivery just arrived. Jungkook was the one to volunteer. 

“I’ll go get it." 

You turned on the TV in the living room and sat on the couch.

Jungkook followed almost as quickly after you, placing the bags of Chinese food on the coffee table. 

"Oh, I think we should watch an Adam Sandlers movie. Just something not so serious.” you said just as when Jungkook sat beside you, remembering about his game earlier. You noted that he seemed to be in a good mood when he came in but you never know, maybe he was good at hiding his real emotions or whatever. And, well, maybe you were a little happy to see him laughing like that with you, despite losing an important game.

“I thought you hated him and his movies?" 

You shrug, appreciating that he even remembers that.

"Eh, it’s fine. It's... camp, you know? Sometimes shitty movies are funny because they’re shitty." 

After a while, you get reminded why you don’t watch Adam Sandlers movies. Even Jungkook who laughs at the most stupid jokes didn’t find the supposed punchlines of the movie you were watching funny. But somehow, you found yourselves eventually laughing at how unfunny the film was and only a little surprised when you went through the whole Chinese take-outs not even 30 minutes in the movie. 

"His movies always make my film maker dreams die.” You comment absentmindedly, drinking your water. 

Jungkook looks at you with a surprised expression. “Filmmaker?" 

You try to remember if you mentioned it to him in passing before. By the look on his face, it was probably his first time hearing it.

"Yep." 

"Oh,” Jungkook nods in thought. “I see you didn’t pursue it." 

"Eh, film school is expensive. Also, it’s not a very generous industry for women, so.” You shrug nonchalantly.

It’s a dormant dream for the most part. Sometimes, you want it a lot, but most of the time, not really. Fresh out of high school, you were supposed to major in it but it was way more you could afford, and your family didn't exactly support it. So study education it is. Besides, teaching was a secondary dream that you decided you could pursue, and well, you were doing well with it. These days though, you were planning to go to law school but it's still something you aren't very sure yet.

It’s a drama you don’t want to bother Jungkook with, though. You never had a discussion like this before… and you weren’t really sure if you were ready to open up to someone like that. 

“I did videography in first year,” he shares. You arch your brow at that. Obviously you didn’t know. “I liked it and I was going to major in multimedia arts but dad said it was either be a lawyer or a doctor if I don’t do tech." 

Ah. An overachiever family, you think. His dad owns a really huge tech company – he didn’t tell you that himself, you just heard it from other people in your school. He probably doesn’t even know you knew that. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he told you right now that his family was full of successful professionals. 

"You went with tech.” You say. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I did. But I made a bargain and said I would only take it if he lets me play basketball. He did let me, but he only tolerates it because I’m passing my classes." 

You nodded, relating a bit. you wouldn't say your parents were particularly strict – but they were extremely practical people who wanted practical lives for their children. They weren’t over-controlling that they smother you with decisions you could make yourself. 

"He really hates it, though.” Jungkook continues. 

“Basketball?” You ask. 

He nods. “Yeah. He thinks I’m thinking of going professional after I graduate, he doesn’t want me to do it." 

"Are you?” You ask, curious. “Going professional, I mean.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I love playing. I'd also like to do tech after college, but it feels like I’m just following in his footsteps if I do that," And as if you didn't know already, he humbly adds, "My father’s in tech, by the way.” -- as if his dad was just a regular guy in the field.

He didn’t say it directly, but you feel like he’s probably being pressured by his dad to do this and that. And that makes you feel bad. Jungkook was always so easy-going, so laidback in a way that you would think he was just some varsity casanova asshole with zero care about their future because they think their looks could get them by through their lives, but he really wasn’t anything like that at all. He joined basketball because he loves it, maybe he gets a high from people admiring him for it but you could say he does it mostly for himself. That’s why he trains so hard and plays so hard in court. Aside from that, he was also really smart – which gets overlooked quite often because of his jock persona, and you know that because you were one of those who did overlook his intelligence before because he was a varsity. But he was smart, alright. He takes his studies seriously just as basketball. 

Jungkook is admittedly a lot of great things. And it was sad that his family seemed to not support him, the way you see it.

But… 

You didn’t really know what to tell him. Is he opening up? It’s just that… you never really talked about these things before and what he’s saying right now is so far from your usual lighthearted and casual conversations and interactions. You drew a conclusion that he probably has a tight relationship with his dad, but you don’t know what to do with that entirely new information. 

“Uhm, you’re good at it, basketball,” And his studies, too. You wanted to say but didn’t. You add, “I saw your beater buzzer from the game earlier. It was really cool." 

"It’s buzzer beater– hey, how did you know about that?” He says with an amused smile. You feel slightly embarrassed at how you mixed up the term but it was kind of complicated, alright! And you were kind of nervous. You find it comforting that he doesn’t tease you about it, though.

“Oh, well. Nayeon texted me about it. Also, you’re like, trending on Twitter.” You just told what Nayeon said. You actually didn’t know if he was trending because you didn’t have an account in the first place. “But don’t go look there, though, you’ll have a migraine." 

Jungkook chuckles and leans back on the couch, relaxed in that position. "Yeah. People on the net can be real assholes."

That comment makes you frown. That probably meant he saw the negative feedback, right? Was he used to it? That would be… upsetting if he was. You knew about the local popularity of the athletes in your school, especially the football and volleyball and basketball players. Jungkook is obviously included in that circle but you feel bad that he has to deal with unnecessary hate. Jobs really are needed for chronically online people, you think bitterly.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook’s phone rang and you didn’t mean to look at his screen but you saw "Dad”. He declined the call. 

“He’s talking my ear off about the game earlier,” Jungkook shakes his head. “He acts real concerned over my loss for someone who’s very unsupportive of my basketball career.” He was grinning while he said it but you could hear the annoyance in his tone, how he shut down his phone to probably dodge future calls from his father.

You turned to the movie in front of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go.” You said, effectively changing the subject.

“Hm?” You meet Jungkook’s gaze. He smiles a little. “Ah, I read your text earlier, it’s fine." 

You nodded and tried to focus on the movie again, but you haven’t been following the plot and so you had no idea what they’re showing you now. 

Jungkook suddenly speaks. 

"So are you planning to teach once you graduate? Or take law? You mentioned it before."

Oh. Is he…? 

You could feel his genuine curiosity in that question. But you find yourself hesitating to engage in any more deep conversation with him. It’s not that you didn’t want to share… you’re just not that kind of person. Is he expecting you to lay out your personal drama? 

You choose not to.

"Not sure. I don't want to talk about it."

You didn't mean for it to come out the way it did; clipped and annoyed. As if you didn't want to talk to him. And you could see that he was taken aback, surprised at the sudden change of your tone. But why? You didn’t feel like sharing. And anyway, you were only fuck buddies, right? Are you suddenly becoming bestfriends who tell each other about everything? 

You awkwardly shifted in your seat, eyes trained on the screen in front of you but you felt Jungkook’s stare even while you weren’t looking at him, his eyes boring holes in your side profile. 

You decided to not think too much about the awkward silence throughout the next few minutes, but Jungkook suddenly stood up, looking at his phone.

“I... should get going,” Jungkook announces. 

And you didn’t expect to feel so bummed about it. But somehow, you were relieved. There was suddenly a certain strange energy around and you didn’t know if you could take any more of it.

“Ah, yeah, it’s kind of late…” you trail off. 

Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You delude yourself into thinking it was not fake. He’s never faked a smile with you before. 

“Thanks for the food and for inviting me over.”

“No biggies.” You say as you follow him towards the door. 

It’s silent again when he wears his shoes, and once he was set and ready to go, you could feel that your smile was hesitant as he bid his goodbye. 

“See you around." 

He didn’t offer anything more – he would usually tease you as he goes out, just to rile you up before you part ways. Jungkook just gave a final wave and went on his way.

You had a hard time sleeping that night.

It wasn’t hard to avoid Jungkook all week when he himself seemed to be outdoing you in it.

For the record, you weren’t actually avoiding him for all sense of the word. You needed your space to collect your thoughts from that night and were trying to recover from the awkwardness of the situation because Jungkook and you might not be the best of friends but you’ve never been awkward with each other like that before.

But maybe you should be a little relieved that he hasn’t been texting, or that you haven’t heard from him. Because you weren’t sure if you were able to manage getting out of your shell so soon.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t sting a bit when he didn’t even spare you a glance the other day as you passed each other in the hallways and perhaps you should be celebrating, because yey, he finally did not acknowledge you in some way like meet your gaze and give you a small smile with so many people around that might notice and make a big deal out of it? 

But you wore the black skirt he liked so much! He was supposed to text you something stupid like "nice skirt :) i wanna see it pooled around my lap” by the end of the day but no! No such thing happened. 

Was he mad at you, is that it? Why would he be mad though? Did he seem mad that night? Did you do something that guaranteed this... Whatever this is? As far as you knew, you did not say anything that warranted a silent treatment from him. Did you? Wait, is he actually giving you the silent treatment? 

Ugh. 

When Thursday came, you found yourself watching their fourth game on TV together with Nayeon. You got a slight whiplash because it felt like your first time seeing Jungkook’s face in a long while. Somehow, he looked even better on TV, and he was so serious whenever the camera caught him. You supposed he ought to be, but you’ve never seen him that serious before. He would smile whenever they scored, and maybe it was a little embarrassing for your heart to do a little jump when you saw that toothy grin again, after so long.

You were slow to understand shit about the game, but you got the whole gist of it eventually. 

Unfortunately, though, the tight game resulted to your university losing in the end.

You wanted so badly to text him something, anything, but you felt like you weren’t on texting terms, so you went to your Instagram and sent Jungkook a direct message. 

[11:58pm] ynblips: Hi! I watched the game on TV and it was really tight and you did so well :)

You were mostly not expecting a reply, so you were only a little disappointed when you indeed didn’t get one even after a day passed. But he liked it, only liked it. Which kind of pissed you off.

What was his deal? You’ve gathered that you, apparently, weren’t on speaking terms, for some reason. But this was ridiculous. If he had a problem with you, he should be upfront about it. Not make you guess with this stupid giving-you-the-cold-shoulder thing when you didn’t even deserve it. For god’s sake, you knew that last meeting was awkward but you both usually do a good job of swerving those situations and moving on and acting casual! You’ve been casual for four months! This relationship was supposed to be easy. Smooth-sailing. So what changed now? 

Nayeon noticed your crankiness earlier this day, and it concerned you, how much this whole thing was affecting you.

But you’ve grown tired of not knowing anything. You were tired of guessing why Jungkook was being like this. 

So you were a woman with a mission today. You planned to talk to Jungkook so he could finally be a big boy and talk to you about his obvious problems with you. Because it had to be that, right? He wouldn’t talk to you because he had issues with you. 

Later that day, your quest was made easy when you saw him at the library. 

You’re only a little surprised with yourself when you walk towards his direction with the presence of many people around. Yeah, whatever. 

“Hey,” you called. 

You could see Jungkook’s eyes widening a little as he turns around to see you, his hand stopping from taking notes on his iPad as he looks up at you. 

“Oh, hey,” he greets you, but you can see he is a little confused as he takes out his airpods. You never talked to him on school grounds whenever people were around. He neither did, though. It was a mutual agreement. 

“We need to talk." 

Jungkook looks in between you and the book and notes he was doing, and you would understand if he tells you to fuck off because he was busy – maybe not with those exact words because you’d probably take it to heart and cry about it, but he’s taken you by surprise when he says, 

"Okay. Let me just fix this.” Jungkook closes his book and his iPad, stuffing them in his bag. 

You anxiously tap your shoe on the floor, though not with sound, aware of the people looking at your interaction with the school’s basketball star player. 

“Where to?” He asks as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

“Just, uh, follow me." 

He surprisingly does without further questions, and you begin to second-guess yourself about being kind of mad at him for seemingly being mad at you. Maybe you were reading too much into these past few days? Maybe he really wasn’t mad at you and you just assumed so because he suddenly stopped texting you? It’s not that you needed an explanation for why he wasn’t talking to you suddenly. He had a life outside having a friends with benefits situation with you and you know that. 

Jungkook stopped when you halted your steps at the far end of the library. It was the old theology section and no one really comes around here anymore so it was quiet and free of lingering, poorly hidden stares from other strangers, who you prefer to not be included in this conversation you are about to have.

Shit, should you have just texted him and told him to come over so you could talk more in private? But you doubted he would reply, and anyway, Nayeon would be home so you had no private space to do that. 

"Okay,” you start. “Let’s talk." 

Jungkook quirks a brow, leaning back on a cabinet. 

You look at him one more time and sigh. 

"You’ve been avoiding me.” You didn’t really mean to say it in such a heavy tone, but it came out that way and you couldn’t take it back. 

Jungkook is caught off guard. 

“Huh?"

You frown. "You’re avoiding me. And I don’t know why and I couldn't care less, usually, but I'm confused and I don’t want to guess anything with you so just say it now." 

There, you’ve blurted it all out. 

Jungkook took a long time, but you feel yourself getting angry when he only says, "I’m not upset with you." 

Really? Really?! Is he really planning to to do this right now? What’s next, is he going to call you crazy for thinking that he was mad at you because he suddenly stopped talking to you altogether? Un-fucking-believable. 

"I know you are, just say it.” You say, trying to balance your emotions. He really is gonna call you crazy if you lash out. 

“I’m just busy with practice.” but the way he said it so dismissively, like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, makes you frown even harder. 

“You can’t even text me?” You called out. You didn’t know why you said that, because you did just tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t text you. But it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when he confirmed it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation."

You bite back your tongue. Wow, is he going for asshole today? But it hurt, because it was true. He didn’t need to give you an explanation. You weren’t anything important, and nor was he in your life, in any way, so why are you genuinely hurt by this?

When Jungkook noticed your silence, a flash of conflict in his expression, he decided to add, "Look…” he trailed off, as if not really having any idea what to say next. When he gave you that placating look, you knew he was about to say something that will completely piss you off.

“Is it about the sex? I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do that the past few days. Do you want to have sex today?”

You felt anger boiling in your chest as soon as he said that.

He really is going for asshole today.

What in the actual fuck? He thinks you’re confronting him because you haven’t been having sex? Why would he say that like you were just some desperate whore frothing in the mouth to bed him? Does he think of you so low like that? Did he not consider that maybe you were just genuinely concerned of feeling so distant to him right now? 

You swallow the lump in your throat and scowl at him. 

“You know what, fuck you. I asked you nicely what’s your problem with me.”

Jungkook was visibly surprised with your outburst, and you were disappointed in yourself to even show an ounce of reaction to that bullshit he just said.

But he just looks away, eager to avoid the look on your face. “You didn’t ask that, you went ahead and accused me of avoiding you when you’ve been doing the same thing." 

"Oh, so you are admitting to avoiding me. What’s the issue? Say it.” You demanded. But Jungkook wasn’t having any of it. 

“I don’t have a problem. What’s your problem? Why are you acting so upset about all of this?" 

To even throw that on your face was cruel, and you think you saw a flash of hesitation on his face when he said that, but it was blank after a split second. It’s blank until now, like he doesn’t really give a shit. 

Great. 

"I just want you to talk to me if you’re upset with me about something.” You say, even though that wasn’t really what you intended to say. It felt like defeat.

You feel pathetic all of a sudden, remembering his words. Why are you so upset about all of this? Because clearly, you care. And apparently, he did not. He didn’t have to put that to words. He didn’t have the right to hurt you like this. 

“Talk?” Jungkook repeats. “The last time we did that, you didn't seem to want to." 

His words have a bite to them, like he means more than that. And that night flashes in your head. When he was opening up to you, and you chose to disengage by being cagey and avoiding it all together because you felt weird about it. 

When you don’t answer, Jungkook sighs. 

"I have practice in five minutes. I’ll see you around." 

He doesn’t even say goodbye or spare you a last glance when he walks away. 

You are a turtle. 

Obviously, not literally. But turtles, when bombarded, reflexively duck their heads inside their shells to protect themselves before any damage could be done to them. And the same could be said about you. 

You avoid problems like a champ. It’s the only sport that you’re really great at. 

Growing up, you’ve never really had a lot of friends. You had a small circle in high school but you didn’t see a significant value in your connection. Maybe because you grew up in an environment where love was non-existent and the relationships in your house were transactional at best, still are. Until now, you have no idea if your parents loved each other at one point or if they were always like that; like two different strangers working jobs during the day that just happen to have the same house to go to at night so you and Jini have some people to call "mom” and “dad”. You guessed you’ll never know, but it was hard not to think that their relationship has always been the latter. Your relationship with your sister mirrors that of your parents’, though, so you can’t really criticize them for not acting like partners enough.

When you were young, you hated the way you approached friendship or any sort of relationships a lot. You hated how it was so easy for others to befriend one another, how it was easy for girls your age to have a life outside of studying. You hated how easy it was for other people to not build these sturdy walls whenever someone approached them. But you just kind of grew into it along the way… 

Social networking is important for college, though, and you were forced to have friends but you did make friends willingly along the way. It was not that you are a total sociopath, nor do you think you are one. Nayeon was a sweetheart who was very likeable and you’ve had the pleasure of being roommates with her for two years now. You are close to a certain point, but it wasn’t like you were best friends. She was two years older than you and was on her last year of college and had her own close circle of friends. The closeness was a result of living a domesticated life with each other because you lived in the same house. But you genuinely like her.

And you’ve actually met more people you genuinely liked when you went to college, not just her. Like Taehyung. He was a fun conversationalist, and you feel like you could totally hit it off only if you weren’t too hesitant to befriend him. Juyeon is probably the most hardworking woman you’ve ever met, and most of your liking towards her has a lot to do with the respect and admiration you have for her. And then there was Namjoon. A guy two years your senior during your sophomore year who you've had a short fling with. He was a great guy whom you actually saw yourself dating, but it was a bit complicated. And then Jungkook…

Well… he was everything you imagined him not to be.

You still remember the first time you saw him during orientation day. He wore this huge white sweatshirt and light-washed cargo pants with some stomper boots, hair curly and so fluffy as he slung his bag over his shoulder, talking animatedly with a friend. You’ve had crushes in high school (like that one senior guy from the debate team who turned out to be an asshole so you got over it pretty quickly) but it was the first time you’ve ever felt so strongly like that. Your crush faded eventually though when you learned he was a jock.

However, the universe made different plans. You both had the same code for your first term Philo class and got partnered on a project, and unexpectedly, he turned out to be smart, kind, witty, so unbelievably handsome and attractive and actually wasn’t an asshole like you thought he was when you found out he played in the varsity team. That was the start of your pathetic minor pining over the guy and then four months ago happened.

You hit it off at a random party Nayeon told you to come with her to. Had enjoyable sex. And then another. Until you both talked about the agreement – the stupid agreement that you have now still. 

You like him a lot. Always have. In more ways than one. 

You were an expert at hiding your feelings so it never really got in the way. And anyway, you aren’t ready for a relationship so the arrangement has always been perfect for you. 

But you hated that. Because, really? This part of your life feels like some pages taken out of a shitty young adult fiction book. Falling for the popular jock at school at the same time your fuck buddy. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You weren’t supposed to like him more than you already have because you were both clear at what you wanted when you started it. But it happened and all those fun times with him at the abandoned lot and the soft kisses and gentle smiles and fond gazes and funny conversations and his stupid teasing are most likely going down the drain because you hurt him with your inability to face your feelings. 

You aren’t stupid. You know Jungkook likes you too. You know the past few weeks have been dangerously teetering outside the line of being fuck buddies but you went along with it because who wouldn’t? What were you to do, anyway? Confront it? You’ve never been confrontational. 

So when Jungkook tried to get to know more than your outer surface by opening up to you about things that probably no one other than you knew, you cowered. 

You cowered because you were afraid of what that would entail.

You’ve never done it, opening up to people. You’ve never known anyone to a point like that. You just weren’t the type to get too close to others, them letting them you in their lives just as you let them in yours. That wasn’t who you were and you’ve always been contented with that for most of your life.

But it wasn’t fair to Jungkook and it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook because he deserved to know that you care. He deserves to know that you want to know him, too. You want to be close to him more than just the physical, sexual aspect of your relationship. You want to know his intentions behind the overly kind, almost special way he treats you, his caring words, the meaning behind his soft kisses after sex, the purpose behind those kisses that didn’t lead to sex.

And lastly, you want him to know that you were sorry for the other night.

So when another Friday rolled, you finally mustered up the courage to go to his game. It was the last one, after all. You wanted to show up. 

The venue was crowded and chaotic and you wanted to ditch but you decided it was fine. You were gonna endure it if it meant you finally got to see Jungkook physically in court. 

And saw him, you did. Even though you were in the middle row seats and wearing a cap because you oddly felt unwelcomed and didn’t want to be seen by him – as if he would even want to see you. But it was whatever. 

Jungkook was… amazing. That was really the only adjective you could use to describe how he was. Maybe you were a little biased but he was the greatest out of all the ten people running around the court. He just stood out, even when someone else did the good job of scoring. 

And people around you seemed to think so too because whenever he did get to score or was the one holding the ball or his face got shown on the huge screen, everyone just lost it.

The match was tight again so it bled into five games. Your Uni just needed to win the last one and they would successfully bring the trophy home.

You found yourself silently cheering for your team, specifically Jungkook, though it felt strange to you because this was your first sports game, after all. But it felt good to do it. It also felt good to see other people so passionate at cheering him on as well as his team, especially after you read all that hate against him on the internet the other week.

And it felt especially great when they did win in the end of it all. 

The stands went wild as the game finished with your Uni scoring a solid 105 and 96 for the other. 

You’ve stayed long to see Jungkook being awarded the MVP title, but not long enough to find it difficult to get an Uber as you went home. 

Nayeon got to your place later than you, but you learned that she wasn’t at the game earlier but was in a study group instead.

You ordered dinner for the both of you, just some Chinese that you quickly finished up. 

By 11 pm, you were panicking. 

You had a solid plan yesterday. You were supposed to go to Jungkook and apologize to him and whatever but how the hell were you going to do that when you had no idea where he was now? Ugh. You should’ve approached him after the games earlier! But you didn’t feel comfortable doing that with so many people around… 

You saw your phone on your night stand and got an idea to just text him. But you didn’t know if he was going to respond. If he was going to tell you to fuck off, you at least didn’t want to receive that through text. 

So you opted for the last and craziest option you’ve got. 

[11:08pm] You: Hello, Taehyung! I know we haven’t talked in a while and I’m sorry for texting you now, I just have some questions if you don’t mind :) Congrats on winning Finals by the way, it was a great game.

You anxiously wait for his reply that you received not even a minute after you sent your text. 

[11:08pm] K. Taehyung: hi __ HAHAHHA im a bit surprised to see your name on my phone!! we’ve never gotten around having that coffee 😅 but thank you for the congrats! hit me with those questions i don’t mind  [11:09pm] You: It’s a real bummer that we’ve both been so busy ):  [11:10pm] You: But I was wondering if you know where Jungkook is? Last week he lent me a jacket when he saw me pour a drink on myself at some cafe, haha. So I was thinking I should give it to him now but I have no idea how to

Listen, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. You indeed needed to find Jungkook, and he lent you a jacket weeks ago which you needed to return but you forgot about it and conveniently remembered it just earlier when you were trying to conjure up an excuse to see him.

[11:10pm] K. Taehyung: oh i was actually just talking to him awhile ago. he wouldn’t go to the after-game party. said he was gonna stay up all night to play overwatch or something  [11:10pm] K. Taehyung: I can text you his address if you want to come over like right now

You feel like you aren’t supposed to just give your friends’ addresses away like that but it is flattering to think that Taehyung must trust you enough to not assume you were a psychopath serial killer or something. 

[11:11pm] You: Yes, please. Thank you so much, Taehyung. Catch up on that coffee hang another time

You got an Uber to drive to his place. You tried not to think too much about the fancy complex and how there were elevators instead of just stairs like yours but you managed to get to Jungkook’s place through Taehyung’s text. 

You pressed a button upside the knob. It created a loud buzz and you tighten your fingers around the ribbon handles of the paper bag that got his jacket inside. 

It was the perfect excuse. You did need to return it to him. And if you got too flustered or scared to talk to him further, you were just going to leave right after he takes it from you and just accept the fact that he probably really hates you now because you were mean and—

The door opens, revealing Jungkook. A shirtless, wet Jungkook. 

“Oh." 

Jungkook has a hint of shock in his eyes when he comes face to face with you. You’ve never been here, for the record. And he was probably wondering how the hell you got his address.

"Uh,” you start. You thrust the paper bag towards him. “Here. It’s your jacket from weeks ago. I washed it already. Thanks for lending me it.”

You see his hesitation when he takes it from you, and it makes your nerves go haywire. 

Jungkook mumbled a little thanks. He stood there for a moment, probably still not getting the shock out of his system. As each second passed, you felt the need and the urge to go, but his voice cut that idea in your head.

“Uh. Do you wanna come in?" 

"Yes.” Maybe it was too much of an immediate answer, but you needed to. If you were to stand outside much longer, your courage will wear down and you might miss an opportunity to talk to him. 

Jungkook stepped aside and further invited you in. Your steps were a little shy as you followed him inside, watching as he took a pair of Nike sliders and offered it to you as you removed your birkens off your feet.

“Thank you.” You tell him, sliding your feet on the slippers that were definitely too big for you. 

He gave you a small smile in return. That gave you a bit of hope that it would go well tonight. 

“I’m just gonna go and change into something. You can sit here,” You followed behind him into the living room of his rather huge flat. Really, this was more of a condo unit than an apartment. “There's– sorry. I wasn't– it’s kind of messy here right now but I was busy the past few days. It’s not usually like this here." 

Jungkook hastily arranged the scattered throw pillows on the couch. You even hear him hissed as he picked up a bowl and some take-out trash on the coffee table. He reached for something in the tight corner of the couch, holding up a remote awkwardly for you.

He quickly looked away from you though, turning to his huge TV (it was literally a jumbotron) and making it light up. It showed some kind of game on pause.

"I’m sorry, I was playing something earlier. Uh, do you want to play anything? I have a lot of games.” He continued to say.

And you realized Jungkook was panicking. He was rambling, talking words over his own words, jumping from one thing to another and hastily cleaning up the space in the living room.  

It was… adorable. The way he was kind of scrambling… to accommodate you? Eh. But it was nice. Nice to know that you aren’t the only one panicking.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really play anything.” You say honestly. You don’t like gaming. It’s stressful. 

“Oh…” Jungkook trails off then his eyes set on the kitchen. “Oh shit wait, do you want water? Tea? I don’t think I have tea but I think I can look for something?" 

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out from your mouth but you quickly cut yourself off. 

"Sorry. Uhm. No. I don’t want anything.” Truthfully, you wanted water but Jungkook needed to change into something immediately. You may not exactly be talking talking right now but his body and tattoos were nice to look at and you didn’t want it to distract you too much. It felt wrong to admire him like that when you were not exactly in great terms. 

“You sure?” When you nodded, Jungkook did the same too, but more like to himself. “Okay. I’ll just get to my room." 

You sat on his nice leather couch and looked around as Jungkook changed.

It was such a nice place. You could see that it was indeed expensive. The space was definitely, like, three times larger than your own and it even seemed to have another room on the far end. You didn’t know if Jungkook lived alone, he never mentioned anything about it. 

You still didn’t find yourself completely relaxed as Jungkook emerged from his room. 

The fringe of his bangs are still wet from his shower, but he’s now changed into a grey hoodie with matching shorts. 

