#oc: Seren Soul | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 6 months ago

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meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them.

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey. Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet.

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it��s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.”

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…”

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.”

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought.

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity.

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

#jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook

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veilkeeper · 1 year ago

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Tav QOTDs for Serenity be upon you: 2, 5, 9 and 11?

(questions from here)

2. what would their blood taste like to vampires?

other people can hc this all they want but since serenity is not an astarionmancing durge i can get weird with it and say probably bad. but not like, actively disgusting just... wrong. like a vamp takes a bite and drinks a bit before they realize there's just something slightly off about it. like you'll be sick later kind of off. carbon monoxide detector is broken kind of off.

5. what does their tent area look like? where do they prefer to pitch their tent (next to water, covered on three sides, etc)?

definitely tries to get as much cover as possible. if not from something solid like trees or rock, then between some of the companions' tents. as for the tent zone itself... neat. sparse at first, but very quickly starts accumulating clothes and Pretty Things he can wear. he insists that as long as his jewelry collection doesnt weigh more than lae'zel's armour then it's fine for him to carry it around, and he pretends he doesn't hear when people (correctly) point out that lae'zel wears her armour to travel in.

9. if they had to be put in a “get along shirt” with a companion, who would it be?

hmmmm since i havent played serenity yet i dont know who he won't get along with, but i think he'll probably have a love-hate relationship with lae'zel. her blunt judginess combined with her extreme and unwavering devotion to her godqueen is a pretty potent mix for his particular issues (even if he doesn't know why).

11. what are their thoughts on clowns?

does not like. not afraid of them, mind, but they get on his nerves. so annoying.

#asks #he's gonna be such a bitch i just know it #i know it in my bones in my heart in my soul #thankieeee #oc: serenity

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luna-azzurra · 6 months ago

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Eye Color to Define Your OC

Blue Eyes 💙 Blue eyes often evoke a sense of calmness and tranquility, like the peaceful surface of a still lake. Characters with blue eyes might be seen as trustworthy, reflecting an inner serenity that makes others feel at ease around them. There’s something introspective about blue eyes, suggesting that these characters are thoughtful and reflective, often contemplating the deeper meanings in life. They might be dreamers, or people who carry a quiet strength, drawing others in with their gentle and soothing gaze.

Green Eyes 💚 Green eyes are often linked to mystery and a touch of mischief. There’s an intriguing quality to them, almost like they hold secrets or are constantly plotting something fun and unexpected. Characters with green eyes can be seen as creative and curious, always looking for new adventures or ways to express themselves. There’s a vitality in green eyes, a sense of life and vibrancy that suggests a character who is full of energy and imagination. They might be the ones who are always up to something, keeping others guessing with their enigmatic gaze.

Brown Eyes 🤎 Brown eyes are often perceived as warm and reliable, embodying a sense of earthiness and approachability. Characters with brown eyes can be the dependable ones, the friends who are always there when you need them, providing a stable and comforting presence. There’s a grounded quality to brown eyes, making these characters seem down-to-earth and relatable. They often exude warmth and kindness, making others feel welcome and understood. With their steady gaze, brown-eyed characters might be seen as the anchors in their communities, the ones who keep everything together with their unwavering support.

Hazel Eyes 🟤🟢 Hazel eyes are a captivating blend of brown, green, and sometimes gold, reflecting a sense of adaptability and versatility. Characters with hazel eyes might be seen as complex and multifaceted, with personalities that can shift and change depending on the situation. They are often intriguing and dynamic, drawing people in with their ever-changing aura. There’s depth in hazel eyes, suggesting a character who is always evolving, never quite fitting into one category. These characters might surprise you with their hidden talents or unexpected insights, making them endlessly fascinating.

Gray Eyes ⚪ Gray eyes often carry an air of wisdom and intelligence, like a stormy sky full of untold stories. Characters with gray eyes can be perceived as thoughtful and calm, often observing more than they speak. There’s a mysterious quality to gray eyes, suggesting depth and a quiet intensity. These characters might be the thinkers and philosophers, the ones who are always pondering the mysteries of life and seeing things from different perspectives. Their gaze can be penetrating, making others feel like they’re looking right into their soul, uncovering secrets that no one else can see.

Amber Eyes 🟠 Amber eyes radiate warmth and intensity, often associated with strength and passion. Characters with amber eyes might have a fiery spirit, with a magnetic presence that draws others toward them. There’s something fierce and determined about amber eyes, suggesting a character who is not afraid to go after what they want. They might be bold and courageous, standing out from the crowd with their distinctive gaze. These characters could be leaders or warriors, driven by their convictions and unafraid to face challenges head-on.

Violet Eyes 💜 Violet eyes are rare and ethereal, creating a sense of otherworldliness and mystique. Characters with violet eyes might be seen as enchanting or magical, with a spiritual quality that sets them apart. There’s a softness to violet eyes, almost like they belong to someone who exists between worlds. These characters might be the dreamers or the visionaries, with a connection to the mystical or the unknown. Their gaze can be captivating and otherworldly, leaving others wondering about the secrets they hold and the magic they might possess.

Black Eyes ⚫ Black eyes are intense and powerful, often conveying a sense of mystery and depth. Characters with black eyes can have a gaze that is both captivating and intimidating, making others feel like they are being drawn into a deep, dark abyss. There’s an allure to black eyes, a sense of danger or intrigue that keeps people guessing. These characters might be seen as mysterious or enigmatic, with an intensity that makes them unforgettable. They could be the ones who hold their cards close to their chest, revealing little but knowing much, their black eyes a window into a soul that is both deep and complex.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #writer tumblr #writblr #creative writing #writing ideas

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connorsui · 6 months ago

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♡||♡ Her

Simon x Wife! Reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, Comfort, Fluff, no angst we die in Simon's Arms (romantically)

Synopsis: In the stillness of their home, he finds solace in her arms and allows himself to fully relax for the first time in ages.

Note: Sappy Simon? …happy Simon? …Simon Loves his Wife? …OC Simon? ..who knows this man just misses his wife

w.c: 987

The front door creaked open, a sound that was music to Simon Riley’s ears after months of harsh, discordant noises from the battlefield. He stepped inside, the weight of his deployment slipping away with every step. The warmth of the house enveloped him, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of his wife’s cooking. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a soft, ethereal light across the room. It painted the space in a warm glow that seemed to hold a promise of peace and comfort.

His eyes found her immediately. She stood in the kitchen, the heart of their home, where every corner held traces of her warmth and care. Her figure was framed by the window’s gentle light, creating a halo of softness around her. The apron she wore, tied snugly around her waist, accentuated her graceful silhouette. Her hair, a cascade of waves, tumbled over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer like silk.

Simon’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, her presence a stark contrast to the harsh realities he had faced. The sound of her humming, a sweet, tuneful melody that echoed through the kitchen, was like a balm to his weary soul. He felt a deep, overwhelming sense of love and relief as he approached her, the stress of months on deployment melting away with every step.

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch a mixture of reverence and longing. She turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise before they softened into a look of pure joy. Her face lit up with a smile that seemed to outshine the sun itself, and Simon felt his heart swell with a love that felt as fresh and powerful as it had on the day they first met.

“Simon, you’re home,” she said, her voice a soothing melody that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The softness in her tone, the tenderness that flowed from her, was more comforting than any words he could muster.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Simon replied, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out to caress her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “You’re more beautiful than I remember, if that’s even possible.”

She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she looked up at him with adoration. “Please…what's all this about?” she said, her voice a gentle caress against his ear.

Simon’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they seemed to invite him into a world of warmth and love. He could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, sparkling with an affection that mirrored his own. It was as if, in that moment, she was the very embodiment of peace—a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind.

Without another word, Simon pulled her into his arms, embracing a refuge from the world outside. Her warmth seeped into him, her heartbeat a steady, calming rhythm against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the soft scent of vanilla and lavender that clung to her skin. The smell was a reminder of countless serene moments they had shared, a soothing contrast to the acrid smells of smoke and sweat that had surrounded him for months.

“I’ve missed this,” Simon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

She sighed softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his back as she held him close. “I’ve missed you too, Simon”

Simon’s arms tightened around her, his need to be near her evident in every inch of their embrace. He slowly pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of awe and love.

A tender smile graced her lips as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You're soo much more loving than usual,” she said softly. “I'm starting to think you've gotten replaced”

Simon’s eyes roamed over her face, memorizing every detail with a sense of wonder. He gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he leaned in. His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and reverent, as if he were savoring every moment of their reunion. The kiss was tender, filled with an aching longing that spoke of months apart and the deep connection they shared.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of her a sweet reminder of everything he had been missing. He kissed her deeply, letting his emotions flow through the touch, pouring all the love and devotion he felt into the embrace. It was a kiss of longing, of relief, and of a love that had only grown stronger with time.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and flushed, Simon looked at her with an expression of contentment. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a deep, heartfelt sincerity. “You’re my home, my sanctuary. Just being near you makes everything right.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “I may not know what's gotten into you …but ..I suppose I can indulge on this newfound you for now …so let me say this just once … you’re everything to me, Simon. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. The soft glow of the sunset bathed them in a warm light, the room filled with the scent of her cooking and the gentle hum of her happiness. In each other’s embrace, Simon and his wife found the peace they had both been yearning for, a tranquil moment where nothing else mattered but their love and the comfort of being together once more.

Gimmie Sappy Simon...I would take that man even if nobody wants him

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kissyforkoo · 2 months ago

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Petals and Fists - j. k.

pairing: boxer!jk x florist!oc

genre: slight angst, fluff

warnings: none i think

The adrenaline faded, leaving behind the familiar ache of bruises and the dull void that even victory couldn’t fill. He grabbed his hoodie from the corner and disappeared into the shadows of the back alley, clutching the envelope of cash.

Across town, Y/N was surrounded by a different kind of chaos. Her flower shop was filled with the soft scent of roses, lilies, and sunflowers, as customers bustled in and out. Y/N moved gracefully between arranging bouquets and tending to her plants, her hands delicate yet precise.

Unlike the boxing ring, this space was serene, filled with warmth and life. Y/N had built the shop with love, pouring her soul into every petal and every arrangement. It was her sanctuary, her escape.

That evening, as Y/N prepared to close up, she heard the bell above the door chime softly.

“We’re closed—” she started but stopped short when she saw him.

A man stood in the doorway, his face bruised and swollen, a cut above his eyebrow still bleeding. His hoodie was torn, and he clutched his side as though in pain.

“I just… need a minute,” Jungkook muttered, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

Y/N hesitated, her instinct to help warring with her better judgment. But when Jungkook’s knees buckled, she rushed forward, catching him just before he collapsed.

That was how it began.

Y/N cleaned Jungkook’s wounds that night, sitting him on a stool in the middle of her shop. He winced as she dabbed antiseptic on his cuts, but he didn’t complain.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Y/N said softly, her eyes darting to the dark street outside. “Are you in trouble?”

Jungkook chuckled dryly, though it sounded more like a bitter exhale. “I’m always in trouble.”

He didn’t explain further, and Y/N didn’t press. Instead, she handed him a warm cup of tea and a blanket, letting him rest in the quiet safety of the shop.

When he left the next morning, Y/N didn’t expect to see him again. But Jungkook returned, again and again.

At first, his visits were sporadic—once a month, then every few weeks. Each time, he’d show up with new injuries and the same haunted look in his eyes. Y/N began to look forward to his visits, though she worried for him.

One evening, as Jungkook sat on the counter while Y/N arranged a bouquet, he finally opened up.

“I fight,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Professionally?” Y/N asked, though she already knew the answer.

“No,” Jungkook replied, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s underground. Illegal. But it pays the bills.”

Y/N frowned but didn’t interrupt.

“My parents left me with nothing,” he continued. “And I’ve been in debt ever since. Fighting is the only thing I’m good at. It’s the only way I know how to survive.”