"Hey,” he said as he walked towards you and sat on the couch. The distance was far but not totally that you end up being on the opposite sides. 

“Hi,” you greeted him back. “You have a nice place." 

He smiles. "Thank you." 

The atmosphere was incredibly awkward, you could feel that. But you pushed yourself to go through it. 

"Congrats on the game earlier.” You tell him sincerely. 

“Ah… thanks." 

"I went there." 

"Really?” You could see the understandable surprise in his face after hearing your words. “I didn’t see you." 

You chuckle lightly. "Hm. You were too serious and busy in the court to see me.”

Jungkook shyly looks away. 

“I– well. You should have told me. I could’ve gotten you a nice seat. Did you get a nice seat?” The sentiment was cute but surprising at the same time. After that time in the library, you wouldn’t have expected him to get you a nice seat. 

“It was okay." 

It didn’t look like he would say anything more, but you were a little relieved to have a break from the atmosphere when the door buzzed again, indicating someone coming. 

You feel your heart jump.

You didn’t know why your mind went to such dark places like him having someone over to do– what? Ugh. Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Honesty was what you agreed on when you started this agreement. You promised to tell each other right away if you start sleeping with other people because of health reasons. 

"That must be the pizza.” Jungkook murmurs as he stands up.

You almost sigh in relief.

Okay. So no other women coming over. 

Jungkook comes back a moment later with three boxes. 

“I thought we could eat something,” he said as he sat on the couch again, this time a little closer than earlier. He looked at the TV, still on that game he was playing. He placed the pizza on the table and took the remote to exit out of his game, pressing some buttons on it and eventually the screen loaded to Netflix. “You wanna watch something?" 

That would be nice, actually. 

"Yep." 

"Okay… uh. Legally Blonde?" 

You couldn’t help your eyebrow from raising. 

Jungkook laughs a little. You’re a little surprised to hear it. It felt like eons ago since you’ve heard it.

"I like it a lot.” He shrugged and then looked it up on Netflix, clicked the movie poster and pressed play.

You start eating the pizza on the couch. You were obsessed with Legally Blonde probably an abnormal amount but this time, its entertainment didn’t affect you full force because at the back of your head, you’re still trying to figure out how to speak up the words you really wanted to say to Jungkook. 

“Hey…” you suddenly speak. You hesitate for a while but then let out a heavy breath. Jungkook looks at you because of that. “I’m sorry." 

His confusion was anticipated. He face looks like he was ready to ask, but you continue, 

"About the other night. Uh. When you went over. I’m sorry. I made you feel like I didn’t care but…” you train your gaze to the remote on the corner of the couch. “But I do, Jungkook. I care about you. It’s just that, it freaked me out, you know? People never felt comfortable enough with me to share such personal things and I’ve always been okay with that because I’m not exactly—” you cut yourself off, trying to organize your thoughts. But you give up because there was no use in doing such. You wanted to be honest as much as possible. “I know I don’t exactly strike people as someone who can care. And, well, that’s true, you know? People always tell me that I almost function like a robot. So, uh, I freaked out, because I thought you trusted me enough to do that and I felt like I didn’t deserve it, your trust I mean. And so I acted like that because I didn’t know what—”

“Hey,” Jungkook stopped you before you could go on a full spiral. You didn’t notice because of your rambling earlier but he was closer this time. “Breathe. It’s fine. I have all the time to listen to you." 

It was such a sweet sentiment, paired with his charming smile. You feel your heart jump and look away from his gaze. 

"Baby," 

There. He’s calling you that name again. Has he forgiven you? Were you both on that terms again? But he couldn’t have forgiven you that fast! 

"Baby, look at me,” you did, because he held your face in his warm hands, making you look at him. You could feel your cheeks tingle in his hold. “I’m actually so glad you came here tonight. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” He says, voice sounding so sincere.

You looked down, feeling like you don’t deserve it at all. 

“I’ve been thinking, you know?” Jungkook lifts your chin up with his fingers, smiling, such mirth behind it that you think he was probably thinking you were going to tease him about his words. But you didn’t feel like joking with him right now. “I totally didn’t think things through that night. I shouldn’t have told you all about my personal drama—"

Oh, no. That’s exactly what you thought you made him feel that night, and for him to verbalize it, it hurts you. Because you knew you truly made him feel that way. It wasn’t your intention but you knew your reaction –or lack thereof– threw him off. 

"No, no. I should have—" 

"No, ___, I shouldn’t have dumped all of that onto you expecting you to have a say about it and be disappointed and extremely hurt when you didn’t. We don’t know each other a lot, I know that." He gives you a sheepish smile. "I guess I just... I wanted us to know each other a little better you know? But I must’ve freaked you out instead and made you uncomfortable with me telling you all about those when we made it clear that this relationship was never going to be like that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dumping. I kind of… realized that... maybe you just wanted some lazy time with me that night. So I’m sorry. I believe you're also apologetic about it, but I’m saying don’t be. It was all on me." 

Jungkook’s words were a jumbled mess in your head that you were surprised to even get them. 

"I–no, no. Kook– I… told you, I care about you. I—” you felt a metaphorical block in your head, and it made you cut yourself off. But then you remember his words and so you continue, “I didn’t just– look. It was unexpected, and I told you I just freaked out because I didn’t know where we stood and I just felt like I wasn’t deserving to know you like that. But I care a lot about you.”

Jungkook was quiet for a while, and you feared he was contemplating and thinking you were just lying to get over everything with. But then his face softens at your words. “I care a lot about you, too,” He says, and then it contorts a little, as if he remembered something. “That’s why I’m also… I’m also sorry about that time at the library. I was a complete asshole to you. I wanted to be mean because I was hurt but none of it was your fault. I really am sorry." 

Your head takes you back to that time in the library. He did hurt you with the harsh words he’d spoken, but his apology sounded sincere and you believe it. 

"Yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry about cornering you there. I should’ve texted you that I wanted to talk but I wasn’t sure if you were going to reply." 

Jungkook looked a little shameful for reasons that you couldn’t think of. 

"I’m sorry about that. I acted like such a boy about the whole thing. You don’t deserve to be ghosted suddenly because you hurt my feelings without you even really knowing why. I should’ve talked to you properly." 

You bite your lip, feeling like you were suddenly going to cry.

You know it was the bare minimum, and even though he said you had nothing to be sorry about, you still feel oddly emotional about someone apologizing to you. You’d never been apologized to sincerely even when a lot of people have done you wrong and hurt you before. They always thought you didn’t care or just got over things quickly because apparently, people had the impression that you weren’t the type to feel anything. 

"I like you a lot.” You blurt out. 

It was stupid. It was so stupid to say that in the middle of this conversation, but your mouth was running faster than your brain and you couldn’t help it. 

“Really?” Jungkook grins, and it was quite big. Your heart beats faster in your chest. “I really like you, too. Like, a lot. Probably more than you do.”

You meet his eyes finally. They hold such fondness for you, and you’ve always noticed. But you brush it away just as it shows. Regular, old, __. Always pushing away people who like her.

Right now, you’re berating yourself for pointedly ignoring that before, but his dark eyes serve as a distraction. They were so ominous and so big and looked like they had the stars in them. And he was so handsome. Suddenly, your gaze falls to his lips and quickly trains to the mole under the bottom one. You’ve always wanted to kiss it but never did so because… because, well. It would be weird, right? But then you remember that Jungkook always kisses that mole in between your chest... 

You blush at the thought and look away. 

“That’s nice.” You said, not really knowing how to respond. 

Jungkook chuckled and twisted himself to look forward again, at the TV playing Legally Blonde. 

It was like that for a while and you found that the weight you’ve been carrying all week on your back felt like it’s been lifted, finally. 

This night was going really, really well. 

And so well it went.

Legally Blonde ended and you and Jungkook somehow ended up being closer. So close that his arm just found its way around your shoulders, your leg across his, his other arm wrapped around that leg to pull you impossibly closer to him onto the next film. 

It’s been half an hour into the new movie but if you were honest, your brain wasn’t really on it. It was on how Jungkook held you delicately, his mouth pressing kisses on the crown of your head occasionally, almost absentmindedly. Your thoughts were filled with the soft, gentle caresses of his hand on your leg, and how you would feel his eyes even when you weren’t looking. It was all so tender and just so, so incredibly nice. 

When you yawned, Jungkook immediately checked on you with a light chuckle. 

“Sleepy?” He asks. 

You shake your head but another yawn forced its way out of your mouth again. You let your head fall dramatically on his chest as he laughed. 

“I gotta go…” you said, thinking that it’s probably late as hell and dark outside. But you found that you really didn’t want to. The material of his hoodie was so soft and his presence was so calming and it sounded undeniably cheesy but you wanted to be held by him a little more. 

“You could stay." 

That made you look up at him. 

"Huh?" 

"You can stay here, if you want. Sleep over." 

"Oh." 

A flash of hesitation on his beautiful face.

"Only if you want to, of course. I’ll drive you home if you wanna go.” He offers quickly, as if embarrassed to even suggest the thing he said earlier. 

But you did want to stay. But… he never stayed over at your place. You didn’t let him and he never expressed a little bit of desire to do so, anyway. Would it be unfair if he never slept over at yours but you would at his now? What did your conversation today change? When he said “I like you”, did that mean it was okay for you to stay the night? 

“Uhm, I’d like to stay here, if it’s okay with you.” You said, throwing your inhibitions away. There was no room for more denials in your heart. 

Jungkook’s bright grin made your worries subside. He definitely wants you to stay as much as you do. 

“Okay." 

"It’s okay for you? Sorry, I don’t have a lot of pillows…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you sheepishly. 

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Hey, come here now." 

Jungkook did a poor job of hiding a big grin again as he slid on the bed with you.

When you twisted yourself so your back was facing him, about to reach for your phone on the night stand to see if Nayeon replied to your text telling her you wouldn’t be home until morning, Jungkook also did the same and wrapped his arm around your waist, basically spooning you. 

And you realized that oh, he’d mistaken you for wanting to be a little spoon… 

But it was cute. And you really like him holding you, so you pretended it was your intention all along and mentally noted to check your phone tomorrow morning.

"You smell good.” He said against your ear. You smiled at the way it tickled a bit.

“I don’t think I do anymore, but thanks.”

You showered right after coming home as the game ended but that was many hours ago, so surely Jungkook must just be speaking nonsense. And anyway, he was the one who smelled nice because he did just get out of the shower. He smelled like that certain apple scent he always did. 

“No, really. Like flowers. I always liked that about you." 

"Eh, it’s probably just my bath and body works body wash." 

"Really?” You felt him sniff up your arm and you giggled. That reaction encouraged him to do it more until his nose reached your armpit. It tickled so much that you thrashed and turned and bit his arm. His laughter got louder as you did so, but you only pouted at him. 

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” Jungkook said but he didn’t look like it. You didn’t expect it but he suddenly kissed your forehead. Your eyes reflexively closed at the feel of his lips on your skin. 

You open them once again only to see Jungkook staring into your eyes again, quite intensely that you feel like he was there looking right into your soul. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, his hand that was around your waist tightening, the other clearing up your face from stray hairs. 

“I really missed you too.” you said as sincerely as you could. Because you really did, and you hope he could feel it and believe it just like you did his words. 

A few seconds after and then his lips finally touched yours and it was such a relief that you sighed against them. It was a slow kiss. Sweet and too short but you didn’t really mind when Jungkook looked at you again like you hung the stars in the sky. 

“Let’s sleep baby, turn around for me again.” He said and you wanted to reprimand him for ordering you around but you didn’t really feel like you needed to. You didn’t really have complaints about being the little spoon in this cuddling session, anyway.

It was only about a minute of silence when Jungkook suddenly spoke.

“Babe, I know I’m probably going to ruin this wholesome moment but can I hold your boob while we try to sleep?" 

And you couldn’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t. 

"Go for it.” You said, settling against his chest, getting more comfortable. Jungkook was only too happy to let you, letting out a low happy hum as he held you tighter, another hand wandering inside the worn out shirt you were wearing that he lent you for the night. 

The contact was cold to the touch at first, but when he gave you a squeeze and finally rested his hand over there, it got warm eventually.

Having a weight on top of your boob while sleeping was definitely a new concept for you, but you found that it was oddly comforting.

There was nothing sexual to it, not really. And you thought Jungkook didn’t really have any sexual intentions to begin with. 

It was just nice to have his hand on your breast. 

“So soft,” Jungkook whispered at some point and you just chuckled in between putting yourself in slumber.

It’s been hard to settle in bed peacefully the previous nights after that debacle weeks ago, but that moment, you slid to dreamland quite easily; and you were certain it was due to Jungkook’s warm body all over yours.

EPILOGUE

( ONE MONTH LATER )

You have awoken in a feverish feeling brought by the dream of a certain man drawing all kinds of shapes on your clit with his skillful tongue. At first, the sensation felt far away, like it was just a distant memory, but you suddenly feel a seemingly too real grip on your thighs and a tentative swipe over the length of your nether region. 

When you blearily open your eyes, the sunlight intruding through the seams of your room, you caught a sight of a very real man’s head in between your legs, his dark hair pulled by a headband as he determinedly pleasures your pussy.  

“Jungkook,” you sigh, blindingly reaching for his head. 

He hums in your pussy, and it sends a jolt right up your spine. He felt you jumping a little, and that earned a chuckle from him. The vibration of it in your aching heat made your legs quiver. 

“Good morning, baby." 

It was a little disorienting to wake up to Jungkook eating you out so early in the morning, but the pleasure overrode it as you throw your head back on your soft pillows, twisting your face to the side and burying it on the fluffy material as Jungkook sucks on your clit, his finger teasing over the lips of your pussy. 

”Ah, that feels so good…" you moan, thrashing on the bed at the delight brought by his tongue. But Jungkook’s strong hold kept your legs wide for him to have complete access to your wet cunt which he’s licking like it was a meal he’s always wanted to have. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” he said, beginning to place open mouthed kisses on your pussy that delivered delirious shivers all over your body. He emphasized his sentiment by bringing two fingers in your hole, sliding them in and out quite easily as you felt yourself gushing every second from his actions. “So wet. You love this, angel? You like what I’m doing?" 

All you could give him was a pathetic little whimper that you hope he understood as he didn’t bother to wait for your response and proceeded to wrap his mouth on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with the steady way his fingers slipped in and out of you, lewd squelches filling the otherwise quiet room except for the chirping bird outside.

And it sounded oddly poetic. 

So peaceful. Oh, to wake up like this everyday. 

Your grasp on his hair tightened, bringing his face closer to your pussy that you even got a hold of his headband, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how delicious Jungkook is speeding his fingers in your entrance, long and bony digits touching every ridge of your pussy, slowly but surely sending you to your edge. Your breath quickened every second passed, and now you could say you were fully awake. 

Jungkook broke away from you and you were just about to reprimand him about it when he suddenly licked a long, slow stripe over the wet length of your entrance and you cried out.

You were nearly brought to tears when he dove in your core again to repeat his actions from earlier, but this time, he went for messy. So sloppy; his head moving around your pussy, sucking your juices with enthusiasm and making your arch your back on the mattress, his finger rubbing your clit to bring you to your orgasm. 

And he did successfully bring you to it. He did with what seemed to sound like a painful groan of your name from his throat, a husky sound that made your pussy and legs quiver. But that didn’t stop Jungkook from lapping at the cum that dripped out. 

You let out a big breath, making yourself bounce on the bed as you fell to it. Exhausted. Spent. 

"Kook,” you nudged Jungkook with your foot to his bicep because he was doing that thing again. 

“Wanna clean you up." 

You roll your eyes. It was so counterproductive but you let him be for awhile, relaxing on your back as he quite literally slurped the gush that came and is still coming out from you. That was why him "cleaning you up” was useless. 

“Let me suck your cock.” You said, nudging him again. Jungkook peeled his head from between your legs and looked at you, and you nearly moaned at finally seeing his face. He looked insanely hot with his hair around his sweaty hearline pulled by that head band, but the sheen gloss all over his mouth to his chin made you feel just a little shy. 

“Really?” Jungkook asked again, eyes wide, like he was a kid about to receive his gifts from Santa on Christmas morning.

You only hummed, bringing your body in a sitting position. Jungkook grabbed your waist, about to kiss you, but you pushed him on the bed and slid your leg over his thighs, leaning down to make quick work of pulling his boxers down that had a little wet patch on the front and a huge boner that was just begging to be freed. 

Jungkook sighed when you get a hold of his length, not wasting time to tease because as much as you wanted to, you were impatient to taste him and make him cum. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook curses as you pumped his cock, your thumb pressing on his leaking tip. “You’re so pretty, baby."

His groan is elongated as you finally put him in your mouth. You make yourself comfortable by kneeling inside his spread legs, leaning down closer to his crotch and twisting your head to the side so that you could gather your hair in one side. It was always hard to reach deep, but you make do of your hand, twisting your fingers around the remaining length that your mouth could not take. 

It didn’t take too long for Jungkook to shake and start speaking sweet nonsense in the wake of his impending orgasm, probably because he had been holding back since he ate you out. But you worked as hard, sucking on his tip, brushing your fingers over his balls here and there, pumping his wet cock in your hand, ignoring the tears that’s forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Baby, I’m cumming,” he warned, holding the back of your head to try and get you off but you insisted and let him release in your mouth. 

Jungkook hissed, and you leaned back to jerk his cock for any more cum, swallowing the one in your mouth that you felt had gotten to some parts of your face so you try to lick over your mouth, tasting cum there. He was still cumming, though, just a little, it spurting on your chest and chin. 

You giggled as Jungkook groaned. When you were sure you milked him dry, you let yourself flop on his naked body, draping yourself over it even though he was kind of sweaty and sticky… but you don’t really mind. You were just gonna shower later. 

“You’re a minx.” He said, chuckling, his arm going around your waist and the other resting over one bare ass cheek. 

“I live to make you suffer.” you replied, rubbing your cheek against his chest then pressing kisses to it. 

“You’re winning." 

That made you laugh. 

After a while, you remove your head on his chest and look down on him. He arches a brow, waiting. And then you dropped your mouth to the mole under his bottom lip. You giggled because Jungkook wasn’t expecting it, shown by the confusion on his face. Before he could say anything, you lock your lips with his, sighing when he reciprocated your kiss right away. 

The kiss takes a U-turn as Jungkook flipped you over so he was the one hovering over you now, hands roaming around your body sending tingles all over your spine to your toes and heat between your legs as he squeezed your breasts. 

He squished the both of them in his huge palms, and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh when he did so, so as the gush of wetness coming from your pussy as he finally dropped his mouth to suck on your pebbled nipples. 

”___, are you—oh my god I’m so sorry!“

Jungkook and you quickly looked over your door, catching Nayeon just as she scrambled to close it. 

"Shit.” You hissed.

Jungkook looked at you. And then you both get off of each other, him going for the sweats he’d folded on a swivel chair in your room, and you putting on your robe and messily tying your hair in a bun with a hair tie. 

“I’m just gonna go outside and talk to her…” you trail off, watching as Jungkook puts his pants on. 

“Okay,” he went over to you, holding your face and leaning down to kiss you. “Sorry." 

You licked your lips as he broke the kiss, couldn’t help but smile.

"It’s fine." 

When you went out, Nayeon is at the kitchen drinking water. When she saw you, you gave her an awkward smile. 

She frowned. "I’m really so, so sorry, ___. I swear I didn’t know you had someone over. I just got back from the overnight study group I texted you about last night and it’s 8 am so I thought I could wake you up for class." 

You find yourself smiling genuinely at her explanation. You wave her off and went over to grab a drink of water as well. 

"It’s fine. Our prof actually emailed us last night that our 8 am class was gonna be cancelled today so technically my first class is gonna be at 10. But I’m also supposed to be getting ready, so…" 

Nayeon hummed and drank more of her water.

You were just waiting for it. You knew she was so gonna ask you about it. You were kind of nervous but you found that you actually didn’t care that much to tell her all about Jungkook. 

So when she finally did ask, you only looked sheepish. 

"So, Jeon Jungkook, huh?" 

You nod.

"I should’ve known!” Nayeon exclaimed. “You were suddenly interested about basketball and– no, I’m not gonna lie. I did not expect that." 

You bit your lip as you hid half of your face behind the rim of the glass. "Yeah…" 

Nayeon suddenly narrowed her eyes at you, and you hold yourself to prepare for what’s next. 

"He was your sneaky link all this time?" 

Your eyes widened. "No!” But then you quickly remembered that, technically, he was. But… “but not really. I mean, not anymore?" 

You weren’t sure, though. Your relationship with Jungkook for the past month had undergone a shift. You were purely fuck buddies before, and now you fuck and see each other for more than that. You sleep over almost twice a week at his place, have movie nights. He let you know about this game Animal Crossing and you’ve been obsessed since so sometimes you really just go over his place to play it. (Your island was seriously becoming pretty.) Also, you started grabbing lunch regularly these days in his car and go on what you can call dates if both your schedule aligned and it’s not that you were actively keeping other people from knowing about this sudden change in your relationship, including Nayeon, it was just — your time together was really just spent for pure enjoyment with each other. It was just like: if people saw, then they do. 

Despite that, a label still wasn’t put to it. 

You don't mind.

"Oh, so–your boyfriend?!” Nayeon’s tone is laced with surprise, and you flinched at hearing the word boyfriend but you shrugged it off. 

“Uhm, it’s very new.” Was what you replied. It was the only thing you could offer, honestly. 

Your friend looked at you for a few seconds and then nods, as if understanding – what? you have no idea – and then turned to the direction to your room. 

You see Jungkook popping out from your door when you looked over. 

“Hi, Nayeon." 

When he emerged, he’s fully dressed and it was a bummer that he’d taken out his head band. Whatever, you’d make him wear it later. It was really cute when he wore it. 

"Ohh, here comes the sexy man." 

The casualty of it threw you off a bit but then you suddenly feel grateful to Nayeon for not making a big deal about the whole thing.

So you laughed and joked, "Don’t say that! You’re going to stroke his ego." 

Nayeon’s right eyebrow raised. "Oh, his ego is definitely getting stroked, alright." 

Even Jungkook burst out laughing at the crude implications of her words, and you found the whole thing atrocious. Nayeon only shook her head, but she was smiling. 

"Sorry for interrupting your time together, lovebirds. I brought something for breakfast but I don’t think it’ll be enough for two people.” She said, pointing towards a take-out bag on the kitchen counter. 

“It’s fine, thanks Nayeon." 

She waved you off. "I’ll just be in my room. Eat first before you do cardio, guys." 

You huff out a laugh at her words again, and so did Jungkook. He walked towards you as Nayeon disappeared in her room, and you smiled at him as he did so. 

Jungkook held your waist and pressed you a little to the refrigerator, but you have no complaints in the way he leaned down to share a slow and soft kiss with you. 

"Breakfast?” He whispered, kissing your cheek. And then your nose. 

You giggled, circling your arms around his neck. He hummed at the contact, like he’s always so content and peaceful whenever you touch him.

“I think I’ll just get coffee on my way to Uni.” you told him. 

That made him frown, though. “That’s really not…” you arched your brow as you wait for him to finish his words. He sighed. “Okay. But at least eat some toast? I’ll make it for you." 

You nod. "Okay. I’m gonna go shower first, though. I stink." 

As if prompted, Jungkook quickly buried his face to the crook of your neck and whiffed out your scent, dramatically smelling you and then peeling his face away, saying, "Nope, still smell like flowers to me. But I agree, we need a shower." 

"We?" 

He gives you a serious look. "Yes. Water conservation is one of my goals this year." 

You jab on his chest lightly. So stupid. But so handsome and cute that you can’t help but pull him close to you and kiss him again. 

Suddenly, Jungkook grabbed your thighs and make you hold on to him as he carried you across the living room. You stopped your own squeal before you could scare Nayeon with it. Jungkook laughed at that and you slap his chest in retaliation.

He went straight to the bathroom and put you on the counter with all the intentions to keep making out with you by the way he was swirling his tongue deliciously against yours, hands squeezing your sides. 

But you really had to shower. 

He whined when you put your hands on his shoulders and broke free from his kiss, pushing him away a little. 

"Don’t be a baby. Let’s shower,” you said, giving him a stern look. He looked petulant for a while, but then suddenly smirked. You narrowed your eyes, pretty sure he had dirty things in his head right now. “No funny business. You literally have class in an hour." 

"I could make you cum in less than that." 

"Jungkook!" 

He laughed, kissing you. "I’m kidding.”

“Behave. Nayeon is here." 

He only nodded and began taking his clothes off. You also removed your robe from your body, going over to the towel rack to hang it there. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and shamelessly ogled your naked form and you rolled your eyes, not waiting for him as you stepped in the shower first. He followed right after, smiling at you as he offered to wash your body. 

Jungkook assured you he had no funny business in mind, but you didn’t really mind when his hands suddenly got grabby, when he told you that his hands could lather your body wash more effectively than your loofah just so he could massage your boobs in his soapy palms, staying a little too long over there. But you didn’t complain when his finger ghosted over your pussy, and you absolutely weren’t mad when he kissed you hotly as the shower ran and water soaked the soap suds out of your body. 

In fact, you enjoyed it a lot when he pressed you against the wall while his strong arms held you tight as he fucked you open, gasping in your mouth, grunting about how pretty you were and how much you were such a good girl for him. 

He spoke more nonsense in your ear when he turned you around, an arm tight around your breasts, his other hand gripping your waist as he slid his engorged cock in and out of you from behind while you tried to minimize the sound of your cries until you both came. 

You know Jungkook knew his goal to conserve water was doomed from the very start, especially when you ended up taking a second shower because you felt sticky and just unclean. 

But it felt great to come out of the bathroom and have Jungkook dressed the same time as you with the clothes he left in your closet from the other times he’s spent over here. 

"I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss on your mouth. 

“Okay,” he smiled and you failed to resist the urge to kiss him again for the last time. “I’m coming over to play Animal Crossing." 

"You only like me for my Nintendo…” Jungkook jokingly narrowed his eyes at you and you laughed. 

“It took you a long time to figure out?”

Jungkook pouts. “As long as you curl up in my lap while you play it, I can accept that.”

“You’re cute, baby. But you’re late to class, go scram.” You shooed him and he chuckled. 

“Okay, kiss me again?” You did. Jungkook smiled and kissed you but on the forehead this time. “Bye, pretty." 

You leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed as you watched him slowly disappear from your pathway with (certainly) a fond look on your face. 

Blurring the lines with your fuck buddy might be cliche, and confronting it might have been hard, but you did it. And he was just as willing and honest with you about his feelings.

And it was worth it.

all right reserved © awrkive, 2023. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next  || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie @iamstilljk @myjungkookthighs @jungshaking @kookiesgiggles @minimoninini @lovejkmilitarywife @pplongoing @pokolunolino @dontcallmeelle @taeisbae13 @ronyiboniyy @nerdycheol @onlyforyoukook @ukandtwme @morosisxx @smwhrinthehaze @thebluegoddess @ramyun-h @remgeolli @minniejim @cherricherryy @avawants2havefun @fr0ggieth1nk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeeykey @ficluvr613 @deeznutkooks @kookienooki (names in italics could not be tagged).

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: You Always Have

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader, Reader x OC

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Toxic behavior, manipulation, cheating, swearing, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive content, sex

Word count: 5k+

Summary: What Paige wants Paige gets… even when she’s in the wrong…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr

It had been two weeks since I walked out on Paige, and honestly, I hadn’t looked back. It was hard to leave her, considering everything we had been through, but I knew I deserved better.

It was the right thing to do. Paige cheated on me—not once, but multiple times—and no amount of apologies or “I was drunk” excuses could fix that. I couldn’t keep playing the fool. Not anymore.

I was at a party, trying to enjoy myself, keeping my mind off everything, when KK found me. She slipped through the crowd, wearing that familiar apologetic look she always did when it came to Paige’s mess. She nudged me, an awkward smile on her face.

“Yo, she really misses you,” KK said, scratching the back of her neck like she was nervous. “Paige’s been asking about you non-stop. You should talk to her.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes at her. After everything, Paige was the last person I wanted to hear from. But I couldn’t deny that her words hit me like a sharp pang in my chest. Did Paige really miss me? Or was this just another act in her endless manipulation games?

“Why does she need you to come talk to me?” I asked, arms crossed over my chest, raising an eyebrow at KK.

“Look, I’m just trying to help,” she said. “She’s a wreck without you. I can’t make her stop calling me about you.”

I let out a dry laugh. “She had her chance. She blew it.”

KK winced but didn’t push further. “Okay, but think about it. Paige is at her place. She’s just… trying to make things right.”

I took a deep breath, feeling a familiar warmth spread through my chest despite myself. I hated that I still cared, even after everything. But I wasn’t weak anymore. I wasn’t the girl who put up with Paige’s bullshit. I was stronger now.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to sound neutral, but deep down, I knew I was already leaning toward going.

By the time I showed up at Paige’s apartment, I had convinced myself that it would be a short visit. I was just going to hear her out, let her apologize, and then leave. No strings attached. I wasn’t going to fall for her games again.

But when she opened the door, I felt my heart skip a beat. Paige looked… different. She had this look in her eyes, a mix of vulnerability and regret. And god, she was still beautiful. My pulse quickened.

“Can I come in?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Paige stepped aside, letting me walk past her into the apartment. The air between us was thick with tension, and I could feel the ghosts of our past lingering in every corner of the room.

The couch, where we used to cuddle for hours. The kitchen, where we shared countless meals. The bedroom—God, don’t even get me started.

“I know I fucked up,” Paige started, her voice hoarse. “I’ve been a terrible person to you. But you were my everything, and I messed that up. Please, just give me a chance.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I crossed my arms and looked at her, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between us. There was a time when I would’ve forgiven her without question, but I wasn’t that girl anymore.

“You know you don’t just get to walk back into my life like nothing happened,” I said, my voice cold. “You cheated on me. You broke my trust. Do you even know how much that hurts?”

She took a step toward me, her eyes pleading. “I do. I do, and I regret it every damn day. I’m sorry, more than you’ll ever understand. I just want us back. I don’t want to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to fight the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. But I couldn’t ignore the pull, the magnetic force that always seemed to draw me back to her. Even now, despite the pain, I still wanted her.

And maybe that was why, when she leaned in slowly, her lips brushing against mine in a gentle kiss, I didn’t pull away. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both testing the waters again. But the more I kissed her, the harder it became to hold onto the walls I’d spent the last two weeks building.

Before I knew it, the kiss deepened, and for a moment, I forgot everything. I forgot about the hurt. I forgot about the lies. All I could focus on was Paige and the feeling of her lips on mine, the warmth of her body pressing into mine.

But just as quickly as it started, I pulled away, my chest heaving. Paige’s eyes were wide, filled with confusion and hope.

“I’m sorry, Paige. I can’t do this,” I whispered, taking a step back. “This isn’t what I need. Not anymore.”

I turned to leave, walking quickly toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Paige didn’t try to stop me. She just stood there, staring after me in silence.

Five months later, I had moved on. I was dating someone else now—someone who treated me right, someone who respected me and my boundaries. But the shadow of Paige still hung over me, especially when I ran into her one night at a party. She was standing across the room with her friends, laughing and looking like she had everything under control.

I didn’t expect to feel anything when I saw her. But when her eyes met mine, something dark flickered in them. Her gaze didn’t leave mine as I made my way to the bar with my girlfriend, and I knew something was coming.

The next day, my phone blew up with messages from my girlfriend, who had seen the pictures. The ones where it looked like I was with Paige, laughing and standing way too close to each other.

“You told me you were done with her,” my girlfriend’s voice was shaky when she called me. “Why does it look like you’re cheating on me with Paige?”

“Wait, what?” My heart raced as I tried to process what she was saying. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was a setup. Paige—”

“Don’t even,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with hurt. “I can’t believe this. I thought you were over her.”

“I am over her!” I insisted, panicked now. “It was a mistake. You have to believe me.”

But she didn’t. She hung up on me, and I was left standing there, heartbroken, as everything seemed to fall apart.

I didn’t know where else to go, so I found myself outside Paige’s apartment again, my fists clenched as I knocked on the door.

When she opened it, there was no hesitation. I barged inside, anger fueling every step.

“You have no fucking right to ruin my life again, Paige!” I shouted, pacing the room. “You know damn well that was a setup, and you’re the one who orchestrated it!”

Paige didn’t back down. She stood there, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I’ve missed you, babe. I know you missed me too. That’s why you’re here.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t set this up!” I yelled, turning to face her. “You manipulated everything. You made sure I’d be caught in the middle of all this.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think,” she shot back, her eyes darkening with a mix of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, not anymore. You’re mine, and you always will be.”

My chest tightened. “I’m not yours anymore, Paige. I’m done with you.”

But before I could leave, she grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me back toward her. “Don’t walk away from me,” she said, her voice lower now, dangerous. “You know you want this. You always have.”

I tried to pull away, but she was stronger than me. She shoved me against the wall, her lips crashing into mine with an intensity that I couldn’t deny. My body betrayed me as I responded, the heat between us igniting once again. But I wasn’t going to let her win. Not like this.

I broke the kiss, shoving her away. “Fuck you, Paige. I’m not doing this again,” I spat, turning to leave.

But as I opened the door, I heard her voice one last time.

“I’d rather fuck you than anyone else, you know that,” Paige said, her words laced with smirking confidence.

I froze as I felt the heat of Paige’s body close in on me again. The distance between us, so fleeting moments ago, seemed to vanish in an instant.

My back hit the wall with a soft thud, and I gasped, breath caught in my throat as her hand found its way to my jaw. The sensation of her fingers against my skin was electric, sending a jolt straight to my chest, my heart pounding harder with every passing second.

“Don’t,” I tried again, the words almost a whisper, but they were powerless. My chest ached, a dull throb where my emotions collided with all the years of history we shared.

Paige’s smirk never faltered, but her eyes… her eyes held a fire I couldn’t quite read—something dangerous, something raw. She stepped even closer, bringing her body into full contact with mine. I could feel the heat radiating off of her, the undeniable pull between us, no matter how hard I fought it.

“You can’t walk away from me that easily,” she said, voice low and dangerous, her words slipping into the space between us like a threat.

I tried to pull away, but the wall behind me offered no escape. Paige’s free hand came up to rest on my hip, holding me in place. My breath hitched as her lips hovered just inches from mine. I could feel the tremor in her hands as they gripped me, as if she too was struggling to keep control of whatever was unfolding between us.

“You really think you can just throw us away like that?” Paige continued, her voice now a soft growl, a breath against my lips that made my pulse spike. She leaned in just enough for me to feel her proximity, her lips a mere whisper away from mine. “You know you want this. You always have. I can see it in your eyes.”

I tried to stay calm, tried to summon some shred of resistance, but everything inside me screamed to give in. I was caught between the desire to push her away and the instinct to let go, to lose myself in her again.

I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Paige.”

But then, she pressed her body fully into mine, the weight of her presence suffocating me, her lips brushing against my ear as she spoke again.

“Then why are you still here?” she asked, her tone almost teasing, like she knew exactly what was happening—how my resolve was crumbling under the pressure of everything that had once been so familiar.

Before I could respond, her lips found mine once more, this time more insistent, more demanding. And I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her back. It was a fleeting moment of weakness, a slip, a crack in the armor I’d built around myself.

But as quickly as it started, I pulled away again, my hands pushing against her chest, creating the tiniest gap between us.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling with frustration and longing, my breath shallow. “This isn’t us anymore, Paige. This is just you trying to have control. And I won’t let you.”

Paige’s eyes darkened, a storm flickering behind them. She reached up and cupped my face, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip like she was memorizing the feeling of it.

“Then stop pretending you don’t want this, too,” she said, her voice thick with something dangerous. “You think you can just walk away from me? That easy? After everything we’ve been through?”

Her words hung in the air, an unspoken truth between us. I hated how they made my stomach flip, how they made my resolve waver. But I couldn’t let her win. Not this time.

“I’m not yours anymore, Paige,” I said, my voice steady now, the weight of my decision crashing down. “I can’t keep letting you drag me through this.”

I pushed her hand away from my jaw, and for a second, she just stared at me—like she couldn’t believe what I was saying, what I was doing.

“I’m done,” I told her, the words leaving my mouth with a finality I hadn’t thought possible.

I shoved past her, but as I reached the door, I felt the sudden press of her palm against the wall beside me, blocking my exit.

“You’re not done with me,” she said, her tone low and dangerous, her breath warm against the side of my neck as she leaned in, her chest pressing against my back.

“Cause, I’ll never be done with you.”

“Seriously Paige, Don’t.”

“Don’t what, baby?” she purred, her voice a husky whisper that sent my pulse into overdrive. “Don’t touch you? Don’t kiss you? Or don’t remind you how good we are together?”

I tried to turn my head away, again, but she cupped my face in her hands, holding me captive. Her thumbs brushed against my cheekbones, a deceptively gentle gesture that belied the fire in her eyes. “I hate me,” I said, the words barely audible.

“I know,” she stated, her voice low and intense. “But I know want me. More than I want to admit.”

And then her mouth was on mine, a searing brand that erased all thought, all resistance. It was a kiss of pure, unadulterated need, a desperate claiming that left me breathless and weak. I tried to fight it, to push her away, but her strength was undeniable, her will unyielding. And deep down, a part of me didn’t want to fight it at all.

Her fingers danced down my body, teasing and tormenting, until they found the hem of my shirt. With a swift tug, it was gone, tossed carelessly to the floor. My bra followed soon after, leaving my breasts bare and aching for her touch.

“Wow, bet she doesn’t get you this wet, like I do, does she?” Paige whispered against my lips, her fingers already found a way of working their magic between my legs.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent thought. My body was a symphony of sensation, every nerve ending screaming for release. A whimper escaped my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice thick with lust. “Taking my fingers so well. You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

Her words were like a whip, lashing against my skin, igniting a firestorm of desire. I bucked against her hand, desperate for more, my body betraying every ounce of resistance I had left.

“Come on, baby,” she urged, her fingers relentless. “Cum for me. Cum on my hands.”

I gasped for breath, my body trembling in the aftermath. Paige continued to stroke me until the last shudders subsided. Then, she pulled her hand away, her fingers slick with my juices.

“Good girl,” she murmured, licking her fingers clean.

Before I could protest, she tossed me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I yelped in surprise, my head spinning as she carried me down the hall. She kicked the bedroom door shut with her foot, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

She dumped me unceremoniously onto the bed, her eyes never leaving mine. I scrambled to sit up, but she pinned me down with her hands, her body hovering over mine.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say the word,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

“Fuck you,” I spat, trying to push her away.

But she didn’t budge. Instead, she leaned down and captured my lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue plunged into my mouth, and I found myself responding despite my best intentions.

Her hands roamed over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She attacked my neck, sucking and biting until I cried out. Then, she moved lower, her mouth latching onto my breasts, teasing my nipples until they were hard and aching.

I moaned, my body arching beneath her touch. She knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed. And I was powerless to resist.

She moved lower still, her tongue tracing a path down my stomach, lower and lower until she reached the apex of my thighs. I gasped as she began to eat me out, her tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony.

As if she was on a mission, and having me under her was the end game. And it was working more than i wanted to admit.

I cried out, my body convulsing as I came again and again. “Mmm shit, ma that’s the 3rd time, I’ve made you cum only from my fingers and mouth. Alone.”

All I could do was whimper out while nodding head. I had been under Paige for so long, I lost track of time, lost track of everything except the exquisite pleasure that consumed me.

Eventually, finally she pulled away, leaving me gasping for breath, my body slick with sweat. She hovered over me, her eyes dark and possessive.

“You’re mine,” she said, her voice low and husky. “End of the day. You’re mine. I know you and your body more than you know yourself.”

And I knew, in that moment, that she was right. I was hers. Completely and utterly. And I hated her for it. For knowing that she was right.

Without a second thought she hooked the purple strap to her body, its smooth surface gleaming under the dim light of the bedroom. I watched her, my breath catching in my throat as she positioned herself between my legs.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice a low growl.

I nodded, my eyes locked on hers.

She plunged the strap into me, and I cried out, my body arching against the bed. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, but I found myself craving more.

She thrusted into me at full speed , her hips piston back and forth, driving deeper and deeper inside me. I moaned, my hands gripping the sheets tight enough to rip them.

At some point she used her strength and stamina to flip me over, face down into her satin sheets, testing my limits, exploring my desires.

"Yeah, takin' my dick, like a good lil' slut," she growled, her voice a husky rasp that vibrated through my very core. I didn’t tap out, not even when my legs were shaking and my body felt like jelly.

Each thrust of the strap sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain through my tight cunt, pushing me closer to the precipice of oblivion. My legs trembled, muscles screaming in protest, but yet I refused to yield. I wouldn't tap out. Not yet. Not while Paige held me captive in this exquisite torment.

Her words, laced with dominance and desire, fueled the fire within me. "Oh, I know she doesn't have you feeling this good," she purred, her breath hot against my ear.

"Bet she can't make you cry and fall apart at the same time." A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined the depths of pleasure she promised, the complete and utter surrender she demanded.

Paige's hand left the strap for a moment, and I whimpered in protest, desperate for the rhythm to continue. Instead, she delivered a sharp smack to my ass, the sting a delightful shock that jolted me back to the present.

"Don't you worry, baby," she whispered. "I’ve got you. Right where I want you."

The smacks continued, each one perfectly timed to coincide with the thrusts of the strap, creating a symphony of sensations that threatened to overwhelm me.

And then, she did something completely unexpected. I felt her reach for my phone, which lay discarded on the bed. A moment later, I heard the unmistakable sound of the camera app activating.

"Paige, what are you doing?" I managed to gasp, my voice strained.

"Just capturing the moment," she replied, her voice dripping with amusement. "For posterity."

I could feel the heat of her gaze on my back as she positioned the phone, framing the shot. I knew exactly what she was doing, the image she was creating: me, bent over her bed, completely at her mercy.

And then, she did something even more shocking. I felt the vibrations of the phone as she typed a message, and a moment later, I heard the unmistakable "whoosh" of it being sent.

"What did you do?" I demanded, my voice barely a whisper.

"Sent a little message to your now ex girlfriend," Paige purred. "Just letting her know who you really belong to."

"What did you say?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

Paige leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear. "I just told her that you've always been mine," she whispered. "Even when you're not."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and unspoken desires. I knew that this was a line that couldn't be uncrossed, a point of no return. But as I lay there, pinned beneath her, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Paige resumed her relentless assault, her movements growing more frantic, more desperate. She was taking me apart, piece by piece, stripping away the layers of control and inhibition that I had so carefully constructed.

"That's it," she groaned, her voice thick with passion. "Almost there. Just a little bit more."

I could feel the pressure building inside me, a tightening coil of energy that threatened to explode. My body was trembling uncontrollably, every nerve ending on fire.

My body was a taut string, vibrating with every touch, every word, every movement. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the raw, primal energy that pulsed between us.

Paige continued her assault, her voice a constant stream of filth and praise. She told me how good I felt, how wet I was, how much she loved the way I writhed beneath her touch. Her words were like gasoline on a fire, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

I was teetering on the edge, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The world around me began to blur, the only reality the feel of Paige's hand on my ass, the pressure of the strap inside me, the sound of her voice in my ear.

"That's it, baby," she urged, sensing my impending release. "Let it go. Let it all go."

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, I shattered. My body convulsed, every muscle contracting in a spasm of pure, unadulterated pleasure. A strangled cry escaped my lips as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me, obliterating everything in its path.

I was vaguely aware of Paige slowing her movements, her grip on the strap relaxing as she allowed me to ride out the storm. My body trembled, my skin flushed, my mind blank. I was completely and utterly spent, a broken mess of pleasure and exhaustion.

As the aftershocks subsided, Paige gently withdrew the strap, leaving me feeling empty and vulnerable. She straddled my back, her fingers tracing slow, sensuous circles on my skin.

"You were so good, baby," she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction. "You took everything I gave you and more."

I moaned softly, burying my face in the satin sheets. I was too weak to speak, too drained to move. All I could do was bask in the afterglow of our encounter, the memory of her touch, her words, her power.

I melted into the soft sheets, the weight of my body sinking deeper as Paige’s hands worked their magic. Each touch seemed to ease the tension that had been building up for days, months even, and I felt the knots in my muscles begin to loosen under her skilled touch.

Her fingers slid over my skin, gentle yet firm, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Relax, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet room. “I’ve got you.”

I nodded weakly, my eyelids heavy, fighting the exhaustion that settled over me. There was something about her touch, something familiar and comforting, that made me forget the chaos, the hurt, the arguments.

It made me forget the reasons why I had walked away in the first place. In this moment, all that mattered was the way she made me feel—safe, cared for, even cherished.

But as my mind drifted in and out of clarity, the weight of the past slowly crept back in. The reality of who Paige was, who we were together, hovered like a dark cloud.

I shifted slightly, turning my face toward her, my breath slow but heavy. I could feel my chest rising and falling, but there was a growing heaviness in my heart. Something I couldn’t ignore.

“We’re bad for each other, you know?” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s hand stilled for a moment, but she didn’t pull away. Her thumb brushed over the back of my hand, as if it was the only way she knew how to respond to the weight of my words.

“I know,” she murmured quietly, her words heavy with understanding. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go, baby.”

I sighed softly, pulling away just enough to meet her gaze. My heart ached with the familiar conflict, the toxic dance we’d been doing for so long. The way she made me feel wanted, cared for, but also how she always seemed to break me down in the process.

“You’re toxic, Paige,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. It felt like the words had been buried inside me for so long, waiting to be released, to be said out loud.

Paige’s lips parted, but she didn’t protest. She didn’t argue. She simply nodded, like she’d expected it.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes softening with something unreadable. “But I’ll work on it. I promise. I don’t want to lose you.”

I closed my eyes, my chest tightening. I wanted to believe her, I really did. But every part of me screamed that it wasn’t enough. The past weighed too heavily between us, the broken promises, the betrayals. I wasn’t sure if I could ever really trust her again.

“You have to really work on it, Paige,” I said, my voice shaky with the vulnerability I hated showing her. “I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”

She didn’t say anything at first. She just pulled me closer, her lips brushing over the top of my head, her embrace tightening around me. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise, even if I wasn’t sure I could trust it yet.

“Shh,” Paige whispered, her voice a soft hum against my ear. “Just rest, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

I felt my body give in again, the exhaustion creeping back into my bones as she held me, her warmth wrapping around me like a blanket.

But the words still lingered in my mind. We’ll figure it out.

I spent the next few days in a quiet, reluctant haze, unsure of what to do with the mess of emotions I was feeling. I stayed away from Paige, avoiding her calls and texts, keeping my distance like I was trying to protect myself from getting hurt again.

It wasn’t easy.

I hated the silence between us, but I also couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that if I stayed, I’d fall into the same pattern again. We both needed time.

But after a week of avoiding her, I received a message that I couldn’t ignore.

“Please stop avoiding me. I thought we agreed to work on it… I want to work on it with you.”

I felt a lump form in my throat as I read her words. She wanted to try. She wanted to work on it. But was it too late? Could we fix what was broken between us?

I chewed on my lip, staring at the message as conflicting emotions flooded me. I was still angry, still hurt. But part of me missed her—the genuine parts of her, the ones I thought I could trust. I couldn’t deny the pull, the yearning to fix what we had.

Taking a deep breath, I responded, my fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before I typed back.

“I need time, Paige. I can’t keep letting myself get hurt, but I’m willing to try. But only if you are.”

The message was out before I could second-guess it, and I stared at the screen, feeling a strange sense of relief.

I wasn’t sure what to expect after sending that message. Part of me feared Paige would take my hesitation as rejection and pull away, but another part of me hoped—really hoped—she meant what she said about working on herself.

A week passed before I saw her again. I had buried myself in studying for finals, hoping that the stress of exams would distract me from the constant push and pull of my emotions. It worked, for the most part. But then, on a quiet afternoon in the Homer Babbidge Library, Paige found me.

I was sitting at one of the tables tucked in the corner, headphones in, my notes spread out in front of me. My brain was fried from cramming, and I had just leaned back in my chair to take a deep breath when I noticed her approaching.

She stood there for a moment, hands stuffed into the pockets of her UConn hoodie, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. But there was something softer in her eyes, something careful.

“Didn’t think you could hide from me forever, did you?” she teased, but her voice lacked the usual cockiness.

I sighed, closing my notebook. “I wasn’t hiding,” I lied.

Paige chuckled, pulling out the chair across from me without waiting for an invitation. “You were definitely hiding,” she countered. “But I’m not here to call you out. I wanted to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point.

She hesitated, drumming her fingers against the table before speaking. “We have a home game tomorrow. You should come.”

I looked away, unsure.

Paige leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Look, I know you’re still unsure about me. About us. And I get it. But I meant what I said—I’m trying. I want to show you, not just tell you. So, come to the game. Let me take you to dinner after. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

Her words hit something deep inside me. I searched her face, looking for any sign of manipulation, any hint of the Paige I used to fight with. But all I saw was sincerity.

“…Okay,” I finally said, the word coming out quieter than I intended.

Paige’s smile was small but genuine. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

And so, the next night, I found myself sitting courtside, watching as Paige dominated the game. She played with a fire I hadn’t seen in a while, her focus sharper, her movements calculated. Every time she scored, her eyes found mine in the crowd, a silent message passing between us.

After the game, she met me outside the locker room, still in her jersey, her hair damp from sweat. “You came,” she said, a little breathless.

“I said I would,” I replied.

Paige grinned, then reached for my hand. She hesitated for a split second before intertwining our fingers. “Come on,” she said, squeezing lightly. “Dinner’s on me.”

Dinner that night was different than any we’d had before. It wasn’t tense or filled with unspoken words. We talked—really talked—about everything. Paige told me about therapy, how she had been taking it more seriously since that night we last spent together.

“I know I have a lot of shit to work through,” she admitted, stirring her drink absentmindedly. “But I don’t want to be the person who keeps hurting you. I want to be better, for myself. And for you.”

Her words made something inside me soften. Maybe, just maybe, she really meant it.

After that night, Paige made it a habit to pull me back into her world. She convinced me to come to more of her games, to join her at parties, to grab late-night food at Ted’s.

Some nights, she’d show up at my apartment, asking to stay over, and other nights, I found myself in her bed, falling asleep to the sound of her steady breathing.

It was slow, cautious, but it felt… right.

A month passed like this, both of us dancing on the edge of something more. Then one night, after another home game, Paige drove me back to my place.

We sat in the car for a moment, the engine still running, the air between us charged with something unspoken.

Paige shifted, turning to face me fully. “I don’t want to do this halfway anymore,” she said.

I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair, “I want you to be mine again. Officially. No more weird in-between, no more hesitation. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

I stared at her, my heart pounding. Part of me had been waiting for this moment, but another part of me was terrified.

She must have seen the uncertainty in my eyes because she reached for my hand, rubbing small circles into my palm.

“I know I hurt you,” she said softly. “And I know I can’t erase the past. But I meant what I said—I’m working on myself. And I want to keep working on this. On us.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Was I really ready to give us another shot?

But then I looked at Paige—really looked at her. The way she was looking at me, waiting, hoping. She had changed. Maybe not completely, maybe not perfectly, but enough for me to see that she was serious about this.

So, after a long pause, I squeezed her hand back.

“…Okay,” I whispered.

Paige’s face lit up with relief and something else—something warm.

“Yeah?” she asked, as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah.”

And just like that, we started again. But this time, we were determined to do it right.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc

I N T E R L U D E

warnings: mentions of suicide and rape, trauma, suicidal thoughts, pregnancy, childbirth, blood, post-natal depression. just heavy maternity topics altogether, but also soooo much fluff. a little bit before the next chapter 👀 also, yes, I'm fine, I'm just exploring what I can do :)

The following is a series of audio and video recordings belonging to one L.REED recovered from their residence.

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #1

(The static crackles. A breath. Then a sniff—quick, sharp, like she’s trying to get herself under control. The mic picks up the soft creak of wood, and the rustle of fabric as she shifts.)

“It’s… ten-thirty-two in the night. August third.” (A pause, her voice stiff like she’s reading from a script. Then, softer—like admitting it to herself as much as the recorder—) “And I think I...”

(Silence. Then another slow breath. Hesitant, unwilling.)

“I mean, I'm um, in my living room.” (A beat.) “And I have just found out I am pregnant.”

(The words sit there, utterly unwelcome. She sniffs, a wet sound, then lets out a short, uneven breath like a laugh she doesn’t feel.)

“I know how it happened. I know what my body is capable of, what the biology is, how it works, what I—what I couldn’t have stopped. But knowing doesn’t change anything.” (Another beat, like she’s swallowing down a jagged marble.) “I cannot fix this. Cannot stop it. I have no say in this. None.”

(Her voice shakes on the last word, and she inhales sharply like she’s trying to stop it from happening.)

“I just…” (A sniff, another breath, her voice almost inaudible—) “I just wish I knew what the hell to do now.”

(Silence. Not empty. Suffocating. She shifts again, restless, like she can’t stand the feeling of being in her body.)

“I’m so scared. And so... alone. But I can't have anyone near me, not with everything I am now.” (The smallest her voice has ever been.)

“I think I’m—four months in, maybe more. My stomach, it's…” (A soft exhale, like she’s looking down at it, touching it, struggling to accept it.) “It’s getting bigger every day. The baby is growing fast. I feel it when I sleep, when I roll over, when I move. It's in there. Real, alive. Something I didn’t ask for.”

(She stops, swallowing hard before forcing herself to go on.)

“My body—it doesn’t want this. It knows it doesn't belong to me anymore. I can feel it. It’s rejecting food, rejecting rest, rejecting reason. I—I am so tired, I can barely think, but my mind won’t shut off. I keep trying to get back onto research, to make sense of my life but I can’t focus, I can't sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t stop—” (Her voice catches, and she presses her lips together. A second passes before she forces the next words out.)

“I can’t forget. But I also can’t remember. Not all of it. Just—these pieces. Bits that crawl in when I least expect. And when it comes... I cannot move. Breathe. I am helpless to escape it.”

(She exhales sharply, frustrated, like she hates herself for saying it.)

“Maria, the leader of this new commune, brought a doctor home. She said the baby will be born around mid-January.” (A pause. Then, the tiniest scoff, that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so resentful.) “That’s five months. Five months until—” (She stops. Another breath.) “Until this is real. Until I have to face this.”

(And then her voice shifts—tightens, sharpens like she’s trying to force steel into it.)

“But it’s not mine.” (The words come fast, desperate, like if she says it enough, she’ll believe it.) “It’s not. I know it’s not.”

(She inhales too quickly, voice trembling as she goes on—rushed, frantic—like she’s trying to outrun a danger that’s catching up to her.)