Y/N’s heart ached for him. “You’re good at more than that, Jungkook. You just don’t see it yet.”

He didn’t respond, but for the first time, Y/N saw a flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe.

The bond between them deepened. Y/N found herself worrying about Jungkook more with each passing day. His visits became more frequent, and while he never asked for it, Y/N always had a warm meal or a fresh set of bandages waiting for him.

On quiet evenings, they talked. Jungkook began sharing more about his life—the struggles, the weight he carried, and the dark loneliness that had consumed him for so long. Y/N listened without judgment, offering him the kind of understanding he had never known.

One rainy night, as Jungkook sat in the shop while Y/N rearranged a display of daisies, he asked, “Why do you help me?”

Y/N paused, her fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. “Because I see something in you, Jungkook. Something worth saving.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away. “I don’t know if I can be saved.”

“You can,” Y/N said firmly, stepping closer to him. “But you have to want it for yourself.”

But not everything was easy.

One evening, Jungkook didn’t show up for weeks. When he finally did, it was different. He stumbled into the shop with a split lip and bruises worse than ever before. Y/N gasped, rushing to him.

“What happened to you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with worry.

“It was a bad fight,” Jungkook muttered, wincing as Y/N helped him to the back room.

“You promised me you’d stop taking the dangerous ones,” Y/N said, anger and hurt mixing in her tone.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Jungkook snapped, his voice rising. “Do you think I like living like this? Do you think I want to crawl back here every time I get beaten to a pulp?”

Y/N froze, her hands stilling on his arm. “I never said that.”

Jungkook sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean that.”

But Y/N stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Jungkook. To me. I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

His head shot up, his wide eyes meeting hers. “You… love me?”

“I do,” Y/N said, her voice cracking. “But I can’t be the only one who cares about you enough to want better. You have to care, too.”

Jungkook didn’t reply, and that silence spoke louder than words.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/N whispered, her heart breaking as she turned away.

The weeks that followed were the hardest for both of them.

Y/N threw herself into her work, but everything reminded her of Jungkook—the roses he always admired, the quiet evenings they shared tea, the warmth he brought into her life despite the darkness he carried.

Jungkook, on the other hand, spiraled. He fought more recklessly than ever, trying to drown out the ache of losing Y/N. But no amount of punches could numb the emptiness he felt.

One night, after a brutal fight, Jungkook looked at his reflection in a cracked mirror. His face was battered, his knuckles bloodied, and his eyes… lifeless.

“This isn’t who I want to be,” he whispered to himself, his voice shaking.

It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but that moment marked the beginning. Jungkook started making changes. He left the underground fights, found a job as a mechanic, and began paying off his debts little by little. It was grueling, but every step felt like a step closer to the person Y/N believed he could be.

Months passed, and the first snow of winter began to fall. Y/N was closing up the shop, brushing snow off the windowsill, when the familiar chime of the doorbell startled her.

“We’re closed,” she called out, turning around.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Jungkook stood in the doorway, holding a bouquet of sunflowers—her favorite. He looked different. The bruises were gone, and though he still carried the weight of his struggles, there was a lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I came to say I’m sorry,” Jungkook said, stepping forward. His voice was steady, but his hands trembled slightly as he held out the flowers. “For everything. For not listening, for hurting you. I quit fighting. I’ve been working… trying to rebuild my life.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. “Why now?”

“Because I couldn’t lose you,” Jungkook said, his voice breaking. “You were the first person to see something good in me. And for the first time, I want to see it, too. Not for anyone else, but for myself. I know I don’t deserve you, but—”

Y/N cut him off, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You do,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “You’ve always deserved better, Jungkook.”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook bts #bts army #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #moonie’s archive

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mintwithchoco · 25 days ago

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Slow Down

Oh My Girl Yooa x Male Reader + Male OC

Word Count: 8883 words

Categories: smut, threesome, oral, spitroasting, rough sex(?), double penetration, subbygirlfriend!yooa honestly, commission

Commission Details: one quaint sized of mint choco ice cream (8k-10k words)

Inspired from:

Breathe in, breathe out. Control it. Just for a little bit more. You can hold it in, you can definitely hold it—

“Fuck, Yooa… slow it, down, a little—”

She’s far from gone. You can’t stop her anymore. Relentlessly thrusting herself onto your cock is the only way for her to feed off this sinful pleasure. Being a few weeks away from her beloved significant other is quite the punishment, and with it comes an unquenchable desire to give you the best ride of your life, milking everything that your balls have saved.

This situation was within your expectation however, so you were prepared to pull an all-nighter. What wasn’t in it though was how you would have four orgasms, fully filling up her cock hungry soul in a span of three hours. To say that you were exhausted was an understatement—you felt like you were on the borderline of passing out as the constant streams of euphoria registers into your whole body.

Both of your crotches were in complete mess. Your cum was literally leaking out of the horny girl, who just couldn't keep her mouth shut, resonating the room with her moans. With a piercing screech, she makes one last powerful thrust and sprays her climax juice all over your cock.

Now that she’s laying almost lifeless on your torso, surely this enthralling scene would come to an end right?

Before you could even think about sleeping with your cock still inside her dripping cunt, she rises up once again after whispering into your ear these three sinful words, “Cum for me.” This instantly sparked something inside your brain to force everything you have left to tend to your lover’s demand. You hold her by the waist, steadily supporting her body moving against you. The friction proved to be effective as you were driving closer and closer to your peak.

“Yes, yes, yes, fucking cum for me!”

“Fuuuuck, Yooa!”

You let Yooa sink deep into your lap as you violently let out everything that you had—two thick shots of cum smearing her insides, adding towards the already unreasonable amount. Her head falls backwards, letting herself fully enjoy the feeling of being stuffed with your semen until she finally collapses onto you due to exhaustion. Meanwhile, it was a challenge for you to regain your composure after that intense session, especially with Yooa hugging you so tightly. Yet, you didn’t utter any complaints. A satisfied smile from your beautiful girlfriend is all you need to feel better.

“That was so good, oppa. You came so much for me.” Yooa said, in between breaths.

You giggle softly. “Anything to make my dearest happy. I hope you feel satisfied now.”

Yooa nods cutely, and you reply back with a kiss on her forehead. No other words were needed to end the night off as Yooa snuggles into your embrace, making you drape the sheets over your sweaty bodies before drifting off to sleep.

─◍──────

“...I just feel like, last night, we didn't do very much. Like, I need more.”

“You… want more?” She nods. “So, all we did last night was not enough?”

“No! No, oppa, I-I don’t mean it like that! It’s just that…” Yooa trails off, getting distracted by the ice cream stand by the street you both are going to before continuing, “It’s just that I wanna, you know, try something new when we do it again!”

The two of you are currently basking in the serenity of a much-needed getaway, a perfect retreat after Yooa’s performances at the recent Waterbomb festival. As both a congratulatory gift for her success plus an apology gift for being away on a business trip, you decided to bring her to the resort that she’s been dying to visit for months. Unsurprisingly, she was more than ecstatic to thoroughly experience this trip, savoring each second as if it was the most precious thing to her.

“Don't we always do that? I mean, last night, I came so much inside of you—��

Yooa puts a finger on your lips to stop you, as more people are appearing on the sidewalk. “Shhh, not so loud!” She sighs, before continuing, “I know it was, but it was me who wanted it. How about we switch it up this time, with you picking what we do next?”

But we’ve done everything though?

The intention of shopping at a mall near the resort is put on hold for a while with a stop for some ice cream. While you both munch down on your cold snack, you begin to wonder what your girlfriend really wants—what else haven't you done with her?

For the last year you’ve been together, you’ve experienced a lot of new things with Yooa. Memories of the first date are still fresh in your mind, like it just happened yesterday. You remember being so nervous to even meet eyes with her, especially knowing the fact that a well-known idol you’ve seen on music shows countless times is now right in front of your eyes. You’d have to thank the hands of fate somehow, as Yooa was attracted to your charms from the very beginning, and how genuine you are going into this relationship after being tested with the cons of her busy idol life.

Yooa suddenly whines at your tense expression. “Don’t think about it too much, oppa! I’m still very happy, and that's all that matters. Let's just enjoy this trip to the fullest, okay?”

She's right. Your focus should be on this trip that you have thoughtfully planned out purely for both of you. You then grab her hand swiftly and lead her through your next agenda. Before you know it, you both are already walking around the mall, your eyes left to scatter around for some interesting place to shop at. Eventually, Yooa stops by a dress store.

She quickly gets to one of the clothes racks. “Look oppa, this dress is so cute! This one too! And this one!”

You smile. “Why don't you try it on?”

Yooa then excitedly grabbed three of the dresses that she likes and brought them to the dressing room. It only took her a few minutes to put on her first choice—a white floral patterned dress which flaunts her curves really well and more on the revealing side. When she comes out to show it off to you, you’re nothing but starstruck by her look.

“How does it look, oppa?”

You snap out of your little trance. “Uhh, looks great to me! How do you feel about it?”

“It’s a little tight, but it's comfy!” Yooa spins around while checking out all the details of the dress. “Hmm. I’ll put on the next one.”

She returns to the small cubicle to change into her second option—a plain dark blue maxi dress, flowy and conservative that reaches by her ankles. It definitely looks much cuter than the first one, due to its simple nature. The door opens, and you are immediately greeted by a much brighter look from your girlfriend.

“Oppa look! This is sooooo cute! What do you think?” Yooa says while fluttering her dress cutely.

“Yeah, it does look cute babe! Wait, just stand there and look pretty.” You quickly pull out your phone and open your camera. Taking a few steps backwards to aim your phone properly, you began to capture a few pictures of your gorgeous girlfriend.

“Hey—”

Suddenly, you accidentally hit something—or rather someone while you were backing up. You jerk in surprise and immediately look behind.

“Oh, shit—s-sorry! I didn't see you there,” Hold on, this guy looks familiar…

“It's cool, bro—eh?” The man’s neutral expression turns into a puzzled one once both of you meet eyes, as he also recognizes you. It didn't take that long for you both to find the answer.

“Mingi?!” Yooa exclaims.

Take another look at his face, and your eyes widen. “No way! What's up bro?”

Mingi isn't just an acquaintance; more accurately, he's your former rival. Before you became close with Yooa, he was the one taking her on dates, spoiling her with gifts, and, for all the obvious reasons, shaping her into the woman you’re now with. In some ways, you could admit that they made a great couple, given how happy they seemed together. But in the end, it wasn’t meant to be. Their careers clashed too much, pulling them in different directions. Thankfully, they ended things on good terms, as shown by how well they still maintain their friendship over the years.

You give Mingi a firm handshake. “Good, good. Are you two on a holiday?”

“Yeah, I’ve been away because of work and she's been busy as well, so we decided to just take a little detour here. What about you, what are you doing here?”

Mingi beams, “Oh, this is actually my store! Well—not exactly mine, but my sister’s store. I’m just helping with a few things here.”

Yooa butts in, “No wonder the store felt familiar! Hey, can we get a discount on these?”

“An idol asking for a discount? That’s rare.”

“Hey, idols still need to save some money if given the chance!”

Mingi and Yooa continue to tease each other, going back and forth with each other like back in their days. Surprisingly, you were unfazed by their shenanigans at all. Jealousy has never even crossed your mind. It's all due to the fact that Mingi has been nothing but genuinely nice to the both of you, even going as far as advising you on some things about Yooa in your early days. And like he mentioned to Yooa, he is also not interested in looking for another partner yet, which means a scheme of getting back together is definitely not in his books. Hopefully.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you these three dresses for the price of one. Happy?” Mingi offers, and Yooa excitedly agrees.

You shake your head in response, feeling the secondhand embarrassment from your girlfriend’s playful behavior. As Mingi sends both her and a staff member to the receptionist for some final adjustments and the payment of the dresses, you thank him for the generous offer.