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I'm going to stain the poor thing, I'm going to ruin it. I can’t be a mother. I can’t care for it, I can’t love it, I—I don’t want to. How could I?” (Her breath stutters, her voice turning quiet, broken—) “Not when every time I look at it, all I’ll see is them.”

(A silence. Her breathing is uneven now, rough around the edges. When she speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper.)

“I still hear them.” (A lull, thick and trembling.) “At night, in the hallway. I think it's them. The shadows. Their footsteps, their laughter. I think I'm going crazy. I can't stop reliving it. I thought it was over the moment I burned that place. I thought I was safe. That they were gone.”

(She swallows, breath shaking.)

“I still smell them on me. It reeks.” (A horrible, suffocating admission. Then nothing.)

(Silence. The static hums, filling the empty space. And then, a sound—tearful, muffled. She’s crying. But she won’t let herself fall apart. She won’t.)

“I feel them everywhere.” (The words barely make it out. Like they weren’t meant to.)

(Then—one deep, rattling breath. Too big for her lungs, like she’s struggling to contain everything inside her.)

“It takes everything in me not to throw myself off that dam. Easy, isn't it? One jump, you fall, your bones break, you deserve every bit of the pain, and eventually you drown. Calm.” (Flat. Hollow. A simple truth.)

“Were it not for the tiny human depending on me...” (Her voice is small again. Furious. Tired. Fading.) “And until it’s out, I have to stay.”

(Silence. Long, awful silence.)

“I can’t love it.” (A raw confession. A wound.) “But I can’t kill it either.”

(Another silence. She sniffs hard, then inhales slowly, forcing the air into her lungs.)

“I have to stay alive.” (A breath. Then another.) “At least until this baby is out of me and safe.”

(Click.)

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #2

(The static clicks on. A breath, like she’s convincing herself she’s fine before she speaks.)

“It’s… ten-sixteen in the evening. September the eighth." (Her voice is steadier than the last recording. Detached, almost clinical, like she’s just logging facts.) “I’m in my living room.”

(A longer pause. A shift of fabric, like she’s adjusting, trying to get comfortable. Then—)

“I’m five months in now. More than halfway.” (The words land heavier than she expects. Another pause, like she’s thinking about it too much. Then—quieter—) “I’ve gotten used to the bump. It’s just… there. Part of me now. Stopping me, restricting me.”

(Another inhale, then a sigh, frustrated.)

“But the food—god. I just can’t eat.” (The words come out sharper, like she’s sick of repeating herself, sick of struggling.) “Nothing stays down except eggs. And I hate eggs now. But it’s the only thing I can stomach, so I eat them. Every damn day. Maria jokes that I've gone through most of Jackson's egg produce this month.”

(A quiet lull. A shift, and then, softer—like she’s speaking more to herself than the recorder—)

“Y'know, I hate that food is a necessity to the human physiology. That my body demands it even when I don’t want it.” (Another beat. Then, bitterly—) “Like I don’t have enough things forcing me to keep going.”

(Silence. Then, her voice drops lower, a heaviness creeping in.)

“My research has stalled. Not that it matters. I stared at the board for days now, and nothing.” (A sharp laugh.) “I’m a disappointment anyway. A waste of space. My parents left this world thinking they were handing their life’s work to someone capable. Someone who’d do something with it. Carry it forward.” (A swallow.) “Sorry, Mama. Sorry, Daddy. I blew it. I failed you.”

(Her voice stays even, but it's cracked at the edges, barely holding together.)

“I’ll be joining them soon enough. Incomplete, inadequate. Useless.”

(Silence stretches. Then, she exhales, long and controlled, like pushing that thought out of her lungs.)

“Now, Maria won’t leave me alone.” (Flat. Matter-of-fact.) “Neither will her husband, Tommy. He’s… alright. Nice, even. But they keep coming by. With food. With medicine. With advice I don’t want. They think they’re helping.” (A humourless snort.) “They won’t listen when I tell them to stop and leave me alone.”

(A pause. Then, quieter—reflective—) “Maybe that’s why they keep showing up. But I don't need their hope. I just need to stay alive, stay away and have this baby.”

(Another pause. A change in her tone—slightly lighter, curious.)

“Tommy told me today that the house across from mine isn’t empty after all. Says his brother has been living there for sometime now. Joel.” (She repeats the name, testing it in her mouth, unfamiliar.) “Said if I needed anything, I could go to him.” (A scoff.) “Like that's happening anytime soon. I don't need anything from anyone. I just need to... think.”

(Silence. Then, there's a difference in her voice—unsure, reluctant.)

“But… I’ve been watching him.” (A quiet, almost amused breath.) “Not in a way that's intrusive. He's doing it in plain sight. Wasting away, like me.” (A soft exhale, like she’s shaking her head at herself.) “He just—he has this routine. I haven't understood it yet.”

(She shifts again like she’s glancing toward the window as she speaks.)

“Every night, he sits on his porch with that guitar of his. He plays. Sometimes he sings.” (Another pause. Then, softer—) “It’s… nice. Simple.”

(The words linger, like she didn’t expect to admit them. Then, quieter—almost like a secret—)

“It helps. It calms me.”

(Another silence. The mic picks up a faint sound—her fingers rubbing against fabric, an absent movement, thoughtful.)

“I feel the baby kick when I listen.” (She exhales, almost like a laugh—small, tired, but real.) “Maria says that’s a good thing that the baby is kicking. That it means it’s healthy.” (Then, neutrally—) “I don’t care.”

(And yet, she doesn’t sound entirely convinced. Then, softer, quieter—like she hasn’t let herself think this before—)

“But I guess it’s nice to know it’s happy inside me. That I can still...”

(Another pause. Her next words are barely more than a whisper—like she isn’t even sure she wants to say them out loud—)

“That there’s something about me it likes. Even if I'm much worse than those Infected out there.”

(Silence. Then, the click of the recorder shutting off.)

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #3

(The static clicks on. A deep exhale, then a groan, voice laced with exhaustion.)

“My back has been killing me. I think it’s splintering apart every time I move. Which means my baby is getting bigger by the day. And happier, too, apparently.” (A tired laugh, warm despite itself.) “Kicks all through the night—doesn’t let up for even a second.”

(A beat. And then, quieter, softer—like she’s only just realizing it herself—)

“I really like it. I like thinking about it, rather than the nightmares. How it might feel to hold the baby. See it smile at me.”

(Silence, just for a second. Then—another small, breathy laugh, almost amused at herself.)

“I mean, yeah, I can’t sleep when I think of this, but… I stay up. Just listening. Feeling it move. And when I talk—like right now—ooh—oof, okay, I felt that one.” (A giggle, surprised, unguarded.) “Yeah, okay, I know you’re in there, baby. I'm listening. You having fun? Spacious enough for you?”

(Barely more than a whisper—like it’s a thought she isn’t meant to say out loud—)

“Why do you like me so much?”

(A beat. Her voice turns dry, self-deprecating—like she’s brushing it off before it can settle too deep.)

“Huh, guess you haven’t met me yet. You'll hate me just as soon.”

(Abruptly lighter—like she’s trying to reroute her own thoughts before they get too serious.)

“So, I’ve been eating more. Craving more, actually. Blueberries. Mashed potatoes, mostly. Which is good, carbohydrates are energy. Good for the baby. I've had so much of it, I swear I might give birth to a sack of potatoes instead.” (A small, wry chuckle.) “Baby doesn’t seem to mind, though. I've put on twelve pounds, easy. I feel so large.”

(Silence for a moment. And then, her voice shifts again—subtly different now. Thoughtful… curious.)

“Oh and, well. My neighbour’s made some progress. It's always nice to see.”

(A hint of amusement now, almost teasing.)

“Finally combed his hair. Patched up his shoes. Got himself a nice shirt. And—get this—he played my favourite song the other day. Handy Man.” (A small exhale, almost a sigh.) “I even sat out on the porch steps just to listen. He’s got a good voice. A real singer's voice. Maybe he was once upon a time.”

(A pause, and then—quieter, like she’s saying it more to herself—)

“Baby and I went wild for it. We hear him sing every night now, without fail.”

(Silence lingers this time. When she speaks again, her voice is different. Not playful anymore. Not light.)

“I didn't ask, but Tommy tells me Joel’s been through hell. That he's still going through it.”

(Silence lingers, stretching out like a thread pulled too tight. Then, a sharp inhale—one that shakes, just slightly, before she steadies herself.)

“Yeah. That’s something we’ve got in common in this awful world.”

(She exhales, but it’s not relief. It’s bitter, sitting on the back of her tongue.)

“I hate that we do. Some arbitrary, lonely, bitter man... and me.”

(A pause. Not empty—just full of things she doesn’t want to think about. Full of everything she’s been trying not to feel.)

But it's creeping in any way.

She’s spent so long trying not to really see him. Just some man with a permanent scowl and a slouch that almost looked like he was reverting the evolution chart back to ape. The kind of grief that takes the pressure out of a man’s steps, that hollows him out so bad you start to wonder if there’s anything left inside at all.

It was easy to ignore. To dismiss. Just another ghost of a person.

But then—then she started watching.

Not on purpose. Not at first. She’d catch glimpses—him sitting on his porch, fingers idly plucking at the strings of his guitar, eyes staring out at nothing, lost in some place she wasn’t sure he’d ever come back from. Sometimes that pretty little girl would stop by, sit with him, and talk to him. Joel barely ever spoke. But he listened to her, hanging onto her every word.

And then Leela started listening, too.

And the more she listened, the more she saw. How he still went on patrol, and still did what he had to. How, despite all that he carried on his shoulders, he never let it slow him down. How he walked around like a man who had no reason left to live—except he was still here. Still moving, existing, even when it looked like it hurt.

She saw herself in that, and she hated it.

Because he had already given up. And she hadn’t. Not fully.

So, the words slip out before she even realizes she’s saying them. They sound strange. Foreign. Like they don’t belong to her...

“I don’t want to die.”

(She swallows. The admittance has been buried under months of fear, exhaustion and numbness.)

“If that man can do it, just live for the sake of it, why can't I?”

(It's harsh. She means it.)

“So, not dying just yet. I'm going to have this baby and I'll make it work. That's what I do best. I am not a quitter.”

(A deep inhale. Exhale. Like she’s setting a task down. Or maybe picking that task up.)

“I have too much left to do in this house. I have to finish what they started. I'm not giving up.”

(A pause. Then, almost like an afterthought—)

“For my parents. For their legacy. For me. I will not die.”

(A soft clearing of her throat. Getting back to the facts now.)

“It's eight-twenty-two in the evening, November the second. I'm in my living room. Seven months in. Um, Leela signing off.”

(Click.)

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #5

(The static clicks on. A deep, shuddering breath. Then another. It’s slow, controlled—like she’s fighting to keep it together.)

“Uh, eight months now. Ow... Eleven pm, I think. Kitchen. December nineteenth, right? God, my D-day's in three weeks. I just get cramps more often now.”

(She exhales, sharp and strained.)

“It’s not bad. It’s just—” (a shifting sound like she’s trying to find a comfortable position) “—it’s like having my period. Constantly. I can't believe the shit women have to go through.”

(Another breath—this one shorter, hitching slightly at the end.)

“So, Maria’s sentenced me to bed rest now. Tommy comes by every day to check on me. I’m… I’m so grateful for them. But I really don't need anyone to...”

(A deep breath. Then, suddenly—)

“Ooh—” (A small, startled sound, not quite a groan, but close.) “Yeah, there it is. Comes and goes. I've got to start tracking that, too.”

(A long silence follows. Just static humming in the background. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter—faintly distracted, like her mind has wandered somewhere else.)

“But I’m doing okay. I think. I’m eating more. I’ve tried to move around a little, to cook for myself, but…” (a breath, then a tired huff of laughter) “…my garden is overgrown. Like, completely. It’s a jungle out there. And the house…” (she sighs, deeply, the weight of it pressing down on her words) “I keep seeing everything that needs to be fixed. Loose floorboards, dusty windows, and a leaky pipe in the kitchen. I’ve let it go to hell. Daddy would be furious.”

“I guess I’ve been too busy… I don’t know. Baking a baby? Surviving?”

(Another shift, a slight creak of whatever she’s sitting on.)

“I set up a nursery. Because the baby needs space to feel at home.” (Her tone is vague. Then, wryly—) “Heh, a nursery. If you can even call it that.”

“It’s just my old crib. In the nearest room.” (A beat.) “That’s it.”

“I wanted to do more. I really did. But it was hell just getting that stupid thing up the stairs. Had to drag it, inch by inch. Thought I was gonna throw up halfway through.” (She lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, but it fades quickly.)

“God, this baby’s gonna hate me so much.”

(Silence. Just for a second. Just long enough for that thought to settle.)

“And what’s even scarier than that? The actual birth.” (Her voice tightens. She doesn’t want to say this, but it’s been sitting in her head for too long, and now it’s coming out whether she wants it to or not.)

“I've been warned that it’s going to hurt a lot. That it's not just a simple push.” (A breath. A hand, maybe, pressed to her stomach—may be pressing against a cramp, maybe just needing to feel the realness.)

“Like bones breaking. That’s what they say.” (A quick inhale.) “That there's going to be a lot of blood and mush. That it could last hours. The 'labour pains'. A whole day. That when it happens, I’ll need to find someone, fast. Get myself to the clinic. That I’ll need help.”

“But what if I don’t?”

(Her voice is smaller now. Fragile. Like a crack she’s been trying to plaster over, finally starting to widen.)

“What if something happens? What if it starts in the middle of the night, and I can’t get to anyone in time? What if I… what if I die? What if I die without ever seeing my baby? What if I die without finishing my research?”

(A sharp, unsteady inhale. Then silence. Heavy, pressing down on everything.)

“There was this nice old woman who came over.” (Her voice is different now, like she’s remembering, and grounding herself.) “She told me that plenty of women have done it on their own. That it’s a matter of strength and love. That I have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t know if I believe her. The thought of blood and guts is scaring me.” (A breath, then, like she’s forcing herself to say it—) “But I have to be ready. Just in case.”

(A long pause. Then, quietly—like she’s reminding herself, she’s willing it to be true—)

“I know I won’t be alone. There are people here around me now. Joel from across the street. The old couple next door. Maria. Tommy.” (A beat. A swallow.) “But… on the off chance?”

(Another pause. Then, softer—like a vow, like a promise, like she’s holding onto it with both hands.)

“I’m going to fight like hell.”

(Click.)

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #6

(Click. A beat of silence. Then, her voice—soft, thoughtful, almost hesitant, like she doesn’t know why she’s saying this out loud.)

“It's December the twenty-second. Nine-seventeen in the morning. Um... Joel came by my place.”

(A pause. Then, quieter—almost to herself—)

“I don’t know why I feel the need to log that. This is supposed to be about the baby, not…” (A sigh.) “Whatever. It's not like anyone's going to hear this.”

(Then, the faintest hint of a scoff—amused, self-aware—)

“He was only here for, what, two minutes? Less than that? Just long enough to hand me some food. Tommy couldn’t bring it over—something about the Christmas celebrations in town. So, I guess Joel got stuck with it. Poor guy.”

(A beat. A shift in her voice, like she’s turning the memory over in her mind, inspecting it.)

“It’s different, seeing him up close. I’ve been watching him from across the street for months—just glimpses, shadows, the sound of his guitar carrying over, entertaining us. But when someone’s right in front of you, you see things you didn’t before.”

(She exhales, thoughtful.)

“He’s taller than I thought. Very... big.” (A soft, almost breathless chuckle, like she’s realizing how ridiculous that sounds.) “I don’t know why that surprised me. He looked tiny from all the way here.”

(A pause. Then, slower, like she’s piecing it together as she speaks—)

“He’s got more silver in his hair than I realized. I'm guessing he's around fifty. And this scar, right on his temple—looks like a bullet just barely missed him. He smells like sweat and dirt and old clothes that’ve been worn too many days in a row. And his eyes…”

(She trails off for a second, then swallows, trying to find the words.)

“They’re thin. Sad. Not in an obvious way, but—” (She exhales, frustrated, like she’s mad at herself for not explaining it right.) “—they turn down at the edges. Could be from age the way Daddy was, or could be from grief. Maybe both. He's seen too much.”

(A quiet halt. Then, abruptly—)

“He’s handsome, right? For his age.” (A beat. Then, drier—) “Not that I’d know what the hell that means. The only men in my life are Daddy and Tommy.”

(A change. Something smaller now. More personal.)

“He didn’t even knock.” (Another breath, like she’s thinking back on it.) “Wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t seen him standing there and opened the door first.”

(A pause.)

“He asked about me. The baby, I mean.”

(She says it softly, like it means more to her than she wants it to.)

“It was… weird. Having him there, asking me. S'like watching something from a distance for so long and then suddenly finding yourself in the middle of it.”

(She inhales.)

“He nodded. And that was it. Just turned and left. Now I wished I'd talked a little more. I'd like to be his friend.”

(A beat. Then, softer, almost like a realization—)

“And this morning, the snow on my pavement was gone.” (A faint, barely-there smile in her voice—) “He did it for me.”

(Silence stretches for a moment like she’s sitting with everything she just said. And then, almost too soft to hear—)

“Sweet, sad man.”

(And then, barely above a whisper—)

“He saved my life without even knowing it.”

(The static runs for a while. Click.)

X

The first wave of labour pain came like a shockwave. Sharp, deep, untimely.

Leela sucked in a tight breath, stiffening, clutching the edge of the sink as a dull ache bloomed low in her belly, deep in her bones. Her nightgown stuck to the backs of her thighs, damp, and—

She looked down. A thin stream of fluid ran down the inside of her leg, spilling onto the marble floor. Clear. Warm.

No. Her heart lurched. Her mind reeled, scrambling for numbers, for weeks, for the dates that made sense—four weeks early.

“No,” she whispered, gripping the sink tighter.

She wasn’t ready. The baby wasn’t ready.

Another wave of pain slammed into her. Worse. Like the baby inside her was twisting, pushing, trying to force its way out between her legs. She gasped, curling forward, forehead pressed against the mirror. Her reflection blurred in the fog of her breath.

Was she dying? Was the baby dying? Had she done something wrong?

Breathe. Breathe, she repeated to herself. It was probably just another cramp. Although it felt worse than usual.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember Maria’s voice. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

She counted. She breathed. She thought through the haze, clutching the one that mattered.

Get help.

Joel.

The name came without hesitation. She didn’t question it.

Leela stumbled out of the bathroom, one hand gripping the swell of her belly, the other steadying herself on the walls as she made her way down the stairs. She barely felt the cold wooden steps beneath her feet—just the pulsing, unbearable reduction to her thighs. Another contraction hit before she reached the bottom, and she collapsed onto the last step, twisting her ankle with a strangled sound, curling into herself.

Too fast. Too fast. Slow down.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She wasn't prepared. Her baby was going to die, she was going to kill this baby—no.

She was saving this baby. The baby was going to live today.

She gritted her teeth, forced herself upright, and half-ran, half-fell toward the door. The night hit her like ice shards, the biting winds slashing through her thin clothes. Snow stung her bare feet, but she didn’t stop, didn’t think—just kept moving.

One house. Just one house. That was all she needed. And the baby will be safe.

She barely made it up the porch steps before the next contraction sent her crashing to her knees.

Leela gasped through the pain, body curling forward, forehead pressing against the frozen wood. She couldn’t—couldn’t—stay here. Couldn’t do this alone.

With the last of her strength, she reached up and knocked. A polite knock, at first. Stupid. She was past politeness now.

“Please help me.” Her breathless voice barely carried over the wind.

Nothing.

Inside, something crashed. A bottle? A chair? He was there. He just hadn't heard her.

So, she knocked again, harder this time. Her whole fist. Faster. Desperate.

“Joel. Please.” Her voice wavered, although louder. The next contraction was coming, she could feel it rolling over her, pulling her under—and then, from inside—something shattering onto the floor. A glass. A plate.

“I said fuck off!”

A thundering snarl, slurred and dangerous.

The force of the yell startled her back, her sore heel slipping on the icy porch, sending her stumbling into the railing. The world tilted, and then—pain.

She crumpled onto the cold wood, a ragged sob ripping from her throat as the contraction slammed into her.

She tried to breathe. Couldn’t. Tried to move. Couldn’t. Her body was locking up, shaking, curling in on itself against the cold. No one was coming. Completely alone.

She had to leave. She had to go. Joel wasn't coming.

But—she had no energy to make it to the next house.

The wind had already swallowed her footprints by the time she stumbled back through her front door. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed, the door swinging shut behind her with a dull thud. Cold. The floor was so cold. Or maybe that was her. She couldn't tell anymore.

Her eyes tracked up the daunting stairs that led right up to the washroom. Somewhere warm and clean.

She cried out. “No.”

She couldn't go up there. She couldn't move.

Her fingers dug into the floorboards as the next wave of pain tore through her, blinding, all-consuming, like her body was being ripped apart from the inside out. She gasped, legs curling in, a sob clawing its way up her throat.

She couldn’t do this.

She needed help.

But there was no one. Joel had sent her away, possibly passed out drunk. No one else was awake. No one knew. Of course—it was Christmas Eve. Everyone would be up at the square, raising their cups in celebration.

She pressed her forehead to the floor, breath shuddering against the wood. It hurt so much. It was too much.

And still, the baby kept coming.

The contractions came in surges, pulling her under, like dark waves on a cliff, and stealing the air from her lungs with every swell.

She lost track of time. Minutes. Hours. An epoch.

Her body wasn’t her own anymore. No, it was ravaged by the pangs and pangs of shooting pain. It was something else entirely—a force of nature, unstoppable, breaking her open, splitting her apart.

She couldn't stop trembling. Somewhere in the haze of pain, she thought of her mama. Her mama never got to do this; it was why she got her. She thought of the women who had done this before, utterly alone, on dirt floors, in darkened rooms. She thought of how she’d sworn she would never be one of them.

And yet—she was.

She whimpered, nails scraping weakly against the wood. “Please, baby. Please don't do this to me.”

She couldn’t do this. She had to do this.

The next contraction ripped through her, and she screamed. The sound barely made it past the walls. The winds outside devoured her cry for help.

She had to move.

Leela’s hands shook as she crawled across the floor, belly sagging, breath uneven. Her body felt alien, now it really didn’t belong to her anymore—just another one of her machines grinding itself down to dust, gears forcing, and bent on one purpose. Pushing this child out.

Her head swam. She was soaked in sweat. Every muscle in her body clenched and burned.

Get up, Leela.

She made it to the kitchen on sheer instinct, her knees bruising against the tile, ankle smarting, fingers scrambling at the counter.

Something soft. To sit on. To lie on. A towel.

Her hands closed around one. She fumbled to turn on the tap, let the water run warm, and then laid the cloth on the floor. The heat bloomed through the fabric as she slogged onto it, already improving the sensations.

Okay. Okay. Think.

She was alone. She was doing this alone. It was okay.

Her arms trembled as she lowered herself down, lying back, spine flat to the floor, trying to find some way to ease the vicious fire tearing her open.

She was gasping, sobbing, whispering half-broken things under her breath—prayers, curses, for her mother. Mostly her mother. She imagined her looming over her, holding her hand, stroking her hair, telling her she was so brave. It felt good, until it didn't.

“Please, please, please...” she begged no one.

Another contraction hit.

Her entire body seized. The pain was a wave—no, an earthquake, this time, tearing through the core of her. This may have broken a bone in her ribs, she was sure of it.

She clenched her jaw so hard she thought she might crack a tooth.

A sound ripped out of her. Somewhere between a wail and a growl. She didn't even know what made sense anymore. Breathing? Dying? Choking?

She was splitting apart. She knew it.

But it wasn’t stopping. She couldn’t stop it.

She pressed her head to the floor, chest heaving.

Think, Leela. Think. You know what to do. What?

She had to push.

Yes, push. She’d heard it before, the doctor had specific about that, she knew the basics, but now—now it was real. Now it was her body, her baby, her pain.

She adjusted her legs, her back arched off the floor. She sucked in a gasping breath, readying herself. She shook her head, and everything else out. She was saving this baby. She was saving her baby.

“Push,” she breathed.

Another shockwave of agony rolled through her.

Push. Push hard.

She nodded, “okay, okay,” and braced herself. Breathed in through the nose, out through the mouth. Again, and again, until she felt like she was ready.

And she pushed.

A scream tore from her throat. The pain was unreal, as if her insides were tearing open. Pulverizing. This was torture.

“I can't, I can't,” she sobbed.

She let her head fall back against the floor. Panting. Sobbing. Wishing death upon everyone in this fucked-up world. Wishing death upon her drunk neighbour, Joel. Wishing death on Tommy and Maria for not being here. Wishing death upon everyone but her child.

Her body felt too weak, too small to hold so much pain, so much life.

Push, Leela. Save the baby.

But she kept going. Over and over, she pushed and pushed, between sobs, between minutes that stretched into eternities. Between the waves of contractions that seemed to shorten and shorten. Seconds. Cried for her mother so hard, she must've heard her from the heavens. Cried hard for anyone, someone to come help her.

And then—a movement deep inside. A twist. Another deep breath, and she pushed, another scream storming these empty hallways.

A ripping, a world-ending agony, a slip, and a sudden, unbearable release.

And then—a wail. Light. Reedy. Shuddering. Alive.

Leela groaned with the spasms. Her body was ruined, quivering from pain, from exhaustion, from the unthinkable, unbearable weight of what she had just done. She had done it.

She gasped, her head rolling back against the cold floor, her chest rising and falling in ragged, disbelieving breaths.

She had done it. She had done this all by herself.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, everything else vanished. The cold floor beneath the towel. The ache in her bones. The pulsing, raw wound inside her. All of it... gone. Just for a fleeting second. It was over. She was alive. Her baby...

Another cry—louder, stronger. Needy.

Her hands, trembling so violently she could barely feel them, fumbled downward, searching.

My baby. Where's my baby?

Then there it was. Warm. Tiny. Slick with blood and life. All hers.

She nearly collapsed over the baby as she gently lifted it to her chest, curling her body around it, sheltering, shielding, warming.

So small. So ridiculously, beautifully small.

A shuddering breath tore from within her. She pressed her forehead to the damp, wriggling heft in her arms, her baby. Her baby. Her whole life.

She wept, her body trembling with it, the last remnants of pain and terror and exhaustion spilling out of her in waves. It was over, she was okay now.

The storm outside raged on. Time was lost to her, meaning, too. The wind howled, the snow fell, and the world went on. But here, in the quiet, in the warmth of her own arms, her own home—she had survived.

Leela didn’t know how long she stayed like that—hunched over the tiny body in her arms, shaking, holding, not letting go.

It could've been more and more eternities. But finally, it was the cold that finally snapped her out of it. The wetness soaked through her clothes. The sweat cooled on her skin. The lingering ache clawed through every inch of her.

She blinked down at the baby's little feet, her breath hitching.

I should look at my baby.

The thought terrified her. For months, she’d been carrying this thing, this life, this... stranger.

She had felt it move, twist, push inside her. She had known it was real. But she had never seen it. It was hers, she knew that much. Her little baby.

Her arms loosened, just enough to shift the child. The tiny body squirmed, legs kicking weakly, the cry dwindling into a soft, hiccupping whimper.

Leela’s fingers, still trembling, moved on their own. Swept gently across damp, wrinkled skin at the soft, beating chest. Over the little fingers. A little clenched fist. And then—a face.

Oh.

Leela’s breath left her all at once.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered.