“It's nothing really. Hey, we should totally hang out sometime. Been a while since we had a drink.”

“Yeah, dude! I’ll see if we can make the time.”

Mingi snickers. “No, no, no, I mean, just us. Boys talk, you know what I mean?”

You thought about it for a while until you caught his message. “Gotcha, gotcha.” Within minutes, Yooa returns to you with a bag on hand containing the dresses. A big smile is plastered on her face. “All done, babe?”

Yooa nods. “Thanks again Mingi! I’ll be sure to promote your store on my Insta!”

“You better be, or else I'm getting killed by Minju. You two keep enjoying your day, alright?”

You both bid Mingi a goodbye and went on to check out some other stores around. Amidst the shopping spree and the almost excessive spending done by your girlfriend, one thing is still stuck in your mind throughout your day.

“Boys talk, you know what I mean?”

It wouldn't hurt to bring it up to him, right?

───◍────

Afternoon soon came around, and you are now lying lifelessly across the bed in your hotel room. Your legs are at the point of breaking apart (probably an exaggeration on your end) due to the whole shopping spree in the morning. You blankly stare at the white ceiling, wondering when your next few events will unfold. But it quickly diminishes itself as the fatigue finally settles in your body, your eyelids growing heavier the more you sink into the ever so comfortable mattress.

Just as you are about to fall deeper into your state of resting, a face suddenly appears in your vision.

“Oppa!” Yooa’s loud voice rings in your ear, making you jolt awake. “Let's go for a swim!”

“A swim? That does sound nice. But—” You stretch out your limbs, before continuing, “I’m all drained out. Maybe later.”

Yooa flattens her lips, looking slightly dissatisfied with your answer. “Alright then, but I’m going first. Feel free to join in whenever you want!”

You flip your body over, sinking yourself into the bed with your face flat and give her a thumbs up. Yooa quickly finishes preparing herself for the pool, wearing a two piece swimsuit that perfectly accentuates her tantalizing figure and bringing along a couple of towels to cover up and dry herself right after.

Before she reaches for the door, Yooa screams out, “I’m going now!”

You weakly utter, “Mmm, have fun.”

The door closes, and you are now left alone in the room, being free with your own thoughts and to do whatever you want. Maybe you will join your girlfriend downstairs. Though to be fairly honest, you’re not a big fan of public swimming pools, so the only reason why you would go to the pool is to just admire Yooa in her skimpy swimsuit. So basically, there's not much use for you to go there anyways other than to accompany your girlfriend. But looking at her enthusiasm even if you—her beloved one who she sticks with all the time like glue—are not there shows that she can take care of herself well enough for the moment.

Eventually, your thoughts come across your encounter with Mingi once more, leading you to remember your concerns about Yooa. You don't know whether you should bring this topic up to him at all, despite Mingi’s open mind and carefree nature. Sure, he has helped you out in deciphering your girlfriend’s riddles since he went through it all with her. Though, this is more of a “personal” case rather than your typical puzzling interactions.

But in your head, there's a voice that tells you to take this chance. Maybe there’s still a few things that Mingi hasn't told you, and this could be the right opportunity to do so. Soon enough, you got a hold of your phone and quickly got in contact with him.

[4:26 PM] You: yo, you free?

[4:28 PM] Mingi: in about a few mins

[4:28 PM] Mingi: why?

[4:29 PM] You: lets hang out, i have smth to talk about

[4:31 PM] Mingi: ight, where?

[4:32 PM] You: at the resort’s cafe, i’ll send you the location

[4:35 PM] Mingi: cool, be there in 10

It took you two minutes to get dressed and be headed downstairs to the cafe. Luckily, the swimming pool is on the top floor, so chances of being noticed by Yooa would be pretty low. Once inside the cafe, you are greeted by the calming scent of coffee beans, the buzzing sounds made from the espresso machine, brewing a fresh shot of that liquid gold caffeine.

A waiter soon comes up to you when you finally find a seat by the window. “Americano, cold.”

“Alright. Anything else, sir?”

“Uhh, my buddy is coming soon, but I’m not sure what he wants—”

“A hot caramel macchiato, please.” A voice suddenly appears behind the waiter, startling the both of you. “Oh, sorry.” Mingi then sits down in front of you while the waiter confirms your order before leaving you both to your matters. “Didn’t think we’d hang out this soon. You must have something on your mind.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But it’s a little different this time. This might get a little uhh… vulgar.” Mingi’s eyebrows moved and a small smirk began to appear on his lips, already having an interest in the topic you’re about to cover. “We just gotta keep it lowkey.”

Mingi adjusts his clothes, all ears for the conversation. “Alright, hit me with it.”

With every word you let out, you try your best to carefully explain what you’re dealing with while keeping it in sentences that won't make anyone bat an eye even if they heard it. The further you talk, the further Mingi looks amused and keeps asking you more details about your lovemaking life. One after another, his questions grow to become more direct and specific which makes you a bit worried since the number of people coming into the cafe were also increasing. You try to give him a sign to lower his voice, but he brushes it off by saying, “Don’t worry man, no one’s really near us anyways.”

After gathering everything that you have said, Mingi began to give you a few suggestions, some of which are quite concerning and rather questionable. You rejected most of them, given that they were either out of your comfort zone or too much for you and probably Yooa to consume. I mean like, why would you constrict your girlfriend with ropes and tapes just to heighten her pleasures? Your vanilla-esque mind can only handle so much that you couldn’t even bear to watch your girlfriend being in pain even if she enjoys it. A few customers around are starting to give your pair a weird look because of your constant recoils of embarrassment after hearing such sinful words coming out of Mingi which were only bedroom appropriate. Eventually after even more refusal from you, Mingi finally lands on something that piques your interest.

“What about… adding another guy in one of your sessions?”

“You mean a threesome?”

“Yeah, but don’t get like a random guy. At least bring someone that is familiar to you, like a friend. It depends on her as well.”

“D-Did you ever do it?”

Mingi snickers. "Yeah, I asked one of my staff to join in while we’re doing it in the office.”

Your eyes widen, almost spilling out the drink in your mouth before swallowing it quickly. “You serious?” Mingi shrugs his shoulders with a smirk on his face. “H-How did it go?”

“Oh, she loved it. Even asked the guy to come by the house after that.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course! He’s a youngster after all. Just giving him some fun, you know. But Minju doesn't like it whenever I bring someone over.”

“Wait, when you said ‘we’, does that mean—”

“Oh, no no no! It was with another girl. Don’t worry, Yooa is not as much of a freak as you think.”

“Of course it's an understatement, coming from you.”

You began to find the benefits in the option Mingi gave to you this time. It's something that you and Yooa have never tried; check. If done in the right way, you won’t feel uncomfortable doing it; check. All parties—Yooa, yourself and the other guy—will feel satisfied by the end; check. No more double takes, this is probably the perfect breakthrough that your relationship could take.

“Seems like I just hit the bullseye.” Mingi says after noticing your nodding head in agreement. “So, is that the answer?”

You inhale a sharp breath. “M-Maybe. It's the only thing I could imagine myself doing. But, who should I bring tho—” Your eyes then lock itself on the man right in front of you, who was enjoying his drink and the scenery unfolding outside the window. In a glance, Mingi emits a cold yet flirtatious aura, clearly letting you know how much experience he has in these kinds of situations. Your brain overloads itself with various depictions of how you want to fulfill your girlfriend’s wish.

Mingi notices that you were looking at him for a bit too long. “What?”

A hesitant look in your eyes was certain, but your lips were quick enough to utter, “Do you wanna join us tonight?”

Mingi chokes on his drink. His cool demeanor begins to crumble apart as he coughs away the pain in his throat, never expecting the sudden invitation. “Wa-Wa-Wait a minute, are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“I think I said it,” you wear an uncertain look on your face. “Can't think of anyone else that's more perfect for this than you. We’re already pretty close and since we're here, why not try it now? Plus, you can teach me a few things too, I guess.”

Mingi’s eyes blinked a few times, still processing what you had said. “Are y—Are you sure, bro? Like, reaaaaally sure?” He stops for a while, licks his lips, before continuing, “You do realize that I’m literally her last ex?”

“I know dude. But honestly, you’re the only guy that I’d trust with her if I wanna do this.” As Mingi calmly lines his thoughts together, you watch his actions intently, waiting for his answer. “T-That is, if you're free tonight. No pressure.”

“Oh my god.” Mingi rubs his temple, managing to let out a little chuckle, baffled by your assertion. His eyes are quick to scan the surroundings, hoping to find a camera of some sort, holding a belief that this is some sort of cursed prank. “Dude, tell me I’m dreaming right now. Ain’t no way you’re letting me clap your girl just like that.”

“You’re right. This does sound very wrong, but like—” The more you think about it, the more you feel that this is totally an absurd request. Although, the drive to uncover the unknown has been implanted in your head, with the motivation to please your girlfriend’s wants seeding it to full growth. “One time doesn’t hurt, right?”

Mingi sighs, “Fuck, man.”

For a moment, you felt like time is slowing down, eagerly making you nervous for Mingi's reply when actually, you shouldn't need to. His mind has already been poisoned with the sinful thoughts of Yooa taking on both of them at once, how loud she will be when they both enter her insides, burying her face in the crook of his neck when that beautiful body of hers is bent over, begging for more as her fingers grip onto the bed sheets because of how full she feels—

“You know what, I could scrap the idea, we can find someth—”

“Fuck it. Just… don’t tell Minju about this. Please.”

“I-I guess that's a yes?”

Mingi replies with a slow nod. “I’ll say this flat out, I’m just doing this because of you. I’m not gonna let Yooa focus on me too much. You’re the main guy for tonight.”

A sense of relief washes over your body. At last, your mind can rest easy after finding the potential solution to your girlfriend’s request. All that's left is for you to cross your fingers and hope that Yooa will enjoy the thought of having Mingi joining in the bed. Based on her mood today, she might take the chance for a different view. You are also ready for anything else if things go south—you’re used to last minute decisions anyways.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it. I know how she is, so we have nothing to worry about. Finish up your drink. I’ll take you to our room.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Soon enough, you both are on your way to the said hotel room upstairs. Check the time on your phone, 6:03 P.M. You expected that Yooa would already be back in the room, but the trail grows cold as the room was still in the same way before you left. It's a better outcome for you at least, letting you to prepare yourself for the potentially life changing experience.

Meanwhile, Mingi quickly gets comfortable as he takes off his jacket and sits down on the edge of the bed. “She’s still at the pool?”

“Yeah, but she said that she's gonna be back soon,” you say while replying to Yooa’s message on your phone. “How about Minju? Is she okay with you being late?”

“Don't worry about it. I can make shit up. Worst I’ll get is a pinch on my chest,” As Mingi moves himself into the bed more, he asks, “Hey, what if she doesn't wanna do it? What do we do?”

You scrunch your face, not knowing the answer. “I hope that won't happen, because I got nothing else.”

Mingi puckers his lips, “Mmm, I don’t know man, I’m still on the fence here to be honest. And if I was her, I probably wouldn't do it.”

Two minutes later, a faint beep was heard and the door opened itself. Yooa enters the room swiftly, her lower half covered with a towel and her hair still looking pretty damp, a sign that she really did go for a dip in the swimming pool. She immediately stops in her tracks when she spots the other guest on the bed.

“Mingi? What are you doing here?”

You walk over to Yooa who is still standing in front of the door. “Hey babe. Listen, uh…” You look over to Mingi, who gives you a reassuring nod. You began again, now bringing her in closer to you by the waist. “Remember when you told me that you wanna try out something new?”

Like magic, Yooa reads your mind. “Is that why he's here?”

“Kinda. We both met up just now and talked about it. And uh, Mingi suggests that we try out a threesome. Since he's already close with us, I thought to just—you know, invite him for it,” you explained. “So, what do you think about Mingi joining us for the night?” You applaud yourself silently in your head for successfully asking her without a lot of stuttering.

Mingi suddenly gets off the bed and comes up closer to the two of you. “Come on, Yooa. I know you miss a piece of me,” His fingers move to caress Yooa’s chin gently. “Princess.”

Her eyes widen instantly upon remembering her term of endearment with Mingi, specifically used whenever he feels aroused. She obviously loved the nickname as well, as it is certain to make her blush even until now, along with the recollections of it being used in their special moments.

Amidst her desire building up, the feeling of self-consciousness lands first in her heart. She knew that she wanted a change, but this is definitely a risky step to take, especially considering that Mingi, her last ex, is involved. His amorous personality is what scares her the most, as it might induce anger within you and worst case scenario, a reckless brawl.

“Have you thought this through? I just—” She sighs, “I don't want the both of you to fight.”

“Babe, I’ve thought about it, and I’m sure of it. If you're not interested, that’s fine by us. Though I really hope you would consider it.” You then hold both of her hands. “I know you're worried about me being jealous or angry with Mingi, but I promise I won't feel that way. I know that I’m the one who wanted this, and I know what I’m getting into, so you have my whole word for it, dear.”

She met eyes to the two tall men standing right in front of her. Her boyfriend has a fixed gaze on her, showing hints of nervousness, possibly because of the unusually long time she's taking to answer his question. While her ex has a calm yet eager look, though deep inside, it probably could be described as hunger at this point, just waiting for the right moment to devour its prey to fully satisfy his desires.

There is no amount of pressure that can match what Yooa is currently facing. She would literally be playing with fire, risking her relationship all for her own sexual desires. As she looks upon their eyes once again, it seems that they’re confident enough to invite her to do the act, especially her own lover, showing how much trust he has on both Mingi and Yooa, even if they are both facing a potential change of heart.

Mingi immediately breaks the few seconds of silence, “Look, I’m not gonna seduce you. I just want you to know that he's my bro, and bros won't hurt each other, mentally and physically. I’m just gonna be your uh, ‘Cock Number 2’ for tonight. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The line of restrictions starts to fade away, as lust begins to take over with trust and devotion coming into play.

She takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, before her lips part to speak, “Alright, let's have some fun, boys.”

Without wasting any time, you bring her in for a passionate kiss. Her body feels a little cold due from her time in the pool, but you love it nonetheless—she feels fresh in your arms, ready to be ravaged by the two of you. You found yourself falling further into her lips, and the tenderness of it led to an addiction that compelled your arms to hold her more securely. There is no doubt that you are already used to making out with your girlfriend; nonetheless, the feelings that you have are so intense that they could never leave your mind, a craving that is endless.

“Hey, don't leave me out now.” Mingi teases, feeling a little lonely looking at the couple.

After chuckling at his remark, Yooa invites him in to make out with her as well. Mingi shows no sign of hesitation, immediately latching onto her lips before she could even prepare for it. It is certainly odd to see a literal replay of how these two were back then, but you don’t let jealousy creep up into your head—you did agree to all of this unfolding anyways. All you can do now is to reach over to remove the towel covering Yooa’s legs and gently began caressing her beautiful figure from behind.

“Don’t forget your man behind you. Give him some love as well.”

There’s not a single bit of resistance left—Yooa submits herself to the four hands that roam around her body as lust begins filling up her mind in every passing second. Mingi attacks her neck with soft pecks and bites, careful not to leave a mark. You, on the other hand, struggle to find the hem of her top while leaving kisses on her shoulders. After guiding your hand to it, Yooa reaches down to your crotch and cups the growing bulge in between your legs.

“Fuck—” you gasp as her fingers massages your clothed cock, delicate yet agonizing. Although her touch is shooting copious amounts of pleasure into you, you manage to slip a hand under her top to reach her mounds. They fit perfectly in your palm, and you couldn't help but to just knead her breasts and tweak her nipples, making her jerk pleasurably.

Mingi puts a halt on his kisses. “I think it’s time we get more comfortable.”

You agreed almost immediately, making both of them giggle as you complain about your legs getting sore. You lift Yooa right into your arms, carrying her in a bridal style to bring her over to the much more pleasant bed. As soon as you lay her down on the soft mattress, she wraps her arms by your neck and pulls you into her lips once again. Mingi scoots over to the other side, takes off his shirt and joins in with your intertwining bodies on the bed.

He stares stupidly at the full view of Yooa’s figure reflected from the dim lights of the room. As his hands slowly creep upon her waist, he blurts out, “Damn, your body still looks fine as hell, just the way as I remember it.”

“Go on then, take off her clothes. You’ll get a better view that way,” you respond before going back to Yooa’s lips.

“Stole the words right out of my mouth.”

Yooa's top is gone within seconds, and her bare breasts are finally fully exposed to your eyes. Perfectly round and perky with a set of brown protruding nipples, her tits are never disappointing, never failing to make you drool for it every time. Although before you could satisfy your own hunger, Mingi lands his lips onto them first while squeezing each boob gently in his palms. Her body starts to jerk at the pleasing touch, and the way your kisses trails across her neck and shoulders brings shivers down her spine.

“Oh god, this feels, amazing…” Yooa breathlessly moans.

Intoxicated by her seductive tone, you and Mingi continue your teasing, or in one way to put it, worship her captivating body. A connection is made in both of your brains when the two of you dive mouth first on her erect nipples at the same time. Yooa throws her head back the more their tongues swirl around and suck on her areola, with each whimper driving both men nuts and hungry for more.

Your idling hand then lands itself on her midriff, caressing each visible tone of her abs muscle that she worked on for years to maintain. It’s one of your favorite parts about her, though arguably, everything about her is perfect in your eyes. And obviously, the second man in the room shares the same thought, as his hands drift towards the heat between her legs, the main dish for the night.

He slips it under her bottoms, and it is met with slickness on his fingers. A smirk is evident on his face. “Enjoying it so far, hun?”

“You— fuck— mmmh—” Yooa struggles to let out coherent words, her feelings still mixed around by the inconclusive thought that her past and present are on the verge of fighting for her pleasure, morals are being thrown away for the sake of discovering a new side.

Mingi makes contact with her vagina, his index and middle fingers help it to open up slightly, causing more of her juices to leak out. In the meantime, you continue to give love on her upper body, let it be her breasts, arms, pits, waist, stomach, anything deemed to be a part of Yooa is not leaving untouched by your kisses. Eventually, Mingi takes a big step by taking off the last article that’s left on her body.

She moans at the feeling of being vulnerable and sensitive to the two men beside her, with the cold ambience of the room adding up to the cause of her shivering. After throwing the undergarment somewhere in the room, Mingi then moves himself in between of Yooa’s legs, but stops himself before going closer.

“Dude, go for it. No need to ask me.”

Your mind immediately did a double take on what you said spontaneously. The words of affirmation goes straight out of your mouth with no hesitation whatsoever, and it baffles you how a few minutes ago, you are also unsure whether this was a good idea or not. It’s safe to say that you are now driven by only lust in this new experience, and you want to hope that it will get much better, because there are still a few doubts left in your mind.

Mingi licks his lips in anticipation. Both of his hands hold onto her thighs, letting her to spread them apart as he descends his head lower towards her glistening pussy. He breathes out an impressed gasp, and his eyes are now locked upon his mouth-watering meal. Warm air grazes over her damp labia, and his fingers return to tease the opening to her walls. Yooa continues to squirm under your body due to Mingi’s immaculate touch, and desperation is imminent in her eyes.

Yooa manages to reach over to the hem of your shirt to give it a little tug. You catch the message in an instant, so you take some time stripping down, leaving only your boxers to be your cover.

You groan deeply as Yooa fondles your confined erection for the second time. “So fucking hard, and full…”

Suddenly, she yelps in surprise and throws her head back in pleasure. Look to your right, and you’re greeted by the sight of Mingi devouring her pussy, lapping up all of her juices flowing out while gently penetrating her slit with his tongue. It freezes you in place for a second—this is a whole new appeal that strikes both arousal and fear inside you, but to be fair, it was all going in the way that you wanted it to be.

“I need— mmh, your cock, p-please?” Such a filthy request, coming from a goddess-like voice.

Naturally, shyness overwhelms you. But why would you resist any further? It would be a big waste for you to dip out now. With a deep breath, you release your member from its confines, and it springs out hard and fairly warm. Salivating at the impressive length, she instinctively grabs it by the base, and strokes it gently with all that she can. More precum leaks out of your slit, an occurrence that has been happening since the beginning of the act, and it only grows better when it is finally shown to your girlfriend’s eyes.

The moment when Mingi sucks wholeheartedly on her pussy is when you begin inching your shaft closer to her face. As Yooa moans profusely with her mouth open, your tip makes contact with her plump lips and automatically, like a vacuum, it enters the wet cavern. The three of you are now connected in some way, and it is definitely a feastful sight to witness for those who are into it.

“She tastes so fucking good.” Mingi moans. “This never gets old.”

Yooa is clearly getting accustomed with Mingi’s company in such a wicked act, and the same could be said to you, as your erection throbs over each lick to its underside and tip. It’s not a surprise that the view of Yooa’s gorgeous eyes locking upon yours as she takes you in more would drive your libido into overdrive.

“Just like that, princess. Good girl,” you groan.

Your hand having a firm grip on her head is something you rarely do, especially when you’re the one moving it further into your crotch. You’ve never gotten this rough with Yooa before, even your voice has dropped deep, filled with eagerness and dominance. As a copious amount of spit seeps out of her sealed mouth, so too does her vagina leak more, and it’s all thanks to the newly added two fingers thrusting in and out of her.

Mingi is locked in, never leaving any parts of her pussy untouched and unstimulated. Be it with his lips or his fingers, he’s not showing any signs of halting his progress, amidst the suffocating clamp of her thighs around his head and the constant harsh jerks of her figure. The flame of passion continues to burn brighter, fueled by the girl’s wordless wails, intensifying with each of his rapid motions, all to gratify Yooa’s sensations.

A thought comes across your mind, as you notice a small space on her crotch that’s left unattended—a perfect spot for another hand to lay upon. You slowly sneak your way to it, and the middle finger is immediately acquainted with her clitoris as it begins rubbing the flesh delicately. Alongside the vibrations from her mouth as she vocally expresses herself around you, a perfect cycle of pleasure is somehow made.

Disappointingly, the cycle is about to break after a while, as she is reaching her limits. Your shaft suddenly appears out of Yooa’s mouth, her back then arched itself perfectly while having both hands on Mingi’s head, holding on for dear life. Never uttering any complaints about the pain however, Mingi continues his feast like a hungry animal, gripping onto her thighs to make her stay put.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m cumming! Fuck—”

Give her head a gentle rub. A little comfort is the final stretch she needs to reach her orgasm, and she cums hard. Her head falls back, as she sprays love juices all over Mingi’s face and drenching the bed sheets. You’re even more impressed by the fact that he didn't falter from the pressure of her squirting, and instead diving right back into it, all in order to lap up everything that she had to offer.

The high comes to an end when Yooa raises herself up to lean by the bed frame, her chest heaving to gather some air. “Goodness, that was amazing.”

“Wasn’t that bad huh, princess?” Mingi teases while wiping his face with his own shirt.

Yooa nudges him on the chest. “Shut up.”

“So, what's next?” you ask.

The man in front of you smirks as he gently caresses Yooa’s chin. “Gotta say, I quite miss the feeling of these lips being around me.”

You couldn’t agree more. “Guess it’s my turn on the other side then.”

Yooa didn’t even get a single word in, and yet her body is already being turned around by the waist, forcing her to be on both knees. The tip grazes over her pussy, still freshly wet from her orgasm, and it easily receives the first inch of your shaft. While you begin pushing yourself into her more, Mingi finally relieves the pressure of his own, revealing his member to the girl's eyes.