Her baby blinked up at her, squinting, face scrunched in the effort. Big, beautiful, brown eyes. Her arms curled tighter, drawing the tiny body closer, nudging the baby’s warm skin against her own. She ran her fingers through the wet wisps of dark hair and smoothed a shaking hand down the curve of a round, soft cheek.

Her baby made a sound—a tiny sigh, a noise so small, so utterly fragile that Leela broke.

“Hello.” A laugh—small, disbelieving, almost hysterical—escaped her lips. She made this. She had done this all by herself. The baby blinked at her, yawning, face still scrunched in that newborn way—like she was confused by the world.

Leela understood the feeling. She swallowed, throat raw from screaming, her fingers still tracing over delicate features. The button nose. The furrowed brow. The teeny tiny mouth. The soft fuzz around her cheeks.

She should be saying something. She should be feeling something. That spark of love. That spark of want, to protect, to keep.

Instead—there was nothing.

Her fingers barely twitched when they ran along the baby's arm again, the damp skin cooling now, sticky with blood.

She should cut the umbilical cord. She should clean it. She should wrap it up. She should keep it warm. She should—do something.

Her hands quivered as she shifted, trying to brace herself against the slick, cool tile. Her limbs were shaking, still too drained, but she forced them to move.

She knew where they were. The scissors. Leela let out a shuddering breath and half-crawled, half-dragged herself toward the stand, the floor sticky beneath her, her own blood and fluids trailing behind.

The baby let out a sound—a whimper, a breath against her. She shushed the baby, rocking it on instinct. “I'm still here. Ssh.”

Leela gasped through her teeth, reaching, reaching, finding. Her fingers fumbled against the metal. Grasped the handle. Slipped them into her grip.

Her breath came fast, too fast.

She pressed the scissors between the cord, hesitated.

It was so pale, twisted, true. This had been her lifeline. The little softness that had appended them together for months. Somehow, she didn't want to do it. Her vision blurred—would the baby even be hers anymore? Would it still know her?

She pressed the blades closed. A soft, wet snip.

A sharp pulse of pain tore through her stomach, a wetness slipped right out, and she sucked in a breath. Leela flinched, gasped, and held herself up. The baby gasped before it wailed another strident, shaking cry.

There. Done. Her baby was separate from her now. Their one unit, broken apart.

Leela swallowed hard, vision swimming in tears, limbs shaking. The scissors clattered to the floor.

Her chest ached as she held her child. Not from love. Not from relief. Just the echoing emptiness within her. She was just an empty vessel now, clinking around, making noise.

The baby sighed, its breath hot against her skin, and Leela blinked, staring down at it.

She had imagined this moment. Imagined some heaven-sent burst of happiness. Imagined weeping in relief, with gratitude. Imagined love so strong it would knock the breath from her lungs. Imagined kisses pressed to ten tiny fingers, imagined a warmth so bright and overwhelming it would banish all the dark things inside her. Imagined that something inside her would wake up, ignite, change. That she would feel like herself again.

All she felt was exhaustion. She was just so, so tired. And soon, the thought came and went too fast to hold onto.

I shouldn’t have done this.

Her breath caught. She squeezed her eyes shut.

No. No, don’t think that. You’re disgusting. You're evil.

But she could feel it, creeping in at the edges.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Just love it. Love your baby.

The featherlight weight in her arms was heavy. Too heavy. She had to hold on. Make sense of her commitment.

She swallowed thickly and tried to whisper, barely above a breath, “You’re real. And mine.”

The baby stirred, a soft, sleepy noise leaving it.

Leela waited again. Anytime now. The warmth, the love, the connection. That the sound would evoke whatever was dormant in her. She was sure of it.

It didn’t come. Not even a little.

Her poor baby deserved better. Better than an impaired, stained, sick, disgusting, unloving mother.

Her arms curled tighter around the baby, almost desperate, still apologetic.

“I'm sorry,” she cried softly. “I'm so sorry, baby.”

But some notion of sound registered in her ears. The dull thud of boots on her porch. The hesitant creak of a door opening. A pause.

And then—“Holy shit.”

Leela didn’t lift her head, but she heard him. Tommy.

His boots hit the floor hard, fast—tracking the smeared trail of blood, of fluids, of everything that had poured out of her, dragged behind her like a crime scene.

Tommy's breath caught. A beat passed, and suddenly, he was moving.

His voice was a sharp inhale, half a curse, half a prayer. “Jesus—Leela.”

She barely had the strength to lift her head, but when she did—just the smallest movement—relief broke in her chest. They weren't alone. They had someone here. Someone was here for them.

“Tommy!” she sobbed.

He was already dropping to his knees.

“Okay, alright, I gotcha—” His hands were warm, gripping her shoulders first, then moving—checking, searching. His voice and breath were frantic. “My god, just how long—? Never mind, never mind. You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. I gotcha.”

His eyes landed on the baby. A sharp, shaken breath, like he didn't know if he was happy or devastated.

Leela felt her own body shake, from exhaustion, from shock, from everything. With careful fingers, Tommy pulled his jacket from his shoulders, bundling it in his hands before reaching out.

“Here, honey, let me—let me take the baby off you for a second.”

Leela hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, without even realizing she was doing it, she let him.

Her baby was pried away from her, leaving her cold.

Her breath shuddered out of her chest as she fell back, half-conscious, as Tommy cradled the tiny, fragile thing in his hands.

The silence stretched. What did he think? Was the baby healthy? Did anything look weird? Was it still breathing normally? Was it choking? Was it safe? Was it hungry?

“Christ,” Tommy whispered, his voice breaking. “Look at you, beautiful. You wanted to see your mama that quick, huh?”

The baby let out a soft, breathy noise. A laugh or a sigh? A sound too small, too new to understand. It made Leela break out a tired grin.

Tommy’s face softened. “Hi, girlie,” he murmured, breathless. “It’s your Uncle Tommy. Oh, she's perfect. And so strong."

“Girl?” she whispered. She hadn't even thought to check.

Tommy nodded, still half-dazed, his thumb stroking over the baby’s tiny, blood-slicked fingers.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and his hand found Leela’s hair, damp and clinging to her forehead. He swept it back, easing her for a moment. “You did real good, mama. And you did it all alone. Fuckin' superhero.”

Leela let out something between a laugh and a sob. Her body slumped back to the floor.

“I can't move,” she rasped, her voice breaking.

Tommy nodded once, sharp. “Right, here’s what I’m gonna do,” he murmured, devising. “I’m gonna quickly wash the baby, then I’m carrying you upstairs. Maria’s on her way and she's gonna clean you up. We’re gonna take care of you, alright?”

Leela just nodded. Because what else was there to do?

She had survived. Her baby girl had survived. She had brought this life into the world.

Now, she had to figure out how to keep going.

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #7

(Click. A beat of silence. Then a breath—shaky, slow. When she speaks, her voice is raw, worn thin, like she hasn’t used it in days.)

“I’ve shut them all out. Locked the door. No more Maria. No more Tommy. No more—anyone.”

(The quiet hum of static. Then, softer, almost to herself—)

“If they see it—if they see that I don’t love her the way I should, they’ll take her from me. And I’ll be alone. Alone with the pain. Alone with the shadows in the hallway.”

(A sharp inhale.) “I can’t let that happen. She’s mine.”

(A long pause, then a slow, exhaled breath.)

“Day nine. January fourth. Baby girl is... still healthy. Maria said she’s too small, but—she’s here. She's okay. She’s breathing. I’m nursing her, constantly. Every two hours. Sometimes less. She sleeps, she feeds, she excretes and repeats. I thought—”

(A wry, breathy laugh, humourless.)

“I don’t know what I thought. That she’d do more? That she’d be awake, that she’d—hold my hand? That she’d know me? Smile, laugh, something.”

(A beat. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, duller, more clinical. She's speaking facts now.)

“But no. She doesn’t know anything yet. I understand that her brain development will be slow. Her motor skills will take time to come in. She is gaining knowledge, and she's intelligent. She tracks the light, she knows crying is a catalyst for food. Now, everything she learns, she’ll learn from me.”

(A breath. Like that is just now sinking in.)

“And I—I am—”

(A beat. A breath chokes in her throat. Then, a whisper—raw, broken—)

“I am bled dry.”

(A sharp exhale. A sniff. She presses on, voice more distant, detached.)

“I eat when I can. Throw up more often than not. Try to sleep, try to think sometimes. I scratch twenty integers on the board and try to satisfy it as a functional equation. My brain and body—it’s still not mine. It’s just... a machine. My baby's machine. Warm flesh, arms to hold her, her nutrition source. She doesn’t love me. She only cries when I’m gone.”

(A sigh. A sound—barely there. Like she might be rubbing at her face, at her tired, sleepless eyes.)

“I want to love her. I want to… know her. But I look at myself, and I don’t—” (A sharp inhale like she’s swallowed a bitter pill.) “I don’t recognize the person anymore. My body, my face—it’s all... wrong. I'm fat, weak, and can barely hold myself up.”

(She moves around, fabric rustling, the sound of creaking, like she’s leaning against a wall, trying to hold herself up.)

“My stomach is soft now. Loose, almost. There are marks, these pale lines like something clawed me open from the inside. Because something... did. My breasts leak, my thighs scrape each other—so alien—and my down there—”

(Another pause, but this time it stretches—too long—before she speaks again. When she does, the words are hushed, like a secret she’s afraid to say out loud, even in the privacy of this recording.)

“I can’t imagine a man loving me now. Not that I ever could before, but now—” (Her breath wavers.) “Now it’s impossible. I am not a woman anymore. I'm a ruined mother.”

(Then, soft—barely audible—)

“I feel like a monster. A monster who can't love her own child.”

(A deep, shaky breath.)

“But... I will try. I have to. I can’t let her go. She’s—keeping me sane. Giving me a reason to wake up. A reason to exist that isn’t research. She needs me. And I—I need her.”

(A swallow. A deep, slow inhale.)

“It’s... symbiosis. We are symbiotes. Like the inside of the Infected—she’s this incredible, complex brain. I’m the infection.” (A beat.) “Yes, always the infection.”

(Another silence. Then, barely above a whisper—)

“But it will work. In some time, it has to.”

(So soft it almost disappears—like a prayer, like a plea—)

“Please, let this get better. Please.”

(Click.)

X

L.REED PREGNANCY TRACKER AUDIO LOG #8

(A long pause. The faintest sound of static, like she’s hesitating, maybe rubbing a finger over the mic. Then—soft, almost disbelieving—)

“This man… Joel. My neighbour. He’s here. In my home.”

(Another pause, like she can’t quite believe it herself. A rustle—maybe she’s moving, pressing the heel of her palm against her temple, thinking.)

“I thought—” (A breath, quick and shallow, like the memory unsettles her.) “I thought he was gonna put his boot through my ribs. The way he looked at me at the door that night—” (She exhales sharply.) “He hates me.”

(Quieter—like she’s marvelling at the absurdity of it all—)

“And now he’s upstairs. With… Maya.”

(A sound, soft and unexpected—giggle. The kind that sneaks up, breathless, like it doesn’t quite belong.)

“Maya. My baby’s name is Maya.” (She tries the name again, savouring it.) “My daughter. I’m her mama.”

(A slow exhale, tone shifting, tired but full of quiet wonder.)

“Maya. Such a pretty name. I think it was my mother’s. Or my sister’s? I can’t remember.” (A beat. Then, softer—wistful—) “But they were beautiful. Just like Maya.”

(Another silence, stretching. Then, a little lighter, like she’s almost smiling—like she’s trying to smile—)

“Joel said it rhymes with Leela. That Maya looks just like me.”

(There's fondness there, or confusion, or she hasn’t quite figured out what it is yet.)

“Every time he’s near me, I expect myself to bolt. Run the other way. But I don’t. I just—” (A breath, slow, searching.) “I just want him to stay.”

(She stops like she’s startled herself. Like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.)

“Not with me. Just… in the house. Breathing. Silent. A friend.”

(The last word is strange on her tongue. Like she’s testing it out, seeing if it fits. It doesn’t, not really. Not yet.)

“He’s a good man. A darling man, even.” (A half-snort, like she knows how ridiculous that sounds, but it's true.) “Nothing at all like the hotheaded ass he looks like. He isn't drunk anymore.”

(A sigh, long and slow, like she’s falling and doesn't want to admit it.)

“He's fixing that crib for her. He’s so good with Maya. So natural, like he’s been a father forever. He's bonded with her so easily. And I think—” (A swallow.) “I think my baby loves him.”

(Her voice tightens.)

“She smiled at him today.” (Then, lower—hurt, guilty, and in between—) “She’s never smiled at me. That's alright. At least she's feeling good. She has someone who loves her.”

(Silence. A stretch of it. Then, something fragile, almost apologetic—like she’s saying it to the air, to herself—)

“My daughter has the prettiest smile. Like a little blooming sunflower.”

(Another pause, something thick caught in her throat. A sniff. Then, shifting—pushing forward, changing course.)

“But Joel—” (A breath, bracing.) “Yeah, he does not like me.”

(A rustle. Maybe she’s pressing her hand to her face, rubbing at her temples, like saying it out loud makes it more real.)

“In fact—” (A quiet laugh, humourless.) “He called me a coward to my face. He's not wrong. I'm the coward who couldn't die. I'm the coward who can't love her baby. I am a coward for asking him to take my baby away. But I... I'm just so exhausted.”

(The words land heavy like they’ve been circling in her head for days, refusing to leave.)

“He watches me. Glaring. Every time I try to nurse Maya, every time she cries, every time I—” (She exhales, sharp, frustrated—at him? At herself?) “Like he’s waiting for me to mess up. To choke up. To drop her.”

(A pause. Then, bitter—resentful, defensive—soft.)

“And I get it. I do. Would anyone let a monster near a baby?”

(Silence. Thick, oppressive. Then—quieter, almost thoughtful—)

“But he doesn’t ask questions. Not like Maria. Not like Tommy. He doesn’t push. He just… is. He brings me food. He tells me to sleep. He has taught me to hold Maya.” (A breath, settling in tired and resigned.) “I’m grateful for that.”

(A long pause, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to say the next thing out loud.)

“I just hope he doesn’t leave soon.”

(It is creeping in at the edges. It's bitter, knowing.)

“Not for me. Not for anything to do with me.” (She exhales, sharp like she’s forcing the truth out before she can swallow it back down.) “It’s Maya. It’s always Maya.”

(Her voice tightens. Not angry, not quite. Just… something else. Aching, raw.)

“He doesn’t care about me. He barely looks at me. But he looks after my baby. Holds her like she's his own. That's all I want.”

(A breath. Then, a half-laugh—small, almost embarrassed, almost resigned, like she can’t believe she’s about to say this out loud.)

“He’s too useful around here.” (A beat. Then, even quieter—like a confession, like she shouldn’t want it but does—)

“I want to keep him with Maya always.”

(Silence. Then, a quiet click.)

X

L.REED HOME VIDEO #1

(The screen wobbles, unfocused, a mess of pivoting shapes and the worn floorboards of the home. A voice, low and grumbling, cuts through the static—)

“Jesus. Is this thing on? Shit’s fucked.”

(Laughter—delicate, chiming—before another voice, lighter, teasing, cuts in—)

“Joel, just—” (a giggle, the sound of movement, a blur of fingers reaching for the camera) “Give it here. I'll do it.”

“No, no, no—go to her, darlin’. I got this.”

“You’re shaking it.”

“I ain't shakin’ it. It's the damn camera.” (A pause, more rustling, moving.) “Just go.”

(The camera swings wildly before settling, focusing—somewhat shakily—on Leela. She’s sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, in summer clothes, the warm glimmer of lamplights catching on the sharp edges of her face. She looks… younger. Softer. Happier. It's obvious, it's the love glow. There's a small smile playing at her lips, her eyes full of distinctive excitement as she glances toward Maya.)

“Okay.” (She starts, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, her voice turning sunnier, less factual.) “It’s September the eighth. Maya, aged nine months. Living room. The time is… seven-twenty-two in the evening. The temperature is—”

(A low chuckle from behind the camera—dry, amused—before Joel cuts in—)

“The hell are you doin’?”

(Leela frowns at the lens, scratching at her forehead, clearly exasperated.) “I’m… stating my controls.”

(Joel snorts.) “What, you sendin’ a rocket to the moon? It’s a goddamn home video. Just go to the kid.”

(Leela rolls her eyes, muttering—) “So unsystematic.”

(The camera tilts and refocuses—Maya’s in the frame now, sitting in the middle of the floor, a toy horse clutched in her tiny hands. She’s all soft curls and chubby cheeks, her dress a blur of little embroidered flowers. She blinks up at her mother, wide-eyed, then over at the camera, grinning when Joel snaps his fingers to get her attention.)

“Over here, baby girl. Here.” (His voice is softer now, coaxing.)

“Da-da, hi!” (Maya squeals, all four teeth and dimples, her tiny hands slapping at the carpet in excitement.)

“There's that winning smile. Hi.”

(Leela laughs, reaching out to smooth a hand over Maya’s curls.)

“Oh, you look so pretty. What is that you're wearing?”

(Maya clutches at her dress, scrunching it up in her little fists, bouncing where she sits.) “S’flowers. Dwess... flowers.”

“Wow. I don't have one like that.” (Leela coos, her face softening. She holds Maya's little hand between her index and thumb.) “Okay, okay—Maya, can you tell your da-da what you ate today?”

(Maya blinks, considering this. Then—)

“Mama.”

(Joel huffs out a quiet chuckle from behind the camera. Leela tries again, biting back a smile—)

“No, no, baby—what did you eat?”

(Maya grins, showing off all four tiny teeth.)

“Da-da.”

(Joel outright snorts this time, shifting the camera slightly as he zooms closer. Right on Maya and Leela's faces.)

“I've got bite marks to prove it.”

(Leela groans, nudging Maya's arm playfully.) “Maya, listen to Mama. What was it you ate, love? Was it… blue…? A berry?”

(Maya’s whole face lights up in recognition, and then—)

“Booooo-berries.”

(Leela bursts out with a giggle. Joel chuckles low in his throat.)

“Did you get that?” (Leela beams, glancing up at the camera, her elation clear.) “She said it!”

(A pause. Then—Joel curses under his breath, the camera jerking to the left.)

“Shit, I think I forgot to hit record.”

(Leela's head snaps up, eyes wide.) “Aw, Joel, c’mon.”

“I told you, darlin'—”

(Cut to black.)

X

L.REED HOME VIDEO #2

(The camera hums to life, adjusting, focusing. A golden afternoon spills through the windows, warm light pooling over the wooden floors. The soft strum of a guitar filters through the room—enduring, unhurried—followed by a low, familiar voice.)

“Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you… Because you're mine, I walk the line…”

(The camera shakes and zooms in—Joel sits on the floor, legs stretched out, the guitar balanced against his knee. Maya sits between his legs, tiny fists tapping at the base of the instrument, her chubby fingers drumming against the wood in wild, uncoordinated beats. Every few seconds, she squeals, as if she’s part of the song, as if she knows she belongs in this moment.)

(Off-camera, a quiet laugh.)

“You’re a natural, baby girl.” (Leela teases, zooming in on the way Maya bounces in place, her curls bobbing, her wide, toothy grin bright enough to rival the sunlight.)

(Joel breaks off mid-chord, glancing up sharply. His brow furrows, like he’s just realized he’s being filmed.)

“Hey, get that thing outta my face.”

“But it’s your birthday video.”

“You're two days early.”

“I already turned on the camera, Joel. Go with it.”

(A sigh. He eventually sets the guitar aside, lifting Maya onto his lap, resting his chin lightly on top of her head. His fingers roll at her tiny palms.)

“Fine. Whaddya want?”

“Okay, first off—state your name, age, date, and time.”

(Joel gives the camera a flat look.) “I ain’t one of your science experiments.”

“Just do it.”

(Another sigh, this one profound. He rubs a hand down his face, muttering—)

“Can't believe this... alright. Joel Miller. Fifty-six. September the twenty-fourth. And it’s… I dunno, one in the afternoon. I am still waitin' on those greasy-ass cheeseburgers I was promised.” (Joel winks.)

(Leela muffles small giggles) “Patience is a virtue. Now, what’s your birthday wish this year?”

(He scrubs at his eyes, exhaling through his nose.) “Jesus, Leela.”

“Say it.”

(A hum. Joel shifts, adjusting Maya on his lap. When he finally answers, his voice is quieter, like he’s not sure he wants it caught on record—)

“Makin’ it to fifty-eight.”

(Leela hums.) “Okay, what... do you think about your birthday present?”

(Maya smacks at his cheeks before he can answer, her little hands patting at his stubble like she’s trying to figure out what it is. Joel huffs, catching her wrist before she can shove her fingers in his mouth.)

“My what?”

“Can’t believe you forgot. Think fast.”

(A set of keys flies through the air. They bounce off his chest, jangling, but his reflexes are still quick—he catches them before they can hit Maya.)

(The camera tilts and spins. Leela comes into the frame now, just her eyes, unfocused, wearing that playfully serious expression, her lips pursed like she’s pretending to take notes.)

“Signs of cognitive decline. Memory loss and poor motor functions.” (She shakes her head.) “I might have to look into that later.”

(The camera spins again and focuses back on Joel. He's glaring at her.)

“Cognitive... you big dork. You’re lucky I’m holdin’ the kid.” (He lifts the key, squinting at it, realization dawning.) “So, the Maranello is really all mine now?”

(Leela laughs, shifting the camera slightly, catching the way Joel’s eyebrows lift, just a fraction.)

“All yours. Surprise!”

(Joel exhales, rolling the key between his fingers. He looks back at her, a little sceptical.)

“And what, we’re supposed to ride out on the I-22 till the sun sets? You realize I can't drive the thing anywhere?”

“Sounds like a steady date.”

(Joel snorts, shaking his head, but there’s peace in his face—softer, fondness—that he doesn’t bother hiding this time. He glances at Leela, opening his mouth to say something, but...)

(The camera tilts again, zooming in on Maya. She’s sucking on her fist now, watching the two of them.)

“One more.” (Leela coaxes, voice gentle.) “One last present. Maya, look at Mama. Like we practised, okay? Happy…”

(Maya blinks, distracted, then grins at Joel. She curls and uncurls her fingers, rocking back and forth.)

“Da-da, comma, comma, comma.”

(Joel snickers, adjusting her in his arms. He points back at Leela, forcing her attention. He wants to hear this present right now.)

“Your mama’s talkin’ to you, baby girl.”

(Maya glances at Leela, her tiny hand lifting, fingers wiggling in a wave.) “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby.” (Leela laughs.) “Okay, you have to say it now. Happy…”

“Happy!” (Maya chirps, delighted.)

“Birthday.”

“Bo-day!” (She claps, bouncing excitedly in Joel’s lap.)

“Da-da.”

“Daaaaa-da.”

“Yay.”

(Joel grins, wide and real, lifting Maya up in the air, to which she squeals. He presses one, two, three kisses to her cheeks. With a voice like molasses for his little girl—)

“Thank you, sweetheart.” (Then he glances at Leela behind the camera.) “You're gettin' big party favours.”

“Can't wait.”

(The screen lingers, blurring at the edges when it meets with the light, the sound of laughter filling the frame—soft, real, warm—before the camera finally cuts to black.)

X

R. THESIS AUDIO FILE – L. REED - #241

(A burst of static. A faint click as the recorder whirs to life. Then—silence. Not complete, but close. The soft rhythm of breathing.)

“Okay.” (A pause. A sharp inhale, like she’s readying herself.) “Okay. This is—this is me. Leela. Age thirty. The time is eleven sixteen in the evening, on November twenty-third. Basement. And this is real, working, undeniable proof.”

(The rustle of paper. The scrape of a pen tapping against something solid. A controlled breath, like she’s holding back—excitement, disbelief, a feeling bigger than both.)

“I have solved it.” (A beat. Then, sharper, firmer—) “I solved the Riemann Hypothesis.”

(Silence. Then a small laugh—half-breathless, half-shaken, like she still doesn’t quite believe her own words.)

“I don’t even know who is gonna listen to this.” (Another laugh, quieter now.) “I guess I don’t care. I just—I need to say it. I need it to exist somewhere beyond my head, beyond these pages. I have just solved the goddamn Holy Grail of Mathematics.”

(More rustling. Paper shuffling. A faint scratch of pen against the margins, like she’s still working, still checking, still making sure.)

“I don’t even know what that means anymore. A hundred and fifty years ago, it would’ve changed everything. Even just twenty. It would’ve rewritten how we understand numbers, patterns in the universe, and how we predict and solidify prime distributions. Gene sequencing, theoretical physics, rebuilding our quantum computers, our shitty communication systems—it was the missing key. We suddenly have a roadmap to the structure of numbers. To the future.”

“And I-I think... I think, and I might be wildly mistaken, but if Cordyceps follows some sort of biological network or pattern with our neurons—in terms of protein folding or catabolism—I assume disease modelling relies on prime-based arithmatics. That would mean safer genetic research. That means a possible...” (Her voice falters slightly, like she’s thinking too fast, trying to hold onto a world that doesn’t exist anymore.)

“And now?” (A short, bitter laugh.) “Now it means nothing. The world ended anyway. Nature, unlike the infection, has run its course.”

(She exhales hard, like trying to steady herself. Then—softer, slower—she speaks again, like it’s fragile.)

“I don’t know if I should tell her. If she'll even understand. Of course not, she can't even speak.”

(A shift—fabric moving. A sound—small, barely there—someone breathing, a rustle of movement.)

“My Maya.” (Her voice is cautious now.) “She’s asleep. She’s got her hand curled up against my neck, and she does that thing—” (A breath of amusement, faint but warm.) “—where she scrunches up her nose when she dreams. She's my darling.” (A soft chuckle.)

“She doesn’t know the world used to mean things like this. Used to have things like this. A world where proving a theorem could change the future, where it could make you matter.”

(A lengthy pause. When she speaks again, her voice is lower, like it’s delicate and in her hands.)

“My parents spent their whole lives chasing something they could leave behind. Mama—Jesus, Mama—I think she loved this problem more than anything else in the world. She used to say it was poetry, that it was—” (a breath, remembering, then softens—) “that it was the closest thing to God she’d ever seen.”

(A swallow. Then—firmer, like she’s gripping something real.)

“They didn’t get to finish it. But I did.”

(A change in sound, the creak of an old chair, the faintest shuffle—someone moving in their sleep? The pattern of breathing remains the same, undisturbed.)

“And now what?” (A small, wry exhale.) “What the hell do I do with it? The world it belonged to is gone. The journals, the universities, the mathematicians who would’ve lost their minds over this—it’s all gone.”

(Silence stretches long enough that it almost feels like the recording has stopped. But then—softly—)

“But my parents aren’t.”

(The sound of fingers drumming against the table. Rhythmic. Thoughtful.)

“They lived for this. Died for this. And now it’s done. They deserve that. Their work deserves that. I deserve that. And if no one’s left to care—then I’ll care. I’ll make sure it exists. That it doesn’t just die here with me. This is their legacy. I have given too much, lost too much.”

(A long inhale. The softest stirring—fabric rustling again, the faint creak of old bedsprings, a body curling closer. A tiny sound—so small, so sleepy—Maya moaning in her sleep.)

(Leela’s breath hitches. Then, lower now—almost a whisper—)

“I have to tell Joel tonight. My pragmatist. He's the first person who has to know. It's always him. I just... I love him so much. He matters to me more than any proof in this world. More than any equation or legacy. I hope he loves me, too.” (A small laugh, tired but real.) “He’s not gonna understand a thing. Gonna tell me I’m crazy. And maybe I am. But I think—I think I have to do this. I have to get this out there, out of Jackson. Joel will know what to do; he always does.”