His heart races intensely when Yooa looks up, her mesmerizing yet lustful gaze upon his pride is a view that would make any man fall. Focus on her plump lips, and he lines himself right in front of them. It then opens slightly, which gives him a chance to insert his length into her orifice. Though he twitches before he could move any further, her hot breaths grazing over his shaft forces him to leak more.

“Oh god, yes. That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Mingi breathes out.

Yooa’s body arches once both men successfully insert themselves from both of her ends. Dopamine rushes through her immediately, as her boyfriend goes in deeper while Mingi holds her head in place, not wanting her mouth to leave unexpectedly. She’s helpless—there’s almost nothing that she could do by herself as these two men had a chokehold on her entire being.

Without you realizing it, the switch has finally been turned on, as you began thrusting into your love.

You're a changed man. All of your worries have been swept away, obviously by the way you're making Yooa’s body tremble and jiggle with each move of your hips. You crave for her moans, but it was muffled up due to the second cock that's filling up all of the space in her mouth. A slight jealousy invades your thoughts, courtesy of how Mingi is enjoying the warmth of your girlfriend’s mouth, and it instinctively drives you to progressively extend your reach inside of her. You quickly shake it off your mind however—the trust you have for the both of them is strong.

Mingi strokes Yooa’s head gently. “That’s it baby. Look at me. Look at me while he’s stretching you out. Bet she feels so tight huh?”

“Oh, so fucking tight. Our princess is doing so well.”

Mingi gathers a bunch of Yooa’s hair to make a ponytail of some sort, turning it as his handle to begin fucking her mouth. She gags repeatedly as he goes in deep down her throat, drool forming on either side of her lips. With the way things are going, the pet name “Princess” wouldn’t really line up with how much filth there is plastered on her image—lips messy with saliva and precum, body fully sheen with sweat and teary eyes begging for more. For this night alone, she is the perfect fuckdoll for the both of you, her mind has been reprogrammed only to fulfill lust and submit to pleasure.

Thrust after thrust, and she ascends to her climax once again, the vigorous vibrations felt on Mingi’s shaft becomes the sign of her pussy gushing out juices all over you. The two of you express praises for your princess by not halting the pace, motivating her to leak out more.

“Aww, our princess is leaking out so much for us! Do you want us to go faster?” Mingi teases.

You don’t need her confirmation. Your hands are already digging into her waist, gripping them as tight as you can while relentlessly driving your hips. Yooa's body goes numb—she couldn’t catch a break for even a second, as the two hungry beasts are going rampant, using every bit of what she has to offer physically.

Mingi loves this scene. You may not realize it, but other than being the second cock inside of your girlfriend, he has successfully turned you into the complete opposite of what you are in bed before. From being the submissive one, who lets all the work done by the girl, you’ve become the dominant one that takes control over everything, driven only by desire. In addition to that, the possessive side of yours was really starting to show its fangs, constantly asking Yooa who’s her real owner is.

She manages to release herself from her ex’s cock, before blurting out, “I’m yours, I’m yours! Only you oppa—”

You cut her off by yanking her hair, pulling her closer to you. “Did I tell you to stop sucking him off?”

Yooa moans profusely as your thrusts are put into a halt, the whole shaft sealing up her holes, forcing the walls to contract in. Though, you brush it off like it was nothing and manage to turn her body around to face you once more.

Almost immediately after you left her pussy, the neediness overpowers her as she gets all whiny, pushing her crotch against yours repeatedly. “Fuck, please please please, I need more, I need more—”

You calm her down and reach close to her right ear, “I’m about to show you, baby. Slow down.”

“God, that’s so fucking hot.” Mingi speaks out, his gaze locked towards the two of you while he idly strokes his member.

A smirk lands across your face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Mingi moves himself behind Yooa and wraps his hands on her waist. “You don’t need to tell me twice. I know what our princess really wants.”

The girl giggles as Mingi brings her into his lap, her back resting against his muscular frame. His shaft appears right in between her thighs, and he guides it to the other hole that hasn’t been invaded by anything yet. Her legs shake when the man behind her slaps his cock over the puckering hole, but you hold them in place before the tip finally begins penetrating it. Thanks to him facefucking Yooa earlier, her saliva acts as some sort of lube to ease the friction when entering her extremely tight ass.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight.” Mingi moans.

While Mingi struggles to penetrate your girlfriend’s back door deeper, you move yourself right in front of the two, letting your cock to rest against her midriff. You witness the way Yooa’s face contorts as Mingi brings her down more, biting her lips as response to the painful yet pleasuring act—she’s still so gorgeous amidst everything, and you crave for more.

“I’m going in now, princess. Now, be a good girl for us and don’t cum until I say so, okay?”

You smile at her small nod of approval, her wanting eyes looking upon yours as you line yourself up to enter her once again. It feels a lot more tighter now somehow, due to the fact that her walls are convulsing even more with the addition of Mingi from behind. Nonetheless, you both push through the obstacle, filling up her insides like snuffing a pillow into its own sleeve.

This feeling of being this full was too much for her, and Yooa definitely knows that this is her limit. But she wants to keep going, the pleasure is too addicting for her, even if she knows that she will be completely drained by the end of this. As the two men drive even further into her guts, the exchange of guttural exhales are the signs of her euphoria, peaking at levels that she didn’t know existed.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, fuuuuuuck!” Her head falls back as your whole shaft is finally inside her, and ironically, you try your best not to cum first, the sudden constriction of her walls puts you instantly on cloud nine.

All three of you go stiff for a moment, trying to regain some sense before proceeding with this new experience. You leaned down to share a few kisses with your princess, “Does it feel good, baby?”

“It f-feels so good! I feel so full, oppa!”

Mingi adds fuel to the fire. “Are you ready for more, princess?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, pleasepleaseplease, I need it so bad!”

God, she looks so fucking cute being all needy and whiny like that, you thought. With a deep breath, your hips began to move in and out between her legs, disappearing your shaft inside of her slick cunt. At the same time, Mingi thrusts up into your girlfriend’s ass, and her body recoils with each of his harsh movements.

Yooa realizes the difficulty of the task that she had been given. How can she hold herself from orgasming when there’s two fully erect cocks all up in her guts? Simple answer; she can’t. She’s trembling so much that it’s getting harder for the both of you to hold her in place.

Feeling compassionate, you motivate her, “Hold it in, princess. You can do it.”

“Yes, princess. You’re a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Mingi continues.

She nods profusely. The thrusts now grow even stronger on both ends, as a perfect alternating rhythm is achieved between the two men. Struggling to contain the pressure building inside her, you gave her a little distraction by letting her suck on two of your fingers. It’s evident that her patience is running out as she glares at you with pleading eyes.

“Tell me what you really want, princess. I’ll let you cum if I hear what I want.”

“I— I want— both of you— cum inside—”

“Aww, our princess wants to be filled up! Surely we won’t disappoint her huh, Mingi?”

Mingi snickers, before replying, “Fuck yeah, let’s give her what she deserves.”

The two of you go off on her, chasing the imminent climax that all of you desire the most. It’s getting closer than ever; the astonishing view of Yooa’s holes being full of white, and the extreme waterfall of her delectable juices gushing out. A few more thrusts later, and it finally comes to fruition. Your grip on her waist tightens, holding her in place as you fill her pussy to the brim with your hot load. The manly groans in the room doubles as Mingi also reaches his own peak, cumming deep inside of your girlfriend’s ass, completing the vision that you never even thought of dreaming about before.

Amidst the overload of euphoria and shortness of breath, you manage to break Yooa’s short curfew, “Cum for us, princess.”

In an instant, the pressure inside her snaps. With a gut wrenching moan, you witness her third climax—the most you have ever seen. It went exactly as you have pictured, the way her squirt covers your entire crotch in an instant, pouring out an immense amount nonstop until it soaks up the bedsheets and the pure ecstasy reflected in her eyes, finally being fulfilled of her wish.

“Holy fuck,” you first utter, after a few seconds of just heavy breathing. “That was insane.”

Yooa’s body falls weak on top of Mingi’s, her head resting by his shoulder. He flinches for a second, “You okay there, princess?”

“Fuck, you guys,” she says, as you pull out of her slowly. “I feel so full.” As Mingi also retreats from her ass, it immediately stuns you with a view of both of your thick loads escaping the freshly fucked holes.

You let out a satisfied sigh at her response. The night was a complete success! “You deserved it, baby.”

The mess all over the room was the wake up call to reality for all of you. As laughter starts to erupt when Mingi makes a joke about the hotel service, you realize that it was an eye opening experience, considering the amount of comfort you felt after sharing an intimate experience together. Exhaustion then starts to settle in, but not for the guest of the night.

“Where the heck is— oh, here it is.” Mingi finds his phone beneath the bedside table, and is soon shocked as soon as he opens it. “Oh, fuck.”

You ask, “What's wrong?” Mingi shows the screen to you, making you gasp. “Holy fu—19 missed calls?!!”

Mingi hisses, knowing how much he’s getting scolded in a few more minutes by Minju. “Yeeeeah, I gotta go.” He immediately springs out of bed and dresses up. “It was great by the way, I enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, we did too. Thanks a lot man. You take care now,” you reply.

Yooa pops out of the blanket, “Bye Mingi!”

After you witness Mingi swiftly leaving your hotel room, the focus is now back to your lover. With a strong yank of the blanket, Yooa’s naked figure is revealed to you once again.

You’re not slowing down just yet.

“Huh? B-Babe? What’s wrong?” she reacts.

“We’re not done yet, princess,” you say as your hand trails over her waist. “I haven’t fucked you thoroughly.”

“W-Wait babe, at least let me cle—”

“That can wait. Besides,” you whispered close to her ear, “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Ahh! Babe! S-Slow down!”

===========================================

note; thank you so much for the commission anon, and thank you so much for your unwavering patience! this was definitely one of the hardest fics that i’ve worked on, but i hope that it was worth waiting for a year! 💀

i still have some doubts about the concept of this story, and i know that there will definitely be some peeps that will not enjoy it because of the dynamic, but it's built itself that way just because i wanna make it entertaining in a way, so i hope i’ve done exactly that :)

special thanks to @ggidolsmuts for helping out with proofreading! as he’s the resident oh my girl stan, i had to ask for his touch and this fic would not be alive without his guidance 😔✊🏻

anyways, thank you so much for reading and have a beautiful day up ahead! <33

#oh my girl smut #yooa smut #oh my girl #yooa #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male oc #reader insert #Spotify

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saiilorstars · 4 months ago

Text

ch.24: When it's Broken...

Steve Rogers x OFC fic • squeeze your eyes for a Bucky Barnes x (2nd) OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @gloryekaterina @lenonizi @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes

Story Masterlist • Seren’s Masterlist• Chloe’s Masterlist

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

When Steve found Seren in the morning, she was working on her new suit. It had become a little custom since they moved into the Tower. Seren either worked on the suit herself or sometimes had Tony around for consultation. Steve began to wonder if she was really working on it for the sake of working or if it was just to distract herself. He supposed it was the same as when he visited the training room.

"Did you even bother to sleep?" Steve asked despite already knowing the answer. They had laid together the previous night for some sleep but a couple hours later he woke up to find Seren gone.

"Course I did," Seren said much too quickly and she knew it. "I mean, for a bit…" She swiped left and right on the holographic plans of her suit. "No, actually, I didn't," she admitted a second later. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't. I was hoping Chloe would call or at least text me." But she hadn't done any of that.

"You just have to give her time," Steve said. He sounded like a broken record. Seren was just too kind to tell him that.

"At least if I get this suit finished, then I'll be able to start scouting areas for the scepter with Stark."