(A long pause. The sound of fabric shifting again. Then—faint, barely above a whisper—)

“This is far from over. Because I have not just solved any equation. I have proved that humanity is not done yet. We prevail.”

(Click.)

X

L.REED HOME VIDEO #11

(The camera jolts to life, static crackling before the lens steadies. The frame is tight on Ellie’s face, her grin wide, her freckles vivid under the glow of the living room light. She holds the camera at arm’s length, angling it just right.)

“This is Captain Ellie Williams to ground control. It is officially time to… paaaaarty!”

(The camera pivots wildly, zooming in and out like at a chaotic rave, the frame cutting to Maya. The toddler bounces on her feet as the camera goes all over, hands flailing in pure excitement, her curls bouncing with her. She giggles, caught up in Ellie’s energy.)

“Yeah, baby’s got moves. Shake it, shake it—uh-huh, uh-huh. Yeah, go, Maya. Go, Maya.”

(Maya claps, delighted, then reaches for the camera with grabby little hands, eyes bright and pleading.)

“Pease, gimme, Evie!”

“You wanna see it?” (Ellie waggles the camera, teasing.)

(From off-screen, Joel’s voice cuts in, dry, unimpressed—)

“Ellie, do not give her the damn camera. She’s gonna break it.”

(The screen tilts, spins, refocuses. Now it captures the living room—the warm, homey clutter of it. Joel and Leela are curled up on one couch, Joel’s arm stretched lazily along the back, fingers just brushing Leela’s cheek and temple. Across from them, Tommy and Maria lounge on the other sofa, relaxed, a drink in Tommy’s hand.)

(The camera zooms dramatically in on Joel’s face, the frame locking onto his beard, then his nose, then back to one irritated eye. In an exaggerated deep voice—)

“Joel, the Contractoooor.”

(Joel exhales sharply, shooting her a look.)

“Shut that thing off. We’re talkin’ here.”

“You’re such an assh—”

(Static. Black screen.)

—

(The footage stutters back to life—more static, a blur of movement as Ellie fumbles the camera, laughing.)

(Ellie in mock horror—) “Oh no, we lost transmission! Lieutenant down! Ground control, come in!”

(The screen whips around, a mess of limbs and floorboards before it lands back on Maya, who is now dramatically collapsed on the rug like a fallen soldier. She peeks up, eyes squinting, then throws herself fully onto her back, arms splayed out.)

(Maya giggles.) “Noooooo!”

“We have a casualty, people. The baby’s down! Baby lieutenant fought bravely, but it was just too much dance power!”

(Maya, caught up in the game, dramatically sticks out her tongue. The camera shakes as Ellie cackles, zooming in close on Maya’s sprawled-out body.)

(Ellie narrates solemnly.) “Gone too soon. Alas, she shook it too hard, too fast. We will remember the too-young Maya Miller. I will avenge—hey!”

(A hand suddenly snatches the camera from Ellie’s grip—Joel’s hand, big and firm, filling the frame as he yanks it away.)

(Joel grumbling) “Alright, that’s enough bullshit from the two of you.”

(The camera shakes as Joel turns it on Ellie, flipping the interrogation around. She blinks, caught mid-laugh, then scowls. Maya sets off into a whining, screechy cry which is silenced by Maria, who sweeps her up into her arms.)

“Da-da, no!”

“Give it back, Joel!”

“Yeah? How d’you like it?” (The camera zooms right into Ellie’s freckled face, awkwardly close.) “Feels real fun, don’t it?”

(Ellie shoves at him.) “Ugh, you suck.”

(The screen wobbles again, and suddenly, it shifts—click—now the camera is facing Joel, who does not know how to hold the camera properly. His thumb partially covers the lens, and he’s squinting at the screen like it personally offended him.)

“The hell is this shit? Didja break it?”

(Ellie, off-camera, laughing.) “Fucking move your thumb, man!”

“Ain’t my fault this thing’s built for tiny-ass hands—”

(Static. Black screen.)

—

(The footage stutters back to life, the lens slightly smudged, making the warm glow of the living room blur at the edges. The angle shifts as if someone’s adjusting the camera, propping it up on the table. Murmurs of conversation spill through the speakers—low laughter, the clink of glass, the distant, delighted squeals of Maya as Ellie entertains her.)

(Then, a new face fills the frame—Tommy. He squints into the lens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans in, his voice a lazy drawl.)

“Damn thing even on?” (He taps the side of the camera like it’s an old radio, then glances to his left. The camera shifts as he picks it up and leans into Maria’s side, burrowing his face against her neck to press a slow kiss to her skin.)

(Maria laughs, tilting her head away as she swats at his chest.) “Save it for later, cowboy.”

“Ooh, slow your roll, partner. Gonna make me blush." (But his eyes drift past her, locking onto something else across the room. He snorts, suddenly grinning, and spins the camera in that direction.)

“Would you look at that? My favourite lovebirds.”

(The frame tightens on Joel and Leela, curled up on the couch. Leela is murmuring to him, her cheek pressed against Joel’s shoulder, her fingers idly stroking into his hair. She looks up at him as she speaks, soft and unguarded, and Joel is just gone. His eyes are half-lidded, his head tilted slightly in her direction, his arm lazily curled around her shoulders. Every so often, without even thinking, he leans forward, brushing a slow kiss to her ear. Like breathing. Like habit.)

(Tommy whistles low, off-camera.) “They’ve definitely done the deed.”

(Maria hums.) “I knew that weeks ago.”

(Joel’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he glares at them from across the room.)

“I heard that, fucker. The hell is wrong with you?”

(The camera zooms in, catching the way Leela immediately buries her face in her hands—and into Joel’s shoulder—while he groans, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s questioning every life choice.)

“Alright, alright, since we’re all cosy now—tell me somethin’.” (Tommy adjusts the camera, fixing the focus on them.) “What do y’all like about each other?”

(Leela peeks out from behind her hands, blinking at him.) “What?”

(Tommy’s voice comes from somewhere off-screen, laced with amusement.)

“Yeah, c’mon, indulge us.” (The lens adjusts, sharpening.) “Y’know, since some people in this house refuse to talk about their damn feelings.” (The camera shifts in Joel’s direction.)

(Joel just glares at it.) “What are you tryna pull? Turn that thing off.”

“Hey, don't be such a sourpuss.”

(Joel doesn’t meet it. He’s now staring at the ceiling, hands templed on his nose, like he’s willing divine intervention to strike Tommy down where he sits.)

(A soft hum of agreement from Maria, somewhere nearby.) “It’s a good question. I wanna hear it.”

(Leela glances sideways at Joel, hesitation flickering in the crease of her brow. But that set of her mouth—small, teasing—suggests she’s not entirely opposed to this game.)

(She tilts her head, the motion easy, natural.) “You go first, Joel.”

(The footage picks up the sound of Joel sighing. His shoulders roll back as he glances toward her out of the corner of his eye. One hand moves—rubs at his jaw, then drags down the back of his neck. The camera catches the exact moment he exhales, muttering—)

“Well, Leela’s... goddamn smart.”

(Off-screen, Tommy groans, the camera giving a small, jostled shake like he’s throwing up his hands.)

“C’mon, man. That’s what you’re goin’ with? Everyone and their mother knows that.”

(Joel shrugs, his mouth twitching like this whole conversation is exhausting him.) “Well, she is. Her brain is so big and weird. She even speaks in nerd real cute.”

(The lens catches the quick flicker of a smile as Leela nudges his knee with hers. The camera wobbles slightly as Tommy shifts again, leaning forward.)

“That’s it? Nothin’ else, just her big brain?”

(Joel exhales, shoulders stiffening. He really hates this. Then—without looking at her—his voice dips lower.)

“She’s got a good heart. She cooks like a mad scientist, and her food is downright sinful.” (A pause, a shift in his expression, reluctant—then, almost reflectively—) “And... she's beautiful.”

(The camera picks up the way Leela blinks at him. Joel rubs the back of his neck, gaze fixed somewhere near the floor.)

“She's really beautiful.” (A beat.) “Could watch her all day if I could. Just being. One smile and...” (He shakes his head with a small grin.)

(Silence hums through the speakers—just for a second before the camera lurches slightly. A blur of motion as Maria smacks Tommy’s arm, a flash of her grin as she hums the wedding march—)

“Dum-dum-da-dum, dum-dum-da-dum... there's really no saving him now.”

(The camera refocuses just in time to catch Leela still watching Joel, an unreadability in her eyes. Her lips part slightly like she wants to say something—but before she can, the lens wobbles again, a brief static crackling as Tommy clears his throat.)

“Alright, honey, your turn.” (The camera steadies on Leela.) “What do you like about big ol’ grumpy over here?”

(Leela, still looking at Joel, tilts her head. The footage picks up the flicker in her eyes—affectionate, thoughtful.)

“Hmm.” (She drags out the sound, considering.)

(The camera catches Joel shifting beside her, his hand twitching slightly against his knee. His voice—grumbled, almost embarrassed—murmurs—)

“Just say my face and get it over with. I'm tired.”

(Leela laughs—the sound clear through the speakers, genuine. The camera catches the way Joel’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile and losing.)

“Well, I like when Joel plays his guitar.” (Her voice is softer now, the corners of her mouth still curled upward, loving gaze on him.) “I love that he's an artist at heart, the exact opposite of me.”

(The footage picks up the way Joel clears his throat, fingers twitching against the fabric of his jeans.)

(Leela hums, quieter now, more thoughtful.)

“And... I love when he's with Maya.” (The camera zooms slightly, catches the shape of her smile, the certainty in it, the careful way she speaks—like she’s weighing every word.) “She loves him. And he loves her, too.”

(Joel swallows, gaze dropping to his entwined hands.)

(The footage shifts slightly as Tommy clears his throat, the camera adjusting with a jostled movement.)

“Alright, alright.” (His voice, still light, but gentler now.) “You heard it here first, folks. The mean man’s a big ol’ teddy bear.”

(The camera shakes slightly as Joel tips his head back against the couch, groaning.)

“Jesus Christ, Tommy—”

(The lens steadies, framing Leela as she laughs, reaching for his hand. The footage captures the way Joel naturally laces his fingers through hers. He lifts it to his lips—)

(The screen flickers. Cut to black.)

X

L.REED HOME VIDEO #14

(The footage wobbles before settling, the lens clouded with the faint smudge of tiny fingerprints. Maya’s face wedges the frame—round cheeks, big curious eyes, the softest scrunch of her nose as she pokes at the camera, inspecting. A chubby hand reaches, pressing directly against the lens, smearing a blur of warmth and colour across the screen.)

(Muffled giggles. The grainy recording shakes slightly as Maya shifts, little fingers gripping at the edges of the camera. The background is soft—white pillows, blankets, the low glow of a bedside lamp casting everything in golden hues.)

(A blur of dark hair enters the frame, then—Leela, tilting in, resting her cheek against Maya’s head, her voice sing-song and sweet—like she's sharing a secret.)

“What is baby Maya doing?” (The camera jostles as Maya shifts, little hands still gripping the device.) “Is she making a video? Is she Maya Spielberg? What are you looking at?”

(Maya’s mouth opens in a wide, toothy grin, giggles bubbling up from her throat. The camera shakes with her laughter, tiny hiccuping sounds breaking up the quiet.)

“Is that Maya’s smile?” (Leela’s fingers brush gently over her lips.) “Big, big smile? Look at her big girl teeth. And her cute little nose...”

(Maya throws her head back, her giggle turning into a full-blown squeal, arms flapping wildly in delight. The footage shakes, unfocused for a moment, before a low, familiar voice rumbles from somewhere off-camera—tired, amused—)

“Don’t work her up before bed, darlin’.” (The footage tilts slightly, catching a glimpse of Joel’s veined arm as he shifts somewhere out of sight.) “Can’t get her to sleep without pullin’ a muscle.”

“Oof, Daddy's in a mood again.”

(Joel sighs gruffly.) “Daddy has to wake up early but is distracted.”

(Leela laughs softly, shifting Maya onto her lap and pulling her close. The camera steadies just enough to capture the moment as she presses their cheeks together, her voice lilting—warm and full of affection.)

“C’mere, baby.” (She tilts her head, looking directly into the lens.) “Wow, Maya looks just like Mama. Mama's hair, Mama's skin, Mama's eyes.” (A gentle kiss to Maya’s temple, a soft murmur—) “Can you gimme a kiss?”

(Maya hesitates for only a second before turning, pressing a wet, tiny kiss against Leela’s cheek. The screen wobbles as Leela laughs, delighted.)

“Oh, that’s a big kiss.” (She nuzzles in closer, rocking slightly.) “Now, can you say ‘I love you, Mama’?”

(Maya makes a sound—soft and sweet, a garbled attempt, not quite words but close.)

(Leela gasps, grinning.) “Oh! Almost! That was so good!” (She brushes her fingers over Maya’s cheek, teasing—) “Do you love Mama more or your Da-da?”

(Before Maya can respond, a hand—large, rough—enters the frame, pinching at Leela’s cheek, pulling playfully. Joel’s voice rumbles, equal parts exasperation and affection—)

“Fair play.”

(Leela swats at his wrist, half-heartedly.) “Ah-ow.” (She rubs her cheek dramatically, throwing Maya a conspiratorial look.) “Did you see that? Big bad daddy.”

(Joel grumbles.) “Sure, I'm the bad guy.”

(Maya squeals, bouncing in place, eyes bright—) “Mama!”

(Leela stills slightly, looking down at her, like she can't really believe it.) “Me? You love me?”

(Maya beams, pressing a small, chubby hand to Leela’s cheek.) “Mama, Mama.”

(The camera shakes as Leela gathers her closer, pushing her lips to Maya’s forehead, eyes closing briefly as she whispers—soft, whole, like it’s the easiest, truest thing in the world—)

“I love you, too, Maya. Mama loves you so much.”

(The screen lingers for a moment longer—the softness of them, the quiet hum of contentment. Then, a small static pop—black.)

X

R. THESIS AUDIO FILE – L. REED - #242

(A soft click. The hum of the recorder comes alive, accompanied by the faintest rustle of fabric—Leela shifting, settling. A sigh, deep and measured, like she’s leaning back. Maybe the wall. Maybe Joel.)

“This is my final log for the R. hypothesis documentation.” (A breath.) “I’m not stating any benchmarks. No primes, no numbers. None of that matters anymore. Not tonight. I'm done.”

(A soft exhale—she’s smiling.)

“The night is sweet. My daughter, who will turn one this month, is sleeping. I am safe. My skin feels clean. I have…” (A small, almost sheepish laugh, barely more than a breath.) “Made love... to the most perfect, cynical, gentlest man on this planet, who apparently loves me, too.” (A muffled snicker—like she’s covering her mouth, shaking her head.) “That’s personal. Joel doesn't like to flaunt. So, off the record, okay?”

(She sighs again, slower this time. Something moves—her tone, her posture, her thoughts.)

“I keep thinking about how the last ten years of my life have been… numbers.” (A breath.) “A set of variables and primes. A world so little I could carry it between my palms, hold it in my mind.”

(A faint rustling—her fingers tracing, maybe the fabric of Joel’s shirt.)

“I stayed in Jackson. Cremated my parents. Lived. Died. Survived. Delivered a baby girl.” (A long, slow inhale. A quiet realization.) “Found a partner I love and trust.”

(There's no sadness. It's simply final.)

“And the thing is… I did it. I proved it. Every part of it. I took the step to live, and I finished what my parents started. I reached the end of the proof. And I thought—” (She exhales.) “I thought I’d feel… bigger. Massive. Like the sky should crack open, like humanity should turn its head and finally, finally listen.”

(She laughs—not bitter, not regretful, just… acknowledging it.)

“But it won’t. It never will. Because there’s nowhere to send it. No one left to care. No world left to change. I think this is it.”

(A beat. A quiet moment where she lets the truth sink into her. Then—a softer change. A lighter note.)

“And I’m okay with that. I accept it now.”

(The creak of the bed. A shifting weight—like she’s leaning back, closing her eyes.)

“I don’t need anyone to hear it. Because I did it. I solved it. And maybe it’ll never matter, maybe it dies here with me.” (A slow breath, controlled.) “But I know. I know what I achieved. And Joel does. My new, small family does. And Maya will someday.”

(A quiet hum. More static of the recorder. An anticipatory breath—like she’s structuring her thoughts before speaking.)

“It's strange... how do I put this? You know, a function is defined by its inputs and outputs. A system or machine is shaped by its limitations. A theorem is valid only if every variable holds true.”

(Leela’s voice is quieter, warmer now.) “For ten years, my variables were singular. A closed set—isolated, self-contained, unworkable. I measured my life in absolutes, limits and intersections. And then…”

(A long pause. Her voice softens.) “The equation changed.”

(An infinitesimal sound—the murmur from Joel, deep in sleep.)

“Dare I say more complicated? New inputs and outputs. New limitations. A system with unknowns. And somehow—against every probability—”

(Her voice quiets, like she’s reaching the final line of a proof, the last, inevitable step.)

“It balanced.”

(A slow inhale. A hand smoothing over fabric, maybe Joel’s arm.)

“One woman. One child. One man. The sum is still whole. My system works. The theorem is valid.” (A beat.) “That's a good enough proof for me.”

(An understanding silence. A breath. Certain. Absolute.)

“This is Leela, signing off. If you listen to this, know that I'm still trying despite this. I am going to fight like hell to put my findings out, even if it's a long shot. Please help me prove what I've left behind, in case I don't. Prove that we haven't lost yet.”

(Click.)

X

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[thanksbutno98]

Psych Eval

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: Death in the family rattles John Price.

Warnings: death, death of a family member, grief, PTSD, mentions of depression, allusion to an eating disorder, injury, blood, domestic argument, swearing, not edited.

——————

The creak of hardwood under John’s suede chestnut slippers whined in the darkness. He was just creeping up the stairs having stayed up much later than he intended. One episode of his tv show had turned in to six and now it was 2am. It was the first real time to himself he felt like he had gotten recently and he overindulged. Just like he overindulged on that tub of ice cream sitting at the bottom of the garbage bin.

It had been a little over a month since the events of you being kidnapped on a dig happened. You hadn’t gone back to work in this time and the former curator had been filling in for you at the museum. You were in talks about going back soon but it seemed that every time you were ready the panic attacks started again.

You had been in a tough spot the past two days after finding an old bottle of perfume that happened to shatter when you were taken. The smell had sent you in a downward spiral and John was helping you in every way he could. He was losing sleep and over eating watching you suffer like this. It was normally himself who had the panic attacks or woke up screaming from nightmares that plagued him. Seeing you go through the same things was messing with him on a very deep level.

Slowly, John opened your bedroom door to see the room was in complete darkness. Shutting the door quietly behind him, John made his way towards your bed to finally get some much needed rest. After stripping down to his boxer briefs he was crawling into bed. John could hear you breathing heavily and when he looked at you closely sweat was collecting at your brow. Your sleeping face that normally looked peaceful was twisted in fear. Realizing you were having a nightmare John thought it might be best to gently wake you up before you woke yourself up screaming or crying like you had too many times.

He wanted to save you from the pain, take it away, put it on himself if it needed to be felt. John was good at that. Feeling pain and suffering and still managing like nothing had happened. He walked through life most days with a back pack of emotional bricks strapped to himself and was able to carry on. You weren’t as capable as him on that front and he wished he could save you from the never ending abyss of trauma like this.

Bringing his hand to your shoulder John leaned over you and lightly shook you and with his other hand caressed your hair to calm you. The touch woke you up and John smiled softly at you to help you adjust to being awake. An obscene crack echoed in the room and your shrill screamed followed seconds after.

Johns vision went blurry and then the pain set in. His nose throbbed so violently it made his eyes water and he swore he could hear crackling inside his skull. John sat back against the head board, his hand quickly coming up to his nose as he felt it begin to gush. The pain was white hot and so disorienting he could hardly register you freaking out next to him.

“John, oh my god are you okay!?” You frantically turned on your lamp light and rushed to his aid.

When you opened your eyes and saw a figure looming over you it startled you to your very core. You weren’t sure what you were dreaming about but dread was the first feeling you had and then fear set in. Without thinking and purely relying on instinct you threw an elbow to get whoever was pinning you down off you. When the sharp end of your elbow connected you screamed, and were ready to run since you were absolutely terrified.

Scrambling back you realized seconds later you were home and the person you struck was your husband.

“I’m fine.” John’s gruff voice was muffled from pinching his nose and using the other hand to try and catch the blood.

He was fine but beyond pissed off with you. It was taking all his self control not to instantly berate you for almost breaking his nose.

“Get up, you’re staining the sheets.” Your reaction to him bleeding was insult to injury.

You sounded more concerned about the bedding than you did for cracking him across the face. The mean narrowed eyed look he gave you for talking about the sheets put you in your place.

“I’m- so sorry.” You whispered and then jumped out of bed. You helped John to the bathroom as his nose continued to gush; accepting that the sheets were now ruined.

——————

“Jesus, Price! You piss the wife off?” Soap’s joke had John’s eyes narrowing in his direction. For any other members in the military that look scared them away but the men of 141 were use to the irritable Captain Price.

John’s nose was slightly swollen and heavily bruised. The blow had connected with the bridge of his nose towards his right side. The bruising had spread from that area and bled into the corner of his eye and around the lid and underside. Not only did you almost break John’s nose but you had given him a black eye too.

“No.” John said plainly and went back to getting dressed.

His reaction said otherwise to Soap, who was now pondering if Price’s wife was capable of violence. You didn’t seem the type. Soap knew you were opinionated and bossy with John but imaging you striking him was impossible.

John had just finished up his workout and was ready to get some paper work done. He came in early hoping to avoid anyone who knew him personally so there would be minimal jokes.

“Indy finally try to kill you?” Ghosts voice came out of nowhere.

He was just entering the locker room to drop off his gym bag. Ghost was chuckling darkly at his own joke because there was no way you went after your husband. Maybe verbally but that black eye couldn’t have been from you.

“No.” John’s teeth were gritted as he laced up his boots.

Soap and Ghost were cracking jokes that you did this to John because of how ridiculous of a notion that was. They started to volley back scenarios that would push you to murder. The one that had Johnny howling was if John set your kitchen on fire. You loved to cook, so they were convinced that would have you digging John’s grave in the yard. Little did they know John had already done that and was still standing. They concluded that you wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone strike your husband; at least on purpose.

“Seriously Cap, the little lad clock you in the eye again?” Soap asked as he stood in front of his locker, rummaging through it.

The question had John rolling his eyes. When Jj was younger he’d given John a black eye by head butting him while he was napping on the couch. It was a complete accident but you had warned the little boy to stop jumping on the couch while his father was lying down. Suffice to say jumping on the couch stopped after that.

“Why are you two here so early?” Pushing past the question John decided to change the subject.

“Psych Evals this morning. You forget?” Ghost shut his locker loudly before heading for the door.

“Fuck.” John mumbled heading in the same direction.

Today was not the day he wanted to do this. He’d slept horrible the night before because he’d been clobbered by his beautiful wife. What was a complete accident turned into John comforting you because you felt so awful for elbowing him in the face. The only upside he could find in this was that the self defense he’d been teaching you in the yard was paying off.

Walking down the hall John checked his email on his phone to see when his scheduled evaluation was. With a heavy sigh he realized he had 15 minutes to get over to the other building. He was lucky Soap and Ghost said something or he would have missed it. Giving Ghost a nod goodbye John made his way to the exit as his phone rang. Pulling it from his back pocket he saw your name and the cute picture of you apple picking from last year.

“Hello, darling. I’m a bit busy.” John didn’t mean to sound unpleasant but he knew he did.

“John, you have to come home.” From the sound of your voice down the line John could immediately tell something bad had happened.

Stopping in his tracks a million scenarios flashed in his mind, it had him wondering what could have happened that he needed to come home. The first thought was that one of the kids were hurt but then John was worrying you might be hurt. He quickly ducked into an empty conference room and shut the door so no one could over hear his conversation.

“Are you and the kids okay?” John blurted out.

“We’re fine. But-.” John heard you take a deep breath on the other end of the line. Usually you were so straight forward, your hesitation was putting him on edge.

“John, you just need to come home. I don’t want to tell you over the phone.” You spoke earnestly knowing that your husband shouldn’t be finding out this news like this. He needed to be home with his family that loved him.

“Tell me.” John spoke seriously no longer putting up with you beating around the bush. What his mind was coming up with had to be worse than the actual news.

“John. I mean it. You shouldn’t be hearing this over the ph-“

“Tell. Me.” John cut you off.

His words were hushed but held so much fury behind them. He didn’t like being kept in the dark. The lack of knowing, of losing that control wasn’t something he could ever feel comfortable with.

There was a long pause before you mustered up the courage and spoke.

“John, I’m so sorry. Your mum passed this morning.”

Static.

All John could hear was static coming down the line. His arm fell to his side and the sound of his phone hitting the tiled floor didn’t seem to bring him back from the trance he was in. Flashes of his childhood sparked in his mind.

Crying in the garden when he stepped on a bee as a young boy and his mother carrying him inside. Christmases, birthdays, visiting home after being deployed; they all played in his head. Each memory ending in his mom’s cheery smile and outstretched arms to tightly hug him.

The one that stuck out was how every time he walked through the door of his childhood home his mother would come bustling down the hall to hug him. She’d squeal and fuss over him needing to put some meat of his bones. John always told her ‘Still in one piece, like I promised.’ then she’d smack his arm and bring him to the kitchen for a cup of tea and biscuits.

Your voice could be lightly heard calling his name which seemed to finally grab John’s attention. Shaking his head John quickly picked his now shattered phone back up off the floor and pressed it to his ear.

“John? John, sweetheart are you okay?” Your voice was barely holding John’s attention, he needed to get off the phone for his own sanity.

“No. I have to do something quick and I’ll be home.” John sounded distant as if he were in a far off world.

You couldn’t see him but you knew him. He had to be in a daze. A state of shock. Reverting to auto pilot so he didn’t have to accept the facts yet. Before you could respond to try and check on him the line cut.

Your chest became tight, a consuming sense of dread filling you. Your husband was a strong man, he was notorious for being calm and collected. But this was going to rock his world and the fact he was alone when finding out racked you with guilt.

“I shouldn’t have told him.” You whispered.

“Sweetheart, you had to tell him at some point. He’s stubborn, and would’ve badgered you until you told him.” Your dad’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he tightly hugged you.

The first person you had told was your father. You called him immediately after getting off the phone with John’s little sister. You didn’t know what to do or how to handle something like this. He was over your house and helping you plan on what the next steps were. Your father would be stepping in to help around the house and be staying with you if needed. While you focused on your husband and the grief you knew was about to consume the Price family as a whole.

Sarah, John’s little sister, had called you in hysterics that Mary had died that morning alone in her home. She screamed and sobbed that if her father and Mary hadn’t split up her dad would’ve been there to help her. The four Price siblings had been taking turns checking on their mother while she was getting accustom to being divorced from their father.

It was John’s turn today but he called and asked Sarah to stop by and he would go as soon as the black eye was gone. His original thought was his mother seeing him like that would only be fuel to the fire and she’d be overbearing as usual seeing him hurt. He had no clue that what his sister walked in to would’ve been him. That John had unintentionally avoided seeing his mother on the kitchen floor as a kettle screamed to the high heavens.

——————

“Is daddy okay?” Evelyn your oldest daughter’s voice came from behind you.