"Seren…"

"I'm good Steve," Seren assured him. "All I need right now is a hug...or two...or three…"

A fair request. Steve took the necessary strides to get to Seren quickly and hugged her. Seren was tired but every problem they had prevented her from realizing it until now.

"You want to take a nap?" Steve offered.

"Maybe," Seren nodded. "I did get something through with my suit this morning. I've added a touch of color. I always hated the sheer black suits of S.H.I.E.L.D. I felt like they never suited me like it did for Maria and Natasha."

Steve let out a low laugh. He swayed Seren a bit. "I thought you looked amazing in them."

"I didn't take you to be that kind of man." Seren smirked as soon as she felt Steve's body stiffening. She had to laugh.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it," he huffed.

"I know, lovey, I just like messing with you," Seren raised her head to meet his gaze. At least she was smiling now.

"How's about that nap?" Steve asked again, feeling like this time she would really end up falling asleep.

Seren nodded her head. Steve let her go and took her hand. He started leading her for the door when someone walked in, or rather sprinted in.

"Chloe…" Seren breathed at the sight of her best friend but not entirely over her mere presence but her appearance.

Steve did the same thing. "Chloe, what's wrong?"

Chloe's face was stained with tears, her eyes red and puffy from the tears still glistening around. "I did something bad…" She said and only barely for her voice was strained.

Seren pulled her hand from Steve and hurried up to Chloe. Chloe didn't give Seren an opportunity to ask anything else — she dove for a hug instead. Seren rocked back a couple steps but was able to claim some balance in the end. Chloe's body shook from her sobs. Seren had never seen Chloe like this, much less Steve.

"Chloe, what is it?" Seren insisted on an answer.

Chloe's eyes met Steve behind Seren. Steve felt a little out of place with such an intense gaze. It appeared like Chloe was frightened but it couldn't be of him, could it? That didn't make sense.

"Chloe—" Steve started when Chloe cut him off.

"I was with Bucky."

Silence fell over the room. The only noise was the constant beeps of the computers around them.

Seren froze. Steve's eyes widened.

Chloe's breathing became jagged. She wanted to explain everything — how she met Bucky, how it all got started and how it ended — but the words that came out of her mouth were a far cry from that detailed explanation. It was a garbled mess.

"I didn't plan on him sticking around and I definitely didn't think he would just get up and l-leave me!" Chloe's eyes fell shut as new tears rolled down her face. It was perhaps what hurt the most. Up until now, the arrangements, every deal she and Bucky had made were kept — whether it was something as small as 'I'll try to sleep' or something really important like him agreeing to stay with her until they figured something out. It didn't make sense why he would leave without her, but he did.

Seren's lack of sleeping made it a bit difficult to follow everything Chloe was saying. It sounded like she was saying that...she and…

"Are you actually saying that this whole time, Bucky's been with you?" Steve's question was sharp and demanding, nothing that Seren had ever heard from him. He had heard Chloe perfectly and followed as such.

The same went for Chloe which was why she retreated a step from the couple. "Y-yes," she swallowed hard.

Seren looked between the two, suddenly feeling a lot smaller than what she typically felt when she was around them.

"Chloe, I — why didn't you tell me that!?" Steve openly demanded for the answer, expecting it to be a damn good one which was quite impossible. There was nothing that would justify Chloe keeping Bucky a secret.

And Chloe saw it. It was all in his face. His eyes were narrowing on her. His lips had thinned and were soon to be forming a scowl. "Steve, I couldn't say anything. Bucky didn't want that."

Wrong answer.

Seren's eyes flickered at Steve. That answer was brutal. Bucky didn't want to be found.

"He needs help, Chloe," Steve snapped harshly, ignoring Chloe's flinch, "You were supposed to tell me!"

"It wasn't up to me!" Chloe reiterated. "I couldn't make decisions for Bucky! We could only make decisions for ourselves."

"But it sounded like you two came to the same decision…" Seren cut in quietly and quite cautious. She studied Chloe's expressions. "That's what you were saying, wasn't it?"

Chloe nodded slowly. "Yes, but Bucky left me. He betrayed me. I thought...I thought we were allies but…" Her eyes brought fresh tears to her face. Something hurt inside like it never had before and she didn't know how to handle it so it came out as tears.

Seren's face softened.

Steve's did not.

"We were going to run today in the morning," Chloe said. It didn't matter anymore if their plan came out. "I-I reached out to someone to get us to Europe without being spotted."

"You were going to take Bucky to Europe?" Steve's eyes widened again, although they quickly settled into a glare. He was outraged! "Chloe, what the hell!? You were seriously going to leave without telling any of us and with Bucky!?"

"Steve…" Seren motioned him to calm down or at least for him to try and calm down.

"Bucky was going to Europe regardless of whether or not I would!" Chloe exclaimed. "I just couldn't take all this Animinds stuff and—"

"You were going to run away," Steve spat.

Seren helplessly looked between Steve and Chloe. She tried getting a word in but they were both talking over her.

"I was scared, Steve!"

"We are all here for you, Chloe! And I wanted to be there for Bucky but you didn't let me!"

"He didn't want anyone to find him! Hydra's still out there and they're looking for him...and me!"

"Chloe, nobody's touching you again," Seren managed to cut in for a second. "Running away is nowhere near the answer. That's what you did the first time!"

Chloe nodded. "I know, but I did what I did and somehow I got burned by the person I never suspected."

"Walk me through it," Seren pleaded before Steve started snapping again, "What physically happened last night?"

Chloe swallowed hard, took a deep breath and began explaining the plan she and Bucky meticulously came up with. They were to meet Chloe's contact at the docks and travel under secret then take refuge somewhere in Europe. "But then I woke up, saw my old stuff from Malibu and a letter from my mom and Bucky. He left me."

Seren's eyebrows raised. "I brought that stuff over, Chloe."

Chloe did a double-take at Seren. "What? You met Bucky?"

"No," Seren shook her head, "I visited your mother, Chloe. I brought back a box full of your stuff so you could go through it. I...I guess I must have been talking to Bucky on the other side of the door. He must have grabbed the box and left it for you." It also sounded like Bucky realized she was right. Chloe did have hope to reclaim her old life and he wanted to make sure that she did. So, he left.

"Do you have any idea where Bucky can be right now?" Steve's question was no question at all but a demand instead. Chloe shook her head for half a second before Steve demanded to know the contact that was supposed to help them.

"Chloe, you need to tell us," Seren said gently. The secret was out anyways.

"It's Citlalli," Chloe answered quietly.

Steve's eyes fell on Seren who didn't appear to be surprised nor confused with the name. She knew who that woman was. "Seren, who is it?"

Seren let out a long sigh. "A CIA agent and our friend, more so Chloe's than mine."

"No one is more connected than her," Chloe said. "But I've been trying to call her and she's not answering."

"We need to talk to that agent," Steve muttered, taking a headset for the doors.

"No, wait!" Chloe panicked and rushed to catch up to him and blocked his way. "You can't out Citlalli — she'll be in huge trouble!"

"That's not my problem!" Steve said.

"Steve!" called Seren sharply, making him look back at her. "You don't understand. Citlalli's deep into this network stuff and not all of it is legal, persay. I don't even know how deep it is and personally, I don't feel like making an enemy out of her because we didn't think things through."

"We need to get in contact with her," Steve reiterated, and Seren nodded.

"And we will. But let me do it, please. You can trust me."

"Yes, I can," Steve nodded at her, giving Chloe a brief glance before storming out of the room.

Chloe sank down on the nearest stool. "He's so mad at me…"

"Well, Chloe, what did you expect, honestly?" Seren crossed her arms at Chloe. "That was his best friend you hid from him."

"Bucky really didn't want to be found," Chloe insisted. "You think I wouldn't have loved to bring him here? To call Sam or Steve—"

"Yeah, but would you have?" Seren cut her off. "You haven't taken any of our calls in ages."

Chloe's shoulders slumped down. "Okay, so I haven't been the best of friends…but you didn't talk to him, Seren. You didn't live with him. Steve has told me so much about Bucky Barnes, the charming sergeant, the confident, sweet man…but the man I met was not him. He's a shell, Seren. Forcing him — if I could miraculously match his strength — wasn't something I would've been able to do. And I understood him."

"Because you didn't want to be found either," Seren nodded. She lived through something similar in Hudson. Getting away from everything was essential to her healing. It just made things harder with Chloe, though. She wanted to be as mad as Steve but that was out of the question. In the end, Chloe was her best friend and she empathized with everything that had happened so far.

"You just need to give Steve some space," she told Chloe. "This is his best friend we're talking about. He's been devising plans with Sam about where to look. It's hurtful to know that all this time Bucky was right here and...that he didn't want to be found." Seren grabbed another stool and brought it over to sit in front of Chloe. "How did this get started? Tony's been working with you nonstop."

"Bucky surprised me," Chloe said, feeling like that was an understatement now. "He was in my apartment one night and I thought he was going to go all Winter Soldier on me but it turned out he was returning that second piece of the tech that, um, Tony's working on now."

"He brought it back to you?" Seren blinked. Of course now it made sense how Chloe managed to deliver Tony the second piece.

"Yeah, sort of," Chloe half smiled. "Scared the shit out of me that first night. He wanted to barter with it."

"What did he want?".

Chloe's smile widened a bit. "He wanted to know who he was. He wanted to know anything that I knew about him. Of course I told him everything without bartering. And I swear I told him that Steve was looking for him, that he had nothing to be guilty over. He was a victim like me, only far worse. He didn't want to be found and he still doesn't."

Seren could understand where Bucky was coming from. He had gone decades masking as someone Hydra created and now that it was all out there along with his real identity — someone reigned as a hero — it was hard to come back. For a lack of a better word, he needed space.

That was contradicting the story Chloe was telling Seren.

"And, so, he stayed with you? This whole time you guys were, what, roommates?" The redhead asked, tilting her head at Chloe. "Why?"

"We were passing each other information that we both wanted to hear. He wanted to know who he was and I wanted to know more about Hydra. There's a couple of things that I knew for a fact and I needed locations."

"Again, walk me through it," Seren motioned with wiggling fingers to gear the story.

"My time with Hydra taught me that they try not to make any mistakes and just in case that they do make mistakes, they always have a fail safe. It's like with Bucky, he was a Winter Soldier and their failsafe was a mind wipe and cryogenic stasis. If he ever fell out of line, they would just stick him back in there and start a mind wipe or something. Me being another pawn meant that Hydra had to have a failsafe for me. And I figured it out, or rather Bucky did."

Seren's eyebrows knitted together. "And what would that be?"

Chloe leaned forwards, holding her breath as if the secret she was about to reveal was her most guarded one yet. "Hydra has enhanced people all over the world. According to Bucky, some of them are active and others aren't. My guess is that those enhanced people, one of them, could be a fail safe for me."

"Oh God, and they have the scepter," Seren said, her expression all horrified.

Chloe nodded. "Yes. Bucky said they were particularly interested in unlocking the powers from that thing. They went through countless 'subjects' to help tap into those powers."

"Who would want to tap into those powers?" Just remembering what that scepter did to her head made Seren shudder with genuine fright. It was all dark and cold, hopeless.

Chloe shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well then we need to stop them," Seren declared. "This is what Tony brought Steve and I in for. I'm already trying to figure out how to get Thor to come back to Earth. I'm calling Jane Foster a lot these days. And then there's Natasha...and my suit. Did I tell you Tony made plans for my suit?"

Chloe nodded her head. Tony did talk about it a lot. "Yeah…"

"I'm working on it," Seren said proudly. "This is going to be my suit. It's going to be designed just by me."

"You deserve that, Seren," Chloe said. Her gaze began to lower again. "You deserve a lot more than what I've been giving you."

"Nu-uh," Seren snapped her fingers to get Chloe's full attention. "None of that. You're my best friend and I'm going to be here for you. It's why I went to Malibu and got you your stuff. Your family's waiting for you, Chloe. I'm waiting too. There's no reason for you to feel like you have to run away from us."

"I'm scared," Chloe confessed in a light whisper. "I'm scared of the Animinds taking full control of me after the surgery. I'm scared that I won't be anymore. I'll be a version of what Hydra wanted."

"That's not happening," Seren said in a matter of fact tone. "Because if you've been paying attention, these aliens are benign, first of all, and they've been trying to help. They're the ones who told Tony that we needed to help you connect with your family again. It's overwhelming, of course it is, but I think the key to really owning these powers of yours is to actually want to work with them. You can't go in there with, well, twinkle toes," Seren rolled her eyes. If Tony was listening through the comms, he was having a good laugh for sure. "You need to be assertive. It's something you've always done in the past."

"But it's different, Seren," Chloe sniffed. "I've been starting to see the future sometimes and I don't want that. There's so many things that I don't want and the Animinds don't precisely listen to me."

"With the surgery, that could become easier," Seren said, "But you'll never know if you don't try it. If you don't do the surgery then nothing will get easier. That's a fact. You won't have control at all."

"I understand that," Chloe said, sighing, "But the alternative is becoming one with the Animinds and that's scary enough. They're aliens."

"Well, I'm an alien too and we get along," Seren shrugged lightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Seren raised a hand to stop Chloe. "I know what you meant. It's fair to be scared but these Animinds have been trying to work with you. If they had wanted to be against you, they would've done it by now."

"They've been quiet all day," Chloe remarked quietly.

"Well, have you wanted to talk to them?" Seren posed the question like a mother challenging her child.

Chloe shook her head. "Not really, no."

"Mm, the problem. You need to want it too. It's a Hivemind. You're connected, yes, but when it comes to accessing it...that has to be on you." Seren stood up from her stool, thinking it was best to give Chloe some time to think about things. "Don't you dare leave the Tower — Jarvis will tell us."

Chloe had no desire to go anywhere anymore. Her pain was enough to keep her sitting for hours. The only reason she made it to the tower was to find a way to reach Bucky. "I won't go anywhere," she promised.

She had nowhere to go, no more desire anyways. She felt like she was back where she started, only this time things just hurt too much. She had yet to figure out why that was.

"And listen, about the last time we saw each other…" Seren swallowed hard, her eyes falling over the scar on Chloe's palm. "I am so sorry…I would have never done that if—"

"I wasn't trying to kill you?" Chloe finished for her. Seren lowered her head guiltily. "I have nothing to forgive you for. You defended yourself and you made sure that I couldn't hurt anyone. I can always trust that Stardust will protect the innocent."

"But I don't want it to be at the cost of hurting someone who's like my sister. I never want that to happen."

Chloe nodded. "I feel the same. You have no idea how bad I felt knowing that I hurt you — that I continuously tried hurting you."

"But that wasn't you," Seren said. "You were brainwashed. I know a thing or two about that. And look at Steve and I right now."

Chloe smiled lightly. "I'm glad you two are going strong. I don't want to ruin it with my problems so…I'll go back to my apartment—"

"Nope!" Seren cut her off immediately. "I'm not letting you out of my sight! We have a lot of work to do and we need to start working like a team. SHIELD may be gone but the Avengers are on the brink of formal creation. I want you to be part of this new team, Chloe."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Steve hates my guts right now. I didn't even think he could hate someone like that besides HYDRA."

"He's angry, there's a difference. Please, Chloe. Don't leave again," Seren stepped forwards, "I really missed you. SHIELD is gone, Natasha's off somewhere and who knows where the hell Clint is…you and I are all that's left of the only place I've known my whole life. Please don't leave."

Chloe's lips pulled into another smile. "I think we're pretty much glued to each other…ever since you pulled me out of that god awful building when I was a teenager. You had no idea what you were getting into."

"Pretty sure it's the other way around…" Seren said, sharing a small chuckle with her.

Chloe then hugged her tightly. How she had missed her best friend — her sister. Seren felt the same exact way because in the end, however different they were, life had given them similar challenges that led them down a more lonesome road.

~ 0 ~

It was like mayhem in the Tower after Chloe's revelation. Knowing what they knew about Bucky Barnes had Steve and Sam going through their plans and files to fit with what Chloe said. The enhanced subjects and the usage of the scepter had Tony and Seren working together. Tony, however, would split his time between the search for the scepter and the surgery Chloe was now opting for, if only to give herself one more chance. Dr. Helen Cho was arriving in New York shortly to finalize the surgery.

Meanwhile, Seren also worked fervently on her suit, intending on finishing it quicker than planned to be able to head out in the field in search of the remaining Hydra locations. Bearing that mission, Natasha was scheduled to return to New York sometime next week after she finished with her own side missions. They were in the middle of getting in contact with Banner as well, and Seren had finally gotten through to Jane Foster.

"According to Jane, Thor's gone off world but he's coming back in a couple of days," Seren walked alongside Maria Hill who, at the request of Tony, was taking charge of the details of the soon-to-be team's soon-to-be missions. They had various possible locations they would check out soon.

"That'll be interesting," Maria said after jotting it down on her tablet, "Seeing as the last time he was around, he wasn't too keen with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Jane says he doesn't know what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. yet," Seren shrugged. "She'll explain it and then he'll be right over."

"And he'll be staying here?" Maria asked.

"Well, it's not like the Tower isn't big enough," Seren gestured to the long hallway. It was one of many. "Even Natasha's contemplating on staying here as well. At least for the time being."

"Mm, and Steve?"

Seren came to a slow stop beside an open door. Her awkward smile told Maria enough. Seren thanked Maria for understanding and led the woman through the door.

Chloe and Tony were in the lab, the former bearing several sticky nods against her forehead.

"Ah, Twinkle Toes, great that you're here," Tony made a gesture for Seren to come to his side by the computers. Seren's glare as she walked over to him meant nothing to him. "Can you please tell Chloe that I'm not lying when I say that her signals are just fine? Better than they have been in recent times."

Seren wasn't one for dramatics, especially Tony Stark's, but when she saw the screens for herself and realized Tony was right, she did as he wanted. "They do look good, Chloe. Everything's pretty much in normal range."

"I've been meditating more," Chloe said quietly, not showing very much excitement at the news. One would say that she was also talking more, per say. She was saying more than she had been before. She didn't want to admit it but letting out everything that she'd been holding in was helping her far more than the meditations.

"Good, keep that going," Seren said with her encouraging smile quite present.

"Helen's going to be here in two days," Tony shared, "It'll be a couple more days before we do the surgery but no later than next week."

Chloe visibly gulped.

Seren left the computers and rushed to Chloe's side. "Everything will be fine," she promised. "You're in the best hands. And I'll be here. We all will be."

"Is Steve going to be around?" Chloe dared to ask. It wasn't very fair to put Seren in that place, Chloe knew that, but Seren was also the only person that Steve would be truly honest with.

Seren bit on her bottom lip. "Um, he's...he and Sam are building up their search so...he's not really here. Either of them, actually."

"Oh." Chloe's gaze fell. Seren was too nice to tell her that Steve was still beyond angry with her for keeping Bucky's presence a secret.

Seren didn't like seeing Chloe like that and she wished she could do something to help. It seemed like this time, even she couldn't convince Steve to come around.

"Hey Megamind," called Tony, if only to pull Chloe out of her trance and earn an emotion besides pity from her, "Why don't we go test those psionic blasts? Things might be getting stronger with these new advances."

Chloe nodded and with Seren's help, she got the nodules off her face. She followed Tony, and Maria, out the room but not before glancing back at Seren. She could've passed off as a frightened child the way she looked.

Seren kept her encouraging smile and nodded Chloe to go on. She always showed up a little into the training sessions.

As soon as Chloe was gone, Seren left the room and headed in the opposite direction. She headed for her — their — floor, more specifically to the small living room where Steve and Sam currently worked together. The two were huddled over papers sprawled over the table.

"How's it going?" she asked, not really startling either of them.

"Well enough." Sam looked up to greet Seren with a typical warm smile that she would return. He had not taken Chloe's secret as Steve had. He had talked privately to Seren previously and admitted that he saw Chloe as a young girl who'd made a mistake. He couldn't hold that against Chloe, so he didn't.

"That's good…" Seren stopped by Steve's side, hand coming to rest over his shoulder.

Steve stiffened very briefly and then went back to looking over the papers. "Did you get a hold of the CIA agent?" he asked without making any eye contact.

"Umm…" Seren felt like she should be more apt at answering the question that Steve had taken custom of asking every time he saw her. Apparently, she just wouldn't get it. "Not quite."

Steve's 'subtle' movement forced Seren's hand off his shoulder. She curled her hand and drew it back to her side. For sympathy, Sam acted like he hadn't seen that at all.

"If she's Chloe's friend, she should be answering, right?" Steve kept going as he switched papers. "What was her name again?"

"Citlalli," Seren said with a sigh. "She's a very busy woman."

"Oh, there's no denying that," Steve retorted.

Seren wasn't used to being on the receiving end of his snips. It was actually hurtful, more than a punch to be exact.

"Is there any idea where this woman would lead Bucky to?" Steve kept going as if he couldn't feel Seren's dejected gaze on him.

Seren tucked some of her short strands of hair behind her ear. "It's not that easy, Steve," she said, regretting her words as soon they left her mouth. It wasn't what Steve wanted to hear.

"Why not?" He demanded.

Once again, Seren had to give herself a moment to get over the sharpness of his voice. It genuinely felt like someone was stabbing her. "Citlalli's been in the CIA for a long time. Like Chloe, she's built networks for her personal reasons and she's not going to give it up just because we asked."

"Like a code amongst her and her network," Sam concluded. Half of his intentions to speak was to cut the palpable tension in the air.

Seren nodded at him. "Yes, exactly."

"She's technically hiding a fugitive," Steve spoke as if nothing had been said between Seren and Sam. "That would terminate her job and most likely put her under arrest."

"Well, that's exactly what would happen to you if you actually found Bucky," Seren pointed out and for that, she earned Steve's apprehensive gaze.

"What are you trying to say?" His accusation startled Seren.

Did he honestly think that she would—

Seren swallowed hard. "I think I'll just leave you two to work," she whispered and quickly turned to leave.

Steve went back to the papers, though he listened to Seren's footsteps getting farther. She wasn't coming back for a while, if she even decided to.

"You cannot keep doing that," came Sam's comment a few minutes later.

"Do what?" Steve was aware that he had read the same line on the paper three times now.

"You're being cold towards Seren and she hasn't done anything wrong." Sam pretended to over a mental checklist of the recent happenings then reiterated his stance. "Yeah, she's done nothing wrong."

"I'm not mad at her," Steve clarified, although it didn't really do much and they both knew it.

"Then why the hell are you acting like it? If you have a problem with Chloe, figure it out with her. Last time I checked, wasn't Seren your, I don't know what you used to call it—sweetheart?" Sam smirked at Steve's deadpanning response. "Well?"

Steve swallowed down his snap at the comment in favor of talking about the real point of the conversation. He put the papers down on the table, finishing the facade of reading them. "It's hard to ignore the fact Seren's coddling Chloe when she...she lied to us for a long time. Bucky was right here, Sam. He was here the whole time and Chloe didn't say anything. She made plans to run away with him and Seren's just acting like it's nothing."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the case but even then, go talk it out with Seren," Sam insisted. "The way you're acting is going to push her away for good. No woman likes the cold shoulder."

That was a truth that even Steve knew. With a sigh, he relented and agreed that he would have a word with Seren. But first, they really needed to sort through these papers.

~ 0 ~

Seren had taken to working on her suit through the nights. It was when Chloe slept — at least Seren hoped that Chloe slept — and it was also the only way she could technically avoid Steve without it being blatantly obvious. Their shared bedroom wasn't such an advantage during these days.