You jumped not realizing she was there when she should be in bed. It was the middle of the night and she should have been asleep hours ago. You frantically looked to your husband who was snoring loudly and sprawled out on the couch with one leg dangling off. John was lying on his back, still in his jeans and grey crew neck, cheeks rosy, and the lines on his forehead deeper than usual. You threw a blanket over him and sat down and cried when you realized he’d been out drinking and that was why your multiple calls went unanswered.

He hadn’t come home after you broke the news to him and you went as far as calling Soap who told you he left around 9am. John’s oldest brother Harrison called you midday and said John had come by just as distraught as the rest of their siblings. He told you your husband seemed to be completely out of it and unable to be present. That John clearly needed you to tether him back to earth. After that you had now clue where John had been.

The state of the living room was not something you wanted your daughter to see. There was a half empty whiskey bottle sitting on the coffee table along with cigars, an ash trey, an empty crystal glass, and multiple lighters. You hadn’t even heard John come home or smelt the cigar smoke. You found him passed out here when you came down to wait up for him.

“Yes, now go to bed.” You were quick to escort your daughter back upstairs.

Evelyn didn’t need to see her father like this. You knew John would be humiliated in the morning that you saw him in that state, let alone any of his children.

“But Gran she-. How can he be okay?” Evelyn asked as you tucked her back into bed. She had been mulling over what you said.

Her and Jj were completely distraught when you sat them down and told them their grandmother had passed away. The tears felt endless and they asked for John. You had to hold the fort down and help them through their big emotions. It was tough to do on your own but John had gone radio silent and you couldn’t keep this from them. You knew if any of John’s siblings came by looking for him the kids would find out, so you had to tell them properly.

“He’s not okay about that. Your dad’s very upset.” Running your fingers through Evelyn’s hair you watched as she wiped away the coming tears.

“I don’t want you to die mummy.” Evelyn began to sob unable to find the words at her young age that this fear was magnified after what happened to you abroad.

“I’m not gonna die for a very very long time.” You hugged your little girl and laid with her in your arms as she wept and wept.

She cried about not having any grandmothers now. How her daddy must miss his mum because she would miss you forever and ever. The pain she was feeling brought tears to your own eyes so you stayed with her until she was asleep. By that time you felt that your bones had become heavy and you yourself wanted to crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep; but you didn’t.

You made your way downstairs and cleaned up the mess in the living room. Pouring the remaining alcohol down the drain you tossed the bottle and put everything back where it belonged, as if it had never been touched. You were going to give John tonight to be self destructive for once, but after this never again.

Sleep seemed to evade you like it had been for weeks now. So you stayed on the couch and read your book allowing John to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. You wanted to be there for him when he woke up, so he wouldn’t be alone anymore. As the sun began to lighten the sky you sensed John beginning to stir.

Carefully you watched his light blue eyes flutter open in the dark living room, followed by an uncomfortable groan. John turned to look at the coffee table for what you assumed would be another drink, which was true. Seeing the bottle gone and mess picked up he was quickly more alert. John sat up using his forearms to prop himself up and caught sight of you curled up in the other corner of the couch with your book, using the book light he’d gotten you to read.

He looked embarrassed. Ashamed of himself. His eye and nose were still black and blue making this scene of your husband feel all that more sorrowful. Without a word you got up and sat next to him.

John stayed silent as he moved to sit up properly on the couch with his feet on the floor and you two shoulder to shoulder. The hangover didn’t compare to the heart ache he felt. The feeling of your arms wrapping around him did him in. He had spent the entirety of yesterday in denial and drinking away the truth of his mother’s passing. But today, in this moment in your dark living room, John finally began to accept she was gone.

A guttural broken sob left your husband as his shoulders and body began to shake. You had seen John cry before but never like this. Placing his face in his hands John sobbed from the pain deep within his soul and crumbled to pieces in your embrace. He began to cling to you and placed his face in the crook of your neck as he broke down. His fingers were clutching onto your shirt like a life line as he let out deep pained sobs. There was no shame or hiding, John was letting it all out as the woman he loved most in the world held him together while he felt a grief like no other.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered in John’s ear.

His grip on you only became tighter as he hugged you with more force than was comfortable. It pushed the air from your lungs and had you wincing. John didn’t realize he had you in a bone snapping hug and you didn’t say anything to let him know. You allowed him to get all his tears out until he was simply breathing heavy with his face pressed into the crook of your damp neck. With a loud sniffle John was pulling away, his hands sliding from your back to grip your shoulders.

Staring in to your eyes you could see the storm raging inside his sea of blue. He looked older in this moment. The years of service in the military seemed to have left deeper marks in the pale morning light. Or maybe it was the black eye and bruised nose that made John look so beaten down and broken. The wrinkles on his forehead were creased like your books dog eared pages. The crows feet that you told him were laugh lines were sunken in. Pain and sorrow were etched into the deepest parts of John’s face and it made the speckles of grey in his beard and hair seem to be spreading like weeds in your garden.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night. I went out to the pond to clear my head.” John’s normally deep and gruff voice was raspy beyond imagine. There was a scratchiness to it from the prior tears and what you assumed countless cigars and cigarettes.

“I had a feeling.” You whispered, unable to keep your face loving but now twisted in worry for the love of your life’s well being.

John had shown you his secret spot he commonly referred to as ‘the pond’ back when you were dating. It was where he went when he needed to clear his head and shut the world out. You suspected after he left his brother’s flat that was where he went. His sacred place, untouched by everyone but you. John hadn’t even taken your children there. It was the little place he carved out for himself to remain untouched.

“What do you need from me?” Your words were soft as your hands came up and cupped John face delicately.

The touch was warm, it felt like home. The scruff of John’s hairy cheek prickled against the skin of your palms as he rested his face in your hands. His icy blue eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he took in the feeling your soft touch left him with. You were holding him like porcelain, something wounded and broken that needed the gentlest of care.

It wasn’t often John felt or needed this kind of treatment and you being the intuitive woman he loved so dearly, you could read him like a book. You knew he needed taking care of. That this was going to be a time of weakness in his life where he’d be leaning on you to be strong.

“To help Harrison handle the funeral. I-“ Letting out a sharp breath John felt the pressure building behind his eyes again.

“I can’t handle it right now.” John’s breath became ragged from one moment to the next and you knew he was panicking.

“I’ll handle it.” You spoke as you quickly wrapped him up in the tightest hug you could manage.

——————

“Why’s dad home?” Your son had appeared seemingly out of thin air and startled you.

You were standing with your head shoved in the pantry eating candy. It was an attempt to hide and not have to share but you’d been caught. Turning slowly Jj’s hand was outstretched waiting for you to give him a piece of what you were sneakily munching on. With a sigh you plopped a chocolate in his hand and then walked over to the back window.

You thought John had left for work an hour ago so you weren’t sure what Jj was talking about. Thats when you saw John’s truck was still in the driveway and he was off in the distance on top of the chicken coop.

“Is he redoing the shingles?” You asked yourself before heading to slip on your shoes.

“He hasn’t gone to work in forever.” Jj added as more of an off handed comment.

It felt rare to the young boy when his dad was home for long stretches of time, even skipping going to the gym on base. He loved having his father home it just felt strange like something was off.

“Yeah, he hasn’t.” You mumbled carefully watching him move.

“Mum?” You hummed at Jj calling your name.

“I’m not trying to be cheeky, I promise. But dad’s kinda getting chubby.” Jj was looking down at his feet and wiggling his toes so he wouldn’t see the mean look you’d have cast at him.

“We don’t comment on people’s weight. I’ve told you this enough.” You sighed when Jj wouldn’t look at you.

He wasn’t wrong. You just thought it was inappropriate to comment on anyone’s weight. But John had been over eating and reaching for sweets to cope. Along with that he stopped working out and instead was working his way through some gory tv show about Vikings.

“Why are you telling me that?” You asked and finally Jj looked up at you with concern etched in his icy blue eyes.

“Dad needs to stay healthy so what happened to Gran doesn’t happen to him.”There it was, fear. Jj was concerned for his father’s health.

“You know you’re a very lovely little boy. I promise your dad is going to be okay. I’ll talk to him about it.” Ruffling Jj’s hair he nodded with a bashful smile. You were then exiting onto the back patio to make the trek out to the chicken coop in the far corner of your property.

Walking through the slightly damp afternoon grass you cast your gaze up to the grey dreary looking sky. It looked like it might storm at some point today and you prayed it was only a drizzle. It had been raining almost nonstop since the funeral. You were hoping some sunshine would break through and help cheer up your husband.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you came up to the wooden fence wrapped around the chicken coop.

“Fixing the bloody roof and everything else. Those damn foxes killed another chicken.” John grumbled with a nail tucked between his lips. His black eye was healing, but in the process turned a nasty shade of yellow and green.

“We should put Molly out here to scare them off.” The way John spoke you weren’t sure if he meant what he said or was just ranting at this point.

“That’s cruel. And it would never happen, Jj would fight you tooth and nail before you put her out here.” Rolling your eyes you weren’t sure why you were entertaining this.

“Fine, we’ll get another dog that isn’t a bloody couch potato.” John was looking to argue so you changed the subject.

“You haven’t gone to work in awhile. They still giving you time off considering everything?” The question was ignored as John hammered away. You stood there for a minute or two realizing John didn’t seem like having much conversation anymore.

“John, why aren’t you going to work?” You asked again.

With a heavy sigh John’s hands fell to his sides and he gave you a mean stare from atop the chicken coop. To most that would scare them away and he’d be left alone. But those sharp looks didn’t work on you. With a simple quirked eyebrow from you and an expecting look John groaned and went back to hammering a nail into the roof.

“You’re going to have to tell me at some point.” You stated matter of factly.

Staring down at his worn hands John contemplated if he really should. You were his wife, you had every right to know what was going on. It was his embarrassment that was getting the better of him and he didn’t want you seeing him as weaker than you had been since before the funeral. He’d shown you just how far he could fall and he wanted to protect you from seeing he had only fallen farther. Glancing up John was going to spit it out and get it over with you. You were right he was going to have to tell you at some point.

Only when he looked up he saw the back of your head walking away and toward the family home. You were far enough away he would have to shout for you to come back. With a heavy sigh, John started to feel even worse about the situation he’d gotten himself into. He was failing as a husband, father, at his job, and worst of all he felt that he had failed as a son.

“I’ll tell her later.” John mumbled to himself before going back to his work.

That’s when a crack of thunder roared through the air and a second later the heavens opened up and poured down on him. Looking back toward the house John sat back on his haunches feeling utterly defeated. He could see you in the large back window and he assumed you were laughing because you had just made it inside before getting caught in the rain.

Avoiding this wasn’t going in his favor because now he was forced to go inside and be around you.

——————

“Darling?” John’s voice startled you causing you to jump and wack your head off the upper shelf in the pantry.

Again you were hiding away to eat sweets and it seemed like you were going to be caught every time today.

“Hm?” You hummed turning around to see John drenched from the rain. He had his dirty clothes work gloves in hand. You quickly stepped out of the way so he could get by and go into the laundry room.

“I- was wondering what’s for dinner?” It seemed John had something else to say but decided against it.

He was stripping out of his wet clothes and tossing them into the washing machine. The avoidance was unlike John. Yeah he avoided you when he knew it was time to deep clean the house or you wanted him to hang art work. But when it came to real pressing matters, John tended to deal with things head on.

“Lasagna.” Simplicity felt better than trying to convince John to tell you what was going on.

You watched as he paused with his jeans in his hands and hovered over the washer drum. The gears in his head were turning but you went on your way. Life hadn’t stopped and neither could you.

“No veggies?” The question was odd in your opinion but you were realizing John was trying to make conversation; even if it was forced.

“Asparagus and I made fresh bread.” You thought you could feel John slowly approaching from behind you.

You were bent at the waste by your oven and checking on dinner. It would be ready within the next thirty minutes. A light tap smacked your bum and you were ready to scold John for being cheeky. Now was not the time and you sure as hell weren’t going to help him avoid things any further with sex.

Turning with your eyes fixed at your husband’s height you were greeted with open air. Looking down Lily was standing in nothing but her diaper. Her eyes were heavy and she had that milk drunk look. In her hand was a bottle you didn’t remember giving her. Before you could open your mouth and ask where her clothes went she threw up on you like a scene out of The Exorcist.

“Ah! Are you okay!?” You picked you your daughter who then threw up on you again and rushed her to the bathroom.

John heard something splatter and peaked out of the laundry room. He was just pulling his clean shirt that felt a little tight over his head. Then he saw you pick up Lily and then she threw up all over you. In a flash you were running with your toddler to the bathroom.

“Happy it’s not me.” John spoke to himself and finished getting dressed.

He cleaned up the mess and soon found you upstairs, both you and Lily showering. You asked John to pull dinner out of the oven and get Evelyn and Jj ready to eat. That you were going to be taking care of Lily for the rest of the night and John needed to handle everything else.

John served dinner, cleaned the kitchen, did homework with the kids and got them to bed after some snuggles on the couch. It was a typical night but without your help it was exhausting. To this day John still didn’t understand how you managed when he was deployed.

Dragging his tired body into your bedroom John saw Lily tucked in the middle of the king sized bed sound asleep. You were no where to be seen so John checked your en-suite; and there you were. Damp hair braided, wearing those cute grey cotton sleep shorts and a white tank top with no bra. You were rubbing lotion on your face, just finishing up with your nightly routine.

“How is she?” John asked.

“Better. She found an old bottle that rolled under the couch. It must have spoiled and made her sick.” Giving John a sweet smile you could see the building pressure on his shoulders weighing him down.

It made him seem an inch or two shorter from how his shoulders sagged and posture slumped. You were use to him standing up straight, almost never slouching. But the tiredness was becoming impossible to hide and you found it misplaced. John had been sleeping in and taking naps more frequently than ever.

“She’s going to have to stay home from daycare tomorrow. Since you’re not going to work she’ll be staying home with you.” The comment about work was a baited one and you were trying to see if John would take the bait.

“When did I say I wasn’t going to work?” The annoyance was evident that you assumed such a thing.

John stood next to you, only he was in front of his designated sink. Now it was his turn do his nightly routine, brush his teeth.

“You didn’t. But you haven’t gone in a while and I know your leave has been up for a bit now.” The retort was snarky.

“How’d you come to that conclusion.” Talking around his tooth brush John gave you a quizzical look. How did you know?

“It was a hunch but by the way you’re looking at me I now know it’s true.” Holding the same expression John looked at himself in the mirror. You were right, he did look guilty but he wasn’t ready to admit anything yet.

“Bullshit.” John said after spitting out his tooth paste.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is bullshit that you won’t tell your wife what’s going on. Happy we agree on that.” You were clearly frustrated by your tone and the way you put your creams away aggressively.

“Darling, I-“ John was at a loss.

This wasn’t the side of you he liked. He found it callused and rude. The love and warmth you usually offered up so easily could grow dormant in moments like this. It wasn’t out of cruelty because you were trying to force his hand. But more that your patience had run out and you were sick of his hiding and secrets. You were his wife after all, the one he should be sharing things with.

“I’m embarrassed.” John finally admitted.

“Of what?” The frustration from before dissipated and was replaced with concern.

John wasn’t sure if he liked that any better. The last thing he wanted was you to fret over him. That seemed to be all you did the past month since his mother passed away. What you had been going throw was swept under the rug daily no matter how much John pressed you on it. You avoided your own baggage by focusing on him; as if he needed fixing.

“Look. I’m going to tell you but please don’t make a big deal of it. I can’t stand when you fuss over nothing.” John already seemed annoyed with you before even telling you what was going on.

To you this reaction was saying a lot more about him than it did about you.

“I failed my psych eval. I have to see a counselor on base twice a week until I’m cleared.” With a shrug like he told you the weather John was ready to roll into the next discussion topic.

“You failed? For what!” You realized after your immediate strong reaction this was what John meant.

Tossing his hand in the air the frustration built. You couldn’t even try to respond evenly for him.

“It doesn’t matter.” John dismissed the conversation and left the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“John-“

“Stop pestering me. I told you it doesn’t matter.” Busying himself by pulling out clothes to sleep in John felt your finger tips against his bicep.

“John, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You spoke a lot gentler, a sweet undertone to your sugary words.

Sincerity. It was a weapon when disagreeing with you that John felt was impossible to fight. You cared about his well being, that was obvious. But he wasn’t in a place to have a meaningful conversation.

“I’m fine!” John turned and shouted at you.

You were only a foot away making the words seem louder and more aggressive since they yelled in your face. The way John’s face went from angry to regretful in a few second helped you forgive quickly. This wasn’t your husband, at least not the version of him you had become accustom to. This was a damaged man who was lashing out at someone about to touch his wounds.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry for pushing. Let’s get some rest.” Again you were sweet to him.

It made everything worse for John. He would have preferred you getting upset with him for shouting at you. If you did, that would mean he was overreacting and things weren’t as bad as they seemed. But you allowing his behavior to go unchallenged meant you truly thought, no, you knew, something was wrong with him. That he needed gentleness not a firm hand.

“Daddy?” Lily’s sweet voice cut through the tension.

John turned to see his toddler sitting up in bed with her arms out stretched. Her curls were a frizzy mess and she had a big pout fashioned on her lips. Clasping and unclasping her hands quickly she beckoned John over to her.

“I want daddy.” Lily began to hiccup and cry ever so softly.

The pain was evident on John’s face. In a moment of tension, anger, and remorse John fell back into the man you were use to. He gave you an apologetic look, leaned in and kissed your cheek. He lingered for a second by your ear and whispered.

“Tomorrow. Give me tomorrow and then we can talk.” With one last kiss John pulled away and gave you a melancholy smile. You nodded, silently agreeing to his terms.

John then crawled into bed much earlier than he normally did. His little girls tears dried up as he brought her close to cuddle into him. They laid in silence, drifting to sleep quickly in their exhausted states. Holding his child close helped bandaid his heart, if only for a moment.

——————

Night had cast its gloomy shadow over your normally bright home. You sat in the heart of your home with your husband at the head of the kitchen table and you to his right. Sitting like this brought memories of dinners through the years with your children, homework session, ginger bread house decorating, paying bills, and romantic dinners between just you and John.

Tonight those lovely moments felt downcast with the kitchen lights off. The only light was the candle you had lit on the table and the dim lights under the kitchen cabinets.

After a hectic day for you at work and John with Lily at home all day you were both exhausted. Jj sprung a solar system project on you right after dinner; it was due tomorrow. You were expecting John to ask to push off this conversation when he got home from the shop with a poster board but he didn’t.

So now you sat here having inconsequential small talk until you couldn’t take beating around the bush any longer.

“So why did you fail?” You practically blurted it out instead of answering John’s question about your new tires.

Breathing through his nose deeply John had to gather himself for a moment. It was cute half the time when you became impatient with him but tonight John didn’t feel that way. Getting thrown straight into the conversation was not how he saw this going but then again he didn’t know how to start it either.

So, instead of dragging his feet John decided unfettered honesty was the best plan of action.

“Emotional Instability. Apparently I have poor coping skills.” The way John spoke sounded as if he read it off the report sheet he’d been given.

“I could’ve told you that.” It wasn’t meant to be cheeky or a joke, you thought it was rather obvious John didn’t cope well.

“Yeah, never been good at the whole coping thing.” John let out a dry laugh finding a dark humor in the situation.

There was a lapse of silence that hung heavy. John could hear the gears in your head turning. Knowing you as well as he did it was obvious to him that you were censoring your immediate take. That now you were concocting a thoughtful line of question as to not raise his hackles.

“Why’s it different now? What makes you emotionally unstable? You’re not having a psychotic break, you’ve been. . . Average. Struggling, but aren’t you suppose to considering.” You waved your hand around haphazardly.

It didn’t make much sense to you that John had failed a psychological evaluation. His coping mechanisms were sub par, that was a fact; but they weren’t nonexistent. It usually took him some time to mull things over and talk with you or his best mate Sam.

John pursed his lips and clasped his hands together. Leaning forward on his forearms slightly he repositioned himself in his seat.

“Apparently I’m. . . Depressed.” It was said as if it were funny. Like some comical twist of fate that no one saw coming.

And you didn’t see it coming.

For some reason it never occurred to you John could be depressed.

“Oh.” You whispered. You could’ve been knocked over with a feather hearing that.

“But your psych eval was the same day you found out-“ You stopped yourself from finishing that sentence. There was no need to say it out loud you and John both knew what you were talking about.

“Yeah, then they had me take another last week before I came back. Thought scraping the first one would do me good and gave me another go after I had time to grieve. But apparently I scored even lower. Went from being failed for violent tendencies to out right depression now.” Again John spoke as if this were some sick joke. There didn’t seem to be any acknowledgment of how serious this was.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say.

It felt obvious that in John’s line of work a person could easily become depressed. But John being depressed didn’t feel right; it didn’t make sense. After everything he’d been through he’d proven his emotional resolve was unshakeable. Yes he suffered from the traumas and tragedies of war but he bounced back in due time. He always bounced back.

“It’s all a load of rubbish. I’m not depressed.” With a dark chuckle John looked at you waiting for you to join in.

But you couldn’t.

For only a split second John’s eyes betrayed him. It was fear you saw. A chest tightening, bone chilling kind of fear. One that shook your husband to his very core.

“John?” Reaching out to him you took his hand in yours and squeezed. The puzzle piece had fallen together in your mind.

“Yeah?” The charming look faltered under your knowing gaze.

You couldn’t know. John was a master of hiding these feelings. How could you know that fast?

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Leaning in closer you reassured a man who refused to accept it.

He refused to admit to you and himself that this wasn’t rubbish. That this was happening and he was suffering.

“I’m not depressed.” John spoke more forcefully trying to convince you of this.

“It’ll be okay.” You reassured him again.

There was a crack in his armor that began to splinter and spread rapidly.

“I’m not depressed.” John’s voice cracked this time, the rasp leaving for only a second.

“John.” You pleaded.

And like looming grey clouds, from one moment to the next the storm rained down. Acceptance came in the form of hot tears and ragged breaths. Hunching forward John rested his elbows on the kitchen table and covered his face with his calloused hands to hide his shame.

“I’ll be right here. Through it all.” Wrapping your arms around the love of your life you let him cry.

The hurt flowed, uncertainty unearthing itself as the walls John had built so high crumbled. Through his sobs he confessed his deepest hurt, his regrets, and to his utter shame, the sense of relief he felt at times.

John broke in that moment. Finally surrendering to himself and you. As hard as this was and embarrassing, you were the only person, in this life and the next, who John trusted enough to see him like this. And he trusted you to help pick up the pieces; like he had done for you.

That was the thing about the love you shared. Not once had either of you shied away from the pain and sadness life could leave the other with. And like John had swooped to your rescue when you came home after the horrors of your dig, you were here to save him. Because even Captain Price needed saving every once in a while.

——————

“I like these” Evelyn showed John a bouquet of white tulips.

“They’re very pretty.” With a kind smile John took them and placed them on the florist shops counter. Handing over his credit card John stopped halfway feeling a tug to his jacket. John looked behind him to see his son with a solum expression.

“These too?” Jj hesitantly handed John a second bouquet of white and pink chrysanthemums.

“Good pick.” Ruffling the young boys hair, John took the bouquet and added it to the counter.

There was now one bouquet for each of them. Paying what John normally would say was way too much money he strangely felt satisfied with the purchase. If it cost double he still wouldn’t mind.

“Ready?” John took both of his children’s hands and lead them across the street where you were standing in front of an old stone wall.

You were dressed in light jeans, a white and blue flannel left unbuttoned revealing your white tank top. Lily was asleep in the black baby carrier you had strapped to your chest. Like always John found that motherhood suited you more than anything this world could offer.

It was a pretty spring day. One the took leaves and flower petals on the soft breeze. The sun shown down pricking your skin in a refreshing sort of way. The air was crisp and smelled of freshly mowed grass and evergreens.

Walking over to you after looking both ways there was a comfortable silence that fell over your family. Evelyn held John’s hand tightly while Jj came over to you and held yours. The five of you made your way up the gravel path to a plot under a blossoming dogwood tree.

“Hey, mum. Missed you. Still in one piece like I promised. . . Finally put some meat on my bones.” John spoke as he always did when walking in to his childhood home and watching his mother bustle down the hallway to hug him.

Only now he would never get that again, this would become the new normal for him. This was where the relationship stopped and could never improve or fail. It had to be put to rest along side the woman who raised him.

Stepping forward he placed the bouquet of his mother’s favorite flowers at the base of her head stone. They were an angelic white Lily of the Valley bouquet that John had picked up countless times in his youth along side his father. He had gotten these flowers less and less over the span of his adult life and never thought the next time he bought them would be for a headstone.

“Hi Gran, I picked these out special.” With big tears in her eyes Evelyn laid her tulips next to John’s.

Jj stayed quiet and placed his along side the growing pile.

“Mummy why didn’t you buy a bouquet?” Your daughter asked as she wiped her eyes.

You were just placing a single English Rose atop the smooth grey stone. With a somber smile your eyes met John’s then held Evelyn’s. He too was wondering the same thing but chose not to ask. See, you and Mary had a tumultuous relationship. One John chose to ignore nowadays. So when you said no to buying a bouquet he assumed it was from your disdain.

“Your Gran was a phenom in her green house and garden. Could turn weeds into the prettiest flowers you’ve ever seen. She taught me how to plant roses when Jj was still in my belly. It’s because of her, my garden is so beautiful; so I wanted to give her a piece of it." The sweet smile you gave Evelyn after you finished speaking was minuscule compared to the sentiment.

You didn’t have to like Mary to pay your respects. Things may have been tough but she was your husband’s mother and he’d love her and hold her dearly no matter what. Part of supporting John was choosing to love the parts you disliked and like you swore to him the day you married, you would love him for better or worse.

And today was for better.

Because he came here. After a month of avoiding visiting his mother’s grave, he finally came. And you were incredibly proud of him for that.

“I love you.” John’s words were just above a whisper and you watched those blue eyes you adored become misty.

“C’mon you two. Let’s give your dad a minute.” Your children didn’t protest but quietly came along with you.

Walking back down the gravel path your children kept glancing back at their father. John had sat down and taken his hat off. He seemed to be talking but the kids weren’t sure about what.

“What’s dad doing?” Jj squeezed your hand to get your attention.

“Not sure. At the very least he’s spending time with his mum.” It was a melancholy moment but you hoped it was the start to John’s healing.

“When you visit Nana what do you do?” Evelyn asked. She was searching for some knowledge in what grown ups did when they lost a parent.

Stopping at the curb you looked both ways and started across the street.

“I buy two icecream cones, one vanilla and one chocolate and I eat both while I sit with her.” It had become tradition to do that since you were a young girl visiting your mother’s grave.

“Ice cream cones?” Jj looked at you funny.

“Your Nana loved ice cream so much she let me have it for dinner with her sometimes. She was always finding an excuse to take me to get some. So I bring her one. I know she can’t eat it. . . but it makes me feel better.” Your voice carried off at the end. There was a sadness to the words but there was acceptance after your years of grief.

“What’ll make dad feel better?” It was so like Jj to search for an answer like that. Something he could learn or do to aid a broken heart.

“I’m not sure. But you’ll be sweet to him while he figures it out?” Stoping in front of the ice cream shop down the street, you asked your children a question you knew the answer to.

“Of course, mummy.” Evelyn was quick to answer, the eagerness for her father to cheer up evident.

“Yeah, we’ll even try listening for a change.” Jj’s cheeky comment made you snort out a laugh.

“Good, and I think a big hug from you two would be a great place to start. . . And some ice cream.”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating

[celesomnis]

❝ Loosen Up Your Buttons. . . ❞

Nyoka Wadjet x Photographer Reader

The Prefect assists Nyoka with what they expect to be a small and casual photo-shoot for his magicam profile. What transpires is the most breath-loss the Prefect's has ever experienced in a mere hour's time.

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@cozymochi and @oddberryshortcake 's slitheringly handsome oc makes a return, baby

you know I had to do it to em.

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Now, truth be told, you didn't exactly grasp the huge draw to Magicam.

It seemed not to be dissimilar to your universe's version of instagram, and maybe fused with facebook too based on some of the interface.

Your old friends back home had always found it amusing that you weren't a social-media-bug, despite being so proficient in digital photography.

The short answer to that was: you preferred candids. And every photo on people's socials went through more edits and "touch-ups" than celebrity magazine covers.

Now, by some miraculous grace of fate, one of the first things you acquired when you entered this brand new world was the thing you can scarcely imagine living without - a camera.

A normal one? No. Professional one? Doubtful. Crowley gave it to you, after all.

But until you can get home, the pictures it develops are a high enough quality to satisfy your itch.

Now, even though you didn't exactly shy away from expressing your love for your hobby t your new friends here, it still took the NRC a little while to catch on to your exact talents.

It wasn't until Vil payed you a (shockingly substantial) amount of Thaumarks to photograph a few headshots for Epel that the school got its first a real taste for your skills.

And this was where a certain beastman came slithering back onto your radar.

"A photoshoot?" you repeat as you stall from placing down your final knight. You were in the middle of one of your now weekly sessions of chess matches, currently pretending you weren't vitally aware how badly you were losing this time. "Like, a real one? For your magicam account?"

"Yes." his reply is low and matter-of-fact, and, you notice, without shame.

Not that he should feel shame. Of all people, you think he should not. Every time you see him, it just re-instills in you how unnatural perfect he is.

You have to break yourself free of your own thoughts, teasing him to cover your blush, "Oh? So you don't 'have a guy' for that already?"

"I will," Nyoka leans more onto his knuckle, making the window light flicker across his glasses. "Have you. If you agree to it."

That sets off the heat in your face tenfold. You make a clumsy move on the board that Nyoka takes instant advantage of. A few more moves go by, between you both, before you finally answer.

"Alright" you say, holding up a finger, "On one condition. Outside of lighting and contrast adjustments, the photos get no edits."

You can't tell if the face he gives is because he finds that condition foolish, or if he is minutely approvingly towards your integrity.

Regardless, leans forward a tad more, showing off the sharp juts of his collarbones, and murmurs, "Very well." before checkmating you.

May the Seven have mercy on me, you think to yourself.

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The Seven do not have mercy at all, and in fact, must have banded together for your downfall.

Because when you walk into the private Savanaclaw room where Nyoka texted you to meet him, your knees almost buckle.

"Wadjet." The sight before you is off-guard catching that you call him by his surname.

He gives you only an acknowledging "Mmh?" while adjusting his braids over the many, many defined muscles of his back. Each one sticking out against his sheer shirt.

You think you die while this happens. You're still standing, and awake, but you aren't breathing, so you can't be too sure either way.

"You're-" comes squeaking from your throat.

You were about to say "you're wet", because the statement is true. He is wet. His entire upper half is drenched enough that his shirt has become see-through.

And it so baffling that this is the reality you're in that you nearly just blurt "you're wet" at him, but you can't say that. Not out loud. That can't come out anything but wrong.

He's watching you now, pinning you with those snake charmer eyes. Without the glare of his glasses, the warm sunlike colors in his eyes shine unobscured, drying your throat like desert sand.

Oh hell, prefect, get ahold of yourself. Please. You're a photographer. He asked you because he must trust you to be professional. Do not ruin this already fragile friendship by being stupid.

"You're ready... for the pictures... like that."

Oh god.

"You were late. I got prepared to keep ahead of schedule." Nyoka points out dryly.

He surely must to see how disheveled your expression is, and how your eyes keep skating down his chest, but you're thankful he isn't bringing it up.

You force a breath in and out. "Right. Let's- let's just get started. Where do you want to stand?"

"Are you not the photographer?" Nyoka challenges coolly, "And I not the subject? Your job is to adjust me into the ideal image."

Hauntingly erotic visage or no, he is still the Nyoka you've been playing chess with for the passed weeks.

To yourself, you mutter, "like you need me for that.", while pointing your camera to a few different spots in the room. Looking for the points with the best lighting.

"Over here." you decide, directing him between two deep red curtails.

There's a scoff from him, but he moves obediently to the position. The first pose he tries is a simple one. Raising his arms into a loose grasp of each curtain, stretching his wet shirt up slightly up his stomach.

You swallow hard.

"Uh, maybe, um, turn a little. To the side."

Nyoka edges his body sideways slowly, waiting for your signal to stop. His movement is languid, smooth and fluid as water. His face, though is as impassive as ever, clearly unaffected by the alluded high intimacy of this venture at all.

But in front of the lens, it turns smoldering. His professional training kicking in. His eyes burn you, and his lips are very slightly pursed in a way that accentuates their shape.

The camera is shaking in your hands. If these photos come out blurry, there'll be nothing else to blame except you.

With all your will, you steel your arms.

"Good. Can you," you hear yourself say, "Curl your tale, around your body."

After a minute, his tail slides up from its spot on the floor, and begins to spiral around his waist, peaking up into the lens view of the shot.

"Higher?" you rasp.

He does what you ask. The tail curls up until its a loop frames his abdomen, and the tip is grazing a loose hug to his chest. You swear that somehow you can feel the tail as if its on your own body instead.

Photos snap. Your heart won't stop slamming itself into your ribs.

His scales glitter with the perspiration on his neck. The pose you adjusted him to reveals the contours of his figure like some kind of marble statue in a museum. His skin glowing in this warm, fiery light.

These are probably the best photos you'll take in your whole life, and you aren't sure you can ever look at them again, not if you want to maintain any semblance of sanity in front of Nyoka from now on.

You stop clicking.

"Okay... I got- I got it."

Nyoka relaxes into a more familiar pose, crossing his arms and inclining his head by way to call you over. Wanting to see the results.

You inch over to him. You mean to just hand him the camera, even though it feels like you're handing someone your own severed limb every time you let people scrutinize your work.

But instead, he leans over you. His tall form hunches to peer over one of your shoulders, his wet shirt pressing onto your back, and his hand grabs over your's that's still on the camera.

Nyoka lightly pushes you finger aside with his own and hits the scrolling button. Reviewing the footage.

You do nothing because you actually are dead this time. Every ounce of breath has exited your lungs. There's nothing left inside you except mush and a loud, deafening roaring sound at your's ears.

A hum blows passed your ear. "So Schoenheit wasn't exaggerating. You are well at what you do. I could be impressed, mouse."

Oh yeah, you're dead.

Some mild eternity later, Nyoka rescues your soul by detaching from you. Walking to grab a small towel and pressing it over his neck.

"Adjust the lighting on those final four how you see fit," you hear him instruct you distantly, "I will chose the best one when you send them to me. Have them sent to me before next week's shoot, we'll discuss pay and post dates then."

Life crashes back upon you.

You whip around. Nearly drop the camera, fumble for it, and squeeze it into your both arms like it can protect you from the prospect you just heard.

"Next week!?"

"Next week," Nyoka confirrms. His eyes find your's, they pool heat into like lava. "You're my 'guy' for this now. Wasn't that the deal."

Oh. What the hell have you gotten yourself into.

[tinyfantasminha]

HIIIII ur oc is so cute i love her 🥺 her dynamic with jamil looks so funny could you elaborate on ur thoughts 👉👈

HAHA... yall yearn for some toxicity...

Recommended to read her OC intro/lore for context

No one knows why or how Vic’s attraction to Jamil began (I mean can you blame her?) At first glance, it might seem hypocritical for someone like Vic, who values raw honesty above all else, to be into someone who constantly hides his true feelings and intentions. But Vic is highly perceptive; she sees through Jamil's polite masks and recognizes the similarities between them. It’s his rare moments of unfiltered honesty (when his sharp tongue slips or his composure cracks) that make her swoon 🥰 On the other hand, when he’s overly polite or uncharacteristically kind, she finds it unsettling and even a little disturbing. It feels insincere and unnatural... ''T-That's not Jamiru...''

Jamil's opinion on her is that she's just a little weird. She reminds him a bit of Ace with her mischievous tendencies, which is precisely why he doesn’t trust her around Kalim. (She has a habit of charming Kalim into giving her “small” sums of money).

Still, while she can be... a little inconvenient sometimes, Jamil doesn't hate her, not at all!! In fact, Jamil would never admit just how much her constant attention and praise inflate his ego. Her enthusiasm for even his smallest successes leaves him secretly flattered, though he’s careful not to show it. He may even take advantage of her willingness to help him when it suits his needs...... she’s too eager to be useful to him for him not to 🤭

Despite his cool demeanor, he isn’t entirely heartless when it comes to her. His attentive nature means he’s quick to notice when she’s in trouble, and he sometimes finds himself worrying about her safety. That said, there’s a darker part of him, a tiny, selfish voice, that sometimes wonders if it’d be easier to just leave her to her fate. For example, if she were kidnapped, (basically the NBC event ig??) his initial instinct would be to rescue her. But then, the little devil on his shoulder might whisper, ''Just leave her. Think of the peace and quiet. No more headaches!'' while his conscience, his inner angel, would protest, ''You’d never forgive yourself if you left her!'' In the end, Jamil almost always listens to the angel, albeit with a heavy sigh and gritted teeth.

overall fun facts

Jamil seems to run into Vic more often than he'd like. While he’s pretty sure she’s not stalking him, the sheer frequency of their encounters feels like a cruel cosmic joke... He detests the way she greets him ''Hi, Jamiru~'' in that same overly sweet, breathless tone every single time.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s been jumpscared by her presence in the Scarabia lounge, usually because Kalim invited her over for dinner. Of course, Kalim never listens to Jamil's constant ''stop interacting with her so much'' speeches.

He now has a double reason to not get near the game board club (🐙🐙🐙)

Ace is quick to notice her blatant favoritism when she comes to watch their basketball matches, complaining that she always cheers for Jamil and not for him. Jamil pretends not to care of course, but we all know he basks in the attention.

[dark-moonlust]

Stubborn As Ever

Commission for Anon on Patreon @ 2025 Kate Hart

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: orc oc x female human reader

Summary: you are sick and push yourself too far but your orc boyfriend Matuk isn’t having it. He takes charge, forcing you to rest while reminding you just how much he cares about you.

Warnings: reader who has a cold, mentions but no smut, cuteness and fluff, flirty banter, caring and possessive orc bf.

The soft clack of your keyboard filled the room, the glow of your laptop the only light against the gray hues of the afternoon. Your nose was red, tissues were scattered around the desk, and a half-finished cup of coffee sat forgotten next to you, now cold. You sniffled, wiped your nose on yet another tissue, and ignored the throbbing ache behind your eyes. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. You were determined to finish it tonight and be done with it.

That determination lasted exactly ten seconds before the office door creaked open.

You didn’t even have to look.

The heavy footsteps and low growl alerted you to your boyfriend’s appearance. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, Matuk leaned against the doorframe, his hands folded in front of his chest. A plain gray T-shirt clung to his broad chest and shoulders, the seams strained slightly by his massive frame.

His deep green skin appeared otherworldly under the faint light, his face sharp as he looked at you with a frown. He had a square jaw that balanced the tusks curving slightly from his lower lip. Dark brown eyes settled on you, his hair short and messy, the inky black strands cut just above his pointed ears, though a few stubborn strands always managed to linger on his forehead. Like now. He looked devilishly handsome and you itched to comb those strands.

“Are you kidding me right now?” His deep growling voice cut off your thoughts. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Geez… I’m fine, Matuk,” you groaned even if your throat sounded more like sandpaper than anything else.

“Wrong,” he snapped, and the next thing you knew, your laptop was being lifted out of your reach. He shut the screen and stowed it away high up in your bookshelf—far too high for you to reach without a ladder.

“Hey!” You spun around, glaring up at him, but his eyes pinned you in place, and even through your cold fog, you could see and understand his frustration.

“You’re sick, wildflower,” he said low and husky. He called you wildflower because you were delicate yet strong, thriving whatever the case. But if you kept overworking and ignoring your health, you would be making yourself weak.

“I have a deadline.”

“Which is due next week. More than enough time for you to rest and get back to it.”

“Matuk—”

“Don’t.” He cupped your face, an edge of command in his voice. “Don’t argue with me. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks and now you’re paying for it. I won’t stand here and watch you make yourself worse.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re pale, tired. Your voice is hoarse. You’re burning up, but here you are, pushing yourself like nothing matters except that damn screen. Newsflash, I’m not letting you do this to yourself.”

Before you could protest, he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your waist, lifting you off the chair with ridiculous ease. Your tired body betrayed you and you tucked yourself into his embrace as he walked out of the room, holding you as if you weighed nothing. His scent wrapped around you— woodsy and slightly smoky, and you reached, touching his silky hair.

“I can walk you know…” you muttered even as you rubbed your cheek over his strong chest.

“Not a chance. You lost your privileges when you decided to ignore my advice and work yourself to death.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re mine, and I will take care of you.”

Damn, why did that sound so hot? It was probably the way he spoke, the husky notes of his voice.

Your cheeks burned and this time it was not because of the cold.

A grin on your face, you buried your face in his shoulder to hide it. He rubbed his chin against your head before setting you down on the huge king-sized bed. He adjusted things with his large, calloused hands - plumping up your pillow, straightening a blanket over your legs and tucking it under your feet. Then he added a second blanket, just to make sure you were warm enough.

"Comfortable?"

"Super comfy,” you smiled, wiggling under the soft fluffy blankets. “And one layer away from being a human burrito.”

He snorted, crouching close to you so he was at eye level. "Good. Means I'm doing my job."

“I’m gonna be okay, my love,” you muttered, seeing how concerned he was.

"Hmm… either way you’re staying put, got it? No working, no overthinking, no sneaking around.”

You rolled your eyes, but a little grin tugged at your mouth. "You're incredibly bossy.”

"And you're awfully mouthy for someone who can barely sit up without wobbling," he smirked back, flashing a hint of tusk. “But that is ok. I like you mouthy, wildflower.”

“Wow, are you flirting with me right now?”

He laughed. “Damn right, I am. And I need you back at your peak strength so that I can firmly pin you to this bed for putting me through this worry.”

"You are impossible."

"And you're adorable and irresistible.”

You snorted and looked away. “Oh, please, I look horrible.”

"Wrong," he said in one breath. He tilted your face back to him and kissed your red nose. "You're gorgeous. Even today. Flushed cheeks and nose, messy hair, that little pout you get when you're impatient and stubborn."

“Matuk…” you sneaked your arms out of your blankets to caress his hard face. He leaned into your touch before tucking your cold hands back inside, reaching for your blanket, pulling it higher around your shoulders. “Still the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

The sweet moment was over faster than you’d wanted because he rushed to the kitchen and then returned with a tray with a bowl and a steaming cup. You sat up against the headboard and sighed happily. The air smelt of herbs and chicken broth.

"Eat, little wildflower," he said, carefully passing you the bowl. "You have approximately one minute before I do it myself."

"I will eat. I’m not protesting any longer.”

“Fucking finally.”

Chuckling at his words, you cradled the bowl in your hands, the warmth radiating into your chilled fingers. The steam curled warmly against your face as you sipped the rich broth. Each spoonful slid down your throat, soothing the raw ache and spreading warmth through your chest and belly. The subtle spices lingered on your tongue, coaxing a soft sigh from your lips. Ahhh, this was heavenly.

When you handed the empty bowl back to your very satisfied boyfriend, he plucked it from your hands and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

Next, he pressed a small packet of medicine into your palm and handed you a glass of water. You obediently downed the medicine, the bitterness lingering for only a moment before Matuk replaced the glass with a steaming mug of tea. The fragrant aroma greeted you as you sipped, letting the herbal brew chase away the last of the medicine’s taste.

Once the mug was empty, you set it aside with a contented hum and sank back into the cocoon of blankets. Your body felt warm and soothed, your head less heavy. The stuffiness in your nose had also eased thanks to the herbal steam. All you needed now was your boyfriend’s body pressed against you.

As if he could read your thoughts, Matuk shifted the blankets, his hulking form easing into the bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he slid under the covers. You moaned at the heat of him and pressed yourself greedily against him. Your cheek found its place against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum against your ear.

A calloused hand cradled the back of your head, his palm large enough to cover it completely. He tipped your face up, his fingers threading through your hair before he kissed you, brushing his lips against yours, careful not to hurt you with his tusks. You protested but his tongue coaxed your mouth open and swept past your lips in heated strokes. The press of his mouth deepened, his tongue demanding more before you broke the kiss, your hands pressed against his chest.

“No! I’m sick, I don’t want you to catch my cold!”

He blinked, then burst out laughing. “That’s what this is about? Oh, my considerate wildflower.” His laughter softened into a grin as he leaned in closer and licked the corner of your mouth.

“Matuk—”

“Hush,” he drawled, pressing another hot kiss on your lips. “You’re not gonna stop me, so don’t even try. I’m an orc. A mere human cold can’t take me down. We’re big, strong, and way too stubborn for that.”

“Still,” you said, shifting against him because, damn him, he kept licking and nibbling at your lips. “But— isn’t it better to be careful?”

“No,” he protested with a low growl. “I don’t care if you’re sick, ugly, or bloody mad at me. You’re mine. My mate. My wildflower. And nothing’s keeping me from kissing you when I damn well feel like it.”

You stared up at him, heart pounding as his deep brown eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. You loved him so much, your protective and possessive orc boyfriend that had changed your life completely. Matuk was unlike any male, caring and domineering, always making you feel like the most important person in the world.

“I love how grumpy and protective you are.”

He gave you a sly grin. “I love you more. And once you recover, I plan on making up for lost time and ravish you properly.”

You grinned. “Sounds delicious.”

"Sleep, my little wildflower," he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. "I've got you."

And you did. You melted against his chest, the rise and fall of his steady breath lulling you to sleep. His arms were around you, one gliding up and down your back in abstract patterns. He peppered kisses on your eyes, nose, and lips, silently promising that no harm would ever reach you. He was your protector, your one and only. Always.

[ancientnapdragon]

hello scum villain fandom. i finished these silly books like two months ago and have been rotating them in my mind since then.

ANYWAY, i've come to propose a fun AU from my brain: Shen Yaun 'Food Peak' Lord. >:) (please excuse any typos i'm on my phone)

This is a Scumcum AU cause I decided that SJ is like my fave and I wanna see him get wifed up. Does he deserve it? No. Will this stop me? Also no.

So, slap cut to SY and he's suddenly like waking up the day after being chosen as a Sect disciple. He's like 13 and really confused and something feels... kinda wrong! It's like he has all these swiss cheese spots in his memory and he feels like he should be alarmed he's not in his own bed! But, he also IS in his own bed? What's his problem? SY is still 100% a transmigrator but since he's in a kid's body his memories are like half on lockdown. He remembers a few things but not much. The System shows up and seems just as surprised as this turn of events as he is, sort of analyzes a while, then ends up making him think (by accident) it's some like Guardian Family Spirit who is there to guide him.

In truth, the System is trying to find the best route to get the story on track within it's programming. This is NOT what it's assignment was supposed to be! Ugh!

SY has now been shuffled into what is basically an OC so it more or less just looks like him from his old life, not that he is aware, except as a kid. Everyone calls him Kong Yuan (name pending) (also I'll keep calling him SY for this to make it easier) and he was just taken into the lower Peak in charge of Food, Wine, and Elixirs. Of course this is like, with it's own special PIDW twist so everything is cool and magic. Without any real ideas on what to do otherwise, and feeling like this is Right, he throws himself into learning stuff about the Peak. He was a lazy Millennial rich boy in his last life so he's, like, kind of a SHIT COOK. That's on top of being kind of just bad at the type of physical cultivation needed for this Peak!

While highly specialized, the people on (Food) Peak are certified badasses in their own right, even if it's not in like a proper fight. You got people dipping arms and torsos in boiling oil, doing all sorts of fancy knife tricks with qi, tearing whole large beasts apart for processing; the Peak Lord and SY's new Shizun had some giant metal ladle that's twice as long as herself and looks like it weights more than a building. She's built and buff and uses this thing effortlessly to stir this giant cauldron in the center of the Peak that is as big as a house. It's a smaller Peak but always a flurry of activity! The System, deciding it will at least try and work with this, starts giving SY Taste Points as he improves. Occasionally, it will even give him little quests for bonus points! Usually it's for meeting new people, at the start, or learning certain techniques on his Peak. He notices that he usually get these 'Meet x Person' quests when on other Peaks, though... like that really sad looking but polite boy on Qiong Ding, the sort of nervous and mousy kid from An Ding, the sharp tongued girl from Xian Shu- even the real scary guy from Bai Zhan! Then after he gets those quests done, they always turn into a 'Befriend X Person' quest after... which is way harder but rewards more T Points!

(DID YOU THINK THIS WAS JUST A PEAK LORD AU BTW? NO NO NO! IT'S ALSO A QING DISCIPLE AU! HA! >:D) But why does he even WANT the T Points? Well, Guardian Spirit/System says it will provide him special memory rewards! SY rationalizes this as thinking he's receiving visions from a past? future? reincarnation of himself, which the System does not correct. It's usually smaller things about his old life, with the real important stuff all locked away behind higher and higher Points. The System will also provide him with small boosts to his palate (his was quite shit) and sometimes even... cookbooks! Part of being a Food Cultivator is enhancing your QI and Spiritual Veins by eating food that is both delicious as well as Spiritually Enhanced. This isn't just cooking in the kitchen with mama time, this is an ART. Only the best of the best have the refined palate, knowledge base, and skills to make their own recipes. It's fairly common on the Peak for the Masters to work for YEARS to try and make SOMETHING of their own they can be proud of! When SY is like 15, enough time to get to know his fellow (future) Peak Lords, he gets a special quest: [ BECOME HEAD DISCIPE ]. For the first time, THIS quest has a time limit (two years!), and the System warns him of graaaaaave consequences if he is not able to do so....

This lights a fire under his ass a bit and makes him panic! See, SY has all these cookbooks from the System, and he can even make some of the recipes! But most of them ask for all these ingredients he FEELS like he should know but he's never really heard of.... And some of the techniques are so strange, too! The System offers him a special upgrade (for what is, at the time, probably almost all this T-Points): A taste-alike Beastiary!

So, Ancient China did not have a lot of modern fruits and veggies from around the world. PIDW? Aside from a few things ones cause Airplane was a hack writer, mostly the same! But you know what PIDW does have? Lots of weird demons and animals and spirit beasts and flowers. The next time SY looks at a cookbook he will see little (???) next to the stuff he doesn't recognize. But also! There was this one recipes he wanted to make, and he had everything except for ONE thing to make it, and it has a (Inferno-Harpy-Vulture Egg) next to it. So! It shows him stuff he can SUBSTITUTE! Provided... he knows the name of the plant or animal already....

SY had always had a passion for the weird beasts and creatures he sometimes saw, but no reason to act on learning more since he was so busy.... but with this he can totally indulge! AND it will help him with his goal! Double win!

At some point in all his fumbling, he makes better connections with the Future Peak Lords, gets a reputation as being very reliable and kind (if a bit danger prone and sharp tongued at times), and is earning the attention of his buff Shizen. After getting a lot of T-Points, he manages to uncover some of the more expensive Memories....

Which warn him of a cruel villain named Shen Quinqui. An abusive man who was just the worst! Basically, all the stuff SY thought he knew about him in SV. AND the guy was gunna cause the world to end or something? UGH! Why didn't anyone DO anything about that guy in the future? :( The System says he's not allowed to tell anyone, but if he keeps working, maybe he can change Fate! Now, you're probably like 16 paragraphs into this and like 'okay, this is all super cool and you're really smart. but where is SJ at???' Well, he is HERE!

See, while SY had been to Qing Jing Peak multiple times, he's never actually got a Quest to meet anyone from there which is super weird! But he's called over there to act as a chef for a few weeks because one of the guys who usually does it is on some mission. He decides to scout out the Peak while he's there and see if he can find anyone named 'Shen' who might be the evil guy in the future.... [Mission: Meet Xiao Jiu] suddenly pops up from the System! And SY tries VERY HARD to do so! Every day he goes to work at QJ, he never meets anyone he doesn't already know. Sometimes, he hears rumors about a new kid who the Peak Lord took in and the rumors sound NASTY about him. He's only 15 (just a bit younger than SY by like a season or two!) and the guy is said to have murdered people, slept with prostitutes, perved on the girl's in their dorm there, (probably) was actually a real demon.... and was just a huge asshole. But, eventually, SY does end up meeting this mystery Xiao Jiu! He's done in the kitchen for the night and finished cleaning with the other cooks when he remembers he left something there. Going back, he finds this real skinny and lanky guy in the kitchen picking through whatever was leftover in there (not much). He's real cagey and looks ready to beat the hell out of SY for coming in there; but also like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't do. They sort of stare at each other a bit before SY hesitantly introduces himself and the guy basically runs off through the back. Rude! [Mission Complete: Meet Xiao Jiu] [Mission: Befriend Xiao Jiu]

The guy didn't even SAY anything, though! And he seemed like he wanted to beat him up! System, that doesn't seem FAIR! But... SY really wants those T Points for more future memories to try and stop whatever bad stuff is going to happen in the future, so...

Just trying to find Xiao Jiu ends up being a huge problem in of itself! This is a whole Peak and SY is mostly just here to act as a chef for a few hours in the evening. The guy never comes in and gets food, either! Does he only eat the stuff that's left in the kitchen after? But they always clean up really thoroughly so there isn't much left... and he had looked really skinny....

SY starts staying over past everyone else and leaving some extra buns and stuff he saves from dinner on the counter. Except, he gets in trouble after a day or two because the Morning Chefs had come in to find the food left there all night. Was the guy not taking it?

Eventually, he gets the idea to leave the food but... hide it. For some reason it reminds him of hiding a treat from a cat to make it want the treat more. It... sort of works? Usually only one of the buns is missing instead of the multiple he hides. But! Hey! At least the guy got some food!

Things go on like this for a while, until one night when he's heading back to his Peak, he gets sideline kicked into a dense copse of bamboo along the path. And the guy is standing over him with a sword (not a Spiritual one, but still really sharp!) at his throat. And demanding to know what SY is trying to do by leaving him food.... AAAAND I think this is long enough. For NOW. I'll write more on it when I have some time!!! My big wants is basically Feral Angry Cat SJ being slowly socialized to like the one (1) guy who keeps feeding him. They're gunna be BESTIES! (And SY just TOTALLY doesn't feel weird about thinking his best bro is pretty! That's, like super normal!)

I'm sort of half vomiting all my ideas out of my brain but also half writing a bit of a rough outline for a future fic i want to write. If this inspires you in some way, though, feel free to write stuff! Just tag me! I WANNA SEE!!!! >:)

If you have any questions or anything feel free to reach out! I wanna expand more on the Cookbook and the Food Quest and like, how SY would befriend the other Future Peak Lords. Plus, I have a really evil idea for the System to try and force the plot back on the rails later on hehe.

Ty for reading my rambling ilu <3