"Jarvis, is it possible to run a simulation testing whether or not the suit would withstand my strongest attack yet?" She managed to smirk for a few seconds just at how confident she was that her strongest attack would one day be second best.

"Of course, Miss Soul," answered the computerized voice.

"Thank you." Seren pulled herself out of her stool and decided it was best to take a stroll out of the lab. Truth be told, the all-nighters she pulled on stools were making her back hurt.

Not wanting to make small talk with anyone, she took the elevator up to the rooftop. She crossed the entire top until she was resting her arms on the rails overlooking the city. It would be raining soon. Seren felt the chill of the air and could hear the warning cracks of thunder in the sky — either that or Thor was making his grand entrance.

The sound of the elevator dinging wasn't enough to pull Seren's gaze off the city. It wouldn't be the first time Tony interrupted her quiet time, or Chloe came in search of her for support. Even Maria sometimes found her accidentally and took the opportunity to go over some details about their potential missions.

All three options were dismissed once Seren felt a jacket come rest over her shoulders. Her body instinctively froze but after a moment, she was able to turn her head slightly.

"I don't want you to get sick." Steve's voice was quiet and plainly filled with caution as he stepped up beside Seren.

"You know I don't really get sick," Seren mumbled, and yet she held the jacket a little closer to her body.

Silence stretched between them in the following seconds. Steve didn't really know what to say and he'd been thinking about things long before he got the courage to come find Seren. From her side, Seren wasn't sure where the conversation was going to go. The jacket on her shoulders gave her some hope that this wouldn't end with displeasure.

"I called Citlalli again," she said, and Steve once again looked at her albeit trying to put up a front that he wasn't urgent for the information. "I finally got through to her. She admits that Bucky met her where Chloe and she had agreed and that she helped him."

"She helped him?" A dozen questions swarmed Steve's head at that moment. "But she barely knows him. Why wouldn't she—?"

"Turn him in?" Seren half smiled. "Trust me, there's a reason Chloe called her out of everyone else she knew."

"Look, I guess I'm grateful that she didn't turn Bucky over but why would she help him escape? He needs help, not isolation."

"Neither of us know what conditions Bucky was in during these days," Seren said and felt awful for the look on Steve's face. As much as he loved his best friend, he had no idea what Bucky was thinking/going through at the moment. "I'm grateful Citlalli helped him."

"Well, where'd she send him to?"

"I don't' know," Seren said.

"What? Did she not tell you?"

"It's more complicated than that, Steve. Citlalli helped him escape, but by that she really only helped him get to the first stop of his journey. She doesn't know where he is after she dropped him off."

"I'm not understanding…"

"It's complicated and confusing, trust me I'm very much feeling that last one too. Citlalli doesn't know where he is."

Steve's knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the rail again. Seren watched him go through the many stages of fury all over again.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he muttered with gritted teeth.

"I don't know…" Seren's faint voice is what broke Steve out of his ire-filled trance. He looked at her and found she had taken a step back from him.

Suddenly, Sam's words were running through his head again. The way you're acting is going to push her away for good.

Seren took his silence as her cue to leave. She would much rather the silence than the arguing but it didn't do anything good for her heart. She started to leave but halfway, she turned back around. "I know you're angry with Chloe and you have every right to be, but this wasn't just on her and you know it. Bucky was thinking lucid enough to know who to go to and honestly, with the way Chloe's talked about him, he sounded like a guarded man. He was never going to stick around."

"How long was he here?" Steve asked. Whether or not the answer would give him peace was left unclear but Steve still wanted to know.

"About two weeks."

"They got close," Seren said quietly. "They were both pawns for Hydra, each twisted and broken in their own ways for what Hydra required. They had things to be close about. I think by the end of it, Chloe didn't choose to run from us but more so to stick with the only other person who could understand some of the things she went through."

Steve thought well and hard about this. It was true that he had already considered how he would talk to Bucky if he had found him earlier, and the truth that Steve wasn't sure of how he would do it was disappointing. The Bucky he knew wasn't around. Steve didn't know what he would've done and the act of not knowing and the fact that Chloe had found a way to talk to Bucky was…

"He shouldn't have left," Steve said. Seren presumed it was still the same feelings of indignation and hurt that anyone else in Steve's place would feel...until Steve spoke again. "Chloe did something to make him think clearly after decades of thinking like the Winter Soldier he was programmed to be. He listened to you that night, he went through Chloe's old things and thought she had a better chance to fix things. That's not even what the Bucky I knew, before the war, would typically think about."

Seren's eyebrows raised, almost indignant on Chloe's behalf.

Steve pulled away from the balcony and faced Seren. "The Bucky I knew before the war was a gentleman, no one could argue against that, but to say that he actually took his time to talk and be around a woman the way he did with Chloe. It was different back then but even then…"

Seren afforded him a little smile once she understood the point he was trying to make. "I thought something along the same lines in regards to Chloe. But still, I'm sorry about everything and Chloe is too. You should know that we've managed to convince her to do the surgery she needs to finally stabilize her connection with the Animinds."

"So in the end you going to Malibu was the right decision," Steve said, and she smiled lightly. "Still saving lives outside of SHIELD."

Seren's faltered for a moment. "But it seems like I'm unable to save what's most important to me…"

Confusion settled on Steve's face until Seren gestured at him. "Me?"

"Miss Soul," Jarvis' suddenly cut in, "your simulation has finished. Would you like to hear the results?"

"Thank you, Jarvis, I'll go down to the lab myself," Seren said, dismissing the computer. She looked over at Steve. Awkwardness fell now that the conversation was pretty much done. It was the only thing they had talked about in days and about the only direct conversation they had that lasted for more than a few seconds.

"Seren, what did you mean by that?" Steve asked, seeing she had all the intentions of leaving the room.

"Seriously?" she raised a brow at him. "You hardly speak to me and when you do, you're angry at me. And it's not fair. We had such lovely moments together and it crashed down so easily."

"We haven't...crashed…" Steve said slowly. This was all his fault. Seren thought they were practically over because of one disagreement and it was all his fault.

"This is the first real conversation we've had in days," Seren said shortly. It was hard to act like she wasn't upset at all. She was…and rightfully so. "And it wasn't even about us."

"I know, I know…" Steve sighed, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, "And it's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." Sam was right. Out of everyone, Seren was the least at fault. "I'm really sorry, Seren."

"I get why you're upset…you have a right to be mad at Chloe, not talk to her, I guess. I can't do the same. I've known Chloe for so long, we've seen each other at our worst, that cutting her out of my life isn't even a question for me. You want to save Bucky — well, I want to save Chloe."

"I get that, I do, but I also think you shouldn't be coddling her. She's not a child, Seren. She's 25 years old. She needs to take some responsibility for what she did, almost did."

Seren nodded. "Yeah, I should work on that. Truth is, sometimes I'm just so used to thinking about Chloe as the teenager I found all those years ago. Scared, alone...but she's not anymore. I'm sorry about that."

Steve walked over to her and reached out to brush a ginger strand of hair from Seren's forehead. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I hate that I made you feel bad but I promise you that we have not crashed down."

"Well, it certainly feels like we have. Then again, I've never really been in a relationship where I am fully head over heels in love with someone. Maybe I'm being a tad dramatic."

Steve smiled at her softly. "You can feel however you want when I'm being the world's biggest jerk." His fingers dropped under Seren's chin, raising her head. "And you can expect that I will be putting all my efforts into making this up to you in every way possible."

"Every way possible?" Seren repeated, raising one skeptical brow at him.

Steve nodded fervently. "Every way possible." He gave her a preview of what he meant with a kiss.

Seren wrapped her arms around his neck, dropping his jacket around her shoulders in the process. She would gladly exchange the piece of clothing for the real thing any day.

~0~

It was bright and early when Chloe got started on her exams again. Tony wanted everything to go by smoothly for the upcoming surgery. Dr. Helen Cho was finally coming in today as well, hence the early start of today's exams. The last thing Chloe expected was for Steve to appear in the lab.

"It's only me in here," she said quietly, assuming he was searching for someone else. She turned for another table.

"I was looking for you, actually," Steve surprised her.

Chloe's head flipped back towards the entrance. "Me?" Steve nodded. "Me-me?"

"Yes, I think we need to talk."

"Right, but, if there's anyone you need to talk with it's Seren." And for her best friend whom she hadn't been the kindest to lately, Chloe hurried towards Steve. "All of this is my fault, not Seren's. She had no idea what I was doing. Please go talk to her."

Steve smiled down at Chloe. At least that was the same. Chloe would do as much for Seren as Seren would do for her. "We've, uh, already reconciled our differences…well, my differences. We're okay."

"Really?"

"Yes, so now I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, guess we do…" She knew that sooner or later Steve would move past his initial anger and could shoulder bit to get to the questionnaire, the more in depth one. She owed him that too.

"How did you and Bucky…? I mean, did he just...did he just drop in on you?" To this day, that first meeting still didn't make sense for Steve. The whole reason he started planning for Europe is because he assumed Bucky would leave the country as soon as he could.

Chloe shrugged meekly. "He sort of did, honestly. He was inside the apartment one night and I thought he was there to finish the job but it turned out he just wanted to know what I knew about him."

"About the Winter Soldier?"

"No, about Bucky Barnes."

That made less sense. And it hurt more. It showed on Steve's face. "I'm his best friend," he said, "Does he not remember me at all?"

"He does," Chloe said, "It's all in pieces but he knows who you are and what you were to him in the 40s. Steve, you can't take all of this so black and white. Bucky's head is as messed up as mine save for the aliens in my mind. He wanted to know who he was but he obviously can't go out in public that much and I don't think he's ready to see a familiar face. Don't take it personally."

"Believe me, I'm trying," Steve said with a long sigh to follow. "If you had known us back in the 40s — well, you probably wouldn't have talked to me so much as Bucky"— Chloe laughed softly, "—but you would see why I'm so upset. We were brothers."

"I get it, I do," Chloe assured Steve. "Because I just did the same thing to Seren. Not talking to her really messed me up. And I know Seren took it personally even when it wasn't her fault. It's exactly what's going on with you and Bucky now."

Steve smiled wryly. "Well, you certainly became like a little expert on us, huh?"

Chloe flushed slightly at the comment. Her head ducked on instinct. "Bucky and I talked, that's all."

Steve hummed. He was sure that definitely happened.

"Steve, I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I know it really hurt you. It wasn't my intention but it happened and I'm sorry."

Chloe's sincerity is what had Steve making the effort to let it go. It would take time, but he could do it.

"Steve, when I get my stuff together," Chloe tapped the side of her head, "I would really like to join you and Sam to search for Bucky."

That was the most startling thing she had said to him so far. Steve did a double-take at her, this time the effort to be cool wasn't quite successful. "Um, are you...you want to?"

Chloe nodded. She knew what he was thinking. 'Why would you want to go looking for him when he left you?' It was a fair question that deserved to be answered, at least to make things clear. "Bucky promised me that we would look out for one another. We made plans and I had every intention of following through, but he left. He picked up his things and just...left."

Steve winced at the sharpness in that one word. For a second, he genuinely feared for Bucky's fate if Chloe found him. That almost made him reject her request to join them...almost. At the same time, Bucky owed Chloe that explanation. Plus, Steve got the feeling that whether or not he agreed to let her in, Chloe would still conduct her own search for Bucky. It was better to unify all efforts.

They were a team, after all. They were broken, perhaps heartbroken in their own ways, but at the end of the day their goals were the same. They were aligned.

A/N:

Next is the epilogue which means this fic is technically all done! *sniffs, I think this is probably my favorite fic so far in the storylines but I'm also excited for the future ones like Civil War when I finally get to include all 3 OCs and just start the crossovers!

I'll probably post the epilogue of this story and the new fic this weekend!

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